Captive Bride

Chapter Eight

WHEN Christina Wakefield awoke the next morning, she had a smile on her lips, for she had been dreaming of running through a field at home in Halstead. Her blue-green eyes widened in surprise when she saw the man lying in bed beside her. Then she remembered where she was and how she had come to be in this predicament.

What audacity! she thought furiously. She never expected he would share the same bed with her. This was too much to bear; she had to escape from this man!

Easing herself from the bed, Christina turned to see if she had awakened him. Philip Caxton slept soundly, an innocent, self-satisfied expression on his face. Cursing him silently, she cautiously tiptoed around the bed and between the heavy curtains that hid the bedroom from the rest of the tent

Smelling the aroma of food coming from somewhere in the camp, Christina realized how hungry she was. She had eaten nothing the night before. But she couldn't think of food now. She had to get away while Philip was still asleep.

Christina pulled back the material covering the tent entrance and peered out. Luckily she could see no one about the camp. Well, it is now or never, she thought.

Gathering courage, Christina started walking out of the camp. As soon as she passed the last tent, she started running wildly, veering off the main path in case Philip came looking for her. The rocks cut her bare feet as she hurried through the wild olive trees.

She prayed silently that no one had seen her leaving the camp. If only she could reach the bottom of the mountain, she could hide herself and hope for a passing caravan to take her back to her brother.

Then Christina heard the sound of a horse trampling the brush behind her. All her hopes shattered when she turned to see Philip galloping his beautiful Arabian stallion up to her. His eyes were a dark, turbulent green, and his expression was full of black rage.

"Damn you!" she screamed. "How did you find me so fast?"

"You damn me! I was the one who was awakened from a sound sleep to be told by Ahmad that you were running down the mountainside. What do I have to do, woman? Must I tie you to my bed at night to ensure that you'll not escape me while I sleep? Is that what you want?"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"I told you once, Christina, that I dare anything I damn well please." Philip jumped off his horse with the ease of a mountain cat. His face was hard, his eyes dangerous and cold as he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her roughly. "I should beat you for running away from me! That's what any self-respecting Arab would do to his woman."

"I am not your woman!" she said, her eyes flashing murderously at him. "Nor will I ever be!"

"That's where you're wrong, Christina, for you are and shall remain my woman until I tire of you."

"No, I won't! And you have no right to keep me here. My God, can't you see how much I hate you? You're everything that I despise in a man. You're a—a barbarian!"

"Yes, I suppose I am. But if I were a civilized gentleman, I wouldn't have you here where I want you. And like it or not, I will keep you here, tied to my bed if necessary," he replied coldly. He picked her up and deposited her roughly across the back of his horse.

"Why must I ride this way?" Christina demanded indignantly.

"I'd think that you'd be happy with this light punishment," he said. "You deserve much worse."

Philip mounted the horse behind her, and when she started to struggle he brought his hand down hard across her buttocks. Christina stopped her kicking but fumed silently all the way back to camp.

Damn him, she thought vindictively. Someday she would take extreme pleasure in seeing Philip suffer. Why was this happening to her? She had always been proud—proud of her family, proud of their estate, proud of her own fiery beauty and independence. It was doubly painful to be brought so low now. It was degrading to be just a toy for this hateful man. She didn't deserve this. No one deserved this!

When they reached his tent, Philip dismounted, lifted Christina off the horse, and pushed her inside. She sat down on one of the couches to await whatever would happen next.

Philip spoke to someone outside the tent, came in, and sat down beside her. "There is food coming. Are you hungry?" he asked, the harshness gone from his voice.

"No," she lied. But when a young girl brought in a platter of food, nothing could have stopped Christina from eating her fill.

Philip finished eating before she did, and leaned back on the couch behind her. She felt him gather her hair in his hands and play with it gently. Christina stopped eating and turned to look into his smiling green eyes.

"Would you like to bathe, my sweet?" Philip asked her, rubbing a lock of her golden hair between his fingers.

Christina couldn't deny that she would love a bath. While she finished eating, Philip left the tent and came back shortly with a skirt, a blouse, a pair of slippers, and what she assumed was a towel. She wondered who they belonged to, but she was not about to ask.

Philip led Christina from the tent and across the camp. There was a young woman about Christina's age playing with a small child in front of the tent to the left of Philip's. Goats and sheep grazed on the hills above the camp, and a corral housed ten or twelve of the finest Arabian horses she'd ever seen, including two new foals. She wished that she could stop to look at the horses, but Philip led her out of the camp and up a path into the mountains.

