Desert Song (DeWinter's Song 3) (17 page)

There was sudden hope in the dark eyes. "You will allow me to live?"

"If you can make it to Caldoia, you may live."

"How can I walk without boots? The sand will burn my feet."

"Then run before the sun comes up. If you die, it will be no great loss."

Mallory fell back against Michael, too weary to think. She closed her eyes and buried her face against his robe.

"You are safe," he said soothingly. "No one will harm you now."

"I want to go home," she whispered. "I want to return to England."

"And so you shall," he assured her.

They were soon joined by the others, and Mallory was surprised to see Khaldun Shemsa, the Egyptian from the ship. "But how did he get here?" she asked Michael.

"It seemed we were in the presence of royalty and didn't know it, Lady Mallory," Michael told her. "Meet Prince Khaldun, my very good friend, and yours, too, it would seem. Without his help, I would never have known where to find you."

She tried to smile, but was too weary. "Thank you," she murmured, instantly falling asleep in Michael's strong arms.

The prince looked up at Michael and saw softness in his eyes. Yes, his friend loved the flaming-haired beauty. "It was good that we found her, and none too soon. We are but a day away from Caldoia."

"Yes," Michael agreed, brushing sand from Mallory's face, and holding her gently in his arms. He noticed the bruises on her face, and his grip on her tightened. "I wish I could kill them again. If anyone else tries to harm her, there is nowhere to hide that I won't follow."

Khaldun stared at his friend. Michael did not seem to know that Sheik Hakeem fueled the growing legend of the green-eyed scorpion to frighten the Turks, but he was not so sure that the legend was not becoming true.

Michael was a man like no other, an enemy to fear and a friend to trust. His fame was growing with each day. When the Turk reached Caldoia, his version of what had happened today would only add to Michael's growing reputation.

Chapter 19

The sun rose high in the sky, but still the small party did not slacken its pace. They had to put distance between themselves and Caldoia before Sidi sent soldiers to search for them.

Mallory awoke once, and Michael urged her to go back to sleep. Her eyes drifted shut, for she felt safe at last. She wasn't sure if she was dreaming, but if she was, she hoped never to awaken.

Michael stared down at her, his eyes dark with anger. Her face was red and blistered. Her hair was tangled and knotted. She had certainly lost weight, and he could only guess what she had suffered. She was dressed in an Arab dress, but it was so dirty he could hardly tell its color. He thought of the spirited young girl he'd first met on board the Iberia, and was furious that she had been brought to this state.

"Has she spoken of her captivity?" Khaldun wanted to know.

"No. She's too weary to talk. Have you seen her wrists? They are bloody where the ropes cut into her."

"We can stop when we reach the other side of the mountains. Sidi's men will not find us there since the pass is known only to my people. Then you can doctor Lady Mallory's wrists."

"She needs a long rest."

"Perhaps you should take her back to the palace slowly, but I must ride swiftly to the city and inform my father what has happened. Hakeem will come with me, for we must finish preparation for the battle. I know a place where you can set up camp—there is a spring, and it is on the warm side of the mountain. I will send Fizal back to you with supplies, and he will guide you home when Lady Mallory has rested."

"Yes," Michael agreed reluctantly, thinking of his father. "I will wait with Lady Mallory while you prepare for war." He dropped back so he was even with Hakeem. "I will reach the city as soon as possible. Will you wait for me?"

"Fear not, my friend, my men will not enter Caldoia without you beside them."

Michael looked down at the sleeping woman who had caused him so much trouble. If not for her, he would already be on his way to Caldoia. But what else could he have done? If she hadn't helped him, she would never have become a pawn in this deadly game.

Mallory awoke and sat up quickly. Her eyes were round with fear as she tried to remember where she was. Glancing at her wrists, she saw they were no longer bound, but were bandaged instead. In the back of her mind was a faint memory of being rescued by Lord Michael, but surely it had only been a dream.

No one seemed to be around, but there were three horses hobbled nearby, grazing on the grass that grew from the side of the slope.

She heard footsteps behind her and spun around to see Michael walking toward her. She stood up on wobbly legs. "I didn't dream it—you did find me."

When she would have lost her footing, he steadied her. "Perhaps you should be careful until you regain your strength. You have been through so much."

