Devil's Daughter by Catherine Coulter
“My lord,” Hamil said, “your sister can do nothing outrageous for a time. She is still recovering in her bed, and quite safe at the moment. We must wait.”
“Wait for what? Wait until my father arrives? Wait until Kamal murders my sister?”
“No. We wait for Kamal to leave his palace. He is known to go into Oran, among the people. I will move quickly when he does.”
The air was charged with violence, and Rayna said, “Your half-brother Kamal. You paint him one minute with a treacherous brush, Hamil, and the next as an honorable man.”
“I suppose it is true. I am torn by doubts. I would have sworn upon everything I hold precious that he never coveted my power or my position. He was educated in Europe, you see, and I wondered if he would ever return to live in Oran. I doubt that he is much of a Muslim now, though it is his duty to be so, and that worries me, for how can a man who does not truly believe in the Muslim ways rule effectively? At least he has Hassan.”
“Who is Hassan?” Rayna asked.
“My minister, now Kamal’s, I trust. A wily old fox who would gladly give his life to see justice done and to keep power in the hands of my father’s sons.”
“How often have you seen your half-brother, Hamil?” Adam asked.
Hamil shrugged. “He visited Oran rarely in the past nine years. I grew to know him best, I think, through his letters. I learned much of the European mind from him, for, you see, he thinks like you, my lord. He sees more than I do in Oran. He understands Napoleon and he understands the English hatred and fear of him. He is an intelligent man.”
“Perhaps,” Adam said suddenly, “I could see him. Privately.”
“No,” Hamil said. “All that would result from such a meeting would be your capture.” Seeing that Adam would continue to argue with him, he said coldly, “I cannot be responsible for Rayna’s safety. I have waited many months, my lord, thought and planned. I regret your sister’s involvement, but it does not change what I must do.”
Rayna said suddenly, “You know, Adam, that Arabella would never give herself to a man she does not care for.”
Adam said wearily, “She doubtless gave herself to bargain for my parents’ safety.”
Hamil laughed. “Perhaps that was one of your sister’s motives, my lord. But know this. Kamal is a handsome man, well-formed, and young. Women have been offering themselves willingly to him since he was a lad.” He added with a grin, “He does not look dark and fierce like me or your lord, Rayna. He is golden as the sun, with eyes the color of the Mediterranean.”
“Oh,” Rayna said.
Adam cursed. He tried to imagine his sister succumbing to a man out of passion, but failed. She had never cared for a man in all her twenty years, and many of the gentlemen buzzing around her had been handsome and quite polished. But he couldn’t imagine her bending to a man who was her enemy, a man who threatened their parents. No, she would have given herself to Kamal only to bargain for their parents’ safety. But she has no experience, he thought, no guile. His fear for her sharpened, for she knew no middle ground. He cursed again. “We are so near to Oran. It does not sit well with me to be idle.”
“Nonetheless,” Hamil said, steel in his voice, “you will do as I bid, my lord.” He rose and dusted off his white trousers. “And if you are tempted to go against my orders, remember your red-haired wench. Tomorrow we will learn more. I bid you good night.”
Rayna was fiercely glad that she was Adam’s responsibility. He would do nothing foolish with her in his charge. “Please, Adam,” she said. “Hamil is no fool.”
“I know he is not,” Adam said, “but it does not change how I feel.” He pictured Arabella lying beneath Kamal, and he saw red.
Rayna sought to distract him, and quickly rose to wind her arms about his waist. “All will be well, my lord. You will see.” She rose on her tiptoes to kiss him.
He made love to her, slowly, watching her as she reached her climax. Was he treating Rayna, he wondered, as he prayed Kamal had treated Arabella? His fury at the man he had never seen washed over him once again, and he took his own pleasure quickly, violently.
Rayna clutched her arms around Adam’s back when he would leave her.
“Love,” he whispered against her temple, “the ground is hard. I don’t want to crush you. Let me go.”
