Chapter 29 #2
Richard struggled to his knees. One pushed him back down when he tried to rise.
They pantomimed a mockery of obeisance. Lily forced her rattled mind to clear.
She called on her smattering of Arabic and knowledge of Turkish, but she couldn’t make all out all of their words.
She understood “English lord” at least. She could do nothing to help, bound as she was.
The men tired of their game at last when a third man appeared with what looked like a pile of rags. They tossed it at Richard, slammed the door, and shot the bolt to lock it. Behind the door, she heard muffled words that sounded like “robes for a king.”
Richard stumbled up and yanked off her gag. He kissed her hard and fast. She pulled her head away and lifted her bound hands to his face.
“Untie me you blasted man, this is no time for dalliance.” He began to work at the knots, but leaned in and stole another kiss.
“What the devil did you mean telling that beast I’m your wife?” she sputtered. “Who gave you the right?”
He looked up from working at her fastenings. “I thought it might help keep you safe,” he said. He struggled with swollen hands to untie the knots. “They frown on unmarried pregnancy.”
“You have no business ordering my life,” she said. “I’m not yours to—” Yours to bully. Yours to control. She remembered Hamidou and the sword he held to her heart. “Oh God, Richard, the baby!”
“Don’t be an idiot. We need every scrap of protection we can find. At least they put us together. It will be true soon enough.”
The ropes came free before she could summon an argument. When he pulled her into his arms, she no longer wanted to argue.
He kissed her long, his mouth gently tugging on hers.
Her arms went around his neck to pull him closer while she savored the warmth of his naked chest. She slid one hand down his back.
When she felt scratches, he winced but did not relax his hold on her.
She lowered her hand to the soft cotton of his smalls and held on to his buttocks.
When she broke their frantic kiss and moved her mouth across his neck and collarbone, he laid his face against the top of her head and breathed deeply.
“I thought you were dead,” he murmured.
She looked up, startled. “I feared for you, too,” she whispered through a throat thick with unshed tears.
The shadow of a grin flitted across his face. “Perhaps my lie had one benefit. At least they put us together.”
He looked around. Their cell had nothing but rough wooden walls and a foul-smelling bucket, for relieving themselves he presumed. “Not exactly the Brighton Pavilion, but better than the hold.”
“Better?” How could this hole be better?
“No warmer though,” he said. Lily felt him begin to shiver spasmodically.
“Maybe this will help.” Lily picked up the pile of rags and shook it out to find it was a tunic of some sort, like the garment a laborer or nomad might wear.
It looked as if it had once been blue but had faded to dirty gray.
It smelled vaguely of animal, showed patches worn thin with wear, and sported ragged tears across the hem. She held it out to him.
His look of distaste might have amused her under other circumstances.
“Your choice is this or parading in front of those men in your smalls,” she said tartly. She looked fully at his state of undress, which she had ignored in her terror in front of Hamidou, and felt her face grow hot. “They treated you horribly.”
“They weren’t gentle,” Richard said, pulling the offensive garment over his head. “But I fared better than Volkov.” He winced when it slid down his back.
“Volkov? Is he alive?”
“Barely. They beat him badly. He’s tied up in the hold in his own filth without so much as the dignity of his smallclothes.”
“I can’t feel pity,” Lily said, but she looked as if she regretted that. “Let me look at your back.”
“Not now, love. I will keep.”
Did he really call me love? In her heart she knew it to be a figure of speech, but an unusual one for the Marquess of Glenaire.
“You don’t need to fuss over some scratches,” he went on. “We are together and will be fed—or so Hamidou promised. Let that be enough for now.”
Hamidou! In spite of her best efforts, Lily crumpled. “He threatened to sell my baby!” She grabbed the front of his robe and wailed, “You have to protect her. Pay him whatever he asks. Tell him he can sell me, but protect our baby.”
“Don’t even think about making such an offer!” he shouted and quickly lowered his voice. “I won’t have it.”
“You don’t order my life,” she sobbed. “I will do whatever I have to.”
Richard took both her hands in his. “Hush, Love. Hamidou is no fool. He knows exactly who I am. Negotiation may be touchy, but I can persuade him to let you and the baby go. I’m certain of it.”
“Negotiation?”
“He’ll want to haggle, once he’s done terrifying us, but yes. I’ve been worthless so far on this adventure, but negotiating with hostile parties is one skill I can use to protect you.” He held on to her hands; bitterness gave his words a hard edge.
“You are not worthless,” Lily said.
“Am I not? My wife and baby are locked in a Barbary cell, a pirate has terrified you so badly you’re willing to die for your child, and I did nothing to prevent any of it,” he snapped.
“Foolish man,” Lily said. She removed her hands from his, slid them up his chest, and looked up at him. “If you hadn’t charged down that hill, I would be in this alone, with no ‘negotiating’ skills and no hope of ransom.”
Blue eyes bore into hers, warm with intense emotion. Why did I ever think them icy?
He stood a little straighter. “I’ll need help,” he said.
“Help?”
“For one thing, you must not show fear. You did well when we were taken. Your courage made me proud. Keep it up. Save your tears for when we’re alone.”
Lily doubted she had done so well, but his pride lay like balm on her flagging spirits.
“For another,” he went on, “I know neither Russian nor Turkish much less Arabic. I’m afraid French is the extent of it, and that only moderately. I could have used your facility many times in my work.”
The admission astonished her. “What do you want me to do?” she asked.
“I’ll need you to pay close attention to everything you hear.”
“Berber,” she muttered. Her brow wrinkled in thought. “When they speak among themselves I hear a different language. Berber, I suspect. I can’t help with that.”
“Do your best. Information gives a negotiator an edge.” He pulled her into his arms. “We can do this together. We won’t let Hamidou order our life.”
Lily sank into his warmth. He said ‘our life.’ Our. Hope took root in her soul.