Captive Bride

by Johanna Lindsey

  “Crissy—I can’t stand what you are doing to yourself,” John said. “More times than not, when I come home your eyes are just as red as they are now. You’ve tried to hide it, but I know you still cry for that man. He’s not worth your tears! Lord, I would kill him if I could lay my hands on him!”

  “Don’t say that, John!” she said wildly. She grabbed his arms, her fingers digging into them with uncommon strength. “Don’t ever say that again! He’s made me suffer, yes, but it’s my load to carry. He’s not entirely to blame, for he never knew I loved him. He thought he was giving me what I wanted—freedom. Swear to me you’ll never harm him!”

  “Calm yourself, Crissy,” John said, shocked by her outburst. “I’ll probably never run into the man.”

  Christina’s voice was urgent, and tears stood in her eyes. “But you might meet him someday. I must have your word that you won’t hurt him!”

  John hesitated, looking into his sister’s pleading face. He would never meet this Abu, so there was no harm in giving Crissy his word as long as it made her happy. Then an idea came to him.

  “I’ll give you my word on one condition—that you stop torturing yourself over that man. Get out and meet new people. And you can start by coming to the opera with me tonight!”

  A sudden calmness came into Christina’s face. She relaxed and let go of John’s arms.

  “All right, John, if that’s what it takes to secure your word. But I still think you’d enjoy yourself more if I weren’t along.”

  “Let me be the judge of that.” He glanced at the clock on the mantel. “You have less than an hour to make yourself ready.” He grinned when he saw her dismay. It was very little time to dress for her first night out in six months. “I will have Mrs. Greene heat water for your bath.”

  Christina rushed into her bedroom. She picked out one of her London gowns. It was dark-gold satin with shimmering golden braid laced through the skirt and bodice. She chose her sapphires to match her eyes. She felt timid at facing society so soon. But she put her fears aside while Mrs. Greene chatted cheerfully about the opera and how good it was that Christina would finally see it.

  True to John’s word, less than an hour later they were in the carriage and on the way to pick up Kareen. Christina waited in the carriage while John went up the few steps and rapped loudly on the door of the whitewashed house.

  A moment later, Kareen came down the steps on John’s arm. She wore a deep-red velvet gown that was stunning with her silky black hair braided into a thick chignon.

  Christina gasped when she saw Kareen’s large Spanish comb with rubies running across the top. In her mind she saw Philip’s quick smile as he presented her with a comb much like it. “It was purchased honestly, my sweet. I had Syed sell one of the horses last month and bring back the best comb he could find,” Philip had said, and she had been pleased with the gift. She wished she had kept it now and hadn’t been so hasty in leaving everything behind that would have reminded her of Philip. There was no possibility of her ever forgetting him, and some of the items she’d left carried fond memories. Well, at least she still had that horrible note and the Arab clothes she’d been wearing the day she got it.

  “Christina—you look as though you’re a million miles away. Are you all right?” It was Kareen who spoke, her face filled with concern.

  “I’m sorry—I was just lost in thought,” Christina answered.

  Kareen smiled warmly “I’m so glad that you agreed to come with us. I just know you’ll enjoy the opera.”

  They arrived shortly thereafter, and John escorted them into the old Opera House. As they entered, the many men and women standing about turned to stare openly at Christina and whisper remarks to their companions. The women gave her contemptuous glances and then turned away. But the men grinned lasciviously and raped her body with their eyes. A few young men, who obviously knew John and Kareen, ventured forward to meet Christina. They paid her lavish compliments, but their eyes roved over her body boldly, and she replied tartly to their flattery.

  “Miss Wakefield!”

  Christina turned abruptly to see William Dawson coming toward her with a huge smile. He was exactly as she remembered him—tanned and athletic-looking. She remembered his exciting stories, and she wished she had received him when he called so many times.

