Seductive Wager (38 page)

He lay back and tried to clear his mind of everything except his mission. True, there was nothing he could do about that, either, but at least it didn’t make him feel like his insides were being pulled out by hot pincers.

Kate awoke to strange surroundings for the third consecutive day, but she sensed at once she was in a very different place this time. Even before, she opened her eyes she could tell it was quiet, cool, and that she was sleeping on a soft, luxurious bed. After the terrors and discomforts of the last two days, that in itself was reassuring. It meant she was someplace where she was valued higher than by the unwashed man who had taken her off the ship.

She opened her eyes and looked around. She was in a small but luxuriously furnished room. Gleaming brocade covered walls of veined marble, while carpets were piled two and three thick over the floor. She lay on a raised podium mounded high with fluffy mattresses and pillows; its sides were covered in bright tiles framed with strips of cedar and held in place with silver nails. A bowl of fruit sat on a low onyx table; Kate took a date and ate it hungrily. She had been offered plenty of food since they had taken her from the ship, but she didn’t always know what it was and often the smell alone was enough to make her stomach rebel. Here at last was something she recognized and could enjoy.

Once the edge was off her hunger, Kate began to be curious about her surroundings, but the only door to her chamber was locked. Clearly, she was no closer to being free than she had been before.

For the one hundredth time, her thoughts went back to Brett. She couldn’t forget how he looked when she last saw him, pale and sprawled over the deck. Was he badly hurt? Was he still alive? She dared not allow her mind to dwell on that last question. He
had
to be alive. Otherwise there would be no point in living. She had been nothing but bad luck for him ever since he tried to help her. Maybe he was better off without her. Maybe he wouldn’t want to see her again after this. Her dreary thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a key in the lock and the door was opened by an enormous black man who looked as fierce as the pirate who had abducted her. Kate gasped and drew back, but immediately a tiny woman of many years ducked under his arm and entered bearing an armload of clothes.

“You may go, Bismillah.” She spoke to the huge eunuch in Arabic, but turned and addressed Kate in English. “I see you are as beautiful as they said.”

“You speak English?” Kate gasped.

“I
am
English,” the girl replied. “My name was Susan, but I am now called Olema. I have been here many years.”

“But how did you get here? How did
I
get here?”

“You came in the night, on a Utter carried between two asses. I came out many years ago to marry a cousin, but our ship was captured off Corsica and I was sold. I have been here ever since. All in all, it is probably a better life. I must work hard, but I am cared for and I live comfortably.”

“But where am I?” Kate asked.

“You are in Algiers. This-is the palace of the dey.”

A thrill of relief coursed through Kate. “But why was I brought here? Who brought me? Are they going to let me see my husband? Are they going to free me?”

“I have the answer to none of those questions,” Olema replied with no indication that she was interested in Kate’s past or her future. “I have been instructed to prepare you for an audience with the dey. That is why I am here.”

“But you must help me.”

“I shall. I have brought you clothes, and soon Bismillah will return with water to bathe you and scented oils to rub over your body.”

“I mean you must help me to get out of here, find my husband.”

“There is no escape from the dey’s palace,” Olema said, her voice still flat and disinterested. “It is best that you put it out of your mind. You are to make preparations to see the dey.”

“But I want to go to my husband,” Kate insisted. “He’s here in Algiers, I know he is. He landed several days ago when the pirates took me from the ship. Surely that’s the reason the dey has brought me here.”

“I do not know what the dey will do with you. That is riot my place,” Olema said. “My duty is to prepare you for your visit to the dey’s apartments, and that is what I shall do.” So saying, she began to spread out the various garments she had over her arm. Kate had never seen anything like them and didn’t have any idea how they should be worn, but she could tell from the material that they were too sheer to cover much of her body unless she was going to wear several layers of them all at once. Bismillah, accompanied by several other slaves who entered bearing trays of food, beakers of water, a basin, slippers, and several things Kate never seen before, returned with the bath oils.

“Now you must allow me to bathe you,” Olema said when they had withdrawn. “The dey does not like for people to have an odor.” Kate allowed herself to be undressed. After three days in her clothes, she was too glad to be rid of the hateful apricot dress to feel immodest. It was a wonderful luxury to have herself gently bathed in warm, scented water in the comfort of her chamber. There was even a small brazier to take the chill out of the air. It was a far cry from hot water carried up to a copper tub in her icy bedchamber at Ryehill.

“Tell me something about the dey,” she asked after Olema’s gentle rubbing had rid her body of some of its tension. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the harem,” Olema answered without slowing her work.

“I’m
where?”
demanded Kate with a near shriek.

“The harem,” Olema repeated. “It is where all the women of the palace live. It is the only place we are allowed.”

So Brett had not been exaggerating after all. She
was
in a harem, and she had no idea when or how she was going to get out.

“But who are the women who live here?” Kate asked, unable to suppress her curiosity.

“They are many people—the dey’s mother, his wives, and their households. Then there are the concubines and their attendants. Finally, there are the eunuchs who are responsible for the harem.”

“How many people is that?”

“I don’t know. Certainly several hundred altogether.”

“And they all belong to the dey?”

“The dey is a very rich man. He has many wives.”

“Do they know I am here?”

“The wives? Not yet, maybe, but they will know soon. The concubines knew as soon as you were brought in last night. Your arrival caused quite a disturbance. There are not many comings and goings here, and everyone gossips about everything.”

“What are your usual duties?” Kate asked Olema.

“I used to serve the old dey’s sister. She died last summer and I have been with the dey’s mother, but she has her own household and does not need me. I am now your servant.”

