Page 64 of Kismet

“The only harbor I found with you, ma chérie, was a resting place for my cock.” The crude remark made her suck in a painfully sharp breath.

“You bastard.”

“Perhaps you would prefer a lie?” he asked blandly.

“So—just like that—you decide to send me back to Marrakech.”

“Actually you’re going to Othmane to catch the train for Safi.” His calm, detached response infuriated her. “But yes, I’m sending you away, as I said I would.”

“With Charles?”

His response was a sharp nod and his mouth thinned. She eyed him carefully. There had been a flash of anger in his eyes when she’d mentioned Charles’s name. If he did care for her, it stood to reason he might be jealous.

“How kind of you to ensure my escort is not only capable, smart, and handsome, but a good lover as well,” she said in a honeyed tone.

The mask he wore slipped the moment she mentioned Charles in the context of a lover. Fire blazed in his dark eyes as he stared down at her with an expression that would have made most of his men shudder, but she wasn’t afraid of him. The only thing that frightened her was the thought of him tossing her aside. Something deep in the depths of his penetrating gaze made her catch her breath. Was that need she saw flickering there? Oh God, if he would just kiss her. Take her into his arms and tell her that he’d only been trying to protect her. Kiss her and say it was all a mistake. Tension threaded its way between them. It was a palpable sensation that edged its way across the top of the skin. He shook his head in disgust.

“Forgive me, ma chérie, but we both know there isn’t much difference between a brothel whore and one dressed up like a lady.” The callousness of his words slammed into her with the force of a physical blow. “My cousin is being well paid for his trouble. As are you.”

“What does that mean?” she choked out as her stomach churned.

“I believe my offer was my stallion for one night in your bed.” He said in a low, even voice. “Unfortunately, Abyad is gone, but you’ll be well compensated, particularly since you provided me with two nights of entertainment. Shaftsbury will instruct my solicitor in London to pay into your bank account the sum of ten thousand pounds for services rendered.”

Stunned, she simply stood there not making a sound. There was no pain, just numbness. Not since the night her mother sold her into Madame Eugenie’s brothel had she felt so betrayed. She was being traded, but this time the price was her heart. For the first time, she considered the timing of Charles’s arrival. To reach the camp so early, it would have meant leaving the city before dawn. That meant Hakim would have left last night.

Dear God. Shaheen had sent for Charles yesterday—before making love to her. Last night had truly meant nothing to him. Nothing at all. She swayed slightly as pain etched its way through every pore in her skin. Raw and biting, it ate away at her with the slow precision of a pendulum slicing through her skin.

She wanted to die.

No. She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how devastating his rejection was. Inhaling a deep breath, she drew herself upright and held her head proudly erect. Drowning in a dark lake would have been preferable to meeting his gaze, but she forced herself to look at him. Just as she did that first night at Madame Eugenie’s, she shut off every emotion she possessed.

Except one.

Anger unfurled its dark nature inside her with methodical slowness. She allowed it to steady her. It would sustain her until she was someplace secluded where she could lick her wounds. She wouldn’t make a fool of herself over the man any more than she already had. Bitterness mixed with her anger as she turned away from him and walked toward the open doorway of the tent. At the entrance, she paused and looked at him over her shoulder.

“I might be a whore, Lord Newcastle, but I’m not ashamed of who I am nor do I hide what I am. You, on the other hand, hide here among the Amazigh, pretending to be something you’re not.” Bitterly, she sent him a hard look. “I pity you, my lord. Even Nassar for all his barbarity is more honest about who he is and what he desires.”

Not waiting for his response, she turned around and stalked out of the tent. Anger made her back rigid and straight, only emphasizing the stiffness of her step. With her head held high, she stalked away. Shaheen watched her disappear around one of the tents in silence. Then with a low cry he whirled around and with a vicious swipe of his hand, he cleared the table of the maps. Hands gripping the sides of the table, he bent over the table and closed his eyes.

The desire to go after her spiraled through him with the pull of a raging river. He resisted, but it took every bit of self-control he possessed to do so. When he’d said she’d be well compensated it was if he’d struck her. Ashen and devastated, she’d been mute with horror. God, he was a bastard. How could he have done this to her, even if it was for her own protection? He should have found some other way of convincing her to leave.

Pain lashed at him, and with another tormented snarl, he lifted the table up off the floor and flung it to one side. Mocking laughter echoed loudly in his head as the table crashed noisily to the carpeted floor of the command tent. There had been another option, but he’d been too much of a coward to even consider it. He could have told her the truth. Explained that everything he was doing was because he loved her and wanted her safe. And he did love her despite every barrier he’d raised to keep her at a distance. She’d stolen his heart. Last night had merely sealed his fate in that regard. But it changed nothing. Her life was in danger, and sending her away was the best way to protect her. Hands clutching at the back of his neck, he bowed his head, eyes closed as the anguish rolled over him in wave after wave. While he’d made her hate him, it was better than losing her now or in the future. And he would lose her, just as he had his brother and the love of his father.

The sun was nearly directly overhead as Allegra and the rest of her friends rode north across the desert plain. Ahead of her, Jamal led the way with Laila and Millie riding close abreast of her and Charles drawing up the rear. Over the past two hours, the intensity of her pain had slowly become a draining numbness that weighed down her entire body.

She’d done the unthinkable. She’d broken the one rule she’d vowed never to break. Falling in love with one’s patron was the cardinal sin. And God help her if Shaheen were ever to realize how deeply he’d wounded her. It would only amuse him, and she’d suffered enough humiliation at his hands. The man had been so eager to be done with her he’d asked the one person he cared for the least to come fetch her.

When they were preparing to leave camp, Laila had joined the rest of them at the horses. Hope had burned anew in her breast at the sight of the young woman. If Shaheen was sending Khalid’s only daughter with them it might mean he’d been lying to her simply to convince her to leave. Laila had destroyed that hope almost as quickly as it had flared into life. Her friend had relatives in Othmane she’d promised her father she would visit, and Laila’s words had made anguish slice deep into her heart.

A sudden shout from behind her jerked her out of her thoughts, and she looked over her shoulder at Charles, who’d increased his pace to move around them. He reached Jamal’s side in a matter of seconds and shouted something to the Amazigh as he pointed to the left. Following the direction of his sharp gesture, her mouth went dry. In the distance, she saw a large party of riders heading toward them. Her gaze flying back to Jamal and Charles, she saw them exchange only a few more words before they both dropped back to her and the other women.

“We’re only a few miles from Othmane,” Charles called out. “Jamal says Sheikh Mahmoud has men there who’ll protect us.”

“I can’t go any faster than this.” Millie, her eyes wide with fear, shook her head.

The woman’s loud cry of panic drew Jamal’s attention as he finished calling out an order to Laila, who had already nudged her horse into a flat-out gallop. As the Amazigh woman began to draw away from them, Jamal pulled even with her.

“Millie, I protect you. Ride.” The Amazigh’s accent made the English words that much harsher, but he caught the maid’s attention. “Ride!”