Captive Bride by Johanna Lindsey
Thoughts of Christina went through Philip’s mind as he paced the tent waiting for her to return. But when the sun went down and there was still no sign of her, a sickening dread came over him. He ran from the tent and, seeing Syed by the corral, told him to follow.
Philip broke out in a sweat as they galloped down the hillside, Syed desperately trying to keep up with him. After riding some distance in the direction Christina usually took, Philip saw two horses standing close to each other. The color drained from his face when he came closer and saw a body lying on the sand.
He jumped from his horse and ran to Ahmad. The wound was in the lower part of Ahmad’s chest; he had lost a lot of blood but was still alive. Syed arrived, and they forced some water down Ahmad’s throat. He finally opened his eyes. He looked from Philip to Syed and tried to sit up but was too weak from loss of blood.
“Can you talk, Ahmad?” Philip asked. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Ahmad looked at Philip through glazed eyes. “There were four desert men riding toward us at a fast speed. I—I raised my rifle to fire, but they shot me. That is all I can remember.” Ahmad strained to look about, and when he saw Christina’s horse he sank back onto the sand. “They have taken her?”
“It looks that way,” Philip replied. His body was tense, ready to do battle. He looked to the older brother. “Syed, you take Ahmad back to camp. Maidi will know what to do for him. I don’t know how long I will be, but do not follow. I will find Christina, and the man who shot your brother will die.”
“Allah be with you,” Syed replied as Philip mounted his horse.
The tracks from the kidnappers’ four horses could still be seen, since there had been no wind to cover them with sand. Philip followed the tracks with a speed Victory had never reached before. He kept seeing Christina’s frightened face, and he prayed that he could find her in time, before the men raped and sold her.
He should never have let her ride on the desert. If he had limited her to the camp, she would be there now. And he wouldn’t be fearing for her life. Please, God, let him find her in time!
Philip had a sick feeling in his heart as he tried to imagine what his life would be without Christina. He pictured the empty bed that he had shared with her, the empty tent that he had always been eager to enter, her beautiful, soft body that could tempt him so easily. How could another woman ever take Christina’s place? He couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing her again.
He must love her if he felt this way!
Philip had never believed he would fall in love. What a fool he had been! But what if he couldn’t find Christina? Worse, what if she didn’t want to be found? Well, he would find her or die trying, and he would force her to go back with him. He would rather live with her hate than live without her. Perhaps someday she would grow to love him in return.
Philip thanked heaven for the full moon that gave him enough light to follow the tracks. The hours passed by slowly, filled with his tortured thoughts, and the sun was high before Philip spotted the camp of a desert tribe in the distance. The tracks he followed led directly to the camp. It won’t be long now, Christina, he thought. I will find you and take you home.
Philip slowed his horse and entered the encampment. Several men came forward as he halted Victory in the center of the camp.
“I am looking for four men and a woman,” Philip said in Arabic. “They came through here, did they not?”
“You have come to the right place, Abu Alhamar. You will dismount and come with me.”
Philip turned to see the man who spoke. A rifle was pointed at his back, leaving him little choice. “How do you know who I am?”
“You have been expected. Come with me.”
Philip dismounted, and the man prodded him with the rifle toward a tent entrance. More armed men walked behind him, ready for his slightest move. How the devil do they know who I am? Philip wondered.
An old man at the far end of the tent stood up and looked Philip over. “It did not take you long to come, Sheik Abu. I have waited a long time for this moment.”
“What the hell is this all about?” Philip demanded. “How do you know who I am? I’ve never laid eyes on you before?”
“You have seen me before, but you would not remember. Perhaps you have heard of me? I am Ali Hejaz, sheik of this tribe and uncle to Rashid, your half-brother. Do you know me now?”
“I have heard your name before, but that’s all. Why were you expecting me?”
“Ah, I see your father kept the truth from you. Now I must tell you the whole story, so you will understand why I am going to kill you to avenge my sister’s death.”
“You must be crazy,” Philip laughed. “I’ve done nothing to you. Why do you want me dead?”
“I am not crazy, Abu Alhamar.” Ali Hejaz spoke calmly, relishing his moment of triumph. “You will soon learn why you must die. I knew you would fall into my trap, because I have your woman.”
“Where is she?” Philip exploded. “If you’ve hurt her—!”
“All in good time, Abu,” Ali Hejaz interrupted. “You may see her later, for the last time. Do not fear for her, for she will not be harmed in my camp. I am grateful to Christina Wakefield for bringing you to my vengeance. Later, I will return her to her brother for the reward.”
“How did you know about her?” Philip asked.
“You have so many questions! You see, Rashid visits me from time to time. He mentioned you were back from England, and that you were keeping a foreign woman as your mistress. It seems I have rescued Christina Wakefield from her abductor!” Ali paused. When he spoke again, his voice was filled with anger. “I also recently learned of Yasir’s death. I was cheated out of killing him myself, so you, his beloved son, will take his place!”
“What do you claim my father did?” Philip asked.
