The Bartered Bride (9 page)

As he watched, Gavin didn't know whether to laugh or grind his teeth. Maybe walking through fire really was easy for a Maduri-but the mere thought tied his stomach in knots. Knowing that his inability to fire walk removed his safety margin and might end up costing his freedom, he waited until Daksa returned, then cast the die for the third time, praying that something he could manage would turn up.

"The breath of life," Sheng Yu announced.

What the hell was that? Before Gavin could ask, the sultan said, "The drinking contest! One of the two Singa Mainam trials that are also pleasures."

"How does the contest work?" Gavin asked warily.

"You and I must match each other drink for drink. Whoever stays conscious and is able to walk the longest wins."

"This is a test of leadership?" he exclaimed, incredulous.

"A leader must lead, whether drinking or fighting." Kasan grinned. "Competing with arak or palm wine is more pleasurable than dueling with a kris."

"I'll grant you that." Thinking it would be a long day, Gavin added, "This contest is not fit for a lady to watch. Can Mrs. Warren be escorted back to my quarters?"

The sultan nodded and gave the orders. Alex wanted to protest. Absurdly, she felt as if Gavin was safer if she watched, but drinking sessions were long and boring at best and not particularly dangerous, so she left quietly with the guards. She hoped Gavin had a hard head even if he wasn't a heavy drinker. They had just entered the palace tunnel when they were intercepted by Tuan Bhudy, a powerful Maduri merchant-and her most recent owner. Shorter than Alex but wide and muscular, he was a formidable figure steeped in wealth, privilege, and cruelty.

Alex stopped dead, bile rising in her throat. Memories of his abuse were so intense they might have been burned into her flesh. She would have bolted if her retreat wasn't blocked by two guards.

"Issskandra." Her Malay name hissed from Bhudy's mouth as his gaze traveled over her with insulting familiarity. "You look remarkably fine. Perhaps it was hasty of me to send you to market after that last incident."

"Your mistake was in buying me in the first place," she said tightly. "I will never be any man's property. If you'd kept me longer, I would have killed you."'

"Such bold talk for a slave. You need to be taught a lesson, and it will be my pleasure to teach it." He squeezed her left breast, hard.

She almost cried out from the pain, and even worse, the memory of pain. Refusing to give him the pleasure of seeing her suffer, she looked to her guards. They watched uneasily, not wanting to interfere with a powerful man.

Groping for the right Malay words, she caught the gaze of Wira, leader of the guards. "Sultan Kasan will not want his Singa Mainam prize hurt."

Bhudy snarled rapid words at Wira. Fearing that he might convince them not to interfere while he molested her, Alex suddenly pivoted, whipping her golden chains at his head. She felt savage satisfaction as the chains smashed into his temple, sending him reeling. Then she kicked Bhudy between his legs with so much force her toes hurt. He shrieked and collapsed on the floor, writhing back and forth in agony as blood flowed from his head wound.

Instantly four daggers were drawn. Knowing a sudden move would cost her her life, Alex stood stone still. "I am the prize in the sultan's Lion Game," she reminded them again, trying to keep her voice steady. There was no point in describing how Bhudy had abused her; after all, he'd been her owner and could do with her as he willed.

Invoking the sultan saved her from being skewered. Wira detailed one man to help Bhudy and took the others with him through the palace to Gavin's rooms. Alex walked meekly with eyes downcast, shaken by the encounter and the possible consequences. Ironically, her best defense was the fact that now she was considered the sultan's property, and it was impertinent to molest anything belonging to the ruler.

Being locked in the cage again was a relief. Once she was alone she crumpled to the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees to control her trembling. She wanted desperately to cry, but didn't dare. If she started weeping, she might never stop. The encounter with Bhudy had destroyed the fragile sense of safety that had been growing since she'd met Gavin.

When a measure of composure had returned, she looked for her water pitcher. It sat on a table across the room, moved by a maid. Even if she were dying of thirst, she couldn't have reached it. Her lack of control over the most basic needs of life suddenly swamped her. My very chains and I grew ftiends ... Dear God, no, every day the chains chafed harder, body and soul. Her utter frustration exploded into rage and she began slashing her chains against the bars wildly, chipping gilt and causing a clamor that jangled from the walls. How could anyone endure slavery? What made men so vile that them believed they had the right to own another human life? Most bitter of all, how much longer could she survive without going mad?

