Captive Bride (20 page)

John stood up so fast that his chair fell over behind him. "Are you the man who took her?"

"No," the young man replied simply, not wavering under the stormy blue eyes that glared at him.

John calmed down when he saw that he would not have to do battle.

"How far is it to your camp?"

"We will not have to travel to my camp."

"Well, then—"

"Your sister is outside."

"Outside!"

"We have traveled many days. She is asleep on her horse. You can see her from your window."

John rushed to the window overlooking the street. After a moment, he turned back to the Arab with anger showing on his tanned face.

"You lied! There's no one out there except an Arab boy leaning over a horse. What did you expect to gain by this trick?"

"Ah—you English are so skeptical. Did you expect your sister to be dressed as was her custom? She has been living with my people and has dressed as they do. If you will go outside, you will see the truth of my words," the Arab replied, then turned on his heel and left the room.

It was too simple to be a trick, John thought. All he had to do was walk outside and see for himself. Why was he still standing here? John picked up the sack of money and followed the Arab outside. It had to be true.

Outside in the sun-baked street, John ran to the two horses tethered in front of the building. He stopped beside the silky black Arabian with the dusty, black-robed figure on its back. If this was another trick, he was afraid he might tear the young Arab standing beside him limb from limb.

If this was Crissy, all he had to do was lift the black kufiyah covering her face, and find out. It was that simple.

Just then the horse moved, and the sleeping figure slowly started to fall. John caught her in his arms. As he did so, the kufiyah fell back to reveal a dirty, tear-streaked face that he would have recognized anywhere.

"Crissy! Oh, God—Crissy!"

Christina opened her eyes for a moment and whispered John's name, then sagged against him, her head nestling against his shoulder.

"As I said, she has gone two days and nights without rest. All she needs is sleep."

John turned to look at the young man who had brought his sister back to him.

"I owe you an apology for doubting you. I am eternally grateful for what you have done. If you will take the money from my hand, it's yours."

"I am more than happy that I could do this service for you. I will go now, but when Christina wakes, tell her I wish her well."

He took the reins of the black horse, mounted his own, and rode off down the street.

John looked down at Christina sleeping peacefully in his arms. Thank God, he thought. Please help me make it up to Christina for what she has suffered.

John carried Christina inside. He sat down in the chair across from Sergeant Towneson's desk, still holding Christina tenderly.

"Lieutenant! Did she faint in the street? You had better set her down, sir. The dust on her robe is dirtying your uniform."

"Stop your babbling, Sergeant. I will do no such thing. But I will tell you what you are going to do. First, have my carriage brought around to the front. Then you can inform Colonel Bigley I'm leaving for the day."

"Leaving? But what if the colonel asks why?"

'Tell him I've found my sister and I'm taking her to my quarters. Do you think you can manage that, Sergeant?"

"Yes, sir. But you don't mean to say that this girl here is your sister?" The sergeant was sorry he'd asked when he saw the cold glint in Lieutenant Wakefield's eyes.

"You will have my carriage brought around at once, Sergeant. That's an order!"

It was nearing noon when John reached home. He managed to get the door to his apartment open without disturbing Christina, but as he headed for the spare bedroom, Mrs. Greene, his housekeeper, stopped him.

"What on earth are you doing home in the middle of the day, John Wakefield? And what have you there?" she asked disapprovingly.

"This is my sister."

"Your sister?" Mrs. Greene was shocked. "You mean this is the little girl you've been searching for high and low? Well, why didn't you say so? Don't just stand there, take your sister into the bedroom."

"That was where I was going until you stopped me, Mrs. Greene," John said. He walked into the room that contained all of Christina's possessions, and laid her gently on the bed.

"Is she hurt—how did you find her?"

"She just needs to sleep, that's all," John said. He looked down lovingly at Christina. "Perhaps you could take off her outer robe so she will be more comfortable, but try not to wake her."

"Well, if you don't want her to waken, you'd better help me."

