by Bobbi Smith
Serad stopped before her, his gaze fixed upon what Tori thought was her bosom. She was shocked when he reached out and impatiently forced her hand open to take the locket from her grip. Flicking the catch to open it, he stared down at the miniature portrait she was keeping so safely cherished there. The moment he saw the likeness of her fiancé, he understood what had happened.
Serad silently cursed the man whose image was staring back at him from the center of the golden bauble. Tori obviously loved this man and was trying to save herself for him. Unable to express his anger any other way, Serad snarled as he tore the chain from around her neck with a savage yank.
Tori gave a little whimper of fear and pain as the fine chain snapped and her one connection to Alexander was severed. "What are you going to do to me?" she asked in a strangled whisper.
He lifted his icy, silver regard to her face. The fear he saw once again mirrored in her eyes chilled him even further. "Nothing." He stared at her for a minute longer, then turned away and left the cabin. This time, he locked the door behind him.
Tori stood unmoving as she watched Serad leave. When the door was finally shut and locked, the terror that had held her hostage left her. Her relief was so great that she almost slumped to the floor. Her knees felt so weak that she grabbed the back of the desk chair for support. She didn't know what was going to happen when he returned, but at least she was safe for now.
Serad made his way up on deck. Every fiber of his body was still aching from his denied desire for Tori. The afternoon sun was shining and the sea was relatively calm, but he paid it little attention as he walked directly to the rail.
Looking down at the locket once more, Serad stared again at the man Tori loved. It was then, as he studied him that Serad noticed how very much he and her fiancé resembled each other. The man who held Tori's heart also had dark hair and gray eyes. Knowing this didn't change how he felt, though, and in a moment of pure anger, fueled by an emotion he would not put a name to, Serad threw Tori's chain and locket into the depths of the blue-green sea. He watched with bitter pleasure as it disappeared from view and sank to the bottom.
Tess was miserable. She had thought she would be able to deal with her feelings for Lord Alexander, but as the weeks had passed since the announcement of his engagement to the, as yet unseen Lady Lawrence, her love for him had grown even stronger. He had been spending more time at Huntington House since becoming officially engaged, and so she had been running into him constantly. It had not been easy for her to deny her heart's desire.
Tess had taken to sneaking out of the house every night at dusk and sitting by the reflecting pool to dream about him. She knew that the pool was one of his favorite places on the grounds, and she held out hope that he would come there one night.
This evening was no exception. Tess had finished her duties early and had left the house to follow the shrub-lined path to the pond. Spreading the dark skirt of her servant's dress about her, she sat down on the mossy bank, then pulled her white cap from her head. With a sigh, she removed the pins from her hair and freed the heavy, burnished braid from its hated confinement at the back of her neck. Her fingers were practically flying as she unplaited the thick mane and then she shook her head to enjoy the sensuality of having her hair falling loose about her shoulders. It made her feel almost decadent to wear her hair down, for as a house servant she was commanded to style it sedately up at all times.
Unexpectedly, Tess heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and a combination of fear and excitement filled her. It might be Lord Alexander coming or someone else . . . someone who might report her to Dalton for being there. She sat still and held her breath as she waited.
David's brow was furrowed and his gray eyes dark and stormy as he moved down the path toward the pond. It was only here in the seclusion of the gardens that he could let his real emotions show, and his expression now was bleak. He felt completely isolated. The day of reckoning was coming, and he was helpless to prevent it. He was Vivienne's pawn to do with as she pleased, and the feeling filled him with rage and disgust. He was going to be married to a woman of honor who thought him as forthright and honorable as she herself was. Having always considered himself a very good actor, David knew he could be authentic, but the dishonesty of the whole situation was wearing on him more and more every day.
David had never expected his conscience to cause him such trouble when he'd arrived here with Vivienne. But that had been before he'd come to love the duke and Dalton and all the others who seemed to have cared so much about the real Alex. Now, he felt dirty for having been a party to this cruel jest, yet he knew there was no way out without giving himself up to a sure death back in Boston—which Vivienne would see to personally if he did anything to upset her plans. So, David suffered in silence, longing for an escape, longing for a real friend, longing for the time when life had been far more simple and based on truth.
David stopped abruptly as he emerged at the reflecting pool. He had expected to spend some time here alone to sort out his thoughts and convince himself again of the necessity of continuing the charade. He had not expected to find anyone there. He was surprised to see that it was the maid, Tess, and that she was looking astoundingly pretty.
"Good evening, Tess," he greeted her, recovering quickly from his surprise.
Tess jumped to her feet at the sight of him. "Good evening, Lord Alexander."
"What brings you out here?" David asked.
"It was such a nice evening that I took a walk in the garden and ended up here," she explained, thinking it was mostly the truth. "I'll be going back in now, so I won't be bothering you. I won't intrude on your privacy . . ." she offered as she started to move past him, but he put out a hand to stay her. That simple touch of his hand on her arm sent her pulse racing. Her eyes met his questioningly.
"No, wait. There's really no need for you to go."
"But . . ."