Ali Hejaz poured two glasses of wine and offered one to Philip. He declined, and Ali smiled. “It will be your last—I suggest you drink it. It is not poisoned, I assure you. I have a slower, crueler death planned for you.”
“Get on with your explanations, Hejaz. I wish to see Christina,” Philip replied. He took the wine and toasted the old man mockingly.
“I see you do not take me seriously yet. Ah, but you will when your slow death begins. However, you deserve to know why you are going to die.” Ali paused and drank from the glass he was holding.
“A very long time ago, your father and I were close friends. I would have done anything for Yasir. I also knew your mother, and I was with Yasir when you were born. I rejoiced for your father in those days. He had two fine sons and a woman he loved more than life itself. I remember holding you on my knee when you were only three years old and telling you stories. Can you remember that?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think you would. Those were happy days—until your mother left. She was a good woman, but she destroyed Yasir. He was never the same again. His wife gone, his two sons gone, Yasir felt he had nothing to live for. I suffered with him for three years, for I loved Yasir as a brother. I hoped he would forget your mother, and find happiness again. I had a sister named Margiana, a beautiful girl who adored Yasir. So I offered Margiana to Yasir in marriage.”
“But my mother and father were still married. How could he marry your sister?” Philip interrupted.
“Your mother had gone and was not coming back. It was the same as if she were dead. Yasir was free to marry again. He could make a new life and sire sons he could watch grow to manhood. So Yasir agreed to marry my sister. I was called away just then, and asked Margiana not to marry until my return. But she refused to wait.
“I was wounded while away and was bedridden for months. It took me almost two years to find my sister and Yasir’s tribe. Rashid, my sister’s son, was a year old then.
“And so the years passed, and I thought all was well with my sister. Yasir was still unhappy. He did not love Rashid as he had you. However, when I visited my sister she acted as though she were happy.
“After my sister told me the truth, she killed herself. It was as if Yasir had plunged the knife into her. He killed my sister, and on that day I swore revenge. I waited, but Yasir knew of my sworn hatred and never ventured from his camp alone. He never forgot I was waiting for him, and I waited too long. Yasir died a happy man, without suffering the way my sister suffered.”
“But all that has nothing to do with me. Why do you want me dead?” Philip asked. He believed the story. Yasir had lived with the memory of his first and only wife until the day he died. He probably never knew that Margiana loved him and was suffering because of it.
“You will take Yasir’s place,” said Ali Hejaz. “You, his beloved son, who were everything to him, as my sister was to me. You, who gave Yasir pleasure in his last years when he should have had none. You, the son of the woman who was to blame for my sister’s death. You, who are just like your father in every way, taking women without marriage and making them suffer.
“You shall die, and I will be avenged at long last.” Ali laughed, a short, satanic laugh. “Ah, but revenge is sweet. If only Yasir were here to see your death, I would be the happiest of men. I will even grant you a last wish if it is reasonable.”
“You are too kind,” said Philip sarcastically. “I would like to see Christina Wakefield now.”
“Ah yes, the woman. I did say that you could see her, did I not? But first I must warn you, I am afraid she met with a slight accident before she came here.”
“An accident? Where is she?” Philip demanded.
Ali Hejaz motioned to one of the men behind Philip. The man lifted a curtain at the back of the tent.
Philip saw Christina huddled on the floor. “Oh, my God!” he gasped. He bent down to touch her, but she didn’t move.
“I thought it best to drug her for a few days until the swelling goes down,” Ali said from behind him.
Philip stood up and turned very slowly to face the old man. The muscles in his cheeks twitched with the violent rage consuming him.
“Who did this?” he said quietly, emotions held tautly in check. “Who did this to her?”
“It should not have happened. The man who beat her has always been cruel to women. When she ran from him he went wild and beat her before my men could stop him. He will die, of course. I gave strict orders not to harm the woman, and he disobeyed me. I have not yet decided how he will die, but he will.”
“Give him to me,” Philip said grimly.
“What?”
“Give the man who did this to me. You have granted me one request. I want the man who beat her.”
Ali looked at Philip incredulously, then his old eyes widened. “Of course! It is right that you have the honor. I have no doubt you will win, but it will be a fair fight. You will fight with knives, immediately, in the center of the camp. After Cassim dies, you shall die a slower death.”
Philip followed the old man from the tent. He could think only of killing the man who had dared hurt Christina.
“Bring Cassim out and tell him what is expected,” Ali ordered.
Ali took his own knife from his belt and handed it to Philip. “When the fight is over, you will throw down the knife and offer no resistance. If you do not, Christina Wakefield will never be returned to her brother, but will be sold into slavery. Do you understand?”
Philip nodded and took the knife. He stuck it into his waistband, removed his robe and tunic, then grasped the knife in his right hand. Cassim was brought out of a nearby tent, fear showing clearly on his face. He was dragged forward to stand before Philip.
“I will not fight this man!” Cassim screamed. “If I must die, then shoot me!”
“Stand up and fight like a man. Or I will have your heart torn from your living body!” Ali shouted.
