Chapter 30 #2
Richard knew the meaning of infidel. He also knew from reports from both English and American captains and diplomats that the Barbary corsairs had no scruples about the treatment of infidels, as if they believed them less than human.
Lily held his gaze for a long time. How much does she know about the treatment of infidels? If she didn’t before, the sight of Volkov must have enlightened her.
He tried to pull her into his arms; she stiffened.
“I need to sleep,” she said.
She lay down and curled away from him, showing only her back. He suspected she only pretended to sleep.
Richard covered her with one of the blankets, rose, and went to pull the cloth at the door aside. He found an armed guard, one he hadn’t seen before. The man glowered at him, and he dropped the door covering.
He sank onto the bed platform, his back to the wall, his head on his knees. We are well and truly trapped here. When will Hamidou make his move? I’m helpless to do anything but pray. Pray and plan.
A long and sleepless night later Lily clung to the windowsill of their hovel and breathed deeply.
She had been allowed out once the night before and once this morning to relieve herself.
She tried to be grateful. After days locked in a windowless closet on a churning deck, fresh air and firm ground almost compensated for discomfort. It was more than they had before.
A group of children laughed while they tossed about a ball made of rag in a narrow dusty street outside the window.
Lily could only think about the baby she carried.
Hamidou threatened a horrific fate, and others with their ever-present weapons spoke of imminent doom.
The fear and despondency that washed over her in waves for days swamped her again.
Will you ever be able to play freely, dear one? She clutched her belly.
Richard’s voice called to her from across the room. “At least they kept us together,” he said.
“Thanks to your lies, husband,” she said. She didn’t turn around to look at him.
“I hoped it would help,” he persisted.
“So you said,” she murmured. He meant it Lily. Stop being so horrid to him. Tell him the truth; your own behavior deserves condemnation.
She forced herself to face him. “None of this is your fault,” she said. “If I had stayed in the Seraglio, the baby would be safe.”
She found him glaring at her.
“If you had stayed in London like you were told, you would be safe,” he said through stiff lips. He stood grim-faced, arms folded, leaning against the wall.
Lily bristled, her own regrets forgotten. “Yes, your orders were clear, my lord. If your protection is so effective, where was my father? How did Volkov get past you?”
“It works better when my charges do as they are told,” he spat back.
Arrogant, insufferable man. Their brief period of comradery died in the face of misery. Lily clenched her jaw to hold back a retort. Bickering did nothing to alleviate their situation.
He glared back for a moment before dropping his eyes as if he had had the same thought. “Why did you leave the Seraglio where you felt safe? What were you thinking?” he asked.
She sighed. How long ago was that? It seemed like months.
“After you left, I considered what you offered.”
Considered? I cried all night. “Whatever qualms I have about the life you offered, I felt compelled to admit you were right.”
His grin irritated her, but Lily had to admit he was right.
“Our child deserves to know her father,” she went on.
“You didn’t plan to put me away. You offered marriage.
Only a fool—” She held up a hand to stop him when he looked like he would interrupt.
“Yes, I know I was acting foolishly. Who would turn down your offer of security for her child?”
She looked into watchful blue eyes and continued. “I was on my way to tell you that I had changed my mind, that I would marry you.” She looked away at the intensity of his response.
“Now”—she shrugged—“who knows what will happen.”
She turned back to the window, swallowing her fears and tears. Richard came up behind her and slid his arms around her middle. He kissed the spot where her neck met her shoulder.
She couldn’t resist the warmth that engulfed her. She closed her eyes and leaned into him.
“I claimed you as my wife to Rais Hamidou,” he murmured against her skin.
“Lies,” she sighed, breathing in the male scent of him. His breath on her skin heated her whole body.
“But you didn’t deny it, tantamount to agreement.”
She snapped upright, but he held her fast. “What are you saying?” she asked.
“In some parts of the world, a declaration of that sort constitutes marriage,” he told her. “We’ll want to formalize it when we can, but, Lily, make no mistake. You are my wife. Nothing that comes next will change that.”
He turned her in his arms and claimed her with a fierce searing kiss, a kiss of possession. The last of her resistance crumbled. She matched his passion in a response that left no doubt. However much she might regret it later, she belonged to him—heart, body, and soul.
The little burden between them brought them back to reality with a sudden flurry of movement. Richard pulled away only far enough to look down; he kept his arms around her. With a sad smile, he set his forehead against hers.
“I will get us out of this, Lily.”
Or die trying. He didn’t say the words, but Lily heard them in her heart all the same.
“Hamidou hasn’t sent for ransom,” Lily told him.
“Not yet. He will. Money matters. In the meantime, we’re safe enough here.”
Pray God that’s true. He can’t possibly know for certain. She didn’t point that out to him.
“I hope they plan to feed us, though,” he said when he released her. He stretched shoulders she knew ached him. “The sun has been up for over an hour.”
“They sent grains last night.” She shrugged. “It could be worse.”
The ragged door to their prison swung open. A young woman stood, as if on command, holding a bowl of barley cakes and dates. The scar-faced guard loomed behind her. At the sight of the man who had held a dagger to her throat in Constantinople, Lily froze.
Hamidou may negotiate reasonably, but does he control Scarface?