Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Berber women chattered like women anywhere, sharing hot sweet tea and nibbling figs and dates. The latter, Lily surmised were a treat, having come from off-island with Rais Hamidou.
When Richard had been led away, two other women had crowded into the little hut, bringing treats.
Their generosity touched Lily. The eyes of all three were avid with curiosity.
Lily’s grasp of the language had not progressed enough to understand all of the rapid talk, but they appeared to bear her little ill will. At least not immediately.
If the fabric of her gown and shawls interested them, her red hair fascinated. All four touched and smoothed both hair and gown while Lily forced herself to be still.
Generosity doesn’t mean they wouldn’t sell me to the slavers in a heartbeat. If Richard fails—
She couldn’t bring herself to finish that thought. As if disturbed by her mother’s emotions, the baby began to kick.
The women smiled at that and burst into chatter again.
One word dominated talk that followed. Baby, Lily suspected.
With simple words in Berber, a smattering of Turkish and gestures, the women made it clear they wanted to know how far along she was.
She held up seven fingers and said “month” in Turkish, then “moon,” in case they didn’t understand.
The oldest one clucked and shook her head. She said something to the woman who brought food, the youngest of them, who seemed to have the best command of Turkish.
“It will be soon, then,” the young woman said.
Tears sprung to Lily’s eyes. Soon. Even if Richard’s negotiations went well, she doubted rescue would come soon.
Regret flooded into her. She regretted the foolish notion to leave the Seraglio.
She regretted leaving England. She regretted resisting Richard’s proposal in the first place.
I’ve put you in danger, little one. I am sorry.
The older woman reached out and took Lily’s hand. She spoke in soothing tones.
“She says you must miss your sisters and aunts,” the younger woman said, and Lily realized with a pang she had none. She thought of Georgiana Mallet and her friend the Countess of Chadbourn. I should have gone to them. More regret.
The young woman didn’t notice her deepening sadness. “Not to worry, English lady, we will help. This woman”—she indicated the older woman patting Lily’s hand—“my grandmother, has helped with many babies. Many.”
A midwife? Lily looked at her more closely.
Before Lily could reply, another woman barged in.
Of indeterminate age and fierce expression, she wore a red headdress with a chain of coins looped across it as a sign of wealth.
She must have held some position of importance because the others quickly moved aside, deferring to her.
She barked some harsh words, only one of which Lily understood—infidel again.
Clearly, she did not approve of kindness to a captive.
The old woman glowered at the intruder and then smiled sadly at Lily.
Lily found herself smiling back. She took Lily’s smile for permission and put both hands on Lily’s belly.
She began to probe. She had Lily stand and pull her gown taut so she could see how the baby lay.
She helped Lily onto her back on the bed platform and probed again.
Finally satisfied, the old grandmother sat back on her heels and nodded cheerfully.
The woman in the red headdress snarled at the grandmother. The grandmother answered in a gentler tone. The only word Lily recognized was the word for baby.
The youngest woman glanced nervously at the angry woman, leaned closer to Lily, and whispered, “Grandmother says all is well, but baby is not ready yet. Soon.”
“What did the other one say?” Lily asked. The girl merely shook her head.
The coins on the woman’s red headdress jangled when she turned and left as abruptly as she came, apparently satisfied with what she came to find out. The other women visibly relaxed.
Soon. At least it isn’t early. She found this strange grandmother’s attention as reassuring as the woman in red had been unnerving. She untied one of the silk shawls from around her shoulder and handed it to the older woman.
The grandmother beamed. She nodded repeatedly. Her thanks needed no translation.
Thank God for the kindness of these women. I’m going to need them.
A ripple of excitement among the women, a subtle shift in the emotional pool around her, alerted Lily to Richard’s return. She longed to turn and demand a report on his discussion with Rais Hamidou, but her new young friend held her still.
She saw the girl glance briefly toward the door, but the girl’s hands held her still while she tugged on the headdress she had arranged on Lily’s head. She gave the two curls on either side of Lily’s face a swift pat and smiled at her handiwork.
“Your man has returned, Lady,” she whispered in Lily’s ear. Lily smiled back. “I had better make myself agreeable, no?” The girl translated to the older women who cackled knowingly. They rose with no further delay and fluttered to the door with sly smiles and Lily’s silk shawls.
Lily stood to face Richard. His fierce expression made her look away and make a show of smoothing the bright Berber sash she had gotten in exchange for her finery.
“If they stole from you, I—”
“No one stole from me. Communicating with those women helps our cause. The great Marquess of Glenaire does not need to fix my part in it. What happened with Hamidou?”
“You gave them your shawls? Why would you do that?
“Under the circumstances, all that silk felt perfectly useless. It snagged every time I moved. Besides, they admired it.”
