Devil's Daughter

by Catherine Coulter

  “Take your rest now, my lord. There is naught else to be done.”

  He turned and nodded to Daniele. “A week,” he said. “A week before we know what has happened to my sister.”

  “So you’ll fret and worry instead of—”

  “All right,” Adam said.

  “The captain has given you his first mate’s cabin. It’s small but comfortable. You’ll not be disturbed there.”

  “I will spend enough time in that cursed cabin,” Adam said. “For now, I’ll take my rest on deck.” He eased down on a loop of thick rope and rested his head on his arms, but he did not sleep until Naples was far distant.

  “My lord.”

  Adam shook himself awake and raised his head to Captain Alvarez, a tall lean man whose bald head was covered with an outmoded white wig.

  “You’ve slept the day through, my lord. I thought you would like to refresh yourself before we dine.”

  Adam rubbed the stiff muscles at the back of his neck and rose. He shivered, and realized the sun was setting and the chill evening air was permeating his clothes. “I will join you in an hour, sir,” he said. He stared upward at the billowing sails. “We have a good wind.”

  “The Malek is a fine ship. If the winds hold we will make port in Oran before you grow tired of my ugly face.” He laughed at his own jest and patted his wig. “Perhaps before you catch the lice that live on my head.”

  Adam smiled, thinking that the captain could afford to be affable, with all the gold he had pried out of him to divert his ship to Oran. He made his way from the quarterdeck, as comfortable on board the swaying ship as on land, just as was his mother. The Malek was a three-masted Spanish trading vessel, its hold full of Italian goods bound for Cádiz. And under tribute. Adam suspected the captain had intended to dock in the harbor of Oran in any case, but he had been in too much of a hurry to bargain with him, lice or no lice. He wondered how much the contessa had offered him.

  He made his way down the companionway to his cabin, quickly adjusting to the rhythm of the ship be-lowdeck. When he opened the door, his eyes narrowed with irritation and suspicion. A small boy was climbing out of his trunk.

  “What the devil are you doing?”

  The small figure spun around, one leg still in his trunk, and Adam found himself staring at Rayna Lyndhurst. She was dressed in loose brown trousers, white shirt, and cinnamon jacket, her hair tucked up under a brown work cap.

  Adam slapped his hand to his forehead. “My God, I don’t believe it.”

  Rayna calmly stepped free of the trunk. “If I had known,” she said, “that you would spend the day on deck, I would not have had to stay buried in that wretched trunk. It was very uncomfortable, and I had to be very quiet when your valet came in a while ago.” She pointed to the hipbath in a corner of the small cabin, steaming water rising out of it.

  All the warm, loving thoughts he had squandered on her on deck fled his mind. He felt such anger at her that he could not speak. And instead of being sheepish or pleading with him to forgive her for this outrageous act, she was carping at him.

  “You make a charming boy,” he said finally with an attempt at sarcasm.

  “Yes, don’t I?” Rayna said, turning about to show him the fit of her trousers. “I stole the clothes from the gardener’s youngest son.” He looked as if he were thinking of beating her, and all she wanted to do was throw herself in his arms.

  “May I ask, madam,” Adam said, taking a step back, “how you contrived to get on board this vessel?”

  Rayna forced herself to shrug. “No one pays the least attention to a skinny boy. I was fortunate, though, I overheard the captain tell one of his men that the English lord would take over his first mate’s cabin. I simply slipped into this room, saw your trunk, and climbed in.” She turned and walked to the small table, providing him with a fine view of her trousered hips, and poured herself a glass of wine. “I was worried, however,” she said, “that you could discover me sooner, and possibly convince the captain to return to Naples. So despite my discomfort, I thank you, my lord, for remaining abovedeck.”

  “And your father,” he said, “I do not suppose you informed him of your plans?”

  “That bothered me not a little, let me tell you. I fear he will be upset with me when he reads my letter. I suppose he has already read it,” she continued, frowning into the glass. “Yes, very upset.”

  Adam thought she did not appear at all concerned at her father’s likely apoplexy.