  “It’s been so long,” he said, taking her hand and drawing it to his lips. “And you’re still so beautiful. I hope you have recovered completely from your illness?”

  “Yes. I was ah—persuaded to join the living world again,” she said. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Dawson.”

  “William,” he corrected her. “We’re such old friends, Christina. You injure me by calling me anything but William. Have you an escort?”

  “Well—I came with John and Kareen.”

  “Shame on you, John, for keeping the two most beautiful women in Cairo all to yourself.”

  “Well, I guess I am a bit selfish when it comes to these two,” John laughed.

  William Dawson’s soft gray eyes rested on Christina. He still held her hand in both of his.

  “You’d make me the happiest man in Cairo if you’d allow me to sit with you during the performance, and perhaps take you home afterward. With your brother’s permission, of course.”

  “Well, I—” Christina looked to John for help, but he sent her a warning look to remind her of the promise she’d made. She smiled weakly. “I would be delighted to accept your offer, William. It seems I have my very own escort now—doesn’t it, Kareen?”

  Kareen nodded with sympathetic eyes. “Yes, and a charming one, at that.”

  She knew Christina wasn’t ready for this. She still carried a broken heart so openly. Kareen wondered how John had managed to talk Christina into coming tonight. It was good for Christina to get out, but she wasn’t ready yet to trade polite quips with an escort.

  On the way home, Christina listened absentmindedly to William’s story of some adventure in the wilds of Texas. She couldn’t recall anything about the opera, except impressions of brightly colored costumes and loud music. Her thoughts had wandered every time she’d glanced at the comb in Kareen’s hair. Couldn’t she forget Philip even for a little while?

  “We’re here, Christina.”

  She was glad she’d agreed to let William bring her home. John would want to be alone with Kareen for a while, and she’d have been in the way.

  “Would you like to come in for a glass of sherry, William?” she said, feeling guilty about the many times she’d refused to see him.

  “I was hoping you’d ask me just that.”

  Inside, Christina went directly to the liquor cabinet, but William came up behind her and pinned here there with one hand on either side. He poured two sherries, then stepped back to hand her one.

  “I’d like to toast this moment. How I’ve dreamed of it,” he murmured. His eyes caressed the bosom revealed by her low-cut gown.

  “I hardly think it worth toasting, William,” she said nervously.

  Christina moved away and sat down in John’s favorite chair for what little protection it offered. She suddenly remembered that Mrs. Greene was visiting friends and would probably stay the night.

  “You’re wrong, Christina,” William said, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. “Tonight will be a night to remember for both of us.”

  Suddenly he pulled her into his arms. His lips found hers and bruised them in a demanding kiss. Christina felt shocked and repelled. How had she let herself into this situation? She pulled her mouth away, but he still embraced her, pressing her body against his.

  “William, please—let go of me.” She tried to speak calmly. But she knew she was alone with him, and fought a rising panic.

  “What’s wrong, Christina?” He held her at arm’s length, running his gray eyes boldly over her body. “There’s no need to act the coy virgin with me.”

  “You’re too bold, William Dawson,” Christina replied coldly, jerking out of his grasp.
“You have no right to take such liberties with me.”

  “I haven’t begun to take the liberties I intend taking.”

  William reached for Christina, but she ran to put the big chair between them.

  “I must ask you to leave,” she said curtly.

  “Is that any way to act, baby doll? I’ll take good care of you. I’m not a rich man, but I can certainly afford a mistress. After a while, if you’re a good little girl, I might even marry you.”

  “You must be crazy!”

  He laughed. She could see the lustful desire in his face. He shoved the chair aside and moved forward with his arms outstretched. Christina turned to run, but it was too late. William grabbed her around the waist and jerked her back against him.

  His wicked laughter infuriated her. His hands explored her breasts and belly while she struggled to get free.

  “Do you like it rough? Is that what you’re used to, baby doll? One more man isn’t going to matter after all those stinking desert outlaws you’ve spread your legs for. Tell me—how many were there? And which one sired the bastard you’re carrying? I’m sure the little fellow won’t mind if I sample his mama’s goods.”

