Captive Bride

Chapter Sixteen

IT had been five days since Yasir died, and the tension was wearing Christina down. Philip was off hunting somewhere, and she had no idea when he would be coming back. She'd chosen to stay in her tent these last days, but now she just couldn't stand it anymore.

She left the tent, searched out Ahmad, and asked him to make Raven ready for her. Then she quickly donned her robe and breeches, and by the time she reached the corral, Ahmad was ready to go.

"It is good that you resume your activities," he said with a big smile as he helped her mount.

"Yes, it is," Christina returned. But not all activities, she added to herself, thinking of the quiet nights she'd been granted lately.

They rode down the mountainside slowly, but when they reached the bottom, Christina urged Raven into a fast gallop. Ahmad was accustomed to the way she rode and managed to stay beside her.

They had been riding for at least half an hour and were far into the desert when Christina spied four men on horseback coming swiftly toward them. They had come from nowhere, it seemed, and were soon upon them.

Christina slowed Raven and turned to see Ahmad raising his rifle. But before he had time to pull the trigger, a shot rang through the air, and Christina felt sick as Ahmad fell slowly from his horse, blood oozing from his chest.

"Oh, God—no!" she screamed, but Ahmad lay motionless on the hot sand.

Immediately Christina turned Raven and whipped him into a gallop. She wanted to go to Ahmad, but she had to think of herself now. She could hear her pursuers closing in behind her. An arm went around her waist, yanked her from her horse, and threw her across another one. She struggled fiercely and was rewarded when she fell off backward onto the hard sand.

The man who had grabbed her got off his horse and slowly approached Christina. He had an angry, ferocious look on his bearded face.

Christina's heart beat painfully as she scrambled to her feet and started to run, but before she had got ten feet away, the man had swung her around and slapped her brutally across her face, knocking her down. He lifted her up halfway by the front of her robe and hit her two more times, then dropped her as if she were dirt. She was crying hysterically as she turned over on the sand so he couldn't hit her any more.

Vaguely, Christina could hear voices quarreling, but they sounded so far away. She felt dazed, and for a moment she didn't even know where she was or why she was crying. It all came back to her painfully when she cautiously raised her head and saw Ahmad's lifeless body lying some distance away from her.

Oh, God, why did they have to kill him? she thought miserably. A few yards away from her three of the men still sat on horseback, one of them talking harshly to the man who had beaten her.

Amair Abdalla dismounted and walked over to the woman lying on the sand. He felt pity when he turned her over and saw her face, already discolored and swelling. He had been told this woman was a beauty, but now her face was dirty from the sand, with clear streaks running down her cheeks from her tears.

That bastard Cassim! It had happened so fast that Amair had been unable to stop him. They were in a hurry, or he would punish the beast now. Cassim had always been a cruel man. His wife had nearly died twice from his cruelty and beatings.

Sheik Ali Hejaz would not take kindly to the beating of this woman. Christina Wakefield was important to Sheik Ah" in more ways than one, and he had given strict orders that she was not to be harmed.

Cassim would be taken care of when they returned to camp—and he knew it. But now they must hurry. The plan did not call for a confrontation on Sheik Abu's home ground, and Amair didn't want to have a run-in with the big man. It would mean sure death.

Moments had passed since the young man had turned Christina over. He had been staring at her face, and she could see the pity in his brown eyes. What was going to happen now? Perhaps they wouldn't hurt her any more— not now, anyway. Christina instinctively cringed away from the man when he bent down to pick her up. He carried her to the horses, put her on his small Arabian, and got on behind her. The other three men were mounted and waiting, and they all rode off at a gallop.

Christina closed her eyes when they passed Ahmad's body. Poor Ahmad. He was only a little older than she, and now his life was finished. The four men left Raven and Ahmad's horse behind. If they were thieves, why didn't they take the horses, too?

Who were they? They couldn't have known she was a woman, not the way she was dressed, so why hadn't they shot her also? The men couldn't be here to rescue her, for nobody had known she was here. Besides, if they meant to take her back to her brother, they wouldn't beat her. It just didn't make any sense.

