Lord of Desire (50 page)

Even more abruptly, he released her and began to gather up his sword and burnous, his movements rapid yet unsteady.

"Jafar . . . what . . . ?"

He made no reply, merely flung his burnous over his shoulders.

Alysson watched in bewilderment as he turned and strode quickly from the chamber. "You're not leaving!"

"Yes!"

She took a faltering step after his retreating form. "But where are you going?''

"To sleep with my men!
I find I have a conscience after all!"

Chapter 16

"Guests!
That barbarian says we are to consider our- VFselves his guests!" the elderly Frenchman railed at his niece from his sickbed.

"Uncle, please,
lie
still. Don't upset yourself so." Anxiously, Alysson put a hand to Honoré's forehead, again checking for fever. But his skin was still cool to the touch. He didn't seem to have suffered unduly from his wounds. In fact, he'd professed to having passed a comfortable sight.

Unlike her.
She'd spent the remainder of the night restlessly tossing and turning, unable to find respite from the storm of reflections and emotions assailing her. So much had happened in the past few hours.
Her uncle's captivity.
Gervase's deliverance from death, Jafar's clemency.
His
rejection of her kiss
. . .

Incredibly, Jafar had left his tent solely to her; she'd slept alone for nearly the first time since meeting her demon captor, And to her profound dismay, Alysson had found herself missing his warmth, his vital, comforting presence. She felt so alone without him.

Disturbed by the inexplicable yearnings of her heart and body, Alysson had at last fallen into an exhausted slumber. She'd risen at dawa, in no less turmoil than when lafar had stalked out of his tent a few hours before. Trying to forget her agitation, she'd gone directly to her uncle's tent and found him awake.

Honoré had been appropriately elated when she shared the joyous news about Gervase, but even that had not mollified his outrage at his own treatment. It seemed that Jafar had already paid her uncle a visit this morning to extend an invitation to accompany him to his mountain home. Honoré's reaction had been one of indignation.

"But of course I accepted," Honoré blustered now. "I was hardly in a position to refuse, after all. I am not so foolish as to challenge that savage warlord when I am injured this way—" He waved a hand at his bandaged ribs, "—or at any time. It is wiser not to argue with a man like that,"

"Certainly it is," Alysson said soothingly, but Honoré was too worked up to notice.

"We are to leave at once, this very morning. He said it is for our own protection, since this area is no longer safe from attack,
Pestei
That I do not believe."

Alysson was not so quick to dismiss Jafar's reasoning, though she doubted protecting his captives was his major
consideration in moving his camp so quickly. He might have been the victor of the recent battle, but he could hardly keep his tribe in the area to become easy targets if the French forces decided to pursue. "I suppose there is some truth to what he said, Uncle. If there is another battle, we could very well be in danger from artillery fire."

Honoré harrumphed loudly. "Perhaps, but is the height of hypocrisy for that . . . that devil to call us his guests."

"I know." She patted his shoulder. "But that is better than being his prisoners. We haven't been treated badly, especially considering that we are his enemy. He could have kept us in chains or even killed us."

Realizing what she'd just said
,
Alysson shook her head wryly. How ironic that she should be defending Jafar's actions and even his right to hold them hostage. But she couldn't bring herself to condemn him at the moment; her relief over his magnanimity overwhelmed any outrage she might have felt at his continuing to hold her here. Indeed, rather than protest, she was more inclined to go down on her knees and thank him for sparing Gervase.

Besides, by now she knew how futile it was to struggle against Jafar. As usual, she had little choice but to obey him. If he had decreed they were to accompany him, then they would accompany him.

"At any rate," she told her uncle, "you will be more comfortable in the mountains, away from the desert heat."

"Bah! I would be many times more comfortable if I were safe on the soil of France," Honoré retorted in an aggrieved tone.

Suddenly he stopped, his heavy silver brows drawing together in a frown. "What am I saying?" Slowly Honoré turned his head on the pillow to look at her. "What right do I have to complain when you have suffered this captivity for weeks?" Awkwardly, he reached for her hand. "I am not
so
indifferent as it seems, my dear. When you were taken from me that day, I thought . . . For so long there was no word." Honoré faltered, anxiously surveying her face. "You told me the truth? You were not mistreated? He did not harm you in any way?"

The haunted expression in her uncle's dark eyes told her better than words how deeply he cared for her, how worried
he had been for her safety, while the tremble in his voice told her of his need of reassurance.
The reassurance that he had not failed her.

Her throat suddenly tight, Alysson shook her head. "He did not harm me, Uncle."