  “If he disowns me, will you still marry me, Adam? Without a dowry?”

  “You may no longer be alive once I am finished with you.”

  She ignored his ill humor and remarked to the cabin at large, “I have not been seasick at all. I was worried about that, you know. Perhaps I will make something of a sailor after all.” She gave him a charming smile. “I am terribly hungry. My stomach has been growling ferociously for the past several hours.”

  “If you eat, madam, it will be standing up.”

  “Ah, but there are chairs, my lord.” She set down her wineglass and plopped down onto one of the heavily carved Spanish chairs. She could practically hear Adam grinding his teeth as she lifted one leg over the arm of the chair and began to swing it back and forth like a careless boy.

  There was a light knock on the door and Banyon appeared. “My lord, when you are finished washing up—” He broke off, staring from the smiling boy to his master’s furious face.

  Adam walked over to Rayna and pulled off her woolen cap.

  “Oh,” Banyon said.

  “Yes, indeed.” Damnation. He knew now the ship could not return to Naples. Worse, he could not reveal that there was a girl aboard, staying in his cabin. “Damnation,” he said aloud. “Banyon, inform the captain that I’ve a touch of something vile, and bring my dinner here. Make it noble portions—the lad here tells me she is quite ravenous.”

  “Oh,” Banyon said again.

  “I fear, madam,” he said between clenched teeth to Rayna, “that you will be spending the next week in this cabin.”

  “I do not mind in the least,” Rayna said. “Banyon, I am really very hungry.”

  “Yes, miss,” Banyon said, his eyes only briefly leaving his master’s set face.

  “Banyon,” Adam said, “tell Daniele about our uninvited guest. As for the other men, and particularly the crew, keep the stowaway here to yourself.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Banyon spared one glance for the young lady before he slipped out of the cabin, careful to close the cabin door soundly. He had never before seen his master so furious. He remembered, a slow smile lighting his leathered face, when he had discovered a woman several years before in his master’s bedroom, in his bed. Then the master had only laughed and firmly closed the bedroom door in Banyon’s interested face.

  Rayna gulped at the mean anger in Adam’s eyes when he turned back to her. He took a purposeful step toward her, and Rayna leapt out of the chair and backed away.

  “Listen to me, Adam Welles,” she shouted at him. “I could not let you leave Naples like some sort of avenging angel, bound for God knows what kind of danger. And I’ll tell you something else. I do not believe that even you, at your most persuasive, could convince my father to let us wed, even if he knew that we are lovers. I am sorry for the worry my parents will feel, but I told them I was with you, and as safe as I could be. I told them that I love you and that we are going to fetch Arabella.”

  “So now I can expect to see your father waiting for me on the dock at Oran, a pistol in his hand.”

  “No, I did not tell him where we were bound.”

  Adam cursed long and fluently. Rayna regarded him with some astonishment, and then stared wide-eyed when he turned away from her and calmly began to strip off his clothes. She had expected him to burn her ears at least until dinner arrived.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I am going to wash up and shave,” Adam said, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it on the narrow bed.
/>   He sat down on the edge of the cot and pulled off his boots. “Perhaps,” he said, not looking at her, “after a week in my company you will not wish to marry me. I can be a most demanding man, so I’ve been told, by a number of ladies.”

  Rayna raised her chin and stared down her nose at him.

  When he stood and unfastened his wide leather belt, she moved her chair closer. “Just a moment, my lord,” she said. “If you are planning to parade in front of me naked, I would like to have a better view of my treat.”

  Adam’s fingers stilled for a moment on his pants.

  “Are you going to shave off that fierce beard?”

  “No. I wish to leave something on.”

  His trousers dropped to the floor, and he stood before her splendidly naked. Rayna found herself staring at him pointedly. Despite herself, she said in a breathless voice, “I cannot imagine a man more beautiful than you, my lord.” She dropped her face into her hands, remembering his words. “And you have known so many women. How can you want me? I am so ordinary.”