Christina pulled away from him. "Where are you taking me?" she demanded. But he grabbed her arm again and continued walking.

"You wished to bathe, did you not?" he asked, leading her into a small clearing that was surrounded by tall juniper trees.

A large pond in the middle of the clearing had been formed by the mountain rains. It was a beautiful place, but Christina wondered why Philip had brought her here. He took the clothes from her and handed her a bar of sweet-smelling soap.

"You don't expect me to bathe here, do you?" she asked haughtily.

"Look, Tina, you're not in England anymore where you can have a nice hot bath sent up to your room. You're here now, and if you wish to bathe, you will do as the rest of us do."

"All right. I must wash after that horrible journey. If this is the only way that I will be able to bathe, then so be it. You may leave now, Mr. Caxton."

Philip grinned at her. "No, my lady, I have no intention of leaving." He sat down on a log and lazily crossed his legs. She noticed that the yellow flecks in his eyes brightened in the sunlight.

A slow blush crept into Christina's face. "You can't possibly mean that you are going to stay here and"—she paused, not wanting to finish—"and watch me!"

"That's exactly what I intend to do. So you may proceed if you will." He was staring at her intently with a wicked grin on his lips. Her blood boiled.

"Well, turn around so I can disrobe!"

"Ah, Tina. You will have to learn that I will not be denied the pleasure of looking at your body, even if I haven't possessed it yet," he replied.

Christina glared at him with stormy blue eyes. This man left her no dignity.

"I hate you," she hissed. She turned around and untied her robe. The robe and torn nightdress slid down over her body and dropped to the ground. Christina stepped out of the clothes and walked into the water; deeper and deeper until it covered her breasts.

She'd give him no pleasure if she could help it. She kept her back to Philip and washed herself under the deliciously cool water. She submerged to wet her hair, but it took a long time to build up enough lather to give it a thorough scrubbing with the bar of soap. When she finally succeeded, she heard a large splash.

Christina turned around quickly, but she couldn't see Philip anywhere. Suddenly he was standing directly in front of her. She was all too aware that they were both naked underneath the cool water.

Philip shook the water from his thick black hair and reached to take Christina in his arms, but she was prepared and threw the bar of soap at him. She swam away quickly. She stopped when she heard him laughing, and turned around to see that he hadn't moved, but was washing himself with the soap.

The relief showed openly on Christina's face as she finished rinsing her hair and emerged from the water. Quickly she toweled herself dry and wrapped the towel around her hair. She wrapped the long, dark-brown skirt around her waist, tying it in front. Next, she put on the dark-green sleeveless blouse with a low, rounded neckline. The rough cotton material irritated her skin, but she would have to make do with whatever he gave her.

Christina sat down and was trying to comb the tangles from her hair with her fingers when Philip came up behind her.

"Feel better now, my sweet?" he ventured softly.

She refused to answer him or look at him, and busied herself with braiding her hair while Philip dressed. Christina couldn't keep quiet for long, however, because her curiosity was stronger than her unwillingness to talk to him.

"Philip, what are you doing in this land, and how do these people know you so well?" she asked.

His laughter rang through the clearing. "I was wondering when you would start asking questions," he said. "These are my father's people."

Christina was stunned. "Your father! But you're English!"

"Yes, I'm English through my mother, but my father is an Arab and these are his people."

"You're half-Arab, then?" Christina interrupted, rinding it hard to believe.

"Yes, and my father captured my mother, just as I have captured you. He let her return to England later with my brother and myself. So I was raised in England until I came of age. Then I chose to come here and live with my father."

"Your father is here?"

"Yes, you will meet him later."

"Surely your father doesn't approve of your kidnapping me?" she asked, hoping his father might help her.

"I have done nothing to you yet—but yes, my father approves," he said, a smile playing on his lips. "You forget, Tina, this isn't England. It's the way of my people to take what we want if we can. And I made sure you were available for the taking. You will understand better after you have been here awhile."

He escorted her back to bis tent and left her there alone.

Would she ever understand Philip Caxton? Christina looked around the tent, wondering what she was supposed to do with herself. She suddenly felt quite lonely, and it annoyed her.

Without thinking, Christina raced out of the tent to see Philip mounting his horse along with four other riders. She ran to him and clutched his leg. "Where are you going?" she demanded.

"I will be back shortly."

"But what am I supposed to do with myself while you're gone?"

"That's an absurd question, Christina. Do whatever you women usually do when you're alone."