"How long have I slept?"

"Two days."

"I don't know what those men wanted with me. They kept saying that"—she dropped her voice—"that I was your woman and you would come after me."

"Don't think about them." He moved inside the tent and returned with a bundle, which he handed to her. "Khaldun's wife, Princess Yasmin, sent this to you. It should contain everything you need. Perhaps you would like to bathe in the stream."

"Oh, yes, please." Her eyes widened when she looked up at him. "Are we safe here?"

"Yes." He pointed her in the direction of the stream. "Stay in the shallows, the water is quite swift."

Some of Mallory's old spirit returned when she tossed her head. "I can swim."

"Even so, stay in the shallows. I don't fancy going for a dip in my clothes. That's your role."

She smiled slightly. How different he was from the first time they had met. Then he'd been arrogant, cold, and distant. Now he walked with the assurance of a man destined for greatness, a man of courage, a man who would let nothing or no one stand in the way of what he wanted. His face was changed, older somehow, his stance more certain. He had the proud walk of a veteran warrior and raw energy flowed from him. The black robe fell to the tip of his desert boots. His burnoose covered his hair and was thrown carelessly over his shoulder.

"Have I said thank you for rescuing me?"

Michael's features softened. "I can remember a time you treated my wound and cared for me without questions. I have no need of thanks, Lady Mallory."

"But I will always be grateful for what you did. I can't allow myself to think what would have happened to me if you hadn't found me."

"You should bathe now," he said gently. "When the sun goes down, it grows quite cold here." He turned away, and she watched him enter the tent. With an inward sigh, she walked toward the stream.

Soon Mallory was working the perfumed soap into her hair. How wonderful it felt to submerge herself in the cool water. Reluctantly, she waded ashore and dried herself with a soft towel. She silently thanked Princess Yasmin because she'd thought of everything.

Mallory dressed herself in a soft turquoise robe and belted it at the waist. She then sat on the grassy bank of the stream and brushed her hair. It took her several minutes to work out the tangles, but soon her hair curled about her face and fell spiraling down her back.

Slowly, she walked back to camp and found Michael waiting for her.

He watched Mallory walk toward him in silence. The sun was behind her and reflected off her red hair, making it appear as if it were on fire. How young she looked in the robe that accented, rather than hid, her curved body.

Was it possible that every time he saw her she grew more lovely?

"It feels glorious to be clean," she proclaimed, reaching her arms up as if to embrace the day.

Michael averted his eyes, because he hadn't been around a woman in many weeks, and he didn't like the way he was feeling about Mallory. "Are you hungry?"

"Indeed I am." She sat down on a rug and smiled up at him. "What I wouldn't give for my cousin Phoebe's Yorkshire pudding." She cocked her head to the side in thoughtfulness. "Isn't that strange—I never liked it before now."

Michael picked up the satchel that contained food. "Let's see what bounty Khaldun has sent us."

Mallory watched him lay out the meal. "What is that?" she asked, wrinkling her nose at the dried meat.

"It's quail. We have almonds, dates, and figs. This is a feast."

She smiled. "Let's pretend we are sitting down to a well-cooked English meal, and afterwards we shall walk in the cool evening breeze."

Michael's eyes grew reflective. "I haven't thought of Ravenworth in a long time. In the past, I enjoyed living in London. I find the country appeals to me now. I wonder if I'll ever like the crowded city again?"

She took a bite of the quail which was quite delicious. "I have always preferred the country. Of course, I know so little about London."

"I could have guessed."

"Michael, the men that held me captive referred to you as the green-eyed scorpion. And I'd heard you called that once before. Why is that?"

He shrugged. "Everything is exaggerated here in the desert."

"Perhaps the Egyptians embroider stories because their lives are so uninteresting."

"If you believe that, you don't know the Egyptians. They have a kind of serenity that we British have never acquired. They laugh easily and will just as easily cry with a friend."

"You like them, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. Prince Khaldun is the best friend I ever had. He would risk his life for me, and has."

"Well, I don't like them. Not after I was abducted by them."

"They weren't Egyptians," he said dryly, "they were Turks. It was Egyptians who rescued you—remember."

"Oh. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful."