John noticed a crumpled piece of paper squeezed tightly in Christina's hand. He managed to pry it loose, and tossed it on the small bedside table. Then together they removed Christina's robe and slippers. Christina opened her eyes once, but closed them again and continued to sleep.

Mrs. Greene and John left the room, and he quietly closed the door. He went straight to the liquor cabinet in the drawing room, poured a stiff glass of whiskey, and sank down into his favorite stuffed chair.

"What would you like me to do with this, sir—throw it away?" Mrs. Greene asked, holding up Christina's dirt-stained robe.

John looked up at the matronly Mrs. Greene standing in the doorway. "Just put it aside for now. The decision is Christina's."

John wanted to get Christina back to England as soon as possible. Egypt had caused them both nothing but suffering, but now that Crissy was back, they would be happy again. Why, he wondered, had Christina left the man she claimed she loved? She'd written she would stay with him until he no longer wanted her. Was that it? The bastard had abducted her, used her, and then discarded her to collect the reward money. Crissy had said she loved him. How she must be suffering!

Draining the last of his whiskey, John got up and crossed through the small dining room and into the equally small kitchen. He found Mrs. Greene standing over the stove.

"I'm going to leave for about an hour, Mrs. Greene," he said. "My sister shouldn't wake up. But if she does, tell her I had to break an appointment but will be back shortly. And give her anything she wants." "But what about your lunch?"

"I'll eat when I get back," John said, picking up an apple from the bowl of fruit on the counter. "I won't be long."

It was a short distance to Major Hendricks's quarters, and John hoped to find Kareen at home, for he wanted to break their evening's engagement personally.

Kareen was a year younger than he, and was visiting her uncle, Major Hendricks, for a short while. Her home was in England, and her mother was part Spanish. But he knew nothing more about her, except that she attracted him greatly.

Kareen looked Spanish, with her silky black hair and black eyes. Her body was slim, yet perfectly rounded in all the right places. John had looked forward to this evening, but now he had to call it off. He hoped Kareen would understand.

John knocked on the door to Major Hendricks's modest apartment. After a few moments, it opened to reveal a young girl smiling cheerfully at him. John was shocked, for this girl looked only sixteen or seventeen, and yet. . ..

"Kareen?"

The young girl laughed at John's confusion.

"It happens all the time, Lieutenant. I'm Kareen's sister, Estelle. Won't you come in?"

"I didn't know she had a sister," John said as he stepped into the hallway. "You look so much alike."

"I know—like twins. But Kareen is five years older than I am. My father always says that Kareen and I are the exact images of our mother when she was young. Our mother is still a beautiful woman, so it's nice knowing what we will look like in the future." She laughed sweetly, giving John a beguiling smile. "Forgive me. Everybody says I talk too much. Did you wish to see Kareen, Lieutenant—?"

"John Wakefield," he volunteered with a short bow. "And yes, I would like to speak with her if it's possible."

"I think it could be arranged. She's in her room resting. It's this hot weather. We're not used to it yet—it certainly can wear a body out. So you're John Wakefield," she said, looking him over from head to foot. "Kareen sure has talked a lot about you, and I can see that she wasn't exaggerating, either."

"You certainly are outspoken, Miss Estelle."

"Well, I believe a body ought to say what they think."

"That can get you into trouble sometimes," John said lightly.

"Yes, I know. But I like to shock people. I can't say I shocked you, though. You must be used to compliments from the ladies," she went on mischievously.

"Not exactly. I'm used to giving them—not receiving them." John laughed.

"Spoken like a true gentleman. But you've let me ramble on again. If you will wait in the drawing room, I'll go and tell Kareen you're here."

"Thank you, and it has been a delight meeting you, Miss Estelle."

"I can definitely say the same about you, Lieutenant Wakefield. But we'll meet again, I'm sure," she added, and disappeared down the hallway.

After a few minutes, Kareen appeared in the doorway looking as beautiful as he last remembered.

"I thought my sister was playing a joke on me when she said you were here," she said. "She does that occasionally. But why are you here so early, Lieutenant Wakefield?"