These men must be from the neighboring tribe that Philip had warned her about. Would they all use her, then sell her into slavery? Philip would never be able to find her!

Philip, where are you? You've got to find me! But what could she be thinking! Hadn't she wanted to leave Philip?

At least my new master will never have the power to make me weak with his touch the way Philip does. No other man will be able to arouse my desire like Philip. Suddenly she realized what she'd just said in her thoughts.

I love him! I loved him all this time and didn't even know it! Christina, you're a fool, a stupid little fool. You fought Philip all these months and prayed to be sent home, when all the time you loved him. You may never see him again, and Philip still thinks you hate him.

But what if he doesn't come? What if he's glad I'm gone and off his hands? Can I blame him after the way I've acted toward him? Oh, no, he's gofto come for me, he's got to save me so I can tell him how much I love him. And he's got to find me soon, before it's too late!

When Yasir died and I wanted to comfort Philip, I should have known then that I loved him. It has taken a nightmare to make me see the truth, and now it may be too late. Oh, God, give me another chance!

It was getting dark now, and they were still riding hard, as if the devil himself were chasing them. Again it didn't make any sense. If these four men were from the neighboring tribe Philip had talked about, they should have gone into the mountains and reached their camp already.

She must be wrong. They had been riding along the base of the mountains, but now, as the moon came out to light the way, they tamed and headed into the desert. Where were they taking her? And what would happen to her when they got there?

Christina remembered the long-ago time when she had asked herself these same questions, only Philip had been her abductor then. She really had hated him those first weeks after he brought her to his camp. He had taken her away from all she loved. He had manipulated everyone to bring her to this land. But every young woman leaves behind all that she knows when she marries. It takes time to become accustomed to a new life.

Well, she had become accustomed—too accustomed, in fact. And she felt a fear and emptiness in her heart that she would never see Philip again. It was worse than the pain that she felt in her swollen face with each step of the horse. She closed her eyes to shut out all the misery she felt, and, somehow, fell asleep.

The sound of loud voices brought Christina's eyes open. She was lifted down from the horse. She wondered what had happened until she saw all the new faces about her and felt the soreness in her face. The sun was up and the heat was torrid, bouncing off the sand, forcing her to shade her eyes from the glare in order to see.

Before Christina was taken into a small tent, she glanced about the encampment. They were at a desert oasis. Two huge palm trees towered over six small tents, and she could see goats, sheep, and camels grazing on a stretch of grass behind them.

Inside the tent, it took Christina a moment to become accustomed to the darkness. She saw an old man sitting alone on a pillow behind a low table covered with bowls of food.

The old man hadn't even glanced in her direction yet. He was still eating his meal, so Christina looked about the tent. A few pillows were scattered about, and she saw a large chest in one corner, but there were no chairs to sit on or rugs to cover the sand.

When Christina looked back at the old man, he was dipping his fingers into a small bowl of water, as she had done many times after finishing a meal with Philip. He looked up at her then, and his brown eyes widened in anger at the sight of her bruised face. She jumped when his fist slammed down on the table, making all the bowls clatter.

He was dressed in a colorful robe and kufiyah, and she noticed that his feet were bare beneath the table. When he stood up, he appeared to be no taller than herself, but when he spoke, he commanded authority.

He spoke harshly to the young man with Christina, and she surmised he must be the sheik of this tribe. Heated words passed between them that Christina couldn't under-stai)d, and then the young man led her behind a curtain in the corner of the tent.

The small space was barely big enough for her to lie down. There was a sheepskin on the sand, and Christina was deposited there, then left alone.

A few minutes later, an old woman opened the curtains and brought in a tray with a large bowl of food and a glass of wine. The woman set the tray down on the sand, handed Christina a wet towel, pointing to her face, and left Christina alone again.

She washed her face with the towel, but couldn't remove all of the dirt around her painfully swollen eyes. The food was greasy, but was luckily soft, for it also hurt her to chew. The wine tasted wonderful, but she felt strangely tired after she finished drinking it. Christina fought to stay awake so she could be prepared for what would happen next, but she couldn't manage to keep her eyes open or think coherently, and presently she fell into a sound sleep.