"Why, of course, Mr. Caxton," she said flippantly. "Why didn't I think of that? I can make use of your sewing room, though it's not really necessary—I'm used to wearing hand-me-downs. Or perhaps I could take care of your correspondence. I'm sure you must be a busy man and can't find time to do it yourself. But if you'd rather, I could just browse through your well-stocked library. I'm sure I can find something interesting to read there. I do have a mind as well as a body, Mr. Caxton!"

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Christina," Philip said angrily.

"Of course, you're a better authority on what suits me than I am," Christina retorted.

"Christina, I will not tolerate this tirade of yours any longer. You may act as you please in our tent, but in public you will show me respect!" he replied, the muscles twitching dangerously in his jaw as he stared down at her.

"Respect!" She stood back to look at him, slightly amused. "You want respect after the way you've treated me?"

"In this land when a woman shows disrespect to her husband she is beaten."

"You're not my husband," she corrected.

"No, but I'm the same as a husband to you. I'm your master, and you belong to me. If you'd like me to find a whip and bare your back in public, I'll be happy to oblige you. Otherwise, return to my tent."

He said it so coldly that Christina didn't wait to see if he would carry out his threat. She scurried back into the tent and threw herself onto the bed to cry out her frustrations.

Must she now fear a beating as well as rape? That devil wanted respect after what he'd done! But she'd be damned if she'd show him anything but hate and contempt.

She detested feeling sorry for herself, but what was she supposed to do whenever he left? For that matter, what was she going to do when Philip was around? She cried herself to sleep.

Christina was rudely awakened by a hearty whack on her behind. She turned quickly to see Philip standing by the side of the bed, hands on his hips and a taunting smile on his handsome face.

"You spend a lot of time sleeping in that bed, my sweet. Would you like me to show you another way to use it?"

Christina jumped off the bed. She was finding it easier to understand his crude meanings.

"I'm quite sure I can do without that kind of knowledge, Mr. Caxton." Christina faced him with her arms akimbo, feeling safe with the bed between them.

"Well, you'll learn soon enough. And I'd prefer you to address me as Philip or Abu, as I am called here. I think it's time you dispensed with the formalities."

"Well, I'd prefer to continue the formalities, Mr. Caxton. At least your people will know that I'm not here willingly," she said flippantly.

Philip grinned devilishly. "Oh, they know you're not here of your own free will, but they also know that I'm not a man to be kept waiting. They assume you were deflowered last night. Perhaps tonight you will be."

Christina's eyes flew open and turned a darker shade of blue.

"But you—you promised! You gave me your word you wouldn't rape me. Don't you have any scruples at all?"

"I always keep my word, Tina. I will not have to rape you. As I told you before, you'll want me as much as I want you."

"You must be crazy. I will never want youl How could I want you when I detest you with all my being?" she stormed. "You've taken me away from my brother and from everything I love. You keep me prisoner here with a guard at the door when you leave. I hate you!"

Christina stalked from the room, silently cursing him with every horrible word she could think of. Suddenly she noticed two stacks of books and at least a dozen bolts of cloth lying on a couch. She forgot her anger and ran over to examine the goods.

There were silks, satins, velvets, and brocades in some of the most beautiful colors she had ever seen. There was even a bolt of semitransparent cotton that she could use to make chemises. Threads of every matching color, scissors, intricate trims, and everything she would possibly need to make beautiful dresses were lying before her.

She turned to the books, picking them up one by one. There were Shakespeare, Defoe, Homer.... Some she had read before, and some were by authors she'd never heard of. Lying beside the books was a beautifully carved ivory comb-and-brush set.

Christina was delighted. She felt like a small child on her birthday receiving an abundance of presents that would last until another birthday came. Philip had been standing behind her, watching her joy at the surprise. She swung around to face him now, her eyes a soft blue-green again surrounded by their dark ring.

"Are these for me?" she inquired demurely, running her hand over a bolt of soft blue velvet that matched her eyes.

"They were, but I don't know if I should give them to you after the way you have been acting," he said.

His eyes gave no clue whether he was teasing her or not. She suddenly felt desperate.

"Please, Philip! I'll die without anything to occupy my time."

"Perhaps you could give me something in return," he replied huskily.

"You know I can't. Why must you torture me so?"

"You jump to conclusions, my sweet. What I had in mind was a kiss—an honest kiss with some feeling in it."

Christina took one more look at the bounty of goods on the couch. What harm could one little kiss do, she thought, if it would get her what she wanted? She came to him and waited, eyes closed, but he did nothing. She opened her eyes and stared into his amused ones.

"I asked you to give the kiss, my lady, with feeling." He smiled down at her.

