Captive Bride (5 page)

Suddenly he pulled her to him and kissed her painfully, crushing her body against his and running his free hand boldly over her breasts.

My God, she thought frantically, he's going to rape me! Christina started to struggle violently, but her attacker dropped her back onto the bed and quickly bound a gag over her mouth, tying it tightly behind her head. He pulled a sack over her head and pushed it down over her body, tying it around her knees. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

Christina tried kicking her feet to throw him off balance, but he bounced her up in the air, so that the breath was knocked out of her as she landed back on his shoulder. She could tell he was walking, and she heard the bedroom door open and close.

They seemed to be descending stairs, and then she felt a slight breeze touch her bare feet. They must be outside. Oh God, what is this man going to do with me? Did I come to this Godforsaken country just to die—and how will I die? Will I be raped brutally first? Why did I ever leave England? Poor John, he will blame himself for my death. I have to get away!

Once more, Christina kicked and squirmed, but the man crushed her to him to still her efforts. He walked faster for a few minutes, then suddenly stopped. He spoke in the native language, then threw her over something. Christina squirmed, but stopped when she felt a painful whack across her buttocks.

A different voice muttered something, followed by a loud burst of laughter, and Christina felt herself bounced up and down. She knew then that she was lying across a horse, like a sack of potatoes. She almost laughed hysterically when the man pressed a hand into her back. Was he afraid she might fall off and hurt herself before he could hurt her?

Christina's heart was beating so fast she was afraid it would burst. Where is he taking me? she wondered, and then it dawned on her. Of course—they would be going into the desert. What better place to rape a woman than the desert—where her screams could not be heard. And there seemed to be several men riding with them. How many rapes would she have to endure before they killed her?

They rode for hours, but Christina lost track of time. Her hair was tangled over her face, and her stomach ached from the position she was in. She couldn't understand why they were taking her so far into the desert. Then they stopped.

It's going to happen now, she thought frantically as she was lowered to the ground. When she felt no hands on her she tried to run, but she forgot the sack was tied about her knees and fell forward onto the sand.

This was all the humiliation she could stand. She began to whimper. She would have been crying hysterically if she hadn't had the gag in her mouth. Someone picked her up and put her on her feet again. Her toes sank slowly into the cold desert sand.

Christina felt the rope being untied at her knees, and she lunged forward again. But she was pulled back and caught to a man's broad chest. He held her imprisoned in his powerful arms for what seemed like an eternity, then chuckled deeply. He lifted her up onto the horse, then mounted behind her. It seemed the man was at least going to let her ride upright with some dignity.

But why were they riding again? Why hadn't they done anything to her? Did they think to make her suffer more by keeping her in suspense? Then it came to her. Maybe they weren't going to kill her after all. Maybe they would sell her as a slave after raping her. Of course. She would probably bring a handsome sum at a slave auction. She would make an unusual attraction, with her long blond hair and slim white body. That was probably it, she thought miserably. They will use me and then sell me for a profit. That would be worse than dying.

Christina always said she would be a slave to no man in marriage. But now she would be a real slave—to a master who could do anything he wanted with her. She would have no say in the matter. She prayed they would kill her instead, for she couldn't bear to be a slave.

The hours dragged on slowly until Christina began to see light through the rough material of the sack and knew it must be dawn. She thought of John and of his misery when he found her gone. She doubted he would ever be able to find her, for they had been riding all night.

Where were they taking her? Christina could feel the sweat pouring down her sides and legs as the day grew hotter. She would curse this bastard to the devil if only he could understand her. She was exhausted.

Finally they stopped, but Christina didn't care anymore —she didn't want to think anymore. She was lowered to the ground again, her legs crumpling under her. She wasn't giving up, but she knew it was useless to run. The sun blinded her for a minute as someone dragged the sack up over her head. When she could see again, a short native was standing in front of her. He handed her a robe and a square piece of cloth with a cord, which was for the Bedouin headdress.

"Kufiyah," he said, pointing to the cloth. He untied the gag from her mouth and walked away.

There were three of them. Two medium-sized young men, and one huge man who was watering the horses. The young man who gave her the robe and kufiyah came up again, smiling sheepishly, and handed her some bread and a skin of water. She was very hungry, for she had eaten little the night before.

When Christina finished eating, the big man came toward her and took the waterskin from her, tossing it to one of the other men. His kufiyah covered the lower half of his face, so she couldn't see what he looked like.

He was a big man for an Arab. She thought that Arabs were generally small, but this man dwarfed the other two.

He helped her on with the robe and pulled back her hair, which was hanging to her hips. At least he was helping her dress instead of taking her clothes off. He arranged the kufiyah on her head, then led her into the shade of a rock outcropping and pushed her down onto the cool sand.

Terrified, Christina shrank from him. But the big man just laughed harshly and walked away to help the others with the horses. They removed the rough blankets from the horses, rubbed them down, and left some grain for them in the shade. The shorter Arabs ate a little and lay down to rest, completely hidden under their black robes.

Christina looked around and saw the tall man climbing up the rocks, rifle in hand, to stand guard. She could not escape. She let her exhausted body relax, and slept.

The sun was low on the horizon when Christina awoke. The horses stood ready, and the tall man swung her up onto the horse in front of him.

Christina could see mountains in the far distance and an ocean of sand in front of them. She gave up and leaned on the man behind her. She thought she heard him laugh, but she was still too tired to care. She slept again.

They rode three more nights, resting during the hottest part of the days. Finally they started to climb out of the desert. Christina could see trees around them, and she felt the air becoming cooler. They must be climbing high into the mountains if it was getting colder, she thought.

She wished desperately that this living nightmare were truly just a bad dream. Soon she would wake up at her home in Halstead to the cool morning breezes, have breakfast, and then go for a leisurely ride on Dax. But she knew that it wasn't a dream. She would never see Dax or her home again.

