The Lion's Daughter (54 page)

“Your
vanity made you stupid,” she said. “You only wanted what
you could not have
—
Ali's
kingdom, a woman who hates you.”

“Nay,
I am merely your scapegoat. You have persuaded yourself to hate me. I
shall persuade you otherwise.”

She
wished he'd lose his temper, show some sign of hostility, because his
gentle patience was disquieting. His soft voice was like the silken
threads of a dangerous net.

He
looked down. “Listen to me.” He took her hand and closed
his lightly around it. “I was raised, educated for in
trigue.
I
can
make men
—
and
women
—
do
almost anything but see into my heart. The Almighty gave me an
attractive form and intelligence. These I learned to use as tools,
always with calculation. You know this of me.”

“I
know it well enough.” His nearness bothered her a great deal
more than it ought. He was only a man, and this was skill only, as he
said, a gift for making others do as he wished. Yet Esme couldn't
help recalling the superstitions about him: that he was not quite
human. The graceful fingers closed about hers disturbed her too much.
She had not been able to resist
Varian.
It
was
possible she was weak-minded about men, or certain kinds of men. It
was possible
—
nay,
likely
—
that
Ismal posessedd even greater skill and fewer principles than her
husband. Esme told herself she loved Varian and hated Ismal with all
her heart. All the same, Ismal's nearness, his touch, his scent ...
filled her with dread.

“
Don'
t be afraid of me,” he
said, making her heart hammer. She hastily assured herself he
couldn't read her mind. It was only her body that betrayed her: the
chill clamminess of the hand he held and the hurried pace of her
breathing. “If you don't want me to be afraid, then don't play
your games,” she said.

“You
want me to speak and act plain, as you do?” Ismal gave a small
sigh before lifting his gaze once more to hers. “I lost that
skill long ago. To live in Ali's court is to live an endless chess
game: to mislead and feign, always alert for traps ahead. Always, I
played the game well, until you came to Tepelena and sickened my
mind. But you shall cure me, little warrior. When we lie together, I
shall be part of you and you shall be part of me. In this way, you
will know me, and in time you will take pity.”

Esme
drew back, but didn't try to pull her hand away. She didn't want to
trigger a physical struggle she was all too likely to lose. “I
don't want you,” she said, “and it is monstrous to
imagine I could ever pity you.” “You don't understand.
Later, you will.” “
I
understand well enough. You mean to rape me. You talk

this
nonsense only to amuse yourself.”

He
clicked his tongue. “I abhor violence. If you wish violence, I
shall give you to my crew. When they are done with you, I think you
will find yourself in a more accommodating temper. Then I shall give
you a second chance, perhaps a third. I am not without patience.”

Esme
felt the blood draining from her face.

“It
would be much simpler to accept me,” he said. “I cannot
expect you to show eagerness for my embrace, but because you are
stoical, I can ask that you endure.”

“Endure?
Dishonor my wedding vows, cuckold my hus
—”

“
I
am your husband, by right,”
he said calmly. “I paid your bride-price and was cheated. When
I tried to claim you, I nearly paid with my life.”

'That
is nonsense. You have the chess set. You have reclaimed this
so-called bride-price many, many times over.” Esme kept her
voice as low and calm as his. “You are a savage, no better than
Ali.”

His
hand tightened about hers, and his blue eyes flashed briefly, but
that was all. His control was formidable. “That may be so, for
Ali made me what I am. If you want a better man, Esme, you must make
me one. Before this new day is ended, I will show you how.”

DAWN
DID NOTHING so decisive as break that day. Lumberingly it rolled upon
Newhaven in a heavy blanket of low clouds, a somber light slowly
penetrating the blackness of night.

As
he'd done countless times before, Jason—currently in the guise
of ship's surgeon, wearing a black wig and spectacles—scanned
the vessels in the harbor. He didn't allow himself to think, only to
see and let his instincts do the rest.

He
had let reason overrule his instincts at Gibraltar and wound up in
Cadiz, on board the wrong ship with an irate foreign minister. The
man loudly objected to having his vessel searched and thereafter
accused Jason of stealing valuable government documents. The
consequent complications had trapped Jason in Cadiz for more than a
week, and Ismal, who'd been mere hours ahead at that point, had
eluded him again.

J
ason
had sent word ahead to Falmouth.
Thence it should have traveled England's coast. It should, as well,
have reached London by now. Unfortunately, Ismal had already obtained
more than a week's lead. In that time he might have done anything,
gone anywhere. Jason swore under his breath, The hands were making
his small craft fast when he became aware of a bustle on a nearby
vessel. He stared hard at the ship, a small American-made schooner.
Sleek and fast, ships like this
—
though
usually larger
—
had
harassed British shipping to a frustrating degree during the last war
with the Americ
ans.
Jason
glanced at Bajo. The
Albanian's attention was fixed on the same vessel. Before Jason could
consult him, their captain aproached and gestured shoreward. A naval
officer was hurrying down the quay toward them. Jason hastened from
the ship to intercept him and, without a word, handed over his
papers.

“Yes,
sir, I've been expecting you,” said the officer. “Captain
Nolcott, at your service. I regret I've no news for you.” Jason
indicated the vessel which had alerted his instincts, “Tell me
about that little schooner,” he said. “The
Olympias?”

Bajo
approached. When Jason repeated the vessel's name, the bearlike man
smiled.

“The
man we seek fancies himself a descendant of the mother of Alexander,”
Jason explained to Captain Nolcott. “That was her name.”

“Can't
be the same man,” the captain said. “The owner's an
Englishman named Bridgeburton, and the ship's papers were all in
order. They're awaiting a foreign
trade official they're taking to Cadiz.”