Drawn by the cacophony, a slave girl appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide with alarm. She was no more than eleven or twelve-not much older than Katie.

Hating to see fear in the child's eyes, Alex stopped battering the bars and tried to compose her expression. "Please, water. Tolong air putih. "

Glad for a request she could accommodate, the girl darted away. Alex sank to the floor again, praying that Gavin was right and that within a matter of days she would be freed. The closer freedom seemed, the harder slavery became.

Despite her best attempts to control herself, by the time the slave girl brought water and rice Alex was weeping uncontrollably. But boredom eventually defeated anguish. Worn out by tears, Alex used precious water to pat her swollen eyes. Then she unpinned her hair, combed it loose, and settled down with Rob Roy. Returning to her native land was soothing even if only through a book. Reading also kept her from thinking too much about the progress of the trial.

The sun was setting when the door swung open and Gavin staggered in, half supported by Suryo. His fair hair was tousled like a halo and his tunic gapped open to reveal his chest. Alarmed, Alex rose. "What happened?"

"Haven't been ... this drunk since I was fifteen," Gavin said in a slurred voice. "Shipmates took me to a tavern for my birthday. Amazing number of beers in Antwerp."

He zigzagged to the cage, catching a bar to keep himself from falling. Upright but swaying, he said with drunken precision, "Don't worry, I won't be sick. Already have been. Several times." He leaned against the bars, eyes drifting shut.

Tight with anxiety, Alex asked, "How did the competition turn out? " Suryo answered when Gavin didn't. "The captain won, though it was close. They both have heads of solid stone."

"If Kasan had lasted one more round, he'd've won." Gavin slid slowly to the floor. Suryo tried to lift him. "Captain, your bed will be more comfortable."

Nothing. Gavin was dead to the world. "Bring a coverlet and pillow," Alex suggested. "Sleeping here won't make him feel any worse tomorrow than he will anyhow."

Suryo smiled. "Very true, puan."

Together they laid Gavin alongside the cage so Alex could tend him if necessary. "Find yourself some dinner," she told Suryo. "You've had a long day, too."

"Do you need anything more?

"Light a lamp before you leave, and I'll be fine."

After Suryo complied and left, Alex sat down by Gavin. She reached through the bars, careful not to clang the chains, and drew the front of his tunic closed. It was amusing to think how outrageous this situation would seem to an English lady. No longer a lady, now she pragmatically accepted a man not her husband sleeping here in dishabille because she didn't want her champion to wake alone and ill in his bedroom. It was hard to imagine that distant world where the rules of propriety mattered. Caught up in her book again, she jumped when a gravelly voice asked, "Is it hard ... being beautiful?" Alex found Gavin watching her with hazy eyes. "I wouldn't know. How do you feel?"

"My head spins like being in the crow's nest on heavy seas, only worse. If I tried to move now it would be a disaster." His words were less slurred than earlier, though his face was chalky white under his tan. "Hate being so . .. so out of control. It's why I prefer to stay sober."

"How much did you drink?"

"Far too much. Do you know they store palm wine in great long pipes of bamboo? Startled me the first time my goblet needed refilling and a bloody great pipe swung over my shoulder like a cannon." He gave a faint smile. "The palm wine was young, but far from innocent. We ended by switching to arak, sort of a rice brandy, because the palm wine wasn't getting us drunk fast enough." He closed his eyes, then opened them again hastily. "Odd. This drinking contest was as serious as any other trial, but it still feels ridiculous."

She laid her hand on his forehead. He was a little warm, but not feverish.

"Your hand feels nice," he murmured.

"What did you talk about while drinking for so many hours?"

"We both recited poetry by the mile. Maduri sagas have a nice rhythm. After I ran out of English and Latin verses, I started on improper songs in five languages."

Latin? The captain had been well educated. "Whatever it took, I'm glad you succeeded. I was worried because I didn't think you were much of a drinker."

"Neither did Kasan-he calls me a Puritan. But young sailors learn to drink. A hard head is part of the job." He ran a hand through his hair, tousling it even more. "Kasan's an interesting fellow, but I don't think I could bear ten years of this."