But she didn’t. She knew that he was again thinking about Arabella.
Finally she let him ease off her and roll to his back. When he pulled her against him, she pressed her cheek to his shoulder and rested her leg over his belly.
“It won’t be much longer, Adam. I am afraid too. Not just for Arabella, but for our parents. You know my father will not sit idle in Naples.”
“No, he won’t. Likely my father has seen him. Lord only knows what they will do.”
“Perhaps, my father will be more reasonable when I see him again.”
“You have that much faith in your sire?”
“Perhaps I have more faith in your virility, my lord.”
“You little wretch.” He broke off, knowing that if his child were growing in her womb, he had only himself to blame. And he had continued to make love to her. He couldn’t seem to help himself, no matter the arguments to the contrary.
“Where will we go on our wedding trip?” she asked.
“To Greece, if it pleases you. We will take the Cassandra and sail the Aegean.”
“It pleases me, my lord. It pleases me much.”
She felt him tense, even as he said, “Do not worry, Rayna, I will not do anything foolish.”
“Father, she is beautiful. She is named Fearless. Just like Mother’s sailboat. Ah, to be on the sea is to be free.” She unfurled the mast, laughing as the rising wind tore through her hair. The sunlight was so bright, she had to squint and shade her eyes with her hand.
Then it was dark and she was crying. “Oh God, she is dead and I killed her. The fence was too high for her. Father, Diana was so proud, and I killed her.” She heard a voice speaking to her, easing through the darkness.
“Papa? Please forgive me, Papa.”
She felt hands lightly stroking her hair back from her forehead. “I forgive you,” the voice said. “You must think only of getting well now. Do you understand, cara?”
“Yes, Papa. Why did she have to die?”
“It’s all right, sweetheart. No, you mustn’t move. Lie still. Drink this and you will sleep.”
She did as she was bid. She felt his hands on her shoulders holding her up while the rim of the goblet touched her lips. How odd that her back hurt so badly.
Suddenly the darkness was closing in on her, and she cried out, “Don’t leave me, Papa. Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t leave you. I promise.”
She felt strong fingers close over her hand, and she sighed deeply, calm now. She drifted back into a bottomless sleep where there was no light and no dreams.
Kamal slowly pulled away his hand. He sat back in his chair. She believed him her father, a man who obviously loved his child. Ah, Arabella, what have you done to me? You are as willful as the sea, as unpredictable as the desert wind, and I am drawn to you as a moth to a bright flame. Your beauty makes me tremble even as your foolish pride makes me want to thrash you. And now I have hurt you, and if you did not hate me before, you will now. I have lost you, yet never possessed you, save for that single night.
“What in God’s name am I to do?”
He did not realize he had spoken aloud until he heard Raj’s. “I do not know, highness. You are tired. I will stay with her now, if it is your wish.”
“She drank more of the drug.”
“She will sleep for many hours now, highness.”
Kamal raised troubled eyes to the eunuch. “She dreams and speaks. She thought me her father.”
“Then I shall be her father as well, if she again speaks.”
Kamal felt weariness seep into his bones. Slowly he rose and closed his fingers about Raj’s arm. “Call me if she worsens.”
Raj watched Kamal walk from Arabella’s small chamber. He smiled sadly. Life was a simple matter for a Muslim, with a law for every situation, but for a man like Kamal, Raj could foresee only unhappiness, for the Englishwoman would leave, and if Kamal harmed her father, her hatred would live with him for all his years. He started at the sound of Kamal’s tired voice. “If she awakens, Raj, do not send for me, and do not tell her that I was here. I wish her to get well, and the sight of me would likely make her relapse.”
Raj nodded. It was true, and nothing could change it.
“Oh, Lella, surely your baby must come soon.”
“It is my fervent plea to Allah each hour. I told Kamal . . .”
She broke off, seeing Arabella’s face pale.
“Does your back pain you still?” she asked.
Arabella shifted slightly against the soft pillows.
