Captive Bride

by Johanna Lindsey

  He laughed again. “So you’re no longer afraid of me, Tina. That’s good. I don’t think I would care to hear you begging and pleading with me for mercy.”

  “1 would never give you that satisfaction, Mr. Caxton.” Christina stood up and faced him, her hair flowing to her hips. “Now would you kindly tell me why you’ve brought me here? If it’s ransom you’re after, my brother will give you anything you want. Only I’d like the matter handled quickly, so I may leave this place and your company.”

  He smiled at her. His unusual eyes held her hypnotized. Why did he have to be so damned handsome, she thought irrelevantly.

  “I suppose I should enlighten you about why I’ve brought you here.” Philip sat down on the couch across from her and motioned for her to do the same. He drained his goblet, and studied her intently before continuing.

  “I don’t usually explain myself to anyone, but I suppose I can make an exception in your case.” He paused, as if to find the words he wanted to use. “Christina, the first time I laid eyes on you at the ball in London, I knew I wanted you. So I tried it your way. I declared my feelings to you and offered you marriage. When you refused, I decided to have you my own way, and quickly. I arranged for your brother to be sent to this country the night you refused me.”

  “So it was you who had my brother sent here!” she gasped.

  “You will not interrupt again until I am finished. Is that clear?” Philip asked brusquely.

  Christina nodded her head, only because her curiosity demanded she hear him out.

  “As I said, I arranged for your brother to be sent here. It was only a question of knowing the right people. If you had decided to stay in England, I wouldn’t have had too much trouble taking you away to my home with your brother gone. You would have found it easier to escape me there, but I could have had you sooner. Here you will have less chance to get away from me. It’s the way of the land here to take captives, so don’t expect any help from the people of my camp.” Philip smiled wickedly at her. “You’re mine now, Tina. The sooner you realize that, the better it will be for you.”

  Flying off the couch, Christina paced the floor in fury. “I cannot believe what you’ve told me! How could you possibly imagine that I’d marry you after what you’ve done to me?”

  “Marry!” he laughed. “I offered you marriage once, I will not again. I don’t have to marry you to have you in this land!” He came to her and took her in his arms. “You may call yourself my slave, but not my wife.”

  “I will be no man’s slave! I’ll kill myself before I’ll submit to you!” Christina screamed, and fought to escape his embrace.

  “Do you think that I’d let you kill yourself, after I’ve waited so long for you?” Philip murmured huskily. He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her passionately, holding her head with one hand and both of her arms with the other.

  Christina felt a strange sensation creeping through her body again. Did she enjoy his kiss? But that was impossible. She hated him!

  She went limp in his arms, but before she could manage to kick out, Philip picked her up, and his laughter rang through the tent.

  “That little trick of yours won’t work again, Tina.”

  Philip carried Christina through the heavy curtains to his bed. When she saw his intent, she began to fight in earnest, but he dropped her onto the bed and lay down beside her. She beat at his chest with her fists until he pulled both of her arms above her head and held them there with one hand.

  “I think I’ll see now if your body matches your beautiful face.”

  Philip untied the robe she was wearing. He threw his leg over her to still her kicking and, with one rending tear, ripped her nightdress apart.

  Christina screamed, only to find his lips on hers and his tongue probing deeply in her mouth. But this time his kiss was soft and gentle, making her head spin with mixed feelings. He moved his lips to her neck and with his free hand boldly caressed her full, ripe breasts.

  Searching her eyes for a response, Philip smiled down into her face. “You’re even more beautiful than I had dreamed possible. Your body was made for love. I want you, Tina,” he whispered huskily. Then he lowered his lips to her breasts, kissing each one in turn. Christina felt on fire.

  She had to say something to make him stop. She was no match for his strength. “You’re no gentleman, Mr. Caxton. Must you rape me against my will,” she asked coldly, “knowing that I hate you?”

  Philip looked at her then, and she could see the desire fade from his dark green eyes. He released her and stood up beside the bed. He gazed down at her, and his mouth was hard, matching the cold glint in his eyes.

  “I’ve never claimed to be a gentleman, but I will not rape you. When I make love to you, it will be because you want it as much as I. And you will want me, Tina. I promise you that.”

  “Never!” she hissed, pulling her clothes across her body. “I will never want you. I hate you with all my being.”

  “We shall see, Tina,” Philip answered, and turned away.

  “And would you stop calling me Tina? It is not my name!” she yelled at him, but he had already left the tent.

  Christina tied the robe across her torn nightdress and glanced about the room. But there was nothing to see, only a single chest beside the huge bed with its heavy sheepskin cover.

  Sliding under the cover, Christina mused over what he had said. So—he would not rape her. If he was a man of his word, she would be quite safe, for she knew she could never want him. Why should she ever want any man? Desire was a man’s emotion, not a woman’s.

  But what if he didn’t keep his word? She hadn’t the strength to stop him if he decided to take her by force. What then? And what the devil was he doing in Egypt, anyway? He acted like a native, and the tribe seemed to accept him as one of them. She couldn’t understand it, and the question kept going through her mind without answers.