"Kareen—I know this is only our second meeting, but won't you please call me John?" he asked, putting all his boyish charm into his request.

"All right, John," she smiled. "But what brings you here?"

"I don't exactly know how to tell you this," John said, turning away from her inquiring eyes. He walked over to the open window and stood looking out, his hands clasped behind his back. "You've been here only a month, Kareen, but you know about my sister's disappearance?"

"Yes, my uncle told me about it when I mentioned I'd met you," she replied.

"Christina was kidnapped right from her room the very first night we were in Cairo. Christina and I were very close. I searched everywhere for her and practically went out of my mind with worry. But she was returned to me today—this morning."

"John—that's wonderful! I'm so happy for you. Is she all right?"

He turned to face her, and could see that she was really pleased for him.

"She's fine, but I haven't had a chance to talk with her yet. She rode for nearly a week and is sleeping now. I wanted to tell you first so you'd understand why I can't escort you to the opera tonight. I have to be there when Crissy wakes up."

"Of course I understand, and I thank you for explaining it to me. Can I do anything to help?"

"It's kind of you to ask, Kareen. Perhaps in a few days you could call on her. I don't know how easily she will adjust to being home again. I only pray that she will be able to forget her terrible experiences."

"I'm sure she will be all right in time, John," Kareen replied.

"I hope so."

Christina had been asleep for twelve hours. It was nearly midnight, and John continued to pace the drawing room impatiently. There were so many things he had to know. He didn't want to pounce on her the minute she awoke, but he had to have some answers. Would Crissy be the same person, or had these last four months changed her?

John went to her door and opened it quietly. But Crissy was still curled on her side, her head resting on one hand. He walked into the room slowly and stood beside the bed gazing down at her as he had done so many times this evening.

She hadn't lost any weight and looked healthy, though dirty. She wore a skirt and blouse in the style of the desert people. But it was made of fine green velvet with spangled lace adorning the edges. She looked like an Arab princess.

She had said in her letter that she wanted for nothing. The man must have taken good care of her. And that just made it more puzzling, because John wondered how any man, once having her, could let her go. Christina had such unusual beauty. Something about her was different—stunning and yet indescribable—something that set her apart from all other women who were called beautiful.

Suddenly Christina opened her eyes and blinked a few times, obviously wondering where she was.

"It's all right, Crissy," John said.' He sat down on the side of the bed. "You are home now."

She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears, and the next moment she was clinging to Mm as if her lif e depended on it.

"John! Oh, Johnny—hold me. Tell me it was just a dream —that it never happened," she sobbed.

"I'm sorry, Crissy, but I can't tell you that—I wish I could," he said, holding her tightly against him. "But it will be all right—you'll see."

He let her cry herself out without saying more. When she was finished, he held her away from him and pushed back her hair from her wet cheeks.

"Feel better now?"

"Not really." She smiled weakly.

"Why don't you wash your face while I get you something to eat, and then we can talk."

"What I'd really like is to soak in a hot bath for hours. I've had nothing but cold baths for the last four months."

"That will have to wait until later. We've got to talk first."

"Oh, John, I don't want to talk about it—I just want to forget."

"I understand that, Crissy. But there are things I have to know. It would be better if we talked now, and then we can both forget it."

"Very well, I suppose you're right." She got off the bed and looked about the room. "Give me a minute to—"

She stopped abruptly when she saw the crumpled piece of paper that John had thrown on the table earlier.

"How did that get here?" Her voice held a note of anger.

"What's the matter with you, Crissy? I took it out of your hand before putting you to bed."

"But I thought I had thrown—" She turned quickly to face him, frowning. "Did you read it?"

"No. Why are you so upset?"

"It's my dismissal, you might say," she said lightly, only her eyes were stormy. "But it doesn't matter. How about that food?"

After supper, John poured two glasses of sherry and brought one to Christina in the dining room. He sat across from her with his legs sprawled beneath the table, and studied her face.