“Bridgeburton's
body was pulled from a Venice canal a few months ago,” said
Jason. While the captain gazed at him in consternation, he went on to
explain that Bridgeburton was reputedly addicted to a particularly
lethal combination, absinthe and wine. Since no marks were found upon
the body, it was supposed he'd fallen into the canal in a state of
delirium. Jason's

Venice
co
ntacts
had
told him of the matter because Bridgeburton had recently come under
suspicion of smuggling and slave trading. They'd assumed he was
Ismal's source of weapons.

Jason
didn't tell Captain Nolcott and hadn't told his associates in Venice
that Bridgeburton had once been a friend. It was Bridgeburton who had
lent Jason the money to continue the endless game of hazard long,
long ago: the game Jason had scarcely remembered when he woke,
violently ill, late the next day
...
woke to find himself owing
Bridgeburton a fortune.

Jason
supposed he'd get the remaining answers soon enough, no matter how
much he dreaded having them.

At
present, however, Captain Nolcott was awaiting instructions. Jason
studied the harbor and quays. Newhaven had boasted a thriving
shipping trade early in the last century but, as the paltry
collection of vessels
—
mostly
fishing boats
—
sadly proclaimed, the trade had
gone elsewhere. One who wished to depart with a minimum of annoyance
might consider it an ideal site. It was a shorter distance from
London than Dover was. Dover's other disadvantage was the busy
traffic of post chaises racing to catch the packets to Calais.
Bridgeburton's name fully settled the matter.

“The
Olympias
looks
ready to be leaving soon,” Jason said. “If this wind
holds, there's nothing to stop her.”

“You
want her taken?”

Jason
was about to answer when he heard the clatter of wheels and hooves on
the cobblestones. He'd no need to look toward the sound. Bajo's
countenance and hasty retreat out of sight told him all he needed to
know.

Chapter
31

AS
THE CARRIAGE WAS SLOWING, ISMAL MOVED to sit beside Esme. “Do
nothing foolish when we disembark,” he warned. “You
cannot know who is in my pay and who is

not.
You will do as I request or prepare to satisfy the lusts of my crew.
Do you understand?”

Esme
looked bleakly out the window. He'd already explained sufficiently,
all the way from Lewes. Besides, she understood the British well
enough to see how minute were her

chances
of fiding a sympathetic rescuer. She was dressed in boy's clothes,
and her accent was noticeably foreign, despite Jason's efforts. No
one would believe she was a lord's wife, or

any
sort of lady. She bore no marks of ill usage to prove she'd been
taken against her will
—
while
Ismal possessed a heap of official-looking documents.

Any
attempt to escape now promised only failure
..
.
and finding herself in the
hands of Ismal's men. He'd not offer idle threats, or futile ones.
Death she could face courageously, he well knew. What he'd threatened
instead thoroughly terrified her, as he must also know. As the bile
rose in her throat, she cursed herself for being a coward. “I
hate you,” she said.

“
Shpirti
im,”
he whispered, “you
lie to yourself.” He began removing the pins from her hair.

Esme
remembered the bedroom at Mount Eden. Was it only two nights ago that
Varian had taken the pins from her hair? She remembered his urgent
hands upon her, inflaming her, and the aching tenderness of his words
of love.

She
should have heeded him. All he'd done was try to spare her discomfort
while he worked to redeem himself and make a life for them both. She
should have told him she loved him, believed in him, was proud of
him. Now he'd learn only of her shame. That was why Ismal loosened
her hair. He wanted the bystanders to notice the young red-haired
woman. Eventually, Varian would be told.

She
stared blindly out the window while Ismal finished his work.

“In
Tepelena, you so beautifully feigned your love for me,” he
said. “Now you will do so again, and those who watch will
understand you leave happily with me. Did you know Englishmen are
greatly aroused by the sight of a woman in trousers?” He smiled
tenderly. “You will wish to keep close to me, for protection.”

Soon
enough, she knew, she'd be as near as female could be to male. But
she'd endure what she must until her time came. Then he'd pay.

As
they alit from the carriage, Esme covertly studied her surroundings.
The village of Newhaven lay about half a mile behind them. If she
tried to run, she'd be caught long before she reached it. Upon the
cluttered wharves she spied several possible avenues of escape as
well as numerous places wherein she might be hopelessly trapped.

The
nearest and most formidable dead ends, however, lived and breathed in
the shape of Risto and Mehmet. Without a weapon, she had no chance at
all. Still, Ismal had armed himself before they left the carriage.
The pistol would be awkward at close quarters and clumsy to get in
the first place. The dagger, though
...
one stab only
...
and she'd cry “Murder!”
But how would this crowd react?

Esme
saw sailors and fishermen, mainly. Two men in naval uniforms were
talking to another man who wore a beaten old
tricorn
and equally ancient knee
breeches. He carried what looked like a surgeon's bag.

None
of those watching Ismal's party approach the boats looked
particularly friendly. On the other hand, none seemed obviously
hostile. They were all staring, but then, the likes of Risto and
Mehmet would not appear in this small port every day, nor yet elegant
likes of the mad but beautiful Ismal in his English garb. No matter
where he went, he attracted attention. “Didn't I warn you'd
arouse their lust?” Smiling, Ismal wrapped a protective arm
about her shoulders. “You will wish them to understand you are
mine.” Esme lifted her eyes with what she hoped was an
expression and forced her mouth into a besotted smile. Ismal drew her
closer and slowed their pace. “Soon you will look upon me in
this way without feigning.” His mouth brushed her ear. “So
you
keep
telling me.” Esme's sidelong glance took in the line of vessels
ahead. Though he'd not described his ship, she discerned two
reasonable possibilities. Both were very near now. There was little
time.