"Why ten years? Is that how long he wanted you to work for him?

Gavin's gaze shifted away. "You still haven't told me what it's like to be beautiful," he said, ignoring her question. "Do men make your life difficult? "

She thought of Bhudy, and tried not to shiver. "There are men who will make any woman's life difficult, and beauty has nothing to do with it. At my best I'm passably attractive, but now I'm bone thin and disreputable."

"No." He reached through the bars to take her hand. "You're one of the loveliest women I've ever met."

His intense gaze made her want to put the width of the cage between them. It was unfair to blame him for drunkenness when he'd incurred it on her behalf, but she didn't know if she could stand it if he made a crude advance. She needed him to be a gentleman, a man she could trust to keep himself at a distance. A friend.

Before she could decide whether or not to pull away, his eyes closed. She relaxed again. Despite the drink, he was behaving with a restraint that spoke well for his character. Though he still clasped her hand, his grip wasn't suggestive. Rather, he held her as if she was his anchor in a tossing sea, which was probably how he felt.

When the lamp began flickering, she gently disengaged her hand. Instead of making her bed behind the carved screen, she laid her coverlet and pillow next to Gavin. Even with bars between them it felt intimate, but also safe.

After the lamp finally sputtered out, she reached through the bars and took his hand again. This time she didn't know who was anchoring whom.

Gavin woke with his head pounding like the damned Maduri drums. Though he didn't open his eyes, he could sense sunlight in the room.

A hand was intertwined with his. Cautiously he opened his eyes and turned his head a fraction to the right. Alex lay sleeping only a few inches, and a set of gilded bars, away. She wore his shirt and an old sarong and her rich hair tumbled gloriously around her face, the dawn light striking auburn and gold highlights. What had she said the previous night? Something about being thin and disreputable. Perhaps that was how she saw herself, but she still had a loveliness that haunted him. In vino veritas. Too much alcohol had washed away most of the mental barriers he'd erected between them. Even in the grip of a major hangover, he desired her intensely, but she also inspired a potent mixture of tenderness and respect. He hadn't reacted to a female this strongly since meeting Helena. Though the two women were nothing alike, they both had strength and wit and warmth. He'd tried to deny his attraction, but perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing. Alex worried that captivity would cast a dark shadow over her life when she returned home, but if she had a presentable husband there would be little or no scandal.

He'd had vague plans of establishing himself in England, then looking around for a high-born wife who would gain him entry into the society he despised. He'd never intended a cold marriage of convenience, though. He cared about Alex, and in time that might deepen into love. Affection mattered more than pedigree.

But such thoughts were wildly premature. First they must escape Maduri. If he didn't win the Lion Game, he'd be waving her goodbye as she sailed away. Even if he was successful in the last two trials, Alex was in no shape to think about marriage. She needed to be free, needed to come to terms with what she'd suffered, before making a major decision about her future. She might well decide she wanted no part of Gavin, who'd be a reminder of the worst time of her life.

There was also the risk that she might never heal enough to risk putting herself in a man's power; if she failed to find her daughter, she might be scarred for life. He wasn't selfless enough to marry a woman who was emotionally crippled. He wanted a wife whose companionship he enjoyed. A wife like Helena. His throat tightened.

Muscles stiff, he cautiously stretched, stopping when a wave of nausea swept over him. It was going to be a long and difficult day. Alex's lids drifted up, revealing her luminous aqua eyes. "Do you feel like death would be welcome?"

"Not quite that bad, but close." He inhaled slowly to steady his queasy stomach. "Did I do or say anything appalling last night? "

"You were very well behaved for a man deep in his cups." She sat up, sliding her hand from his grasp to cover a yawn. "Will you be able to perform another ghastly feat this morning?"

"Mercifully, I don't have to. Kasan said it's traditional to skip a day after a drinking contest." Alex laughed. "What a very civilized island Maduri is."

In pressing need of his chamber pot, he gritted his teeth and pulled himself upright with the help of the bars. Then he leaned against the cage until his vital organs steadied. "Why couldn't I throw the symbol for swimming?" he muttered. "I like swimming."