After a moment's hesitation, Christina put her arms around his neck and drew his lips down to hers. She opened her mouth to his. The kiss began softly, then his tongue penetrated deeply. The butterfly feeling came over her again, but this time she didn't fight it. His arms went around her, crushing her body to his. She could feel the hardness between his legs as he lowered his lips to leave a trail of fire across her neck.

Philip picked her up and began to carry her into the bedroom. Christina started to struggle.

"A kiss was all you asked for! Please put me down," she begged.

"Damn you, woman! The time will come when you'll gladly go with me. I promise you that"

He set her down and went outside. A smile crossed Christina's lips when she saw that she'd won again. But how long did she have before her luck ran out? Philip's kiss stirred something in her that she didn't understand. It left her empty, wanting something more, but she didn't know what.

After a few minutes, Philip came back into the room, followed by a girl who brought in the evening supper. When she left, Philip spoke harshly.

"We will eat now, and afterward I'll take you to meet my father. He has been expecting us."

They ate silently, but Christina was too nervous to enjoy the meal. She was a little afraid of meeting Philip's father. If he was anything like his son, then she had much to fear.

"Couldn't this meeting be put off for a few days until I can make something more presentable to wear than this?" she asked.

Philip frowned at her. "My father has lived his whole life here. He's not used to fancy gowns and dresses on women. What you're wearing will be quite suitable for the occasion."

"And whose clothes am I wearing? Did they belong to your last mistress?" Christina asked distastefully.

"You have a sharp tongue, Tina. The clothes belong to Amine, the girl who brought in the food. Amine is the wife of Syed, one of my distant cousins."

Christina felt ashamed, but she wasn't about to admit it

"Shall we go? My father is eager to meet you."

Philip took her hand and led her to a smaller tent to the right of his. They entered, and she saw an old man sitting on the floor in the middle of the tent

"Come in, my children. I have been looking forward to this meeting." The old man beckoned them to enter.

Philip led her across the room and sat down on a sheepskin across from his father, pulling her down beside him.

"I would like you to meet Christina Wakefield," Philip said to his father, then looked to her. "My father, Sheik Yasir Alhamar."

"You must stop calling me sheik, Abu. It is you who are the sheik now," Philip's father scolded.

"I shall always think of you as sheik, my father. Do not ask me to stop addressing you with respect."

"Well, it does not matter between us. So this is the woman that you could not live without," Yasir said, staring intently at Christina. "Yes, I can see why you had to have her. You are a pleasure to look at, Christina Wakefield. I hope you will give me many beautiful grandchildren before I die."

Christina's eyes flew open wide, and her face quickly turned a becoming shade of pink. "Grandchildren! Why, I—"

Philip cut her off abruptly. "You will say no more." He glared at her, daring her to disobey him.

"It is all right, Abu. I can see that your Christina still has a lot of fight in her. Your mother was the same way when I first brought her to my camp. Only I was not so kind as you, for I had to beat her once."

Christina gasped in horror, but Yasir smiled at her knowingly.

"This shocks you, Christina Wakefield? Well, it did not sit well with me, either, after the deed was done. You must understand that I had been drinking heavily at the time and was in a blind rage because she was flirting openly with the men of my camp. She admitted to me afterward that she had been purposely trying to make me jealous enough to marry her.

"I never raised a hand against her after that, and we married the very next day. I had five treasured years with her, and she gave me my sons, Abu and Abin. But she could not endure the desert heat, so when she begged to go home, I could not refuse her. I still grieve over her death. I always will."

Philip's father had a sorrowful look in his dark-brown eyes, as if he were remembering those long-ago years of happiness. He only nodded, without looking at them, when Philip said they would come again.

Christina felt sorry for Yasir, who had had only five years with the woman he loved, but she had no such feelings for Philip. When they returned to his tent, she faced him with flashing dark-blue eyes.

"I will not give him grandchildren!" she stormed.

"What?" Philip laughed at her. "That's just an old man's dream. I don't expect you to give me any children. That's not why I brought you here."

"Then why did you bring me here?" Christina yelled at him shrilly.

"I have already told you, Tina. You're here for my pleasure. Because I want you," he replied simply.

He reached for her, and Christina moved away swiftly, her anger replaced by fear. "Where can I put these bolts of material?" she asked to distract him.

"I'll see if I can find you a chest next week. For now, you can leave them where they are. Come, let us go to bed," he said, and started to walk into the bedroom.

"It's only just dark, and I'm not tired. Besides, I won't sleep in that bed with you. And you have no right to force me!" She sat down and started to unbraid her hair.

Philip came over to the couch and picked her up in his arms. "I did not say we were going to sleep, my sweet," he chuckled wickedly.