Philip felt no pity for the man cowering before him. All he could see was Christina’s swollen face. “Prepare to die, woman-beater.”
Cassim was released and fell back a few feet, then lunged forward. But Philip was ready for him. He stepped aside, and his knife caught Cassim in the right arm, below the shoulder. They circled each other warily, arms outstretched. Cassim jabbed forward again, intending to stab Philip in the chest. But Philip moved like lightning striking its unsuspecting victim. He cut downward on Cassim’s extended arm, slicing it to the bone. Cassim dropped his knife to the ground, staring dumbfounded at the wound. Philip backhanded him across the face, knocking him down.
He gave Cassim time to retrieve his knife, then attacked again. Cassim was obviously no knife-fighter and his fear made him careless and an easy victim for Philip’s skill.
Philip knew many tricks he had learned from his father, but he had no need of tricks now. Philip’s knife struck Cassim again and again until he was covered with his own blood. Philip finally tired of the game and cut his throat. Cassim fell forward onto the sand.
Philip felt disgusted. He wouldn’t have believed that he had such violence in him. How could he kill a man so mercilessly? The man would have died anyway, and he deserved to suffer for hurting Christina, but Philip felt sick for executing him. He threw the knife down beside Cassim’s body and walked over to Ali Hejaz.
“You do not look pleased, Abu. Perhaps you will feel better knowing that Cassim also shot your tribesman.”
“There’s no way to feel better after killing a man,” Philip replied.
“When you have waited many years to kill a man, as I have, revenge can be pleasurable,” said Ali. “You will go with my men now. Remember that you hold Christina Wakefield’s future in your hands. Also, I have ordered my men to shoot if you try to escape. A wound in an arm or a leg will only make your death more agonizing.”
The men seized Philip and led him behind Ali Hejaz’s tent. Four stakes stood embedded in the sand, with ropes attached to each. He knew then how he was going to die.
He gave no resistance. The men spread-eagled him on his back and tied his arms and legs to the stakes. Philip heard one man whisper, “Forgive me,” then he left. The other man walked to the shade of Ali’s tent and sat down to guard Philip.
Guard against what? Philip wanted to know. He could not escape. It was late afternoon, but the sun would beat down for at least two more hours. He felt a slight hunger, but that was the least of his worries.
Not much damage would be done today, but tomorrow his suffering would begin. Would he be able to stand it? Could he will himself to die?
He would force himself to stay awake this night, that was the only way. The two nights and days he had gone without rest would enable him to sleep tomorrow, and perhaps he would die quickly in the hot sun without ever waking.
An hour passed, and Philip was already fighting to stay awake. A shadow loomed over him, and he opened his eyes to see Ali Hejaz.
“I think it is ironic that you should die this way, don’t you? You wanted to live under our sun and make Yasir happy, so it is only fitting that you die under our sun. It is not a pleasant way to die. Your tongue will swell. But I do not want you to choke to death too soon. You will be given enough water to prevent that. You will suffer long, as the sun bakes you alive. And if you thought of staying awake this night and sleeping through your suffering tomorrow, I will have to disappoint you. I drugged your wine slightly, and you will sleep tonight.” Ali laughed as he put an end to Philip’s only hope. “You look surprised, Abu. But, as you see, I have thought of everything. Yes, you will be awake tomorrow when the sun rises. Have a pleasant nig
Philip pulled against the ropes with all his strength, but there was no hope for escape. He slept.
THE PAIN IN his eyes brought Philip awake. When he opened them, he stared directly into the late morning sun and was blinded for a minute. He wondered for a moment why he had slept outside, until he tried to rise and felt the pain in his shoulders.
So—the sun was already doing its work, he thought when he looked down at his burned chest and arms. At least Hejaz had been wrong about one thing—he had not been awake to see the sun rise. Philip lay perfectly still.
The sun was directly above him now. Philip’s tongue felt foreign in his mouth, like a piece of dry cloth. The sweat baked from his body hurt him as it rolled over burned skin. How long could he last? He forced himself to think of pleasant things and lost himself in thoughts of Christina.
Philip heard a voice calling him from a distance, pulling him out of his unconsciousness as it became louder. He opened his eyes with an effort to see Ali Hejaz standing beside him. He tried to speak, but his mouth was too dry and his lips were cracked and blistered.
“So—you are still alive. You must have a strong desire to live.” Ali turned to the guard standing beside him. “Give him a few drops of water, but no more.”
The guard dribbled a few drops of water into Philip’s mouth, and Ali said, “Tomorrow morning should finish you off. If you still live, I will have one of my men kill you, because we must break camp tomorrow and move on. The water here is running low. I would take you with me and stake you out again, but your tribesmen will come searching for you soon. You will die tomorrow, one way or the other. Pleasant dreams, Abu.”
The sun went down, but Philip was still on fire. The water he had been given had only teased his senses. He thought of Christina lying only a few feet away from him in Hejaz’s tent. At least she was sleeping through this nightmare. But she might enjoy seeing him roasted alive. After all, she hated him. Well, soon she would be back with her brother, as she’d always wanted.