  When she thought of the lengths Philip Caxton had gone to, to get her here, she became furious again. To think that she had come all the way across the ocean only to be abducted by a madman! Well, she wouldn’t be here long if she could help it. With thoughts of escape running through her mind, Christina finally went to sleep.

  DAMN, BUT CHRISTINA could be a bitch when she wanted to, Philip thought. Well, her day would come, and he would take great pleasure in making her admit her desire for him.

  Late as it was, Philip left the tent to visit Sheik Yasir Alhamar, his father, for he knew the old man would be waiting for him.

  Yasir Alhamar had been sheik of the tribe for over thirty-five years. He had captured his first wife, an English lady of noble family, while raiding a caravan. She lived with Yasir for five years, giving him two sons, Philip and Paul.

  During those days, the tribe lived a nomadic life on the desert, and the climate and hard life aged Philip’s mother quickly. She begged to go home to England with her sons. Yasir loved her very much and let her go. But she promised him to let his sons return to Egypt when they came of age, if they chose.

  Philip was raised and schooled in England. When he was twenty-one years of age, his mother told him about his father. Philip decided to find Yasir and live with him. When Philip’s mother died five years ago, he inherited the estate. He left it in the care of the Caxtons’ estate manager, since he didn’t want to live in England and his brother was still in school.

  Philip lived with his father’s tribe eleven years, but finally went back to England a year ago to attend his brother’s wedding. Paul had talked him into staying for a while. Then he met Christina Wakefield, and decided to make her his.

  Philip had followed Christina and John Wakefield to the dock and waited patiently until their ship departed. It was sheer luck that he managed to obtain passage on a cargo ship. He left the same day, but docked a week before Christina’s ship.

  When he arrived, he contacted Saadi and Ahmad, and had them bring his horse, Victory, to meet him in Cairo. Saadi and Ahmad were good comrades; they were also distant
cousins of his. The whole tribe was distantly related to him.

  Philip had a half-brother here who was eight years younger than he. But they didn’t get along too well. He could understand why, since Rashid would have become head of the tribe if Philip had stayed in England.

  Yasir Alhamar was sitting up on the sheepskins that served as his bed. He still lived the traditional nomadic way, with little furniture and few comforts. Philip could remember how his father had laughed at him when he carted his bed and furniture up to the hillside encampment.

  “So, you are still an Englishman, Abu. I had thought you would be used to sleeping and eating on the ground after so long,” Yasir had said.

  “At least I stole the items, father,” Philip had returned.

  “Ah, so there is still some hope left for you,” Yasir had replied, laughing.

  When Yasir saw Philip, he motioned him to enter and sit down beside him. “It has been a long time, my son. I have been told of the woman you brought into camp tonight. Is she your woman?”

  “She will be, father. I first saw her in London and knew that I had to have her. I arranged for her brother to be sent here, and now she is mine. She fights me now, but it will not take too long to tame her.”

  Yasir laughed. “You are truly my son. You have stolen your woman, just as I stole your mother. Your mother also fought me in the beginning, but I believe she grew to love me as I did her, for she married me. Perhaps if we had lived in the mountains then, she would have stayed with me, but she couldn’t survive in the desert climate. I would have gone with her, but I have lived all my life here, and I could not survive in your civilized England,” he said. “Perhaps you will give me grandchildren before I die.”

  “Perhaps, father, we shall see. I will bring her to you tomorrow, but now I must return.”

  His father nodded, and Philip went back to his tent. He entered to find a meal awaiting him, and sat down to eat and muse over the girl sleeping in his bed.

  He wouldn’t be able to wait very long to have her, with her now-constant nearness. It had been too long since he had bedded a woman, and Christina’s body was driving him crazy. He remembered her breasts, full under his caress; her tiny waist and slim smooth hips; her long legs, perfectly formed; her skin like satin; her hair—he could lose himself in that golden mass of curls.

  Christina’s eyes fascinated him. They had turned a dark, stormy blue when she discovered it was he who had abducted her. He had waited a long time to see that reaction. He laughed again as he remembered the shock on her face that had quickly turned to anger.

  Well, perhaps he would give her a little time to get used to her new home, but not too much time. Tomorrow would do.

  He undressed and gently eased his way into the bed. Christina was curled into a ball with her back to him. Philip considered undressing her, but that would only wake her and he was too tired to suffer her rage. He smiled when he thought of her reaction when she found him in bed beside her in the morning. Well, at least Christina was here beside him, even if it was against her will. She would have to accept the situation eventually. Philip closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him.

  WHEN CHRISTINA WAKEFIELD awoke the next morning, she had a smile on her lips, for she had been dreaming of running through a field at home in Halstead. Her blue-green eyes widened in surprise when she saw the man lying in bed beside her. Then she remembered where she was and how she had come to be in this predicament.

  What audacity! she thought furiously. She never expected he would share the same bed with her. This was too much to bear; she had to escape from this man!

  Easing herself from the bed, Christina turned to see if she had awakened him. Philip Caxton slept soundly, an innocent, self-satisfied expression on his face. Cursing him silently, she cautiously tiptoed around the bed and between the heavy curtains that hid the bedroom from the rest of the tent.