When Amair Abdalla left the woman in Sheik AH Hejaz's tent, he stopped long enough to tell Cassim that Sheik Ali wished to see him, then he went directly to his father's tent. He did not feel sorry for Cassim, for whatever befell him was of his own doing. Sheik Ali was angrier than Amair had expected, and Cassim would probably die for his deed.

"Amair, did everything go well?" his father, Cogia Abdalla, asked when Amair walked into the tent that they shared.

"Yes, father, all went as planned," Amair replied distastefully. He sat down on the sheepskin that was his bed, and grabbed the goatskin of wine beside it. "But I will tell you this—I do not care for what I was ordered to do. That woman has done nothing, and she should not be made the pawn for revenge. Already she has suffered, for Cassim beat her before I could stop him."

"What! That no-good—"

"Don't you see, father?" Amair cut in. "None of this should have happened in the first place. Cassim shot the man Christina Wakefield was riding with. I pray that he is found before he dies, for he is Ahmad, the brother of Amine's husband. If Ahmad dies, then Syed will hate us and we will never be able to see my sister, Amine, again."

"I should have known this plan would come to no good." Cogia hung his head dejectedly. "I should never have agreed to let you take part in it. I only want this hatred to come to an end so I can see my daughter again. Amine must have children now, and I have never seen them. I might never see my grandchildren!"

"But even so, father, you should never have agreed to this plan. Sheik Abu had nothing to do with what happened all those years ago. He was across the seas then. I do not think he should be made the target for Sheik Ali's revenge now that Sheik Yasir is dead."

"I know, my son, but what can we do now? Perhaps Sheik Abu will not come," Cogia said. He looked out of the open tent. In the center of the camp three little boys were playing with a baby lamb. Cogia ached with wanting to see his own daughter and her children.

"He will come," Amair replied. "And if he brings the men of his tribe, there will be much useless bloodshed for something that happened twenty-five years ago. And not one man who will die had anything to do with it."

And Philip did come, less than an hour later. He came alone and cursed himself for doing so when he realized the danger he was up against

Philip had returned to his camp and was told that Christina had gone riding with Ahmad. He was glad she'd decided to resume her daily rides, and realized it was time to break out of his own depression. His father was dead, but he still had Christina.

Thoughts of Christina went through Philip's mind as he paced the tent waiting for her to return. But when the sun went down and there was still no sign of her, a sickening dread came over him. He ran from the tent and, seeing Syed by the corral, told him to follow.

Philip broke out in a sweat as they galloped down the hillside, Syed desperately trying to keep up with him. After riding some distance in the direction Christina usually took, Philip saw two horses standing close to each other. The color drained from his face when he came closer and saw a body lying on the sand.

He jumped from his horse and ran to Ahmad. The wound was in the lower part of Ahmad's chest; he had lost a lot of blood but was still alive. Syed arrived, and they forced some water down Ahmad's throat. He finally opened his eyes. He looked from Philip to Syed and tried to sit up but was too weak from loss of blood.

"Can you talk, Ahmad?" Philip asked. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Ahmad looked at Philip through glazed eyes. "There were four desert men riding toward us at a fast speed. I—I raised my rifle to fire, but they shot me. That is all I can remember." Ahmad strained to look about, and when he saw Christina's horse he sank back onto the sand. "They have taken her?"

"It looks that way," Philip replied. His body was tense, ready to do battle. He looked to the older brother. "Syed, you take Ahmad back to camp. Maidi will know what to do for him. I don't know how long I will be, but do not follow. I will find Christina, and the man who shot your brother will die."

"Allah be with you," Syed replied as Philip mounted Ms horse.

The tracks from the kidnappers' four horses could still be seen, since there had been no wind to cover them with sand. Philip followed the tracks with a speed Victory had never reached before. He kept seeing Christina's frightened face, and he prayed that he could find her in time, before the men raped and sold her.

