Chapter 14 — The Captain Comes Looking
Alexander did not believe Amara's first escape attempt had been foolish.
Dangerous, yes.
Reckless, certainly.
But not foolish.
She had chosen a day when she believed he would be away. She had saved money, copied a map, packed food, and selected one of the fastest horses on the estate.
Unfortunately, she had selected the fastest horse with the worst personality.
That part had been foolish.
The following morning, Alexander found her in the stable.
Amara was brushing the black gelding she had borrowed without permission.
“You're rewarding the criminal?”
She glanced at him. “He isn't the criminal.”
“He assisted in the theft of my property.”
“He was kidnapped.”
Alexander folded his arms. “By you.”
“Now you understand how unpleasant it is.”
His amusement disappeared.
Amara noticed immediately.
“I shouldn't have said that.”
“No. You shouldn't.”
For a moment there was silence.
Then Alexander stepped closer.
“I came because I want to ask you something.”
“You usually do.”
“This time I want an honest answer.”
Amara continued brushing the horse. “That sounds expensive.”
“Why didn't you tell me you intended to leave?”
She stopped.
“Because you would have stopped me.”
“Yes.”
“Then you have your answer.”
“Why didn't you ask me to take you?”
Amara looked at him.
That question was different.
“I didn't think you would.”
“Why?”
“Because I'm still not free here.”
Alexander frowned. “Nobody locks your door.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
“You ride. You work where you choose. My mother treats you as a companion more than a servant.”
“And could I leave yesterday?”
Alexander said nothing.
Amara nodded. “Exactly.”
He hated the simplicity of her argument.
“I stopped you because you were in danger.”
“You also brought me back.”
“What was I supposed to do? Wave goodbye?”
“You could have trusted me.”
Alexander laughed once. “You were lost.”
“I was not lost.”
“You were traveling east.”
“The coast is east.”
“The road you were following turns north.”
Amara paused.
Alexander raised an eyebrow.
“The map was unclear.”
“The map was perfectly clear.”
“The horse distracted me.”
Alexander smiled.
“Now we're getting somewhere.”
She pointed the brush at him. “Do not become pleased with yourself.”
They left the stable and walked toward the fields.
Alexander had decided not to interrogate her in his study. Amara became defensive whenever papers and questions appeared together.
Outside, she was different.
“Your father is searching for you,” he said.
“Yes.”
“He has money.”
“Yes.”
“Ships?”
Amara hesitated.
“Yes.”
Alexander looked at her.
“More than one?”
“Yes.”
“Soldiers?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
“Political connections?”
She sighed. “Alexander.”
“Diplomats?”
She kept walking.
He smiled slightly. “That means yes.”
“It means you're annoying.”
“Both can be true.”
They reached an old oak near the edge of the field.
Alexander stopped.
“Amara, wealthy merchants have money. Some have ships. Very few have soldiers and diplomats.”
She said nothing.
“Who is your father?”
“I told you. A businessman.”
“That description is becoming ridiculous.”
“He does conduct business.”
“Does he also command an army?”
Amara looked toward the hills.
Alexander watched her profile.
Something he had suspected for days was becoming impossible to ignore.
“You said ministers taught you things.”
“I shouldn't have said that.”
“But you did.”
“You know formal diplomacy. You speak several languages. You understand international trade. You were taught to ride by a professional. You behave at formal dinners as though you've attended hundreds of them.”
Amara smiled faintly. “Until I insult your guests.”
“Yes. That remains unusual.”
She laughed.
Alexander did not.
“You were born into a powerful family.”
Her smile disappeared.
“Alexander—”
“I'm not asking because I want money.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
She looked at him.
“Yes.”
That answer mattered more to him than he expected.
“Then why won't you tell me?”
Amara was silent for a long moment.
“Because the last men who discovered I came from wealth immediately began calculating what I was worth.”
“I am not Rourke.”
“I know that too.”
“Then trust me.”
“I am trying.”
Alexander nodded slowly.
That was enough.
For now.
They continued walking.
After a while Amara asked, “What would you do if I told you?”
“Help you contact your family.”
“And after that?”
“After that?”
“Yes.”
“What happens to me?”
Alexander looked surprised. “You go home.”
The answer came too quickly.
Amara looked at him.
He suddenly understood the question beneath the question.
If her family found her, she would leave.
Of course she would.
That was the entire purpose of everything he had been doing.
So why did the thought feel unexpectedly unpleasant?
“You want me to go,” she said.
“I want you to be free.”
“That wasn't what I asked.”
Alexander frowned.
She had developed an irritating talent for recognizing the difference between what he said and what he meant.
“I don't want you trapped here.”
“Still not an answer.”
“Amara.”
She smiled. “There he is.”
“Who?”
“The man who becomes irritated whenever a question is difficult.”
“I am not irritated.”
“You are.”
Alexander started walking again.
She followed.
For once, she allowed him to escape the question.