  Her guilelessness was as artful as the most skilled courtesan’s. No, he would not succumb to it. “Ordinary, Rayna? I have studied you carefully, and have decided that you will improve in a few more years.”

  Their dinner arrived after Adam had bathed and shrugged into a change of clothes. It consisted indeed of huge portions of roast chicken, boiled potatoes, and green peas.

  “If you drink any more wine, you will be vilely ill,” Adam said as Rayna drank what was left of her second glass of wine.

  “Adam,” she said after a moment, “I know that you are angry with me, but—”

  “That, madam, is not the half of it.”

  “—but I could not stay in Naples pretending to my parents that I cared naught about anything, and knowing that I would not be with you to protect you.”

  “Protect me. Good Lord, Rayna, you protect me?”

  Silence reigned as Banyon, his eyes darting first to his master and then to the young lady, cleared away the dishes. “It looks to be a lovely evening,” he said, closely examining the chicken bones.

  Adam scraped back his chair. “I believe I will see for myself. Madam, you will stay here. Is that clear?”

  Rayna did not look at him, only nodded.

  “I’ll bring you some fresh water, miss,” Banyon said when Adam had slammed out of the cabin. “Leave your clothes and I’ll freshen them for you.”

  “Thank you, Banyon.”

  Rayna washed quickly. She had no choice but to put on one of Adam’s cambric shirts. She pulled a blanket from the cot, lay down on the floor, covered herself with it to her nose, and waited.

  Adam walked into the cabin at that moment. He took in the loose auburn hair, thick and lustrous, that framed her small face. And his cambric shirt.

  “What are you doing on the floor?”

  “Where else should I be?”

  “You should first be hauled over my lap.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  Adam strode over to her, bent down, and hauled her to her feet. She struggled against him, but he dragged her to the cot and pulled her onto her stomach over his knees. The cambric shirt shifted upward, baring her legs.

  “Rayna,” he said, “what you’ve done is unpardonable, and I’ve waited to do this until my anger cooled. God knows what Arabella is going through, and now I must concern myself with what to do with you. The captain will be sailing nowhere near a port where I may leave you. You will never, my girl, ever again disobey me.”

  He jerked up the shirt and brought the flat of his hand down on her buttocks. “Do you understand me?”

  “No!”

  He brought his hand down again and she felt tears start in her eyes. She tried to rear up, but it was no use. “Do you understand me?” he repeated as his hand came down again.

  “I will do what I believe is right,” she yelled.

  He raised his hand, but froze at seeing the raised imprint of his fingers on her bottom. He lowered his hand and gently caressed the spot to ease away its sting. She lay perfectly still.

  He turned her over and cradled her in his arms. “I love you,” he said. “But I will beat you again if you ever do something so stupid.”

  “And what if you do something stupid?”

  “Your sharp tongue will be punishment enough.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “How is your bottom?” he asked, resting his large hand lightly on her bare leg.

  “It stings.”

  “Ah. I will endeavor to find a remedy.” He unfastened the draw string on the cambric shirt and lifted it over her head.

  He eased her down into the crook of his arm and laid his other hand gently down on her belly. “I shall probably have to duel with every one of your damned brothers.”

  Chapter 18

  Kamal slowly rolled the parchment into a tight ring, tied a black ribbon around it, and handed it to Hassan.

  “You seem preoccupied, highness.”

  “Yes, old friend. I just received word from a friend in Paris that the French and the English will shortly be at each other’s throats again. The Treaty of Amiens is no more.”

  Hassan shrugged and gazed briefly at the parchment. “Did you write to the Dey of this?”

  “Yes. Undoubtedly he will hold a celebration.”

  “It does mean that the English will be distracted, protecting their puny island from the French emperor.”

  Kamal looked up at Ali, who stood in the open doorway waiting to gain his master’s attention.

  “What is it, Ali?”

  “Raj approaches, highness, with the English girl.”

  Kamal smiled at Hassan. “At least she should no longer offend the nose.”

  He heard Hassan draw in his breath and turned slowly. Standing close to the huge eunuch was the most exquisite girl Kamal had ever seen, all golden and ivory with eyes so dark they appeared almost black.