He should never have let her ride on the desert. If he had limited her to the camp, she would be there now. And he wouldn't be fearing for her life. Please, God, let him find her in time!

Philip had a sick feeling in his heart as he tried to imagine what his life would be without Christina. He pictured the empty bed that he had shared with her, the empty tent that he had always been eager to enter, her beautiful, soft body that could tempt him so easily. How could another woman ever take Christina's place? He couldn't bear the thought of never seeing her again.

He must love her if he felt this way!

Philip had never believed he would fall in love. What a fool he had been! But what if he couldn't find Christina? Worse, what if she didn't want to be found? Well, he would find her or die trying, and he would force her to go back with him. He would rather live with her hate than live without her. Perhaps someday she would grow to love him in return.

Philip thanked heaven for the full moon that gave him enough light to follow the tracks. The hours passed by slowly, filled with his tortured thoughts, and the sun was high before Philip spotted the camp of a desert tribe in the distance. The tracks he followed led directly to the camp. It won't be long now, Christina, he thought. I will find you and take you home.

Philip slowed his horse and entered the encampment Several men came forward as he halted Victory in the center of the camp.

"I am looking for four men and a woman," Philip said in Arabic. "They came through here, did they not?"

"You have come to the right place, Abu Alhamar. You will dismount and come with me."

Philip turned to see the man who spoke. A rifle was pointed at his back, leaving him little choice. "How do you know who I am?"

"You have been expected. Come with me."

Philip dismounted, and the man prodded him with the rifle toward a tent entrance. More armed men walked behind him, ready for his slightest move. How the devil do they know who I am? Philip wondered.

An old man at the far end of the tent stood up and looked Philip over. "It did not take you long to come, Sheik Abu. I have waited a long time for this moment."

"What the hell is this all about?" Philip demanded. "How do you know who I am? I've never laid eyes on you before?"

"You have seen me before, but you would not remember. Perhaps you have heard of me? I am Ali Hejaz, sheik of this tribe and uncle to Rashid, your half-brother. Do you know me now?"

"I have heard your name before, but that's all. Why were you expecting me?"

"Ah, I see your father kept the truth from you. Now I must tell you the whole story, so you will understand why I am going to kill you to avenge my sister's death."

"You must be cra2y," Philip laughed. "I've done nothing to you. Why do you want me dead?"

"I am not crazy, Abu Alhamar." Ali Hejaz spoke calmly, relishing his moment of triumph. "You will soon learn why you must die. I knew you would fall into my trap, because I have your woman."

"Where is she?" Philip exploded. "If you've hurt her ... !"

"All in good time, Abu," Ah" Hejaz interrupted. "You may see her later, for the last time. Do not fear for her, for she will not be harmed in my camp. I am grateful to Christina Wakefield for bringing you to my vengeance. Later, I will return her to her brother for the reward."

"How did you know about her?" Philip asked.

"You have so many questions! You see, Rashid visits me from time to time. He mentioned you were back from England, and that you were keeping a foreign woman as your mistress. It seems I have rescued Christina Wakefield from her abductor!" Ali paused. When he spoke again, his voice was filled with anger. "I also recently learned of Yasir's death. I was cheated out of killing him myself, so you, his beloved son, will take his place!"

"What do you claim my father did?" Philip asked.

Ali Hejaz poured two glasses of wine and offered one to Philip. He declined, and Ali smiled. "It will be your last —I suggest you drink it. It is not poisoned, I assure you. I have a slower, crueler death planned for you."

"Get on with your explanations, Hejaz. I wish to see Christina," Philip replied. He took the wine and toasted the old man mockingly.

"I see you do not take me seriously yet. Ah, but you will when your slow death begins. However, you deserve to know why you are going to die." Ali paused and drank from the glass he was holding.

"A very long time ago, your father and I were close friends. I would have done anything for Yasir. I also knew your mother, and I was with Yasir when you were born. I rejoiced for your father in those days. He had two fine sons and a woman he loved more than life itself. I remember holding you on my knee when you were only three years old and telling you stories. Can you remember that?"

"No."