“No, there is nearly no pain now. But I am bored, Lella. Two days I have sat about doing nothing.”
“You must rest to regain your strength.”
“For what reason? So that Kamal may again humiliate me? Perhaps force me to his bed? Call me a harlot and a liar?”
Lella sighed. “Oh my,” she gasped suddenly, hugging her arms about her great belly.
“What is it?” Arabella pushed herself upright, her eyes upon Lella’s astonished face.
“The baby. I think my time has come.”
Arabella made to rise.
“Lie still. I will have the midwife fetched. You will stay here and pray that I bear a son.”
Lella rose awkwardly while Arabella watched her helplessly. Arabella forced herself to relax against the soft pillows after Lella left her. She prayed and she thought. Occasionally she could hear Lella’s screams. Would it be her own screams she heard in the future? Her own screams to bring forth Kamal’s child? She didn’t want to think about him. He’d had her beaten. He was her enemy; he had to be her enemy. As she swung her legs over the side of the bed, she felt only a tightness in her back. She had refused Raj’s drug that morning, preferring a clear head to the vagueness that had woven haunting dreams. The remembered dreams became vivid to her now, and suddenly she realized that in them her father had spoken to her, had calmed her and stroked her.
It had been Kamal.
“No.” She heard footsteps nearing her chamber and quickly lay again on her back and closed her eyes.
“Lady Arabella?”
“Raj,” she said. “How is Lella?”
“She is fine.”
“I have heard her screams.”
“Birthing is a painful process. It will be many hours yet. I have brought you food and a special drink.”
She didn’t want the drink but it was better to play docile and drowsy. Better to pretend. Lella was giving birth; surely there would be excitement and perhaps carelessness. Perhaps she would be able to slip away. Freedom.
Arabella saw that she was right as the afternoon dragged on. Raj was with Lella, and most of the harem girls talked in small clusters near Lella’s chambers. She dressed in a loose silk robe, pulled on blue leather slippers, brushed the tangles from her hair, and tied it back with a bit of ribbon.
She walked slowly about the gardens, her eyes straying to the high walls and the double gates. There was a tall willow tree whose branches fell over the side of the far wall. Arabella stared at it, not for its beauty, but for its potential as a means of escape. Slowly she began to smile. Did the ridiculous men believe the girls in the harem too weak to climb a tree and escape? There was likely a guard on the other side of the wall, but to Arabella that was just as she wished it. She had no illusions about a woman escaping from Oran, but a man would have a chance.
She realized she had no money. But Raj must have money—that, or jewels—in his chambers.
Arabella heard another scream. Oh, Lella, please be all right. You are my only friend here. She wanted to go to Lella, but she knew Raj expected her to be asleep from the drug he had given her. Slowly she made her way back to her chamber, there to pace and plan and worry about Lella.
It was near to nine o’clock at night. There was but a sliver of moon in the sky as Arabella left her chamber. Everyone was still with Lella, including Lena, who had brought Arabella her supper and then left her, telling her not to worry, that Lella was holding her own and the babe would be birthed soon.
It had been child’s play, Arabella thought, a grim smile on her face, to steal a small bag of gold coins from Raj’s chambers. She fastened the leather pouch at her waist and patted her braided hair, wound tightly about her head.
She slipped through the garden like a silent shadow and made her way to the willow tree. Ah, Lella, she thought as she carefully climbed among the branches, you have given me my chance for freedom. She smiled, thinking about the wadded clothes and pillows she had formed in her shape on the bed. With any luck at all, no one would know she had escaped until morning.
Arabella paused at the top of the wall, staring over the side. There was one man patrolling the perimeter, and he looked anything but alert. She sent another silent plea heavenward, holding herself perfectly still until the guard was at least twenty yards away from her. She studied the rocky ground below, then wriggled down on the wall until her feet were dangling. She let go and landed lightly on the ground. There was no sound from the guard. She quickly selected a rock and drew back against the wall, waiting for the guard to come.
