He could not force her, could he? Panic threatened to overwhelm her as she remembered how easily he had taken her before. But that had been in the middle of the night. With her brother’s aid. She had been asleep, her guard down. She mentally calculated how many servants were there in the house. If she screamed, how long would it take the butler and some footmen to come to her aid? Could they overpower a man like the pasha? Would they?
The pasha took a seat in one of the chairs, crossing his legs and reclining as if he hadn’t a care in the world. His luxurious robes clashing with her very English sitting room. Out of place and unwelcome. To her, his costume looked like the skin of a snake. Very suitable, given how deadly and venomous he was. What was he planning? Why did he feel so confident that he could take her? Had he brought more men with him?
Probably. He wouldn’t undertake a mission like this without support.
Good God, what to do? If she called for her servants, would they be hurt or even killed by the pasha’s men before they coulddefend themselves? He and his men were always heavily armed, and his men were battle-hardened ruffians. Her servants would be no match. Still, surely he could not take her from her own home in plain daylight?
Her gaze darted between the door and the window.
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” he drawled, one corner of his mouth hitching in mockery. He loved to taunt her. Mock her. Play with her like a cat does with a mouse. Torturing it before it goes in to devour it.
“I’m not going anywhere with you. And you can’t take me by force from my own house, in plain daylight. It would create a commotion. The tactics you used before won’t work now.”
She wasn’t sure if she was warning him or reassuring herself, but it felt good to lay it down.
His smile did not dim, proof he had considered that.
“Oh, I would never resort to such crude methods again. No, on the contrary. You will leave with me of your own free will and will act as if nothing untoward is happening.”
“And why would I do that?” she asked, lifting her chin.
“Because if you don’t, my men will snatch your nephew where he is playing on the square.”
Her head whipped so fast she felt lightheaded, her eyes scanning the square until they rested upon Edward. Still playing. Blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked around him.
“Go ahead. Look. You can see my men are surrounding the square.”
She could see them indeed. They tried to blend in, but in genteel Mayfair, they stood out like crows among songbirds.
Panic seized her. Threatening to bring her to her knees. Her hands tightened on the back of the settee, helping her to remain upright.
“It won’t work.” She shook her head for emphasis. “People will look for me. I have friends. A fiancé—”
“This is what we are going to do,” the pasha interrupted her, his mouth twisting on an ugly sneer. “You will leave on my arm, a smile on your face as if you are delighted to see me. You’ll tell your butler that you are going out to visit friends, and you had better convince him nothing untoward is happening. If you don’t, my men will take your nephew and you, yourself, will be dragged from this house by force. I have my ship ready to go. Even if they search for you, by the time they figure out where you went, we’ll be long gone.”
She tried to calculate the chances of such a plan succeeding. It was certainly outrageous, but her terror-clouded mind told her it might very well work.
“H-how can I trust that you won’t take my nephew if I agree to go with you quietly?”
He opened his arms, smiling in a deceiving gesture of camaraderie. “I am a reasonable man. The brat is of no use to me. Taking him would force me to stop in Cairo to sell him in the slave market before continuing to Suez. I would prefer to create as little disturbance for myself as possible. But make no mistake, if I have to use force, I will.”
He spoke of selling an innocent child to slavery as if it were no more than an inconvenience to him. She shouldn’t be surprised by the depths of his evil soul. After all, she knew well the atrocities he was capable of. And yet the horrifying image he painted was so vivid it chilled her to her very soul. She couldn’t allow that to happen.
She thought she had left the past behind. Thought it was far away. That it could never reach her again. She had started to feel safe. Had begun to dream of a life and a future. What would Michael think when she disappeared a second time?
Oh, God. Michael.
“Make haste now. Time runs short and I have no wish to dally.”
“I’ll need to leave a note for Lady Rutledge. To at least tell her to take the child to her home.”
The pasha narrowed his eyes. His patience was running short, and he was not a man who acted nice when crossed.
“Go on, write the note, then. But don’t even think to warn her or any such shenanigans, for I will read it.”
Her hand shook as she wrote the brief note. She hoped it would be enough to arouse Lady Rutledge’s suspicions. Would she take it to her husband? To Michael? Oh, God, this note would destroy Michael’s life, and this time would really come from her own hand.
What could she possibly say? The words wouldn’t come. And then, as if by inspiration, the message came into her mind. She started writing. Praying that the note would make its way to Michael in time.
