Captive Bride (10 page)

That afternoon, Christina finished the skirt she had been making, and was quite pleased with her work. She had fashioned the skirt after the one she was wearing, using a pale-green silk and trimming it around the hem with dark-green lace.

She could wear the green silk skirt with Amine's dark-green blouse while she worked on a matching top. She had decided it would be faster to make simple skirts and blouses first, instead of dresses. She didn't care if the clothes she made were too fine for camp life. Christina enjoyed wearing beautiful clothes. They made her feel good, wherever she was.

Before dinner, Philip came to take Christina to bathe, with a knife strapped to his leg for protection. He joined her in the warm water but didn't try to touch her this time.

After bathing, Christina donned her new skirt. But Philip only commented, "You're fast with your hands, Tina."

Rashid joined them for dinner, and he couldn't keep his eyes off Christina all evening. His attentions annoyed Philip, so she retired early, leaving the two brothers to discuss tribal affairs. When Philip came to bed later, she feigned sleep, expecting him to try to take her again. But he only pulled her to him and presently fell asleep.

I

N the slow days that followed, Christina and Philip fell into a routine. He took all his meals with her, but left her to herself during the morning and afternoon. He took her to the pond to bathe each evening before dinner and stayed with her after the meal, cleaning his weapons, reading, or just meditating.

Each night Philip made love to her, and each night she fought him until her passions overcame her resistance and swept her away. Christina could not deny that bis love-making gave her pleasure, but that only made her hate Philip more than ever.

Philip made her feel strangely mixed emotions. She was nervous whenever he was near. She could never predict what he would do next. He made her lose control of herself, sending her into a fit of anger and then turning that anger to fear. And she was afraid of him, for she really believed he would beat her if she provoked him too far.

A week had passed since Philip had brought Christina to his camp. With nothing else to do, she had completed the green silk blouse and two more skirts, but she was tired of sewing. She was tired of being inside the tent all day long, every day.

Philip had left without a word right after breakfast that morning. She knew he was angry with her for not telling him why she had cried the night before. How could she tell him she cried because her body deceived her? She had been so determined to be unmoved by his caresses and to lie placidly beneath him. But Philip patiently brought her to life, snatching away her will as he did every night.

But Philip was not satisfied by breaking her down once. He had asserted his power over her again, mercilessly, and she had loved every minute of it. But when he was finished with her and rolled to his side of the bed, she started to cry.

When Philip tried to comfort her, she just cried harder and told him to leave her alone. She was disgusted with herself for enjoying the act, more than angry at him. But when she wouldn't explain herself, he became coldly angry. Christina cried until she finally fell asleep.

Now, as the morning wore on, Christina felt stifled by inactivity. She put her sewing aside and walked to the entrance of the tent. The sunlight looked so inviting as it filtered through the juniper trees that Christina forgot her fear of Philip's reaction to her leaving the tent. She meandered toward the corral, basking in the warmth of the sun.

She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Philip. He was in the large corral with Ahmad, who was astride a beautiful Arabian horse. The other horses were grazing peacefully on the hillside with the sheep. Bravely she continued walking. When she reached the corral fence, the horse shied away.

Philip turned to see what was bothering the animal, and his eyes narrowed menacingly when he spied her. He soothed the horse, then came to her with quick strides.

"What are you doing here?" Philip asked angrily. "I gave you no permission to leave the tent."

Christina fought to control her rising anger.

"I couldn't stand it another minute in that tent, Philip. I'm not used to being confined. I need to feel the sun and breathe the morning air. Can't I stay here and watch you? I'm interested in what you do every day," she lied.

"I train these horses, among other things," he said.

"What for?" Christina asked, stalling for more time.

"Do you really want to know, Christina? Or are you playing at another game?"

"I can't win the game when you are the opponent, as you well know," she pouted. "I'd really like to know how you train your horses."

"Very well. What would you like to know?"

"What are you training them to do?"

"To follow directions with the pressure of the knees and not the hands. Sometimes our hands are not free to direct the reins, as in battle or after a raid. Also it serves another purpose, for our horses cannot be stolen unless they are led away. They will not carry a rider who uses the reins to direct them."

"That's ingenious," Christina said, her interest growing. "But how do you teach the horses these pressures?"

"The horse is led in a certain direction, say to the left, while the rider uses the pressure for that direction. We continue with one direction at a time until the horse learns it."