He was a young man, and not overly large, and he was whistling a lighthearted tune. Well, I am sorry, she told him silently, but you are going to have a great headache.
He saw her in the same instant the rock was slamming toward his head. He grunted in astonishment, then crumpled to the rocky ground.
Arabella paused but an instant before pulling off his clothes. He was wearing a flowing burnoose over his uniform, none too clean, but of great value to Arabella, for it would hide her hair and every unmasculine curve of her body. Once in his clothes, she straightened over him and softly cursed. She had nothing with which to bind him. She shrugged because there was no hope for it, and dragged him into the shadow of the wall.
“Sleep a long time,” she said, then turned and began to make her way down the treacherous slope toward Oran and the harbor.
“Highness, your sister-in-law has given birth to a son.”
Kamal was alert immediately, a wide smile on his face. “Excellent, Ali. Is Lella all right?”
“Yes, highness. It is after midnight—do you still wish to see her?”
“Indeed, just for a moment.”
Kamal dressed quickly and made his way to the harem, Ali at his heels. He found Lella looking pale and exhausted, her son bundled in her arms.
“Well, my sister”—he smiled down at her—“you have given Hamil a son, and me a nephew.”
“He is perfect, Kamal, and the image of his father.”
“I would have expected no less of you, Lella.” He sat beside her and pulled back the linen cover from his nephew’s face. “Ah, he does not have all his father’s beauty, praise Allah.”
Lella’s smile suddenly saddened and tears formed in her eyes. She turned her face away, but Kamal gently touched his fingers to her jaw. “I understand, Lella. I loved him too, you know.”
“Yes, I know. Kamal, why did it happen? He was as much at home on a ship as on land. How could he have fallen overboard?”
He held her and her son, his own pain heavy while her tears fell on his neck. “Sometimes,” he said, “I think we are here to play the fool for some force that we do not understand. There is no escape from our own miseries. All is duty, honor to rules that we did not make. All is acceptance.”
“Must you give her up, Kamal?”
His arms tightened about her, then eased. Gently he lowered her onto her pillow and straightened. He looked tired and beaten.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Do not be, Lella.” He gazed about her chamber. “Can you honestly see Arabel
He kissed her gently on her pale cheek, then rose. “It is nearly mid—” His voice broke off at the loud shouts coming from outside.
“What the devil?”
Raj, his face drawn and shaking from exertion, rushed into the chamber. “Highness. She is gone. The guard on the eastern wall was found unconscious, stripped of his clothes.”
Kamal felt his blood run cold. He heard a muffled shriek from Lella, but didn’t turn his eyes from Raj. Very calmly he said, “Bring me the guard, quickly.”
He was in Arabella’s chamber, the bundle of clothes she had formed beneath the covers in his hands, when the guard, clothed only in a loincloth, stumbled before him.
His first thought was that with a man’s clothes she would have some protection. “Tell me what happened,” he said.
“I seek a ship bound for Genoa.” Arabella said the words again and again, trying to lower her voice to the gruffness of a man’s. Sweat beaded on her forehead, from fear and exertion. The perilous climb down the steep hill from the palace to the city had left her aching and her breath short.
The city looked ghostly under the sliver of moon, and the eerie silence made her heart pound so loud she feared discovery at any moment. She winced with each step she took, for the guard’s boots were too large and had rubbed her heels raw.
The closer she came to the harbor, the more her fear grew. An unarmed man alone would as easily be the victim of robbers as would a woman. She clung to the shadows, refusing to give in to her fear.
The shadows became men—pirates or simple fisher-men, Arabella didn’t know. She heard them laughing and talking in Arabic. She walked on toward a three-masted ship, her head down, concentrating on nothing more than her next step.
Almost there. She heard men call out to her, but she only shook her head, as if she were on an errand of grave importance. She heard a group of men closing behind her but she was too afraid to turn to face them. She waved toward the ship. A deep voice that came out of a nightmare rang out behind her, in fluent Italian.