"But you are far too pale, to my mind. And there are circles beneath your eyes."

"I had the misfortune to be stung by a scorpion. I was ill for a time, but I am fine now."

A clatter from outside the tent made Alysson glance over her shoulder.
All the while she'd been talking to her
uncle,
the sounds of activity had been on the rise.

Just then Chand appeared at the entrance to the tent. As enterprising as usual, he had been scouting out the camp to discover what he could about their situation.

The Indian servant salaamed to his mistress, before reporting the information he had gleaned about their impending departure. "Memsahib, the Berber lord bid me tell you that you are to make the necessary preparations for travel. We are to leave within the hour. I was also commanded to say that all arrangements will be made for the Larousse Sahib's comfort."

Honoré grunted at that, but Alysson nodded in acknowledgment, trusting Jafar to keep his word.

Drawing the blanket up to cover her uncle's shoulders, she kissed his cheek. "Uncle, I must go, but I'll return as soon as I can. Chand, would you see to him?"

"As you wish, memsahib."

She rose to leave, anxious to question Mahmoud and discover what the boy knew about yesterday's battle and Gervase's fate—all the details that Jafar had refused to tell her last night.

When she stepped outside, the scene was one of bustling activity as the Berbers broke camp. There was no immediate sign of Jafar, but outside his tent, she found Saful readying the horses. Within, Mahmoud was gathering Jafar's personal effects and amassing the furnishings.

To her surprise and bewilderment, Mahmoud responded to her greeting with a sullen look. Not since before her illness had he shown that hostile face to her.

"Do you wish me still to serve you, lady?" the boy asked without warning.

Alysson eyed him blankly. "Yes . . . is there some reason why I should not?"

"Your servant is with you now."

"Chand?"

"I do not know his name."

Mahmoud turned away, his limp pronounced. Alysson stared after him. Could the child actually be jealous of Chand? "I still need you to look after me, Mahmoud. Chand cannot care for me the way you do, especially now when he will be busy seeing to my uncle."

Mahmoud shrugged his skinny shoulders, but she thought she might have mollified him.

Following him into the rear room, she began to collect the native garments shed been given to wear and contemplated how to approach Mahmoud with her questions. Beside her, the boy muttered to himself in Arabic as he went about his duties. ". . . blacksmith's blood . . . the devil Bourmont . . ."

Understanding those last words, Alysson felt her heart skip a beat. She let another minute go by before remarking casually, "Last night Jafar told me that Colonel Bourmont is his prisoner."

"Yes, lady."

When the boy shot her a suspicious glance, Alysson resumed her packing, not wanting to appear too obvious. "I must admit I was shocked to learn that the colonel is still alive. Your master left here with every intention of killing him."

Mahmoud's scarred face puckered in a frown. "This is true. There was a fight with swords, but the lord did not strike the fatal blow. Saful saw it with his own eyes. It was the cause of much talk among our people." The boy shook his head in puzzlement. "I do not understand my lord's reasoning. They were enemies of blood. But he must have had good cause," Mahmoud declared, staunchly loyal as always. "Surely it is the will of Allah."

Alysson's fingers tightened involuntarily on the fabric she was folding. "Can you tell me where the colonel is now? Do you know what Jafar means to do with him?"

"The lord does not share his confidences with me," Mahmoud said guardedly. At Alysson's worried look, however, he offered an explanation. "Sidi Farhat has escorted the French prisoners to the camp of the Khalifa Ben Hamadi. Saful told me the colonel and his officers will be exchanged for other prisoners of war.''

Alysson nodded and returned to her task, relief flooding through her. A few minutes later she was surprised by Mahmoud's voice.

“Why do you cry, lady?'' he asked curiously.

Suddenly aware of the tears on her cheeks, Alysson wiped at them awkwardly and flashed Mahmoud a brilliant smile, the first true smile that had crossed her lips in weeks. "They are happy tears, Mahmoud."

Happy indeed, Alysson thought. Gervase was safe and soon he would be free.

When she had finished securing the clothing in bundles, Alysson helped Mahmoud strike the huge tent, willingly doing whatever she was told. By the time that was done, the hot sun had begun a shimmering trek across the sky, beating down on the Berbers who were forming a caravan of horses and goods. Covering her head with a haik for protection, Alysson went to join her uncle.

She found Honoré somewhere in the middle of the column, with Chand hovering over him. It made her smile to see the luxurious mode of travel her wounded uncle would enjoy. Jafar had shown Honoré every courtesy, even going so far as to have a curtained litter built for his use. Both she and Chand had been provided with horses to ride.