Captive Bride (21 page)

"Do you still love him?" John asked.

"No—I hate him nowl" she said quickly, staring down at the glass she held before her.

"But only a month ago—"

She looked up at him, her eyes flashing dangerously. "That was before I found out what a cruel and selfish man he is."

"Is that why you left him?"

"Left him? He sent me awayl He left me that note saying that he no longer desired me and he wanted me gone before he returned. He couldn't even tell me in person."

"Is that why you hate him now—because he sent you away?"

"Yes! He cared nothing for me or for my feelings. I thought I loved him, and hoped he would come to love me. But now I know how foolish I was. He didn't even care that I might be carrying his child!"

"Oh, God, Crissy—then he raped you!"

"Raped? No—he never actually raped me. I was sure I made it clear to you, John, in the letter I sent you. I thought you would understand that I gave myself to him. That's why I asked your forgiveness."

"I guess I haven't been able to accept it. I didn't want to believe it. But Crissy, if he didn't rape you—you can't mean that you gave in to him from the beginning?"

"I fought him!" she cried indignantly, trying to defend herself. "I fought him with all the strength I had."

"Then he did rape you?"

Christina hung her head in shame. "No, John, he never had to rape me. He had patience—he took his time and slowly brought my body to life. Please understand this, John—I hated him, but at the same time I wanted him. He stirred fires in me that I never knew existed. He made me a woman."

She started crying again. John felt miserable for blaming her for something that she couldn't help. But why did she defend the bastard?

John leaned across the table and lifted her face to look into her soft blue eyes.

"It's all right. It wasn't your fault. It was the same thing as if he'd raped you."

"I fought him, but it was the same way every time. I tried to escape, but he threatened to find me and beat me if I did it again. I was deathly afraid of him at first, but as time passed, I feared htm less. I even stabbed him once, and yet he did nothing. And then another tribe stole me, and he almost died getting me back. I realized then that I was in love with him. I didn't fight him after that, John. I couldn't fight the man I loved. If you can't forgive me for that, I'm sorry."

"I forgive you, Crissy. There are no rules in love. But you said you hate him now. Why do you keep defending him?"

"I'm not defending him!"

"Then tell me his name so I can track him down. He deserves punishment for what he did to you."

"His people called him Abu."

"And his last name?"

"Oh, John—it doesn't matter. I don't want to see him punished."

"Damn it, Crissy!" John yelled, slamming his fist down on the table. "He used you and then sent you back to me for the reward."

"Reward?"

"Yes. The man who brought you here asked for the money, so I gave it to him."

Christina slumped back in her chair, a slight grin on her lips.

"I might have known Rashid would do that. He takes money wherever he can find it. Abu will probably never know Rashid took the reward. And that's not why Phi— why Abu sent me back. He is sheik of his tribe, he has no need of money. He even turned down a sack full of jewels once."

"You started to call him something else," John said, raising one eyebrow.

"Well—he has another name, but it's not important" She stood up and finished the last of her sherry. "Can we forget about it now, John? I want to put him from my mind forever."

"Can you do that, Crissy?" He looked at her skeptically. "You still love him, don't you?"

"Nol" she wailed, but then she bit her lip and the tears welled in her eyes again. "Oh, God—yes! I can't help it Why did he have to do this to me, John? I love him so— I want to die!"

John held her close, feeling her pain. He couldn't stand to see her hurting like this—tearing her heart out over a man who didn't deserve her love.

"It will take time, Crissy, but you will forget him. You'll find a new love—someone who will give you the kind of life you deserve."

Chapter 22

T

WO months had passed since Philip sent her away. Christina tried desperately to put him out of her mind. But she thought about him constantly. She prayed each day that he would change his mind and come for her. But he didn't come. She couldn't sleep. She lay awake every night wanting him, craving bis hands on her, missing his body next to hers in bed.

Christina had seen no one since returning, except Kareen. She liked Kareen instantly the first time that John brought her to their small rooms. Kareen asked no questions of her, and soon they became good friends. Christina knew Kareen was in love with John, and she was glad John loved her in return. They spent many days together, and finally Christina confided everything to Kareen—everything except Philip's real name.

She hid her unhappiness from John, but when she was alone she spent her time remembering and crying in her room. She neither went out nor received visitors, using the excuse that she didn't feel well, which was actually the truth. It was much hotter in the city than it had been in the mountains. She suffered in the stifling humidity and the bad ventilation of the small apartment. She often felt dizzy and sick.

Christina knew she had to start living again, so she finally consented to receive the officers' wives for tea.

At first they chatted politely about the weather, the opera, and the servant problem. But then the five middle-aged women started gossiping about people Christina didn't know—and didn't care to know. She mechanically turned them off with thoughts of Philip, but her attention returned when she heard her name spoken.

"As I was saying, Miss Wakefield, my husband was one of the men who helped search for you," the heavyset woman said.

"So did my James," another woman chimed in.

"We were all so worried when you couldn't be found. We thought surely you must be dead after so long," added another woman, biting into a delicate little cake.

"And then you showed up perfectly safe and unharmed. It was like a miracle."

"Tell us, Miss Wakefield, how did you manage to escape?" the heavyset woman asked pointedly.

Christina stood and moved away to stand facing the mantel. These women only wanted to worm information out of her so they could retell it all over the city and criticize her.

"I would rather not discuss it if you don't mind," Christina said calmly, facing them again.

"But dear, we're all your friends. You can tell us."

"I would have killed myself if it had been me," one of the ladies remarked distastefully.

"So would I," replied another.

"I am sure you two value your lives cheaply. For myself, I prefer to go on living," Christina remarked coldly. "You call yourselves friends—you're nothing but a bunch of gossips. I have no intention of telling you anything. I want all of you to leave this house—immediately!"

"Well! Listen to Miss High and Mighty. We came here to offer our sympathy, and you act as if you're proud of what happened to you—of being a dirty Arab's captive. Why— you're nothing but a—"

"Get out of here—all of you!" Christina screamed.

"We're going! But let me tell you this, Miss Wakefield. You're used goods now! No decent man will ever consider marrying you after you've laid down with a filthy Arab. Mark my words!"

Christina didn't tell John about the incident when he came home. But he already knew.

"They made you cry, didn't they, Crissy?" he said softly, taking her face in his hands. "You must not take it to heart. They're just a bunch of jealous biddies."

"But what they said was true, John. No decent man will ever marry me now. I'm dirty!"

"That's ridiculous, and I don't want to hear you talk like that again," he scolded her. "You underestimate your beauty, Crissy. Any man would give his right arm to be married to you. Hasn't William Dawson been here to see you a dozen times? If you'd just get out and start living again, you'd find yourself swamped with proposals! Why don't you come to the opera with Kareen and me tonight?"

"I don't want to intrude upon your evening with Kareen." Christina sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping forward. "I'll read a book perhaps and retire early."

"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 tearsl 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.

"Ill 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 bis 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.