A fire blazed up ahead of them. One of the men with her shouted something, and then they rode slowly out of the trees that had shrouded them and into an encampment There were five tents, one larger than the rest, circled around the fire. The fire was the only source of light, and it cast dancing shadows upon everything within its reach.

Four native men with smiles on their dark faces approached, and all started talking and laughing. The women of the camp came out of their tents with curiosity shining in their eyes, but they hung back from the group of men.

Christina was lifted to the ground. She realized that she must be at the end of her journey. She had to try to save herself from the fate that awaited her. Perhaps she could hide in the mountains and then somehow find her way back to civilization.

More men joined the group by the fire. They all crowded around her tall captor, talking and gesturing. Christina was momentarily standing alone. Did they expect her to stand there calmly and await her fate?

Lifting the robe and nightdress up to her thighs, Christina started to run. She ran for her life, with a speed she didn't know she had. She didn't know if they were chasing her. All she could hear was the loud pounding of her heart. The kufiyah came off her head, and her hair flew wildly in the wind behind her.

Christina stumbled and fell headlong. She looked up and saw two feet straddled in front of her. She threw herself on the hard earth and started to cry. She couldn't help her tears, but hated to show this man her weakness. He had won a victory by making her cry. He pulled her roughly to her feet and dragged her back into camp.

Christina was taken into the largest of the tents and deposited unceremoniously on a backless couch with low, rounded arms at each end. She immediately tried to compose herself, pushing her tangled hair away from her face and wiping the tears from her cheeks.

The tent was quite large inside and was curtained on three sides with a sheer material through which the fire outside brightly illuminated the room. Multicolored rugs covered the floor, and the fourth side of the tent was of a heavy material. Christina could see another room where the material was drawn aside.

The main room was sparsely furnished. Another lightblue-velvet couch faced the one she was sitting on near the back of the tent, with a long, low table between them. A small cabinet stood in one corner at the back of the tent, with a single jeweled goblet and a goatskin bag on top. Many small pillows in bright colors were scattered on the two couches and on the floor beside them.

Christina watched her captor. The tall man had his back to her as he removed his kufiyah and robe. He laid them on top of the cabinet and poured something from the goatskin into the goblet. He wore knee-length suede boots, a short tunic, and loose-fitting trousers tucked inside his boots.

Christina was startled when the man spoke to her in perfect English.

"I can see that you're going to be very difficult to manage, Tina. But now you're here and you know that you belong to me, perhaps you will not try to run away so often."

Christina couldn't believe what she heard. The man turned around to face her. Her eyes widened in shock, and her mouth fell open.

He burst out laughing. "I've waited a very long time to see that expression on your face, Tina, ever since you left me that night in London."

What was he talking about? He must be crazy!

Her cheeks flushed red with anger, and her body shook with rage. "You!" she screamed. "What are you doing here, and how dare you kidnap me and bring to this Godforsaken place? My brother will kill you, Philip Caxton!"

He laughed again. "So you're no longer afraid of me, Tina. That's good. I don't think I would care to hear you begging and pleading with me for mercy."

"I would never give you that satisfaction, Mr. Caxton." Christina stood up and faced him, her hair flowing to her hips. "Now would you kindly tell me why you've brought me here? If it's ransom you're after, my brother will give you anything you want. Only I'd like the matter handled quickly, so I may leave this place and your company."

He smiled at her. His unusual eyes held her hypnotized. Why did he have to be so damned handsome, she thought irrelevantly.

"I suppose I should enlighten you about why I've brought you here." Philip sat down on the couch across from her and motioned for her to do the same. He drained his goblet, and studied her intently before continuing.

"I don't usually explain myself to anyone, but I suppose I can make an exception in your case." He paused, as if to find the words he wanted to use. "Christina, the first time I laid eyes on you at the ball in London, I knew I wanted you. So I tried it your way. I declared my feelings to you and offered you marriage. When you refused, I decided to have you my own way, and quickly. I arranged for your brother to be sent to this country the night you refused me."

"So it was you who had my brother sent here!" she gasped.

"You will not interrupt again until I am finished. Is that clear?" Philip asked brusquely.

Christina nodded her head, only because her curiosity demanded she hear him out.

"As I said, I arranged for your brother to be sent here. It was only a question of knowing the right people. If you had decided to stay in England, I wouldn't have had too much trouble taking you away to my home with your brother gone. You would have found it easier to escape me there, but I could have had you sooner. Here you will have less chance to get away from me. It's the way of the land here to take captives, so don't expect any help from the people of my camp." Philip smiled wickedly at her. "You're mine now, Tina. The sooner you realize that, the better it will be for you."

Flying off the couch, Christina paced the floor in fury. "I cannot believe what you've told me! How could you possibly imagine that I'd marry you after what you've done to me?"

"Many!" he laughed. "I offered you marriage once, I will not again. I don't have to marry you to have you in this land!" He came to her and took her in his arms. "You may call yourself my slave, but not my wife."

"I will be no man's slave! I'll kill myself before I'll submit to you!" Christina screamed, and fought to escape his embrace.

"Do you think that I'd let you kill yourself, after I've waited so long for you?" Philip murmured huskily. He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her passionately, holding her head with one hand and both of her arms with the other.

Christina felt a strange sensation creeping through her body again. Did she enjoy his kiss? But that was impossible. She hated him!

She went limp in his arms, but before she could manage to kick out, Philip picked her up, and his laughter rang through the tent.

"That little trick of yours won't work again, Tina."

Philip carried Christina through the heavy curains to his bed. When she saw his intent, she began to fight in earnest, but he dropped her onto the bed and lay down beside her. She beat at his chest with her fists until he pulled both of her arms above her head and held them there with one hand.