  Christina froze at his last words. She stood perfectly still. Not even a breath escaped her, and the words kept ringing in her ears. Bastard you’re carrying bastard. A baby!

  “So you’ve decided to be reasonable. Well, you’ll enjoy having a man after all the scum you’re used to.”

  Suddenly Christina burst out laughing. It had been a long time since she’d heard the sound of her own laughter. William swung her around roughly and shook her by the shoulders.

  “What the hell’s so funny?” he demanded. But she laughed hysterically, tears running down her cheeks.

  And then they both heard the sound of John’s carriage pulling to a halt in front of the building.

  “You bitch!” William whispered furiously, pushing her from him.

  “Yes,” she replied gaily. “I certainly can be a bitch when the situation warrants it.”

  “I’m not through with you yet—there will be another time,” he said coldly.

  “Oh—I doubt that, William.”

  John walked into the room, his eyes going first to Christina’s amused face, then to William’s scowling expression. He wondered briefly what had happened, but refrained from asking.

  “Still here, William? Well, it’s early—care to join me in a drink?”

  “Well, I—”

  “Oh, go ahead, William,” Christina cut in playfully. She hoped he was squirming. “I’m going to retire, anyway. It’s been a most unusual evening. Not quite enjoyable, but informative. ’Night, John.”

  She turned and went to her room. She closed the door, leaned against it, and could still hear the men in the drawing room.

  “What did she mean by that last remark?” John asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  Christina pushed herself away from the door and twirled around and around, just as she used to do when she was a little girl. Her skirt floating around her and pins flying from her hair, she continued twirling until she reached her bed. She fell backward onto it, giggling in sheer delight. She felt her belly with both hands, searching for proof of William’s words.

  There was only the slightest little bulge—no proof at all. Had William only presumed her pregnant because she’d lived four months with a man?

  Christina jumped off the bed and quickly lit the lamp. She ran to the windows overlooking the street and snatched the curtains closed. Then she tore off her gown and chemise and stood perfectly naked before the full-length mirror in the corner.

  She examined her body, but could see no change. Turning sideways, Christina pushed her stomach out as far as it would go, which wasn’t much, and then sucked it in. There was her proof. Her stomach wouldn’t go in as far as it used to. But she frowned, for that could just be added pounds instead of a baby. After all, her appetite had increased this last month. She had to think this out.

  She blew out the light and crawled into bed, pulling only a light cover over her unclad body. It was funny. Now that she could wear a nightdress again, she no longer wanted to. She was used to sleeping with Philip and having no clothes between them.

  But if she were carrying Philip’s child, there had to be other signs. It hit her like an explosion. All the signs were there, but she had put them aside with excuses. The dizziness, the nausea, she had blamed on the weather. She had missed her monthly time twice, but had reasoned it was because she was so unhappy. She had missed her time before, when her parents died.

  She had made excuses because she was afraid to let the idea of being pregnant even enter her mind. But now she was overjoyed to have something to live for. She would have a baby—a baby that would remind her of Philip forever. Nobody could take that away from her.

  But how far along was she? She was late right now for the third month, so there were only six months to go. Six beautiful, joy-filled months until she gave birth to Philip’s son. She knew she would have a boy, and he would look just like his father.

  With that happy thought, Christina turned on her side to sleep, a smile on her lips and her hands gently cradling her stomach.

  “JOHN, CAN I talk to you before you leave?” Christina asked. She was sitting at the diningroom table sipping her third cup of tea that morning.

  “Can it wait until later, Crissy? I have to get these papers to the colonel this morning before he calls the staff meeting,” John replied.

  “It can’t wait. There’s something I have to tell you now. I waited up for you last night, but you came home too late.”

  “All right,” John sighed. He sat down across from her and poured a cup of the steaming tea. “What is so important?”