"No!" she cried. "Put me down this instant!"

Philip smiled down at her as he carried her into the bedroom and threw her on the bed. "I told you you'd give me pleasure. Take off your clothes, Tina."

"I will do no such thing," Christina retorted indignantly.

She started to get off the bed, but it was a futile gesture, because Philip swiftly pulled her over to the middle of the bed and straddled her hips with his knees. He pulled the blouse over her head, pinning her arms with one hand, though she fought him with all her strength. He untied her skirt and rolled her over to pull it off.

"You can't do this. I won't stand for it!" she cried, trying desperately to push him away.

He laughed heartily. "When will you learn, my little one, that I'm master here? What I wish to do—I do."

Looking into her dark-blue eyes, Philip could see her fear, but he would not stop.

"Damn it, Tina. I gave you my word I wouldn't rape you, but I made no promise that I wouldn't kiss you or touch your body. Now be still!" he said harshly. He brought his lips forcefully down on hers.

Philip kissed her long and brutally. Christina felt so strange. Did she actually enjoy his kisses? Her breasts, her belly, her whole body tingled and felt tautly alive.

Philip released her and stood up beside the bed. He caressed her body with dark-green eyes as he removed his clothing piece by piece and threw it aside. Christina's eyes widened when she saw his naked desire. Fear gripped her, and she jumped from the bed, trying one last time to escape. But Philip grabbed her long braid as she ran, and pulled her forceably into his arms.

"You have nothing to fear from me, Tina," he said, pushing her down onto the bed.

He moved his lips over her face and down her neck, but when they nibbled at her breasts, she began to fight him again. He caught her arms and pulled them firmly above her head with one hand.

"Don't fight me, Tina. Relax and enjoy what I can do for you," he whispered deeply.

While Philip continued to kiss her peaking breasts, he rested his free hand on her upper thigh. When he moved his hand upward to the golden triangle of hair below her navel, Christina moaned and begged Philip to stop.

"I have only just started, Tina," he murmured, and pushed his knee between her legs to open them.

Christina felt on fire as Philip stroked her delicately between her legs. He covered her mouth with his as she began to moan softly. She didn't want him to stop now. She wanted to know the end of this strange tingling feeling inside her.

Philip released her hands and rolled on top of her. He held her head between his huge hands and kissed her hungrily. She could feel his hardness between her legs, but she didn't care anymore. Her mind cried out for him to stop, but her body demanded that he go on. Christina knew then that Philip was right. She hated her body for betraying her, but she wanted him.

She felt him start to enter her slowly. But he stopped and looked into her eyes.

"I want you, Tina. You are mine, and I want to make love to you. Do you want me to stop now? Do you want me to let you go?" He was smiling down at her, knowing that he had won. "Tell me, Tina, tell me not to stop."

She hated him, but he couldn't leave her now. She circled her arms around his neck. "Don't stop," she whispered breathlessly.

She felt a searing pain as he pushed deep into her. His lips muffled her scream as she raked her nails down his back.

"I'm sorry, Tina, that had to happen. It will never hurt again—I promise." He started to move slowly inside her.

He was right. It didn't hurt anymore. Her pleasure rose as Philip quickened his pace. Christina abandoned herself to him completely as she met each thrust. He took her higher and higher until her eyes flew open and she became one with him.

Philip showed her pleasure that she never knew existed. But now that she lay exhausted beneath him, she hated him all the more. She cursed herself for her newfound weakness. She said she would never give in to him, but she had, and she could not forgive herself.

Christina opened her eyes to find Philip staring at her, an unreadable expression on his face.

"I will never give you up, Tina. You will always be mine," he murmured softly. Then he rolled off her, but pulled her to him until her head rested on his shoulder. "And I give you warning. If you ever try to run away from me again, I will find you and whip the hide off your lovely back. I give you my word."

Christina remained silent. Soon she could hear his deep, even breathing and knew that Philip was asleep. She edged herself away from him and slipped off the bed.

Picking up Philip's robe, Christina put it on and left the tent. The fire in the middle of the camp burned brightly and cast dancing shadows that mocked her everywhere she looked, but she could see no one about. She walked carefully in the direction Philip had taken her that morning until she came to the little clearing. She dropped his robe and walked into the warm water.

She had made it this far without being seen. She thought briefly of stealing one of the horses in the corral and escaping while Philip slept. But her luck was no longer with her, and she was sure someone would hear her leave. She wasn't anxious to learn if Philip would keep his word and whip her. So Christina put the thought from her mind and let the warm water take the smell of him from her body.