She shook her head, her gaze lost in the distance.
“They fished me out of the water. And then punished me.”
“W-what kind of punishment?” His voice came as a hoarse growl of pain. A girl, alone in the hands of a brute. He was terrified of the answer. But if she was brave enough to live through it, he damned well would have to find the courage to hear the entire abhorrent truth.
But she didn’t answer, which was in itself answer enough. Shaking her head again, this time as if to dislodge painful memories, she burrowed deeper into her cloak, drawing, at the same time, an invisible cloak of fake calmness around herself.
“It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago. What matters is that now you know what happened. The pasha saw me that night when I barged into the study to help my brother. He wanted me, so he made a deal with my brother. The forgiveness of his gambling debt and enough money to cover his other debts, in exchange for his help with kidnapping me and covering for my disappearance. Don’t you see how perfect the solution was for my brother? He solved his gambling debts and at the same time got rid of his meddlesome little sister, who knew too much. My parents never thought much of me. As a girl, I held no value to them. And when I defied them by refusing to marry your brother…” She shook his head. “They were furious at me. I guess it was not difficult for my brother to convince my father of myfickleness. And my mother… My mother even helped him cover his tracks. He confessed as much before his death. Keeping you quiet and off the trail, on the other hand, required more drastic measures. Hence the falsified letter, I imagine.”
The rain had started in earnest by now. A great icy downpour that soaked through their cloaks and seeped into his soul. It was an apt outward representation of what was going on inside. His heart, his very core, was drenched and scoured.
“I’m sorry.” It was the most hideously inadequate apology he had ever uttered. He would never be able to make it up to her. The woman he had thought faithless and had reviled in his mind for twelve years was an innocent victim of an awful betrayal. And he was the biggest dupe. “I’m so sorry, Josie. I can never… I failed you. Everyone failed you. I’m so sorry.”
His tears mingled with the water droplets streaming down his face until he couldn’t distinguish one from the other. They were a river of fire among an icy sea.
Her eyes, on the other hand, were dry amid the rain. She looked at him with unnatural serenity. So at odds with the horrifying story she had just told. It was a measure of how much she must have suffered for so long. This part of the tale was but an infinitesimally small part of the whole story.
“Don’t torment yourself, Michael. You didn’t know. Even if you had, there was not much you could have done. Not without commanding an army.”
She was trying to exonerate him. By God, he didn’t deserve it. “I should have done something. Twelve fucking years. I should have tried.”
“You would have died in the attempt.”
“Then I should have died!” He was screaming now. Above the sound of the thunder, above the noise of the rain. He was past rationality and was one with the fury of nature.
“Don’t be silly.” She made as if to reach for him but then checked the movement and turned toward the house instead. “Let’s go inside. You are shaking with cold.”
He was shaking. But not with cold. He was trembling with fury and pain at what she must have endured for twelve long years. At his own stupidity and gullibility. At the absolute unfairness of their fates. He wanted to kill someone. Her brother was already dead, otherwise he would have strangled the life out of the vile scum. So were her parents, indolent bastards who had not cared for their only daughter. Who was left to satisfy his desire for bloodshed? The pasha? Or had he died as well?
She had started walking back toward the house, and he followed her. More out of need to be in her presence than any conscious choice.
“How did you come to be ransomed?”
She looked sideways at him but did not answer immediately. “That’s a story for another time, Michael. I think it’s been enough for today.”
He was certainly having difficulties accommodating all he had learned in the past half hour, but he couldn’t let go. “Please. I need to know.”
After a sigh and a small hesitation, she acquiesced. “My brother needed me to care for his son. Although he claimed he felt guilty as well. Either way, he sent for me.”
He already knew why her brother had sent for her, but not why the pasha had released her. “And the pasha simply let you go?”
She shrugged. “My brother paid a stiff ransom. And by then the pasha had grown bored of me. My novelty had worn off years ago, and he had many younger wives and concubines.”
He was glad for that. For the reprieve it probably afforded her and because it gave her a chance of being freed. But his blood still boiled with rage at the cavalier manner in which the bastard had destroyed her life—their lives—and then casually cast heraside. As if she were nothing but chattel. A pretty object one acquires out of greed and then discards. She was not a woman to discard. There was no getting bored of her. An entire lifetime was not long enough to love her. He should know. He had spent the last twelve years unsuccessfully trying to forget her.
And then shame swamped him once more. Because he had tried to forget her. He had believed the lies when he should have trusted their love. He had been duped too easily. If her brother had not decided to free her, she would still be enslaved. Far from home. A prisoner at the mercy of a ruthless master. He had abandoned her to her fate, just as everyone else had, and he couldn’t stand it. Guilt choked him until he could barely breathe. Could walk no longer.
He placed his hands on his knees, breathing hard and yet unable to get enough air in his lungs. Hating his weakness. Hating himself.
“Michael.” Her crisp voice pulled him from the maelstrom where he was drowning in regrets. “Let’s go, just a few more steps to the house. You look pale.”
She was the strongest, most courageous woman he had ever met. She had been ripped from her home, imprisoned, and who knows what other horrors she had suffered. But he knew. Even if she couldn’t bring herself to talk about it, he knew. And that knowledge was a bleeding wound in his soul. But he had to pull himself together. Had to match her courage and resilience if he had any hope of making up for the past. This time, he would protect her forever. He would help her heal. Even if he had to spend the rest of his days on the endeavor. Come what may, he would protect her with his life.
He gazed into her clear eyes. Eyes that looked back with stoicism. It was a mask. Under it, there was undeniable pain. He remembered how those eyes had laughed and sparkled with passion and a zest for life. How they had darkened with lust andsoftened with love. And he vowed they would do so again. He had failed her in the past, but by some miracle, she was back in his life. She was here. And this time he would not fail her.
CHAPTER 20
Theacridscentofsmoke, sharp and suffocating, tugged Josephine from deep sleep. She sat up in bed, fully awake but disoriented. What had awoken her? Then she spotted the sinister orange glow under her bedroom door. Oh my God! Was that fire? Her heart pounded as she jumped from the bed, pulling on her robe and slippers. On the other side of that door was her sitting room, and her worktable, where she had all sorts of flammable substances. If a lamp had somehow overturned, she must try to extinguish the flames before they reached it.