  Smelling the aroma of food coming from somewhere in the camp, Christina realized how hungry she was. She had eaten nothing the night before. But she couldn’t think of food now. She had to get away while Philip was still asleep.

  Christina pulled back the material covering the tent entrance and peered out. Luckily she could see no one about the camp. Well, it is now or never, she thought.

  Gathering courage, Christina started walking out of the camp. As soon as she passed the last tent, she started running wildly, veering off the main path in case Philip came looking for her. The rocks cut her bare feet as she hurried through the wild olive trees.

  She prayed silently that no one had seen her leaving the camp. If only she could reach the bottom of the mountain, she could hide herself and hope for a passing caravan to take her back to her brother.

  Then Christina heard the sound of a horse trampling the brush behind her. All her hopes shattered when she turned to see Philip galloping his beautiful Arabian stallion up to her. His eyes were a dark, turbulent green, and his expression was full of black rage.

  “Damn you!” she screamed. “How did you find me so fast?”

  “You damn me! I was the one who was awakened from a sound sleep to be told by Ahmad that you were running down the mountainside. What do I have to do, woman? Must I tie you to my bed at night to ensure that you’ll not escape me while I sleep? Is that what you want?”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “I told you once, Christina, that I dare anything I damn well please.” Philip jumped off his horse with the ease of a mountain cat. His face was hard, his eyes dangerous and cold as he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her roughly. “I should beat you for running away from me! That’s what any self-respecting Arab would do to his woman.”

  “I am not your woman!” she said, her eyes flashing murderously at him. “Nor will I ever be!”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Christina, for you are and shall remain my woman until I tire of you.”

  “No, I won’t! And you have no right to keep me here. My God, can’t you see how much I hate you? You’re everything that I despise in a man. You’re a—a barbarian!”

  “Yes, I suppose I am. But if I were a civilized gentleman, I wouldn’t have you here where I want you. And like it or not, I will keep you here, tied to my bed if necessary,” he replied coldly. He picked her up and deposited her roughly across the back of his horse.

  “Why must I ride this way?” Christina demanded indignantly.

  “I’d think that you’d be happy with this light punishment,” he said. “You deserve much worse.”

  Philip mounted the horse behind her, and when she started to struggle he brought his hand down hard across her buttocks. Christina stopped her kicking but fumed silently all the way back to camp.

  Damn him, she thought vindictively. Someday she would take extreme pleasure in seeing Philip suffer. Why was this happening to her? She had always been proud—proud of her family, proud of their estate, proud of her own fiery beauty and independence. It was doubly painful to be brought so low now. It was degrading to be just a toy for this hateful man. She didn’t deserve this. No one deserved this!

  When they reached his tent, Philip dismounted, lifted Christina off the horse, and pushed her inside. She sat down on one of the couches to await whatever would happen next.

  Philip spoke to someone outside the tent, came in, and sat down beside her. “There is food coming. Are you hungry?” he asked, the harshness gone from his voice.

  “No,” she lied. But when a young girl brought in a platter of food, nothing could have stopped Christina from eating her fill.

  Philip finished eating before she did, and leaned back on the couch behind her. She felt him gather her hair in his hands and play with it gently. Christina stopped eating and turned to look into his smiling green eyes.

  “Would you like to bathe, my sweet?” Philip asked her, rubbing a lock of her golden hair between his fingers.

  Christina couldn’t deny that she would love a bath. While she finished eating, Philip left the tent and came back shortly wi
th a skirt, a blouse, a pair of slippers, and what she assumed was a towel. She wondered who they belonged to, but she was not about to ask.

  Philip led Christina from the tent and across the camp. There was a young woman about Christina’s age playing with a small child in front of the tent to the left of Philip’s. Goats and sheep grazed on the hills above the camp, and a corral housed ten or twelve of the finest Arabian horses she’d ever seen, including two new foals. She wished that she could stop to look at the horses, but Philip led her out of the camp and up a path into the mountains.

  Christina pulled away from him. “Where are you taking me?” she demanded. But he grabbed her arm again and continued walking.

  “You wished to bathe, did you not?” he asked, leading her into a small clearing that was surrounded by tall juniper trees.

  A large pond in the middle of the clearing had been formed by the mountain rains. It was a beautiful place, but Christina wondered why Philip had brought her here. He took the clothes from her and handed her a bar of sweet-smelling soap.

  “You don’t expect me to bathe here, do you?” she asked haughtily.

  “Look, Tina, you’re not in England anymore where you can have a nice hot bath sent up to your room. You’re here now, and if you wish to bathe, you will do as the rest of us do.”

  “All right. I must wash after that horrible journey. If this is the only way that I will be able to bathe, then so be it. You may leave now, Mr. Caxton.”

  Philip grinned at her. “No, my lady, I have no intention of leaving.” He sat down on a log and lazily crossed his legs. She noticed that the yellow flecks in his eyes brightened in the sunlight.

  A slow blush crept into Christina’s face. “You can’t possibly mean that you are going to stay here and”—she paused, not wanting to finish—“and watch me!”

  “That’s exactly what I intend to do. So you may proceed if you will.” He was staring at her intently with a wicked grin on his lips. Her blood boiled.