Michael leaned back and watched her tear meat off the bone and put it in her mouth.

"I just want to go home, wherever that may be."

"You shall as soon as I can arrange it. It is dangerous for you to remain here. Your father will surely agree with me."

Mallory glanced up at him. "When will you return to England?"

"Not until I find my father."

"Is there any hope of that?"

"I would have been in Caldoia now, if I hadn't had to go after you. It seems you can't stay out of trouble."

She heard the accusation in his voice. "I didn't ask you to come after me. Of course, I'm glad you did. If you hadn't, I would now be imprisoned with your father."

Michael grabbed her arm and made her look at him. "What are you saying? Did they tell you where my father is being held?"

She searched her mind, trying to remember the man's exact words. "Yes, the man who captured me said something about putting me in a cell in the west tower where a great Englishman is being held."

There was urgency in Michael's voice. "Are you certain they said the west tower?"

"Yes, I am. Is that important?"

"I should think so. How do you know they were speaking of my father?"

"Because they said he was the father of the green-eyed scorpion."

Michael jumped to his feet, his eyes shining with hope. "At last I know where to find him!" He pulled her to her feet and hugged her tightly. "You're wonderful! You just told me what I needed to know." He smiled, and her heart stopped beating. "All I have to do now is get into the west tower."

Mallory stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. "I wouldn't think that would be an easy feat to accomplish. You might as well have said you'd walk on the moon."

His eyes became piercing. "No one can stop me now. I will take my father out of that place."

She touched his arm. "Oh, Michael, I fear for you. The man bragged about how they were setting a trap for you. Don't go blindly into that evil city."

"I would expect them to try to capture me, but it won't be as easy as they believe."

"But Michael, those people have no concept of what's right or wrong. And they do not value human life. They would think no more about killing you than they did about capturing your father."

He seated her on the blanket and sat down beside her. "Let's not speak of that now. There is something else I want to talk to you about. I had a long time to think while you were sleeping."

"I know, you want to send me back to Cairo."

"No, that's not it. I think we should be married as soon as possible."

She looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "You can't be serious."

"I am indeed serious. I don't think you realize the consequences of your being kidnapped."

"What do you mean?"

"The alarm will have been raised by now, and everyone will know you were taken by force. By the time the next boat docks in England, everyone there will know about your abduction."

"I fail to see—"

"Just listen to me. Your reputation will be ruined. Do you know what that means?"

"I don't care. I did nothing wrong."

He glanced away from her when he asked the next question. "Did those men—did they ..."

"If what you are trying to ask is if they ravished me, the answer is no. They were too frightened of someone named Sidi to touch me."

"Thank God. But your reputation is ruined all the same. People will believe what they want to believe. I don't think you know the magnitude of this, Mallory," he said. "Accounts of your abduction will be in all the newspapers."

She lowered her head, at last understanding. "I don't consider it your place to make a respectable woman of me.

"You still don't understand. I feel responsible. Those men believed you were my woman, or they never would have abducted you."

"But I don't hold you responsible for what they did." Mallory wondered why she felt like crying. "You are not obligated to marry me."

"Damn it, I am. If I hadn't come to you when I was wounded, you would never have been compromised."

She glanced at him through veiled lashes. He was everything a woman would want in a husband. When he touched her, she felt all funny inside. But she had too much pride to marry him under such circumstances. "I will not marry you."

He looked at her in exasperation. "It doesn't have to be a real marriage. I always knew I'd have to marry someday, and it might as well be you as someone else."

"How charitable of you. What woman could refuse such a heartfelt proposal?"

Michael stood up and pulled her to her feet. "My mother and father married without love, and their marriage has been the envy of everyone who knows them. Out of that marriage grew a great love. We do like each other—at least I like you."

She looked into his eyes. "Are you saying that if I marry you, you might grow to love me?"

He felt he should be honest with her. "No, I'm not saying that. I'm not sure I'm capable of loving a woman." He touched her cheek. "But if you will do me the honor of becoming my wife, I'll make you a good husband."

Oh, she wanted to say yes, for she was beginning to realize that she cared a great deal for him. No one had ever expected her to make such an advantageous match. Even her mother and father would be impressed if she married a DeWinter.