  Kamal stared at her, knowing full well who she was, but asking nonetheless, “Well, Raj, where is she?”

  “Lady Arabella Welles, your highness,” said Raj, and gently pushed Arabella forward.

  “Ah,” Kamal said slowly. He could not prevent himself studying her. In the soft candlelight her hair looked like spun gold. It flowed long and silky down her back, held off her forehead by a simple gold embroidered band. She was dressed in the Turkish fashion, and the gossamer veils did nothing to hide her. He finally met her eyes and smiled reluctantly, for she was staring at him as closely as he was her.

  Arabella stood stiffly, her hands fisted at her sides. She would not show fear; she must not. She studied the man lounged on the soft cushions before her. She had not remarked earlier how very fine-looking he was. Not that it mattered. He was her enemy, the son of the vicious contessa. She heard Raj say, “It was walnut stain, highness, doubtless used to protect her on her voyage here. She is again as she was.”

  A beautiful whore, Kamal thought, wishing perhaps that she weren’t so lovely. He could picture her dressed in her European finery. He wondered if she would try to seduce him to gain her ends.

  Hassan said, “She does not wear a veil, Raj, nor does she kneel to his highness.”

  Arabella felt a quiver of anger, and her fists clenched harder. She felt Raj’s soft fingers lightly touch her arm. “Lady Arabella is not Muslim,” he said.

  She drew herself up straighter, narrowing her dark eyes at the old man, who was regarding her speculatively.

  “Still—” Hassan said, taken aback by the fury in those dark eyes.

  “I do not kneel to animals,” Arabella said in a loud, clear voice, “even though they pretend royalty.”

  “I see that you could do nothing about her tongue, Raj,” Kamal said. He uncoiled his powerful body to stand in front of her. She raised her eyes to his face and looked at him with contempt. So, he thought, she was still bent upon her insults. He had planned to treat her as a European lady, to speak to her gently and try to explain why she was here. Evidentl
y, as a Muslim, he was worthy only of her insults. It angered him. Without warning, his hand shot out and wound about a thick mass of hair. Slowly he wrapped it about his hand, drawing her toward him.

  “Kneel before your master,” he said pleasantly.

  “Go to hell,” Arabella said.

  Kamal released her hair suddenly and hooked his leg behind hers, throwing her forward. Arabella fell on her knees, momentarily stunned. She growled in fury and tried to jump up, only to feel his hands on her shoulders, keeping her down.

  “That is where a slave and a woman belongs,” Kamal said. “You will stay there until I give you leave to rise.”

  Raj stared at Kamal in consternation. Never had he treated any woman thus. He knew too that Arabella wouldn’t submit, and he feared for her life. He opened his mouth, but he wasn’t in time. Arabella thrust out her hands and shoved at Kamal’s legs with all her strength. He staggered backward, but kept his balance.

  “Highness,” Raj said, quickly moving in front of the girl.

  Arabella leapt to her feet and turned to run, but she got no farther than the door. Raj held her arm firmly. “No, little one,” he said.

  “You protect the little slut?” Her eyes darted to his face and he saw fury in their depths. “Leave us,” he said. “I wish to dine now, and the slave will keep me company. Perhaps she can even be taught manners.”

  Raj heard the low hiss of her breath and said quietly, “Take care, my lady. You might consider conciliation. His highness is as much European as he is Muslim.”

  She blinked in surprise until she remembered that his mother was indeed European.

  Why is he protecting her? Kamal wondered. They were quickly left alone. He saw her glance dart about the chamber, and he did not have to be told that she was searching for a way to escape.

  “Sit down,” he said, pointing to the cushions set in front of the low sandalwood table. For a moment he thought she would refuse, but she eased herself down to the cushions. He rang a small golden bell beside him, and three young Nubian boys entered, each carrying covered silver dishes.

  Kamal looked at the girl opposite him. She was paying him no attention, her eyes fixed on her plate, but her rigid body gave her away. He allowed the boys to serve them, then nodded his head for them to leave.