by Bobbi Smith
A single, burning tear slipped from the corner of her eye and traced a forlorn, damp pattern down the softness of her cheek. She had stayed with Malik willingly and had given him that which she had saved and treasured for Gerald and their wedding night. In her heart, she cried . . . for her loss of innocence and for the perfect future she had once thought was hers.
Gerald stood before a mirror in his London bedroom, straightening his cravat. He'd heard from his cronies that there were many young misses in Town for the season and that more than one of them came with a large dowry—an enhancement to any chit, indeed. When he was finally satisfied with the perfection of his neckcloth, he donned his jacket with his valet's help and left his home heading for Almack's. He had every intention of discovering the wealthiest of the girls and making her his bride as quickly as possible. Some things could not wait. To Catherine, he gave barely a passing thought, other than to mourn the loss of what had been a rich, promising match.
Chapter Ten
"Malik . . ." Catherine said his name very seriously as they sat down to enjoy the evening meal together.
He was surprised by the solemnity of her tone and looked up at her questioningly. "What is it, Catherine? Is something wrong?"
"That's what I want to know," she returned a little tensely. "It's been four months. Has there been no word from my father at all?" She'd been meaning to broach the subject with Malik for some time now, but she kept holding out hope that news would come that their ransom had been paid. Now, though, she was growing desperate. Months had passed, and he'd told her nothing. Her concern centered on Alex, too, for he was changing. Under the influence here in the palace, the English part of him was fading away. She reminded him daily of his grandfather and his heritage, but more and more of his conversation was focused on Hasim and his other friends and what they were planning on doing in the future—Not on the life they'd left behind.
Malik studied her carefully. He had always known this moment was going to come, and he had been preparing himself for the confrontation he knew was inevitable. "There has been no word," he answered without lying.
"What about the other captives from our ship? Have they been ransomed back?" she asked. The worry that her brother had been returned home before them was still with her.
"Yes. Most of them were gone within the first two months."
"I don't understand . . . Surely if my father had heard about our situation, he would have contacted you immediately." Catherine was insistent. "Perhaps if you let me write the message, then I could tell him . . ."
"It is time for the truth between us, Catherine," Malik declared firmly. He wanted to end the charade, to tell her how he felt about her and to make her his wife. He wanted her to stay with him, to raise Alex as his son and to give her his world.
"The truth?" She went very still, almost afraid of what would come next. "What truth, Malik? Has something happened to my father in England? Has there been trouble at home?"
Malik stood and took several paces away from the table. His expression was somber as he turned to face her. "I know nothing of your father. I have had no contact with him."
"I don't understand," she said, frowning. "You sent the letter. You said . . ."
He held up a hand to silence her, ready to make a full confession of his deception. "I know what I said, Catherine. At that moment, I would have said anything to ease your fears and help you adjust to your life here."
"Adjust to my life here," Catherine repeated, stunned. "Malik, I don't have a life here. My life is in England."
Her words pained and annoyed him. She came to his bed. She responded wildly to his touch when they made love, and yet she continued to dream of England and the man who would be her husband! Did what they shared mean nothing to her? How could he touch her body and not touch her heart?
"I have no intention of sending you back to England, Catherine. I never did," Malik responded.
"What are you saying?" She went pale as she got to her feet and stood there staring at him. Her eyes narrowed, and her expression became accusing.
"I'm saying, Catherine, that there was no letter. I made no ransom demand of your father. I have wanted you for my own since the first moment I saw you with Muhammed, and I have no intention of letting either you or Alex go."
"You can't mean any of this!" Angry tears welled up in her eyes. She felt as if she'd been crushed.
"I mean every word."
"I thought you were a kind and fair man. But you're worse than Muhammed!" she hurled the insult at him. "At least if I'd stayed with him, I would have gotten to go home eventually!"
"Don't believe that for a minute," Malik struck back with the complete, ugly truth. Her accusation comparing him to that snake of a pirate had hurt. "Muhammed would have raped you without thought to your innocence and then shared you with others. Only when your beauty was gone and you could no longer bring him money, would he have sent you back to England."
Catherine glared at Malik. She was seeing a side of him now that she hadn't recognized before. He appeared now the autocratic ruler, a dictatorial and unyielding man who knew what he wanted and got it any way he could. Her heart hardened against him. "I'll never forgive you for this," she said in a hoarse, pained voice.
"Forgive me for what, Catherine?" Malik countered hotly. "You'll never forgive me for saving you from that pig Muhammed? You'll never forgive me for satisfying your every want and need? For lavishing gifts upon you and treating you with respect?"
She knew he was right, but she couldn't back down. Not when her pain was so great and her hopes so devastated.
When she said nothing in response to his outburst, Malik went on. "I apologize for all my shortcomings."
She glowered at him defiantly. "You lied to me, Malik."
"I wanted you, Catherine, and I still do. I will not apologize for that." In one last effort to soothe her, he said, "I will give you whatever you want."
"The only thing I want from you is my freedom."