Richard’s brows rose.
The poor man looks confused, and that irritates him, she thought. “I got this practical sash in exchange. See how it holds up my skirts from the dust.” She swirled to show him.
“I can see your ankles,” he complained.
“You don’t like my ankles?” She could see from his face that he liked the sight very much.
“I don’t like every man in this village ogling your ankles.”
“Silly. I’m too big to attract any man’s eyes.”
The look he gave her caused heat to run from between her breasts and up her neck to her cheeks. “I beg to differ,” he rasped.
Lily put her hands on her face to cool her cheeks. “Besides, I’m locked in here.”
“No longer. We’re to have the run of the island.”
“What on earth has changed? What happened with Rais Hamidou? Did you convince him to let us go?”
“No. I can’t work wonders, Lily.” His bleak expression struck her in the heart. “I can only negotiate. At least I know how to do that much.” He avoided her eyes.
Lily sucked in the breath she didn’t know she held.
The man is doing his best to fix things, Lily.
He’ll hate himself if his best isn’t good enough.
He’ll hate himself if harm comes to you.
The realization roiled her emotions ever further, comfort warring with fear for him.
She swallowed hard and forced herself to stand straight, chin high.
“If you could negotiate, then all is well. No one does it better,” she said.
Richard looked at her then, gratitude clear in his expression.
“We did negotiate,” he said. “There is to be ransom.” He outlined Hamidou’s terms.
“Sixty days?” She asked breathlessly. “Do you think it will take that long?” She didn’t dare ask, “Do you think it will come in time?”
“We have to pray it doesn’t take longer,” he said as if reading her thoughts.
“The baby won’t wait that long,” she told him.
Anguish twisted his face. “I can’t help it. It may be faster if response comes from Gibraltar directly and word does not have to get to England. If the government responds quickly maybe, but there are no guarantees—” He looked as if he meant to say more.
No guarantees they would respond at all. Lily didn’t need to have him spell it out.
Lily put a hand over his mouth. “Listen to me, Richard. You can’t fix everything. Our daughter will be born when she is ready, here or on our way to England. We can’t possibly make it to London in time.”
His arms went around her, and he pulled her close. “I’m sorry I can’t do better. I have no idea about childbirth, but I’ll do my best to see to you.”
That statement and the image it conveyed made her chuckle, laughter bubbling up from deep inside. “Foolish man. I don’t believe childbirth is your expertise either. I will manage the thing.”
“So you like to say.” His worried frown didn’t lighten.
“In this case I’m right. I have to be. The women will help. That young woman’s grandmother is a midwife. You will remember my efforts to build a bridge to them.”
He jerked his head up. “I won’t have some village peasant assisting in the birth of my son!”
“What do you propose? You can’t transport some Mayfair accoucheur here on time, even if you could convince one to come.”
He opened his mouth to argue, and she shut it with a kiss. She snuggled her head against his shoulder. The words he spoke at Chadbourn Park came back to her. “There is nothing I can't manage if I have all the facts.” This must be killing him. “No one expects you to do the impossible,” she murmured.
“I do,” he growled.
She listened while his heart slowed.
“You kissed me,” he said moments later.
“I did.” Lily smiled against his shirt.
He took her face in his hands, sliding long fingers under her side curls. She waited for his kiss. When he paused, uncertain, she said, “I won’t break, Richard, as you discovered on the ship. Kiss me.”
He covered her lips with his and kissed her gently until she opened to allow his tongue to explore more deeply. When he tried to pull away, she held him close.
“There’s one thing I know you do very well. You did say we’re as good as married.”
His eyes widened. I’ve shocked him.
“You’re inviting me? What about the baby?”
“I learned many useful things in the Seraglio. One is that there is no reason to forego all lovemaking.” She looked at her expanded girth. “You just have to be careful.”
The poor man looks poleaxed. She watched emotion play across his face: desire, hope, and then caution.
“No reason except a village full of curious people, bright sunshine, and an ever-open door.”
He took a step away, but held tight to her hand. “Walk with me, wife. It appears we’re to have the freedom of the island as long as we don’t attempt to escape.”
“Should we? Escape, that is.”
“Ask me after I’ve had a look at the island. I suspect not, or he wouldn’t allow the freedom.” He led her toward the flimsy cloth that served as a door. “Besides, we need to continue the conversation tonight. After dark. When the village sleeps.”
His look, full of passion and promise, made her knees week.
“See, little one,” she murmured, “your father is a clever man.”
He took her hand and led her outside. No guard stood at the door.
“What else did they say while you negotiated?”
“A lot I didn’t understand. The one word I do understand is becoming too familiar—kafir. Scarface uses it as his favorite insult.”
Lily looked around the village. How many of these faces hold kindness? How many hate?