Page 42 of Kismet

Then there was his physical need for her. It was a craving that came from deep within, and he didn’t know how to control it. It threatened to get out of hand, and it cut too close to home. He didn’t need Jamal to tell him the treaties were nothing but an excuse to keep her here. Yet it hadn’t stopped him from using it as a justification for his actions.

He knew better, but there was something about her that set his blood on fire. Perhaps it was his belief that hidden behind the façade of a seductive, well-trained courtesan was a woman no man had ever reached. A woman who hid her vulnerability behind a mask of confidence and erotic sangfroid. He didn’t just want Allegra the courtesan—he wanted the woman behind the mask.

Without even realizing where his footsteps were taking him, he found himself standing outside his tent. He strained to hear any noise emanating from inside, but heard nothing. He stood there debating his next course of action. Damnation, he wanted to see her, to explain. Merde, what was there to explain?

Everything and nothing.

Like a caged tiger, he prowled the area in front of the tent. Then with a growl, he pushed aside the flap and entered the interior. She sat curled up among the pillows on the pallet. The accusatory look in her eyes tore at him worse than anything Jamal could have said to him. When he stepped toward her, she scrambled to her feet, her expression cold with disdain.

“What do you want?” She enunciated each word in an icy tone.

It was a question he didn’t know how to answer. He wasn’t even sure why he’d entered the tent. No, he knew why, but it had been a futile hope he’d not even dared to let himself think. Her reaction was exactly what he’d expected. He clenched his teeth at how uncomfortable her contempt made him feel.

“I wanted to try to explain—”

“There isn’t anything to explain. You made an example of me, by beating me in public.”

“I regret the manner of punishment, but you left me little choice,” he snapped as guilt flayed his conscience. “Other Sheikhs would have bared your back and drawn blood for less transgressions. Some, like Nassar, would have taken great pleasure in doing so.”

“Are you implying I should be grateful it was you punishing me?” A bitter laugh parted her lips and he became even more defensive as he tried to make her understand his actions.

“Damn it, Allegra. My leadership hinges on my people obeying orders. It can mean the difference between life and death. You challenged that authority and jeopardized my ability to lead.”

“I didn’t challenge your authority, because you have none over me.” She spat out the words at him. “Did you honestly believe I wouldn’t try to escape—that I’d just do nothing?”

“No.” He shook his head and watched her eyes widen in astonishment. “I knew you would do everything you could to find a way to leave.”

“And yet you keep me here against my will.” Her acerbic response scraped across his senses as her fury lashed at him. Turning away, he rubbed the back of his neck as her gaze burned his skin with scorn and accusation.

“I told you before, there’s too much at stake to let you go back to Marrakech.”

How in hell could he begin to explain why he refused to let her go? What could he say to make her understand his reasoning when he knew it wasn’t just the treaties that made him keep her here? Desire wasn’t an excuse for holding her here against her will. Even with his back to her, the heat of her anger whipped across his back.

“I have been a confidante to powerful men, including the Prince of Wales. My word is my bond, despite the fact that I am a mere courtesan.” The bitterness in her words almost disguised the slight waver in her voice.

He wheeled around to face her. Did she really think herself ordinary? Narrowing his gaze, he stared into green eyes that briefly flashed with a fragile expression of pain until she looked away. Was this what drove the vulnerability he’d seen in her? Did she believe herself somehow less deserving than others simply because of her profession? Regret stabbed at him, her censure a searing reminder of his own complicity in everything that had happened to her over the past two days.

“You are far from insignificant, Allegra,” he murmured as he closed the distance between them. Reaching out, he cupped her face and forced her to look at him. “And I have no doubt you would keep my confidence.”

“Then why do you refuse to let me go?” She jerked her head away from him in anger.

“If I let you go back to Marrakech now . . . to Shaftsbury . . .” His gut twisted at the thought of her being with the Viscount or any man. “If you knew that returning to Marrakech might start a war, would you go?”

“A war?” Her anger abated some and she shook her head. “No, of course not. But how could something I do start a war?”

“When I came to Morocco, the Amazigh were dozens of tribes scattered across the country. Raiding parties known as ghazu were everyday occurrences—many of them quite bloody.” His jaw tightened at the memory of Nassar killing Yasmia with such brutal fury. “With the Sultan’s blessing, Sheikh Mahmoud and I formed alliances and treaties among the different tribes to stop the warring factions.”

“I still don’t understand what that has to do with me.” She released a harsh sound of exasperation.

“A number of the treaties were parleyed in the presence of French, Spanish, and British officials, with me acting as one of Sheikh Mahmoud’s council leaders.”

“You didn’t tell them you were British,” she gasped as understanding swept across her lovely features.

“I’d negotiated a number of the smaller treaties under my Amazigh title, and it didn’t even occur to us—me—that we should explain who I was,” he said with a growl of disgust at his blundering. “When we realized the implications it might have on the treaties, it was too late.”

“And if Charles finds out who you are and happens to speak to the wrong people . . .” Her voice trailed off as she met his gaze.

“Then you could be the catalyst for renewed violence among the Amazigh,” he said with quiet conviction.

“But Nassar knows who you are,” she said with a touch of suspicion. “Why aren’t you worried about him?”

“Nassar is afraid of the Sultan. Mulay Hassan has the ear of the Consuls, and Nassar doesn’t want his more questionable activities scrutinized by the French or the Spanish.”

“Which means he’ll not say anything until it suits his purpose,” she mused with a frown. “But when he does, if he protests in the right forum, the treaties are likely to collapse and Nassar will take advantage of that to strengthen his base of power and influence.”

“As usual, I’ve underestimated you,” he said quietly. “Other than Major Hastings, there are few people outside the tribe who would understand the complexity of the situation.”

It was impossible not to be impressed with her insight. His own prejudices had prevented him from seeing how intelligent and knowledgeable she was. The question now was would she stay of her own free will. Up until now, he’d not given her a choice, and she despised him for it. She exhaled a pent-up breath and looked at him with a resolute expression.

“It seems I have no choice but to remain here until Charles leaves Marrakech.” She eyed him with mistrust. “But this changes nothing between us. I want your word you won’t take advantage of the situation.”

“Which I’ll gladly give the minute you tell me you feel no desire for me at all.” He raised his hand in silent warning at the look of objection on her face. “And I will know if you’re telling the truth Allegra.”

She glared at him for a long moment before turning her back on him. “What I feel changes nothing. I won’t come to your bed.”

“And I won’t force you, but I do intend to be persuasive.” With that, he turned and left Allegra alone in the tent. She wanted him. She’d not openly admitted it, but her silence confirmed it. It was enough to give him hope that courting her favor would earn him a spot in her bed. And her decision would have to be her choice. But he would do everything in his power to convince her to choose him.