A muscle worked in his lean jaw as he fought to control his frustration. Was there no winning this woman? "You know full well that that is the one thing I cannot give you."
"Cannot or will not?" she challenged, heartsick.
"Whatever, Catherine. You are mine, and you will remain mine. Be my wife."
She turned cold inside at the realization that she would never be leaving, and her gaze reflected it. "I am betrothed to Lord Gerald Ratcliff. He is the only man I'll ever marry."
Her refusal annoyed him. "You obviously never responded to your English lord the way you do to me," Malik said with male arrogance.
"What do you mean?"
"Why else would you still have been a virgin when you came here?"
She gasped at his words. "I was untouched because Gerald was a man of honor," she countered, wanting to hurt him in any way she could. But even as she said it, in her heart she knew Malik was right. Gerald's touch and kiss had never aroused the feelings in her that his did.
Malik gave a snort of derision at her answer. "No man of honor can make you feel what I make you feel," he declared, coming to her and pulling her into his arms. He thought her very exciting when she was angry, and he wanted her even now. His mouth claimed hers in a possessive exchange, and his tongue dueled with hers in an intimate caress. "Marry me, Catherine."
Had Catherine not been so angry and upset, she would have felt the fires of her desire for Malik stirring within her.
She broke free of his embrace. "I have no desire to become one of your wives. There will never be a marriage between us."
"Never say never, Catherine. It is a very long time."
"I'll wait as long as it takes, Malik," she told him stubbornly.
She looked so magnificent as she stood there before him, defying him at every turn that he was tempted to throw her down on the pillows and take her right then and there. Ultimately, he knew she would surrender to the passion they shared and couldn't deny, but he also knew she might come to hate him if he abused this moment.
He would wait and bide his time. He was certain that eventually she would come around.
"Our dinner grows cold," he pointed out, deliberately refusing to carry on with the argument. "There is no reason to allow good food to go to ruin."
"I suddenly find that I have no appetite. If you will excuse me, I will return to my rooms."
"No, I do not excuse you," Malik replied. "I desire your company. If you do not want to eat, then you will sit with me while I dine."
Catherine gritted her teeth, but didn't reply. She dropped back down on the cushions and sat there quietly, resentfully, as he returned to his seat beside her. No torture could have been greater than to have to suffer his nearness right then. All she wanted to do was get away from him and this place, but she knew now that that was not to be. Unless . . .
As she sat there, a plan began to form in her mind. Escape! She had thought about it when they'd first arrived, but had been too afraid then. Now, she was no longer afraid. She had been in the palace long enough now to know her way around. Catherine knew it wouldn't be easy, but she didn't care. She would get Alex and they would go home now! There would be no more waiting.
"You may retire now, Catherine," Malik said some time later when he'd finished his meal. "If you want to, that is . . ."
His statement brought her thoughts back to the present. "Thank you. Good night." She rose with regal dignity.
"Good night, Catherine." Malik watched her go, and he wondered at her thoughts. He knew she was angry with him, but he believed that anger would fade. He had offered her his whole world. He was sure that, given some time, she would come to her senses.
Catherine could feel the heat of his regard on her as she walked away, and she was glad when she was finally out of sight. It was a great relief to her to return to her own chambers. She'd been worried that he might want to make love to her tonight, and it frightened her to think that all he would have had to do was touch her and she would have melted in his arms.
"You're back early tonight," Almira observed with surprise when Catherine returned to her rooms. She had come to care deeply for this young Englishwoman in the weeks they'd been together.
"Yes, I am," Catherine said without elaborating. She would have loved to have been able to share her problems with her and enlist her help, but she still felt she couldn't trust Almira completely. The servant was, after all, one of them.
"Are you feeling all right?"
"I'm tired. I think I'll just go on to bed," she lied. What she really wanted was for Almira to leave her alone so she could finalize the plans she'd made. She would not wait another day to make her escape. She was going to get Alex and they were going to leave this very night. Somewhere in Algiers there had to be someone who could help them. Surely, there had to be a church in the city where they could take refuge.
When she'd donned her nightclothes and Almira had gone from the room, Catherine sat on her bed in the darkness, waiting and thinking. It was essential that she and Alex get away now, for if Avery had already been returned home as Malik had seemed to indicate, there was no telling what lies he might have told their father. She had to get Alex back to England, and the sooner the better.
The moon rose late that night. Catherine waited until it had reached and passed its zenith before making her move. When she was sure all was quiet in the harem, she put on her most ordinary, dark-colored gown and a simple but comfortable pair of sandals. She then covered her hair with a haik and crept from her rooms, looking left and right as she darted from shadow to shadow. She took great care to avoid notice and moved in complete silence.
The tension within her built as she left the harem with its dozing guard and made her way across the deserted garden toward the boys' quarters. This was where she knew it would become very dangerous. She wasn't sure exactly which room was Alex's, so she moved with even greater caution. There was one guard strolling through the area, but he seemed preoccupied with his thoughts. When someone called out to him from the other end of the hall and he went to see what they wanted, Catherine had the time she needed. She darted forth, peeking into each bedroom until she found her young nephew sleeping soundly in the chamber at the very end of the hall.