That afternoon Alexander received another letter.
This one came from a commercial contact near the coast.
He read it twice.
Then he immediately went looking for Amara.
She was not in the library.
Not in the study.
Not with Eleanor.
Not in the garden.
Alexander's irritation increased with every empty room.
Finally he went to the stable.
The black gelding was missing.
Alexander stopped.
“No.”
The stable boy looked terrified.
“She only said she was riding, sir.”
“Which direction?”
“South field.”
Alexander mounted another horse and rode out immediately.
He found her less than fifteen minutes later beside a small lake.
She was sitting beneath a tree.
The black gelding grazed nearby.
Amara looked up as Alexander approached.
“You came looking for me again.”
“You took the same horse.”
“We have resolved our differences.”
Alexander dismounted.
“Have you?”
“He understands me now.”
The horse walked away from her.
Alexander looked at Amara.
“He adores me privately.”
“I have news.”
Her expression changed immediately.
“What?”
Alexander handed her the letter.
She read quickly.
Someone had reached the coast carrying official inquiries about two missing women.
The description matched Amara and Lela.
The representative was connected to a foreign royal court.
Amara read the final lines twice.
Her hands began trembling.
Alexander noticed.
“Do you recognize it?”
She nodded.
“Who sent them?”
Amara folded the letter.
“My father.”
“Then tell me who he is.”
She looked toward the lake.
Alexander waited.
For once he did not press.
Finally Amara spoke.
“My father is more than a merchant.”
“I had noticed.”
“He controls trade, land, mines, ships.”
“And soldiers.”
“Yes.”
“And diplomats.”
“Yes.”
Alexander took a slow breath.
“Is he a government minister?”
Amara almost smiled.
“No.”
“A governor?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
She looked directly into his eyes.
“Not yet.”
Alexander stared at her.
“You brought me halfway to the answer and stopped?”
“Yes.”
“That is cruel.”
“You'll survive.”
He laughed despite himself.
Then his expression became serious again.
“Whoever your father is, his people are getting closer.”
“I know.”
“You may be able to contact him within days.”
Amara looked at the letter again.
Hope and fear crossed her face together.
“What if we're too late?”
“For what?”
“What if the agent leaves? What if Rourke hears people are searching? What if something happens before we reach them?”
“Then we find another route.”
She looked at him.
“You make everything sound simple.”
“No. I make it sound possible.”
That silenced her.
They sat beneath the tree.
Alexander left a respectful distance between them.
After a while Amara said, “When I was little, I used to hide from my guards.”
Alexander smiled. “That does not surprise me.”
“I thought it was funny. They would search the gardens for hours.”
“Your guards?”
She realized what she had said.
Alexander slowly turned toward her.
“Most merchant's daughters do not have guards.”
Amara covered her face with one hand.
He began laughing.
“You are terrible at keeping secrets.”
“I was excellent until I met you.”
“Your father has ships, soldiers, diplomats, ministers, and his daughter had personal guards.”
Amara stood.
“We should go back.”
Alexander stood too.
“Amara.”
“No.”
“I haven't asked anything yet.”
“I know what your face looks like before you ask.”
She walked toward the horse.
Alexander followed.
“One question.”
“No.”
“Two.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Is your father a ruler?”
Amara stopped.
Only for a second.
But Alexander saw it.
She continued toward the gelding.
He remained where he was.
Something inside his mind shifted.
A ruler.
Suddenly everything made sense.
The education.
The etiquette.
The languages.
The riding master.
The ministers.
The guards.
Her absolute refusal to consider herself inferior to anyone.
Even the way she had first stood in his courtyard, exhausted and dressed in plain clothing, yet somehow expected everyone around her to treat her with dignity.
Alexander caught up.
“You didn't answer.”
“I know.”
“You also didn't deny it.”
“I know.”
He stared at her.
Amara mounted.
Alexander shook his head.
“You truly are impossible.”
“So you've mentioned.”
They rode back slowly.
Near the estate, Alexander finally said, “I won't ask again today.”
“How generous.”
“But I want you to understand something.”
Amara looked at him.
“I don't care whether your father is a merchant, governor, king, or emperor. What happened to you was wrong before I knew any of it.”
Her expression softened.
“You believe that?”
“Yes.”
“And if I had been born with nothing?”
“It would still have been wrong.”
Amara looked forward.
That answer mattered.
Perhaps more than Alexander understood.
After a while she said quietly, “Thank you.”
He nodded.
Neither spoke for the remainder of the ride.
Alexander still did not know her full identity.
But he was close.
Very close.
And Amara knew it.
The strange thing was that she was no longer most frightened of what Alexander would do when he discovered the truth.
She was beginning to wonder what she would do.
Because her family was getting closer.
Freedom was getting closer.
Home was getting closer.
And for the first time since she had been taken, the thought of leaving somewhere behind hurt almost as much as the thought of never getting home.