  “When I was at the marketplace yesterday afternoon, I learned there’s a ship sailing for England in four days. I plan to be on it.”

  “But why, Crissy? I realize you want to get away from this land as soon as possible, but can’t you wait another five months so we can return together?”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “Of course you can. There’s no reason to leave now. Why, you’ve been downright happy this last month: no more tears, no more sad faces. Ever since you started going out, you’ve changed completely. You love going down to the marketplace. You’ve been going out, meeting new people, and enjoying yourself, so why can’t you stay with me for just five more months?”

  “There’s a very good reason why I have to leave now. If I stayed here five more months, I’d have to stay even longer. I can’t take my”—she paused—“my baby across the sea right after he’s born.”

  John looked at her as if she’d struck him. Christina turned away from his shocked expression, but felt greatly relieved that she’d finally told him.

  “A baby,” he whispered, shaking his head. “You’re going to have a baby.”

  “Yes, John—in five months’ time,” Christina said proudly.

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “I didn’t even know myself until last month, and even then there was still some doubt in my mind.”

  “How could you not know about something like that?” John asked.

  “I was too upset, John—too caught up with the tortures of my mind to know what was happening to my body.”

  “Is that why you’ve been so happy this last month—because of the baby?”

  “Oh, yes! It’s given me a reason for living again!”

  “Then you intend to keep the baby, and raise it yourself?”

  “Of course! How can you even ask such a thing? This baby is mine. He was conceived in love. I will never give him up!”

  “It all boils down to that—that man! You want this child because it’s his child. Are you going to leave without telling him about the baby? Perhaps he’d marry you now,” John said angrily.

  “If I thought he would marry me, I’d go to him immediately. But there’s no chance. He has married Nura by now. He doesn
’t want this child, but I do. And I want to give birth at home in England. I must leave soon, and it might as well be four days from now.”

  “Have you thought what people will say? You’re not married, Crissy. Your child will be a bastard.”

  “I know. I have thought about it often, but it can’t be helped. At least he will be a wealthy bastard,” she said. “But if gossip bothers you, I won’t stay at home. I can always live elsewhere with my baby.”

  “Crissy, I didn’t mean it like that. You know I’ll stand by you, no matter what you decide. I was only thinking of your feelings. After all, you were pretty upset about the nasty remarks of those officers’ wives.”

  “But I felt unwanted and miserable then. It made me feel worse to hear that no man would ever want me. But now I’m happy. I can’t be hurt anymore by what people say about me. I don’t care if I never marry. I only want my baby—and my memories.”

  “If you’re happy, that’s all that matters,” John said. He tried to accept the fact that Christina would be an unwed mother. He knew she was strong, and he wanted to believe nothing else could hurt her.

  “Your child won’t have a father, but he’ll have an uncle. I’ll help you raise him, Crissy.”

  “Thank you, John!” Christina cried. She came over and stood behind his chair, wrapping her arms about his neck. “You’re so good to me, John, and I love you so.”

  “Well, I still don’t like the idea of you sailing all by yourself. It’s not right.”

  “You’re such a worrier. I’m sure nobody will bother me in my condition. As you can see, my baby is showing already,” she said, turning sideways to show him. “And by the time I reach London—why, I’ll be as big as an ox. I’ll take lots of material and yarn with me, and spend the whole voyage in my cabin making baby clothes. And when the ship docks in London, I’ll hire a coach to take me straight to Wakefield Manor. So you see, there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Well, at least let me write to Howard Yeats. He can meet your ship and escort you home.”

  “There’s no time for that, John. My ship is the first one leaving. Your letter would arrive with me. And anyway, Howard and Kathren would probably insist I stay with them, and I don’t want to. I want to get home as soon as possible. I want to have time to turn that small guestroom next to mine into a nursery. I’ll have to put up new wallpaper, and a door to connect my room to the nursery, and—”