"Alex! Wake up!" she whispered as she knelt beside his bed in the darkness.
"What is it?" Alex asked groggily. "Aunt Catherine? What do you want? Why are you here?"
"Shhh . . ." She held a finger to her lips warning him to talk softly. "It's time for us to go home. We're going back to Huntington House."
"We are?" He sat upright in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Is Grandfather here? Did he finally come for us?"
"No, darling, I'm afraid he's not here, but we're going to go to him. Come. Get dressed."
"But . . ."
"Alex," she snapped, "don't question me! Just hurry!"
His Aunt Catherine had never hollered at him before and it shocked him into action. He jumped up and tugged on the pants, djellaba, and sandals that had become his normal dress in the last few months. He was darkly tanned now and could easily pass for an Arab boy, except for his gray eyes.
"All right. I'm ready."
"Good boy. Now, we have to be very careful and very quiet. No one knows we're going."
"Not even Malik?" He was surprised by this.
"Especially not Malik. Let's make a game of this, shall we? Let's see which one of us can make it all the way to the stables without making a sound. All right?"
"Sure," he replied, eager to try.
Catherine took his hand, and they moved soundlessly from the boys' quarters, staying in the darkness, skirting any place where there might be a guard. When they reached the doorway that led to the main gardens, Catherine felt victory was within her reach. They only had to cross this last open place and then they would be at the stables and near an exit from the palace grounds. Soon, they would be out of here and free of Malik's hold on them. Soon, they would really be on their way home.
Malik could not sleep. He lay upon his lonely bed, thinking of what had just passed between him and Catherine. He'd always known the moment of truth with her would be painful, and it had been. He had thought his offer of marriage would assuage any anger she was feeling, but it hadn't. Her reaction had surprised him. Of the women he knew, all would have been pleased and honored to know that he wanted them—but not Catherine. It was one of the few times in his life when he'd been wrong about an "adversary," and it bothered him. If he was to win, he was going to have to try a new strategy.
Rising, Malik called for a servant and issued the instructions he wanted followed first thing in the morning. Then, still feeling restless, he strode to his terrace that overlooked the gardens.
It was a warm, pleasant night. The moon hung low on the horizon, and a thousand stars twinkled overhead. Malik longed for Catherine. He regretted hurting her, but he honestly believed that one day she would come to think of Algiers as her home. He wanted her to be his wife. He realized now that it had been foolish to offer her marriage. She's been furious with him, and knowing how proud she was, there was no way she would ever have accepted right then.
Malik smiled to himself as he thought of his spirited English beauty. This was the first time since Lila that he'd cared deeply about a woman. In fact, lately, his memories of Lila had begun to fade as Catherine remained constantly in his thoughts. He'd believed in the beginning that once he'd made love to Catherine, his desire for her would lessen. It seemed now, however, that after having had her, he only wanted her more, and not just her body. He wanted all of her.
Love . . . The thought was profound as it struck him. He had married other women with no thought of love, but Catherine was different. She had touched his heart and his mind. But did he love her? Malik didn't need to ponder the thought long to have his answer. She had become as important to him as life itself. If he was to have any peace, he was going to convince her to stay with him and become his wife.
Malik remembered her remark about not being "one of his wives," but h
e had not visited with or taken any of the other women in his harem to his bed since Catherine had arrived. If it would help to win her, he would set her apart from the others, and he would never see any of them again.
Though Malik felt better having decided on that, it still did not ease the disquiet he was feeling over the way they had parted. Had he been less proud himself, he would have called for her to be brought back to him, but he could not do that. He would give her some time alone. Tomorrow would be soon enough to see her again. Tomorrow he would do everything he could to erase England from her thoughts forever and make her his.
As he turned to go back inside, out of the corner of his eye, he thought he caught sight of a movement in the garden below. He glanced down, peering into the darkness, waiting and watching. After a few moments when nothing else happened, he told himself he'd been imagining things. The nightbirds had never ceased their singing, and they always fell silent when there was anything unusual about. Retreating to his solitary bed, he lay down once again to seek the rest he so sorely needed. Sleep finally came, but his dreams were of an elusive Catherine, who was always near but never quite within his grasp.
Catherine and Alex huddled close together in the gloom of the garden. They had been just about to cross an open area when Malik had emerged on his terrace. Terror had seized Catherine and she had grabbed Alex and dragged him back into the protective shadows to hide. They'd waited, trembling and desperate, for long moments before she finally got up enough nerve to take another look in Malik's direction. They just couldn't get caught now! Not when they were almost free!
Catherine's relief had been immense when she'd seen Malik disappear back inside, but she wondered at the pang of emotion she felt in her heart. He had looked very troubled and lonely. The thought occurred to her that he might be sorry for what had passed between them and be missing her, but she immediately dismissed it as ridiculous. He had other wives, and if he was in need of female companionship, he had only to call on one of them to be satisfied. Certainly, they would be more than willing to please him.