"How do you stop the horse?"

"Since we don't ride with saddles, we use our feet to stop him by digging them into his sides. Are you satisfied now?"

"Yes. May I stay and watch you for a while?" she asked meekly.

"If you are quiet and don't disturb the horse," he said. He looked at her quizzically for a long moment before walking away.

So—she had won. She was free of that damnable tent for a while. Christina let her mind wander while keeping her soft, blue-green eyes on Philip.

How she wished that she were astride that beautiful animal. Perhaps she could persuade Philip to let her ride one of his horses or, better yet, give her an untrained horse. It wouldn't be like riding Dax freely through the lush green fields of home, but it would be better than not riding at all.

Christina suddenly realized that she was thinking of a future in this camp. Oh damn, why didn't John rescue her? But John probably thought her dead already. She had to find a way to escape, but she couldn't go alone. She must have a guide to help her cross the desert and protect her from outlaw tribes. She must have food, water, horses.

Could she wait until Philip tired of her? How long would that be? And Philip might not send her to her brother when he no longer wanted her. He might sell her as a slave for someone's harem.

Perhaps she could persuade Philip to let her go if she made him fall in love with her! But how could she manage to win him over when he knew she hated him? Besides, he had told her he only desired her body.

"Christina."

She looked up into Philip's smiling green eyes.

"I called you twice. You have a strange way of showing that you're interested in what I do."

"I'm sorry," Christina smiled back at him. "I was just thinking of my horse, Dax, and how I would love to be out riding."

"Did you ride often at your home?"

"Oh yes! Every day, for long hours at a time," she said enthusiastically.

They walked back to the tent, where steaming dishes of porridge, rice, and sweetmeats were on the table for their midday meal. There was a pot of tea for Christina and a fresh skin of wine for Philip.

"I'll be leaving the camp this afternoon for a while," Philip mentioned as they sat down to eat. "I'll leave Ahmad to guard the tent while I'm gone. It is for your protection that you're guarded, nothing else."

"But where are you going?"

"On a ghazw," he said irritably.

She had obviously hit on something Philip didn't want to talk about. But her woman's curiosity wouldn't let her stop.

"A ghazw? What's that?"

"Christina, must you always ask so many questions of me?" Philip's voice was edged with anger, making her shiver despite the warmth. "It's a raid, if you must know. Syed spotted a caravan this morning. Since our food supply is getting low, we'll take what we need to hold us over for a while. Does that answer your question, or is there something else you'd like to know?"

"You can't be serious!" Christina was appalled. She stopped eating and looked into his cold green eyes. "Why can't you buy what you need? Rashid had all those jewels you turned down. You must have wealth of your own. Why must you steal from other people?"

Philip stood and faced her, the yellow flecks in his green eyes disappearing as he looked at her wrathfully,

"I will not stand for your questioning my actions anymore, Christina. I will tell you once, and once only. Raiding is the way of my people. We rob to survive as we have always done. We take only what we need. I have no wealth here, because I have no need of it. Rashid has a grievance against me that I understand, so I don't curb his greed for riches. What he steals, I let him keep. Do not question me about it again!"

He turned on his heel and stormed from the tent. Christina was shaken. She felt as if she were hopelessly falling into a bottomless pit.

Philip was an outlaw! No doubt he killed men mercilessly when he went on raids. He probably enjoyed killing! And she—Christina Wakefield—was at his mercy.

Christina shivered uncontrollably, thinking of the rage he had just shown. Would he kill her if she pushed him too far? He was an outlaw, and she knew where his camp was. Would Philip ever let her go with that kind of knowledge?

She heard horses galloping out of the camp. He was off to pillage and plunder and only God knew what else, Christina thought. She couldn't live with this new fear. She had to know what he intended to do with her. If she was to die, then she wanted to know it.

Walking quickly to the entrance of the tent, she found Ahmad sitting on the ground outside the entrance. He was meticulously cleaning a long silver sword with a curved handle.

"Ahmad," she ventured slowly, "may I ask you a question?"

He loooked at her strangely.

"It is not right. Women do not ask questions. It is not their place."

This was too much. These people were barbaric!

"But Ahmad, I was not raised as your women are. I was brought up to be equal to men, can't you understand that? I just wanted to know if Abu ever brought another woman here before me," she said, hoping he would just think her jealous.