"I didn't think you would. Those were happy days— until your mother left. She was a good woman, but she destroyed Yasir. He was never the same again. His wife gone, his two sons gone, Yasir felt he had nothing to live for. I suffered with him for three years, for I loved Yasir as a brother. I hoped he would forget your mother, and find happiness again. I had a sister named Margiana, a beautiful girl who adored Yasir. So I offered Margiana to Yasir in marriage."

"But my mother and father were still married. How could he marry your sister?" Philip interrupted.

"Your mother had gone and was not coming back. It was the same as if she were dead. Yasir was free to marry again. He could make a new life and sire sons he could watch grow to manhood. So Yasir agreed to marry my sister. I was called away just then, and asked Margiana not to marry until my return. But she refused to wait.

"I was wounded while away and was bedridden for months. It took me almost two years to find my sister and Yasir's tribe. Rashid, my sister's son, was a year old then.

"And so the years passed, and I thought all was well with my sister. Yasir was still unhappy. He did not love Rashid as he had you. However, when I visited my sister she acted as though she were happy.

"Several years ago, my sister came to me and finally told me the truth about her so-called marriage. Yasir refused to marry her at the last minute. But on the night they were to have been married, he got drunk and raped her. When she discovered months later that she was with child, she begged Yasir to marry her. But he still refused. He couldn't forget your mother. Margiana felt ashamed because she was not married, so she lied to me and let me think she was happy. Yasir never took her again, but he let her and Rashid live with his tribe. She loved him, and he treated her like dirt.

"After my sister told me the truth, she killed herself. It was as if Yasir had plunged the knife into her. He killed my sister, and on that day I swore revenge. I waited, but Yasir knew of my sworn hatred and never ventured from his camp alone. He never forgot I was waiting for him, and I waited too long. Yasir died a happy man, without suffering the way my sister suffered."

"But all that has nothing to do with me. Why do you want me dead?" Philip asked. He believed the story. Yasir had lived with the memory of his first and only wife until the day he died. He probably never knew that Margiana loved him and was suffering because of it.

'You will take Yasir's place," said Ali Hejaz. "You, his beloved son, who were everything to him, as my sister was to me. You, who gave Yasir pleasure in his last years when he should have had none. You, the son of the woman who was to blame for my sister's death. You, who are just like your father in every way, taking women without marriage and mating them suffer.

"You shall die, and I will be avenged at long last." Ali laughed, a short, satanic laugh. "Ah, but revenge is sweet. If only Yasir were here to see your death, I would be the happiest of men. I will even grant you a last wish if it is reasonable."

"You are too kind," said Philip sarcastically. "I would like to see Christina Wakefield now."

"Ah yes, the woman. I did say that you could see her, did I not? But first I must warn you, I am afraid she met with a slight accident before she came here."

"An accident? Where is she?" Philip demanded.

Ali Hejaz motioned to one of the men behind Philip. The man lifted a curtain at the back of the tent.

Philip saw Christina huddled on the floor. "Oh, my God!" he gasped. He bent down to touch her, but she didn't move.

"I thought it best to drug her for a few days until the swelling goes down," Ali said from behind him.

Philip stood up and turned very slowly to face the old man. The muscles in his cheeks twitched with the violent rage consuming him.

"Who did this?" he said quietly, emotions held tautly in check. "Who did this to her?"

"It should not have happened. The man who beat her has always been cruel to women. When she ran from him he went wild and beat her before my men could stop him. He will die, of course. I gave strict orders not to harm the woman, and he disobeyed me. I have not yet decided how he will die, but he will."

"Give him to me," Philip said grimly.

"What?"

"Give the man who did this to me. You have granted me one request. I want the man who beat her."

Ali looked at Philip incredulously, then his old eyes widened. "Of course! It is right that you have the honor. I have no doubt you will win, but it will be a fair fight. You will fight with knives, immediately, in the center of the camp. After Cassim dies, you shall die a slower death."

Philip followed the old man from the tent. He could think only of killing the man who had dared hurt Christina.

"Bring Cassim out and tell him what is expected," Ali ordered.