“But I’m not staying here. I’m sure the dey will send for my husband as soon as I explain to him what happened.”

“No one ever leaves the harem,” Olema stated with finality.

“But I must. I mean, I will,” Kate insisted. And she continued to do so while Olema dressed her in the traditional costume of the harem, which left little of her charms unrevealed. Her hair was pulled back from her face and hung loosely down her back. She wore a sheer top over a halter that supported rather than covered her breasts, and pair of loose pants that left her stomach and ankles exposed. The velvet slippers on her feet did nothing to make her feel properly dressed.

“I can’t go anywhere looking like this,” Kate protested. “I’d be more modestly attired in my chemise.”

“Come. It is time to leave.” Her protest had no effect on Olema, and Kate soon found herself in an immense sitting room as long and as wide as a cathedral. Its vaulted ceiling was a fresco of woven cedar strips; a marble fountain gave the air its freshness and serenity, cascading water falling from one basin to another its soft music. The room was crowded with dozens of women clad in equally scanty raiment. Talking energetically as they ate and reclined on podiums shaped like long sofas, they fell silent when Kate entered. If the looks they directed toward her were any indication, they didn’t like the way she looked, either.

“They do not like you,” Olema explained. “You are more beautiful than any of them, and each is afraid you will take her place in the dey’s affections.”

“Tell them I don’t want to displace anybody, that I don’t want any affections beyond those of my husband, and that I don’t even know the dey.”

“It is not what you say that matters,” Olema informed her bluntly. “It is what the dey says, and he has called for you first on this day, even before his wives. Even more portentous, it is a rule that the dey does not see any woman before evening. An exception is made only for his mother. He has called for you to join him at breakfast.” Kate felt a chill of apprehension. She didn’t know what all this meant, but if she were to judge from the looks around her, it didn’t bode well. They passed out of the large chamber, crossed an open court, passed through a small garden, then through a larger one, then entered still another garden which led to a much larger building. As they moved along the paths, they passed a tiny woman with glistening black hair and hard eyes who glared at Kate with undisguised fury.

“Who is that?” Kate asked. “Why does she stare at me so?”

“That is Nuzhat al-Zaman, the dey’s first wife. Her son is the heir. She fears you because you are much more beautiful than she ever was.”

“But why, if
she
is the dey’s wife?”

“Your hair is white. That alone would make you one to be hated. These men, both the Turks and the Africans, prize women of white hair.” Kate was silent, but she noted that of the gazes she encountered, only the slaves were curious; the others seemed angry. It was almost a relief when they arrived at the dey’s compound. They were ushered in by two black Nubian eunuchs who were even larger than the ones she had seen in the harem.

Kate came to a halt just inside the door, unsure of what was expected of one upon meeting a dey. She was even more bewildered when she saw a slim, handsome, and relatively young man reclining on a bed piled high with cushions directing a penetrating gaze in her direction.

Chapter 22

“Come closer,” he said, his English excellent but heavily accented. “I did not expect Raisuli to bequeath me such a fine treasure.”

“You paid Raisuli to steal me?” Kate said before she could think whether that was a wise question.

“No,” the dey replied, beckoning her to move closer still. “I have never known Raisuli to do anything except what he wanted, whether he was paid or not. No, it seems it was your knife that destined you to end up in my possession.”

“P-possession?” Kate stammered.

“Perhaps that was the wrong word,” the dey corrected himself, inviting her to be seated on a cushion near him. “Shall we say ‘in my care’, instead?”

“Please, I want to see my husband. He’s an Englishman. His name is—”

“I know who your husband is, and I know his name,” the dey stated, his smile a little strained. “I also know what he came here to do, and that does not make him my friend.”

“I don’t really know what he’s supposed to do, but I’m sure he doesn’t
want
to do anything you would dislike,” Kate stammered wildly, trying to think of something to say that would not anger this cold-eyed man. “He only does what his government wants.”

“And I do only what I want,” the dey murmured. “I am the government in Algeria, you see.” Kate did see, and it frightened her half to death.

“How did I get here? How did you know I was on the ship?”

“I knew of your husband, but I knew nothing of you. That was a pleasant surprise.” Kate didn’t think he looked particularly pleased. “You see, your captain warned me your English husband was coming here to interfere with my plans.”

“The captain?” Kate squeaked, unbelieving. “He wouldn’t do anything like that. He is an Englishman.”

“It is not a nice thing to betray one’s own country, even for money, but your captain did so. I am very sorry Raisuli killed him. He has been very helpful.”

“Raisuli killed him?”

“You did not know?” Kate shook her head. “Ah well, it is done with now. How you came to be here is much more interesting.”

“I was carried off by a foul brute,” Kate asserted, remembering the rough man who had locked her in a cabin and then thrown her across a horse the moment they landed. Her body still ached from that terrible ride to the squalid village where she had spent her first night.

“I do not know what your
brute
intended to do with you, but that is no longer a concern. He was a Moroccan peasant. They are less than camel dung.” The dey spat out a grape seed. “He was also stupid not to know beauty such as yours cannot go unremarked anywhere, especially in a country like Algeria. One of my representatives tried to bargain for you. Unfortunately, the man would not cooperate. He will not go to sea again.” Kate was appalled at the dey’s complete indifference to death. “I think my servant meant you to become a concubine in my harem, but by the time you arrived last night, the news of your husband’s loss had spread through all of Algiers, and no one had any doubt as to who you were.”

“Then you don’t want me for your harem?”