"Stay, we'll talk."
"Talk?"
"I don't bite, Tess."
She couldn't help but give a little laugh. "I didn't think you did, Lord Alexander."
They shared a warm smile, then sat down together on the bank. David didn't know what there was about this girl, whether it was her blatant honesty, natural beauty, or her unwavering cheerfulness, but whatever it was, he enjoyed being with her, talking to her and listening to her.
"Are you worried about something, Lord Alexander?" Tess ventured, noticing the tense look on his face.
"No. Why?" he lied.
"I don't know. You just looked unhappy, that's all," she offered.
David turned their conversation away from himself, and they drifted through a long, easy, comfortable dialogue as they spoke of many things. It was over an hour later when Tess heard someone calling her name from the direction of the house. She was shocked to discover that they had spent so much time alone together. Dalton and the others would never approve.
"I have to go . . ." she insisted, quickly rising and heading for the path.
David stood up, too. "Tess . . ."
"Yes?" Tess turned to look back at him.
"I enjoyed our talk tonight," he told her earnestly, somehow feeling like a light was going out of his life because she was leaving.
"So did I, but if any of the other servants find out I've been talking to you like this . . . Well . . . it just isn't done, you see."
"I understand," he answered, giving her another warm smile that made her heart leap in her breast. "Good night, Tess."
"Good night, Lord Alexander," she replied, and then disappeared from view up the path.
David watched her go. "Sweet dreams," he said softly into the night.
Chapter Twenty-One
The storm had knocked the Scimitar off course, and it took the corsairs several extra days to reach their destination. Finally, though, the lighthouse on the western point of their home port of Algiers came into view, and a shout of excitement went up among the men.
Normally, when a ship had be
en raided and taken captive, the pirates would sail it into the harbor closely behind the Scimitar, flying its flag upside down. This time, however, they had no vessel as bounty, only the French ship's cargo. Still, the men were proud enough to want to let everyone know that they were not coming back empty-handed. Serad directed that they bring out the French flag they'd taken from La Mouette and fly it upside down on their own mast along with their flag. That way everyone in the city would know they'd had a triumphant voyage even though they had no ship to show for it.
In Algiers, word of Serad's imminent arrival, along with his success, spread quickly. At his palace, Malik heard the news with great gladness as did Hasim, who was with his father at the time.
"See that the palace guns are fired to welcome the Scimitar home," Malik ordered in line with corsair tradition when he heard that Serad was flying a French flag to show that he'd met with victory.
"I'll do it right away, and then I'll go down to meet him," Hasim told his father. "It will be good to see my brother again after all these months." In the years since his father had taken Rabi to be his only woman, Hasim had come to look upon Serad as a true brother. The younger boy's determination and courage had won his respect and admiration.
"It certainly will," Malik responded, thinking of how pleased Rabi would be to know that her nephew had returned. "Tell Serad when you see him that I will be awaiting him in the main audience chamber."
Hasim left to do as his father had instructed and then hurried down to the waterfront to welcome Serad home. As he waited for the Scimitar to tie up, he let his thoughts drift over the years they'd spent together. Hasim had often wondered how he would have fared if their situations had been reversed. He was only now coming to realize just how hard it must have been for Serad at age seven to lose his home and family and be forced to begin a new life with them. Hasim was sure he wouldn't have adapted nearly as well as Serad had.
On board the Scimitar, Serad and Tariq stood at the rail watching Algiers come into view. They saw the palace of the dey first, for it was located high on a hill in the fortified, walled section of the city known as the Kasbah. The town itself spread out below the Kasbah all the way down to the water's edge, and its white buildings gleamed brilliantly in the afternoon sunlight. The domes of the mosques could be seen among the rooftops along with the few crosses that marked the Christian places of worship. They were home, and it felt good.
When the salute was sounded from Algiers, Serad smiled at Tariq. "Fire our guns in response. We'll return the honor."
The Scimitar's multitude of guns roared to life to acknowledge the city's welcome, and they continued on into port eager to be home again.
Tariq took charge of readying their bounty for the presentation that had to be made to Malik Dey. It was another corsair tradition that the captives and loot be paraded through the crowded streets of Algiers all the way up to the palace where the tribute would be paid. Tariq knew Serad always liked to go to Malik as soon as possible, so it was important that they be ready when the ship finally tied up at the dock.
Serad thought of Tori waiting below in his cabin and knew it was almost time to bring her up on deck. He considered going to her himself and then decided against it. He would send Mallah to get her and her companion, both.
Serad tried to turn his attention back to his business at hand, but now that Tori had entered his thoughts it was difficult to banish her. The time they'd spent together since the storm had been nerve-wracking. She had returned to her bed on the floor as he had sought the solace of his lonely bunk. The memory of how close they had come to intimacy was still hot within him, though, and it took only an occasional glance or word on her part to reheat his blood to the boiling point.
During the first several days after the bad weather, Tori had continued to tend to Serad's injured arm, but after suffering through her touch for three straight days, it had been all he could stand. In a fit of frustration, he'd told her it was healed and did not bother him anymore, just so she wouldn't put her hands on him again.