Ali took his own knife from his belt and handed it to Philip. "When the fight is over, you will throw down the knife and offer no resistance. If you do not, Christina Wake-field will never be returned to her brother, but will be sold into slavery. Do you understand?"

Philip nodded and took the knife. He stuck it into his waistband, removed his robe and tunic, then grasped the knife in his right hand. Cassim was brought out of a nearby tent, fear showing clearly on his face. He was dragged forward to stand before Philip.

"I will not fight this man!" Cassim screamed. "If I must die, then shoot me!"

"Stand up and fight like a man. Or I will have your heart torn from your living body!" Ali shouted.

Philip felt no pity for the man cowering before him. All he could see was Christina's swollen face. "Prepare to die, woman-beater."

Cassim was released and fell back a few feet, then lunged forward. But Philip was ready for him. He stepped aside, and his knife caught Cassim in the right arm, below the shoulder. They circled each other warily, arms outstretched. Cassim jabbed forward again, intending to stab Philip in the chest. But Philip moved like lightning striking its unsuspecting victim. He cut downward on Cassim's extended arm, slicing it to the bone. Cassim dropped his knife to the ground, staring dumbfounded at the wound. Philip backhanded him across the face, knocking him down.

He gave Cassim time to retrieve his knife, then attacked again. Cassim was obviously no knife-fighter and his fear made him careless and an easy victim for Philip's skill.

Philip knew many tricks he had learned from his father, but he had no need of tricks now. Philip's knife struck Cassim again and again until he was covered with his own blood. Philip finally tired of the game and cut his throat. Cassim fell forward onto the sand.

Philip felt disgusted. He wouldn't have believed that he had such violence in him. How could he kill a man so mercilessly? The man would have died anyway, and he deserved to suffer for hurting Christina, but Philip felt sick for executing him. He threw the knife down beside Cassim's body and walked over to Ali Hejaz.

"You do not look pleased, Abu. Perhaps you will feel better knowing that Cassim also shot your tribesman."

"There's no way to feel better after killing a man," Philip replied.

"When you have waited many years to kill a man, as I have, revenge can be pleasurable," said Ali. "You will go with my men now. Remember that you hold Christina Wakefield's future in your hands. Also, I have ordered my men to shoot if you try to escape. A wound in an arm or a leg will only make your death more agonizing."

The men seized Philip and led him behind Ali Hejaz's tent. Four stakes stood embedded in the sand, with ropes attached to each. He knew then how he was going to die.

He gave no resistance. The men spread-eagled him on his back and tied his arms and legs to the stakes. Philip heard one man whisper, "Forgive me," then he left. The other man walked to the shade of Ali's tent and sat down to guard Philip.

Guard against what? Philip wanted to know. He could not escape. It was late afternoon, but the sun would beat down for at least two more hours. He felt a slight hunger, but that was the least of his worries.

Not much damage would be done today, but tomorrow his suffering would begin. Would he be able to stand it? Could he will himself to die?

He would force himself to stay awake this night, that was the only way. The two nights and days he had gone without rest would enable him to sleep tomorrow, and perhaps he would die quickly in the hot sun without ever waking.

An hour passed, and Philip was already fighting to stay awake. A shadow loomed over him, and he opened his eyes to see Ali Hejaz.

"I think it is ironic that you should die this way, don't you? You wanted to live under our sun and make Yasir happy, so it is only fitting that you die under our sun. It is not a pleasant way to die. Your tongue will swell. But I do not want you to choke to death too soon. You will be given enough water to prevent that. You will suffer long, as the sun bakes you alive. And if you thought of staying awake this night and sleeping through your suffering tomorrow, I will have to disappoint you. I drugged your wine slightly, and you will sleep tonight." Ali laughed as he put an end to Philip's only hope. "You look surprised, Abu. But, as you see, I have thought of everything. Yes, you will be awake tomorrow when the sun rises. Have a pleasant night, Abu. It will be your last." With that, he left Philip to his thoughts.

Philip pulled against the ropes with all his strength, but there was no hope for escape. He slept.