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Dark eyes, twin windows into the depths of his soul, remained fixed on Alice and she found herself going towards him. Hands restrained her, pulling her back towards the altar but she tore free, beginning to run. Harold reached for her, vaporous wraiths clinging to him like cobwebs. Darkness covered her eyes, as though those wraiths were casting their shadowy hands over her face. The church dimmed until only vague shapes were visible. But still, Alice reached for Harold and he for her.
Their fingers touched, then their hands clasped together. At once, the church was gone. The wraith-like congregation was gone. Harold and Alice walked together in a hot and crowded street. Market stalls lined their way, vendors calling out to them from foreign faces and in a tongue she did not understand. Her face was covered by a cotton veil that was entwined around her head.
Both wore white, loose-fitting cotton clothes against the dry, desert heat. Turning a corner, Alice saw, rising high above them, the majesty of the pyramids.
“I can’t believe I am here to see this,” Alice said.
“A sight to behold, at least once in life,” Harold replied.
They stood, hand in hand, as the bustling life of Cairo flowed around them. The sense of being imprisoned was gone, even though she was in the midst of a crowded bazaar, being jostled by passersby. The sense of time running out was also gone. She and Harold had all the time they wanted and all the world too. The feeling of freedom made Alice feel lighter than air.
The sky was blue, the buildings white, and the desert and pyramids a deep orange. The odor of burnt spice filled the air with gusts of hot wind carrying the enticement of exotic foods cooked over open fires. Harold smiled easily, the cares and worries lifted from him. The harsh lines of his lean face had softened, his eyes open wide and hiding nothing.
They walked together through the streets until Harold led them to a narrow doorway. The building within was cool, with walls and floors of red and orange ceramic tiles. As the door swung closed the sounds of the city outside were instantly cut off. Harold led Alice by the hand through an archway. The room beyond was covered in thick, tasseled cushions. The air was cool where it kissed her skin. Alice unwound the headscarf and shook her hair free, letting the scarf fall to the ground.
She turned to Harold and suddenly pushed him back. He fell, laughing, to land amid the cushions, then lay looking up at her. She unbuttoned the white cotton blouse that she wore. First her midriff and then her chest were exposed. The feel of his eyes on her was like a physical touch. Beneath the blouse, Alice wore a silk chemise that clung to her breasts and, against which, her nipples stood out proudly. Alice unbuttoned the long skirt she wore, letting it fall to the ground.
Harold had begun to take off his waistcoat and tug his shirt from the waistband of his breeches. Alice knelt beside him, resting her hands on his to stop him. Then placing his hands by his side, she resumed the work he had begun. The breeches were unfastened and she gasped at the bulge of manhood that she felt stir at her touch.
He lifted his hips as she tugged them down, removing his underclothes at the same time. Only the shirt now covered his masculinity. Alice rested her hands on his naked thighs and pulled up the silk chemise to expose her own. Then she straddled him as she had once straddled his horse. Shifting her weight forward, she pressed her hips down until her womanhood was being rubbed against him. Only the cotton of his shirt was keeping their bodies apart.
Strong hands rose to encircle her waist, then caress her sides, and finally to cup her breasts. His face was now flat with desire, lips tight and eyes narrowed. Alice pushed at his shirt, seeing the taut muscles of his stomach exposed, then the bulge of his pectorals. Harold did not waste time trying to remove the chemise. One moment he was squeezing her breasts, the next he was gripping the neck of her chemise and his hands were moving apart, ripping the material asunder between them.
Alice threw back her head at the feel of the air on her naked breasts, then her stomach, then her womanhood. She knew that he could see her now, though the sight of him was obscured by her own body, though she could feel him against her. Harold rose and his mouth engulfed one of her breasts while his hands grabbed for her buttocks, squeezing, and kneading insistently.
Breath came in quick gasps for Alice and her heart beat against her chest in a frantic rhythm. She wanted his hands all over her, to know every inch of her body as she wanted to know every inch of his. Their bare flesh was melding together, arms and legs entwined around each other. Their loins merged though they had not yet fully joined.
Alice felt herself lifted momentarily and she knew that the moment of conjoining was imminent. She pressed her lips against his, tasting him and wanting him with a desire that left her dizzy. Harold was lowering her and she let out a moan of pleasure as their bodies met.
Alice awoke to the feel of crisp cool sheets and a nightdress that covered her body from ankles to neck. The room was dark and quiet. There was no taste of the exotic in the air and no hard maleness between her thighs. The sensations of the dream remained with her though, making her writhe on the bed and whisper Harold’s name. The sound of someone else in the room with her brought her fully awake.
“Alice? Are you awake?” said Ruth.
“Ruth? Where are you? Where are we? Are we at home?”
Alice felt as though her brain was surrounded by fog. She could not recall recent events, such as her decision to come to bed. There was a hazy memory of being at a ball and then the vagaries of dreams.
Something about a clock? And a church? Good Lord, I was getting married!
She tried to sit up but her head began to swim at the movement, making her lie back down with hands going to her forehead. There she found a bump the size of a hen’s egg which throbbed when touched. The bed shifted beneath her and Alice realized that she was sharing it with her sister.
Cool hands touched her shoulders and a cold, damp cloth was pressed against her forehead.
“Lie still. Everything will be well,” Ruth said soothingly. “You were assaulted but the man responsible has been taken into custody.”
“Assaulted?” Alice said. “I don’t remember being assaulted. Who? And why?”
“Why, the magistrates will find out. Who? That blackguard the Duke of Redwood, of course. And if Simon has his way, he will be hanged for it.”
CHAPTER29
The Heath was as bleak as Harold’s thoughts. He stood on the edge of a copse of trees, at a crossing of paths. Before him stretched an expanse of short, scrub, and stunted bushes beneath a leaden sky from which the sun had yet to appear. The air was chill against his arms, his coat hung from a nearby branch.
“Ten minutes from the appointed hour,” Max said grimly. “No sign yet of your opponent. If the man has any sense, there will be no sign of him.”
“He will be here. His hate is too all-consuming for him not to be,” Harold replied grimly.
“The man is a hot head, clearly, and this cannot end well,” Max stated, picking up the pistol and beginning to check the mechanism of hammer and trigger for the tenth time.