Serad knew Tori had no idea how her touch was affecting him. She seemed blissfully unaware that his endurance had been pushed to the breaking point. His entire being had cried out for him to take action on his desire for her, yet he'd denied himself again and again. His mood had grown very black and his temper surly, especially after he'd accidentally walked in on her during her bath that night.
Though Serad was relieved now that they'd finally reached port, but Tori would still be within arm's reach. As long as she was near he would want her, and he certainly had no intention of ransoming her back. Refusing to act on his desires pained him, but the guilt of forcing her to give herself to him would pain him, too. There seemed no solution.
"You sent for me, Serad Reis?" Mallah asked as he appeared at his side.
"It's time to bring the women on deck."
"Shall I bring them both together?"
"Yes. There will be no danger in that. Even if they tried to escape, there would be no place for them to go."
Mallah nodded and hurried off to take care of matters. He went to Serad's cabin first and unlocked the door to find Tori staring out the window, her back to him.
"It is time to go up on deck," Mallah announced.
"We've reached Algiers?" Tori asked solemnly as she turned to look at him. She'd always known this moment would come, but she had never been sure of what to expect when it did. What would happen now? Would she and Jonesey be kept separated or be reunited? Would she be locked up in a dark, dank prison somewhere until she could be ransomed back or would Serad lock her in his home and leave her there as his slave?
"Yes," he answered with his usual curtness. "We'll be leaving the ship soon, for we must take our tribute to Malik."
Suddenly, Tori wondered in horrified desperation if she and Jonesey were part of that tribute.
Tori wanted to rant and rave at him, to force him to tell her what was going to happen to her now that they were in port, but she knew it was useless. Mallah knew nothing. He only did as he was told. Her heart sank as she followed him from the room.
Mallah led her in a different direction from what she'd expected and her spirits were lightened a bit when they stopped long enough to release Jonesey from her confinement in the miserable little storage room. The indomitable woman emerged from her incarceration in a huff. She glared at Mallah, then embraced Tori with heartfelt affection.
"How are you, my dear child?" Jonesey asked, eyeing her critically in the dimly lighted hall.
"I'm all right. We've reached Algiers," she offered quickly.
"I had thought as much," she replied.
"Are you well?"
"As well as I can be," her companion said tightly. "It is not easy for a woman of my station to become accustomed to such degradation, but I've managed. Thank you. You didn't happen to bring my umbrella, did you?" She gave Tori a hopeful look.
"I didn't dare."
"I understand," Jonesey said with a sigh. She felt positively naked without her umbrella, but there wasn't much she could do about it.
"We must go," Mallah was brusque as he interrupted them and started off.
Jonesey gave him a scathing look as she shepherded Tori down the companionway. "Let's go then."
Mallah ignored the old woman as he led them up on deck.
The moment the Scimitar's gangplank had been lowered, Hasim hurried aboard. He caught sight of Serad on deck and rushed over to greet him.
"Serad! My brother! It's good you're back! We've missed you," Hasim told him as they embraced.
"It's good to be back. How are my aunt and Malik?"
"They're fine. Malik is waiting for you now in the audience chamber. I saw the flag. Did you have a successful voyage?" he inquired.
"Indeed, we did," Serad replied proudly. "We took the French ship and all her cargo."
"What about the vessel?"
"It was too damaged to sail."
"I see. I . . ." Hasim was about to say more w
hen he happened to look up past Serad.
It was at that very moment that Tori emerged from below with Miss Jones and Mallah. Though she was dressed in the confining manner of European women, Hasim was so taken by her beauty that all he could do was stop and stare.
Serad noticed the abrupt change in his brother's expression and how he had gone suddenly quiet, and he glanced over his shoulder to find out what had distracted him. Serad scowled when he realized that Tori was the source of his distraction.
"She is beautiful. Is this part of your prize from the French ship?"
"Yes, she . . ." he started to answer, but the other man was not listening.
Hasim brushed past Serad in his eagerness to get a closer look at Tori.
Tori had seen Serad and the stranger talking when she'd come out on deck, and she wondered at the relationship between them. The stranger was definitely a native of Algiers. His eyes were a dark chocolate brown, his hair black as a raven's wing, his skin a darker shade of bronze that her captor's, his features regular and not unattractive. He was wearing what she would come to recognize as the traditional Algerian male dress, the djellaba and loose-fitting trousers and headpiece.
When Tori heard the man comment on her beauty, she grew very nervous. And when he walked boldly toward her, she tensed and averted her gaze from his avid regard.
Hasim came to stand before her, lifting her chin with his hand to look her fully in the face. "How much do you want for her?" he exclaimed without pause, "I will buy her from you right now."
Tori wanted to do nothing more than flee, but she held her ground and met his gaze with her own defiant one.
Behind them, Jonesey tried to go to Tori's aid, but Mallah physically restrained her and hauled her away so she could not interfere.
"No, Hasim. This one is not for sale," Serad answered in terse tones.