Ahmad grinned. "No, you are the first woman Sheik Abu has ever brought to camp."

'Thank you, Ahmad," she smiled back at him.

Going back into the tent, Christina paced the floor. That was no help at all. If there had been another woman, Christina might have discovered what had happened to her after Philip tired of her. Now she would have to face Philip with the question that was tormenting her. She prayed he would be in a better mood when he returned.

Chapter 12

T

HE sun was still above the horizon when they reached the foot of the mountains. They rode hard now, for the caravan was many miles away. Philip hoped this wasn't a slaver's caravan, for they usually carried little food.

Damn that woman and her curiosity! How could she so easily make him lose control? He had always prided himself on his cool reactions toward women—until he'd met Christina!

She'd angered him the night before by refusing to tell him why she was crying. He couldn't understand it. She had never cried before after making love.

Would he ever understand her? Christina continued to fight him each night, but he knew she enjoyed his love-making. Why did she fight what was so pleasurable?

When she came to the corral this morning, he knew her feigned interest was only an excuse to leave the tent. But could he blame her? He'd have done the same thing. He was positive she wouldn't try to escape again, she feared him too much. Perhaps he could trust her enough to give her the freedom of the camp.

Philip recalled the look of horror on Christina's face when he told her he was going raiding. He hadn't intended to tell her about that part of his life. He didn't enjoy it himself, and he knew it would appall her. But he was so angered by her inquisitiveness that he wanted to shock her.

He wasn't used to so many questions about his life, especially from a woman. Ah, but what a woman! Philip thoroughly enjoyed having her around. He found pleasure in just gazing at her uncommon beauty. He looked forward to entering his tent knowing she would be there— willing or not. Before, his tent had been a lonely place that he avoided as much as possible.

As they approached the caravan, which had camped at an oasis for the night, Philip saw five camels, their packs piled on the ground, and six men gathered around a small fire. Philip and his men galloped up to surround the camp, brandishing their guns, and Syed fired off two shots to see if the caravan intended to fight or surrender its goods.

Slowly, one by one, the caravan guards threw down their rifles. Philip dismounted and walked forward cautiously flanked by his men, but the six guards put up no resistance. They would rather stay alive than fight and die for another man's property.

Syed guarded the prisoners while the rest of them opened and ransacked the packs. They soon made themselves comfortable for the night, and broke open some wine and dried meat for supper.

The next morning, they loaded the foodstuffs and other goods they wanted on one of the camels, sent the rest of the caravan on its way, and set off for the mountains. They rode into camp about midafternoon amid the cheers of the rest of the tribe. They led the horses into the corral, unloaded the camel, and sent it off into the hills to graze. Philip left the men to divide the spoils among themselves, and carried one large chest to his tent.

He hoped he'd find Christina in a gentler mood than she'd been in the afternoon before. He found her sitting demurely on the couch with her towel and new clothes lying across her lap. She didn't say a word as he went into the bedroom to dispose of the chest

"We can go bathe in just a minute, my pet," he said cheerfully. He came back into the main room and removed a small bundle from the corner cabinet. "Is something the matter, my sweet?" Philip inquired, hoping her silence didn't mean she was still angry with him.

But she just turned away from him and shook her head. Well, he wouldn't press her to answer him. Without another word, Philip pulled her to her feet and took her up the hillside to bathe.

Christina had not yet lost her shyness at disrobing in his presence. She turned her back to Philip and slowly removed her blouse and skirt. He controlled his desire with great effort as he watched her wade into the water.

But turning his attentions to the bundle he had brought with him, Philip unwrapped a finely honed razor and proceeded to shave his week's growth of beard.

After he was satisfied with the results, he took a new bar of soap from the bundle and joined Christina in the water.

It was dark when they finally returned to camp. The newly kindled fire illuminated the tent brightly, making dancing shadows in the corners.

Philip pondered Christina's sullenness as they finished the evening meal. This attitude of hers couldn't continue, for he was aching to take her to bed. But she would succumb to his advances after her usual resistance, he knew.

Reclining on the couch behind her, Philip played with the loose curls dangling at the nape of Christina's neck. He leaned forward and grazed the soft flesh behind her ear with his lips, and watched the gooseflesh run down her arms.

Downing the rest of his wine, Philip stood up and took Christina's hand in his.

"Come, Tina," he murmured, and led her into the bedroom, surprised that she didn't resist him.