Devil's Daughter by Catherine Coulter
Adam looked into his sister’s eyes and realized that she was no longer the same girl he had known in Naples. She had changed; she was a woman. What the hell, he thought, would his father do? He cleared his throat. “I have another surprise for you, Bella.” He turned and waved to a small figure astride a horse. “Come here, Rayna.”
“Rayna.” Arabella began to laugh. “Oh, Kamal, my brother has finally met his match. Rayna, my shy Rayna.”
“Ha,” Adam said. “She has been nothing but trouble since I met her. She stowed on board with me to come and save you.”
The two girls clasped each other, each laughing and crying while the men watched them with amused tolerance.
“Women,” Hamil said, shaking his head.
Rayna, like Arabella, was dressed in men’s clothes. “I was so scared for you, Bella,” Rayna said, stroking her friend’s arms. “Adam kept telling me that you would be all right.”
“And you, Rayna, you left your father’s house?”
“Yes. I fear he will be furious with me.” She did not sound at all concerned and Arabella shook her head in wonderment.
Hamil turned to his brother. “We must talk, Kamal. There is much I have to tell you and much that must be decided.”
Kamal nodded and motioned toward a clump of oleanders some feet away. He heard the girl Rayna say to Arabella, “He looks like a Viking, Bella. So handsome.”
“That is not all,” Arabella said, smiling wickedly.
“The woman, Lady Arabella,” Hamil said thoughtfully as they walked together, “you truly wish to have her?”
“Yes,” Kamal said. “And you, Hamil, have now given her to me?”
Hamil nodded. They would speak more about it later.
They sat cross-legged beneath a skinny-branched oleander.
“Tell me what happened, Hamil,” Kamal said quietly.
He listened to his half-brother speak calmly of the storm, of the men who tried to murder him, of Antonio and Ria and his months on Sardinia. “When I was strong enough, I made my way to Cagliari. I discovered that you had returned to Algiers and taken my place.” He paused a moment, staring toward the men who were now staking the horses and enlarging the camp. “I did not want to believe that you had been the one who betrayed me. It took me but a month to discover who the person was.”
Kamal became very still. Slowly, pain and inevitability heavy in his voice, he said, “My mother.”
“Yes. I am saddened.”
“She will probably return to Oran shortly.” He paused a moment. “My mother sent me Arabella.”
Hamil nodded. “Lord St. Ives, Adam Welles, has told me much. I fear, Kamal, that your mother has created a fabric of lies that we may never entirely unravel.”
“Why? Why, Hamil, did she do this?”
Hamil heard the suffering in his brother’s voice, and sought to excuse her, for Kamal’s sake. “She knew great bitterness in my father’s harem. Her mind is not like a Muslim woman’s. She must have hated her imprisonment and our father.”
“And the Earl of Clare? Is he the villain she has painted to me?”
“Tell me what she told you. It is a piece of the puzzle Adam Welles could not provide.” Hamil listened intently, then said, “Her disappointment twisted her. I do not know how she came to my father. I was but a small boy then and was not in his confidence. But the Earl of Clare—” He paused a moment, then said quickly, “He is a man, not a coward. Were he to kill, he would do it outright, not skulk about on his belly, weaving vicious plots. I suppose there is much of him in his son, Adam, and he is an honorable man.”
“It is the same with his daughter.”
“Have you taken her to your bed?”
“Yes, and I will take her to wive. She is bright as the sun, as proud as an untamed gazelle, and loyal. Shall I tell you what she has done to me since I met her but a week ago?”
When the brothers returned to the camp, Hamil was still grinning over Arabella’s actions. “Her brother, Adam,” Hamil said, “has likewise been taken by a slip of a girl. The earl will be greeted by a double surprise.”
“Yes,” Kamal said, wondering what now awaited him, “he will indeed.”
“I believe, Kamal, that I am content with my Lella and my son.”
Chapter 28
Arabella gazed at Hamil intently for a moment, then asked, “Why did you not return directly to the palace when you arrived in Oran?”
A woman without a veil, a woman who looked a man straight in the eyes. Like Ria, Hamil thought, and smiled. “I had to know if Kamal had anything to do with my betrayal. One of my men discovered he had left the city with you. I was relieved, for I wanted to speak to him privately.”
“That is reasonable,” Arabella said, and Hamil, who wouldn’t have thought to ask a woman if she agreed with him or not, shook his head, bemused. She turned slightly in her saddle and smiled toward Rayna, who was in shy conversation with Kamal. “Kamal is hurt,” she continued. “I knew that his mother was a well, not a very nice person, but how could I expect him to believe me? You know, it is odd. Even though she drugged me and had me sent here, there were times when I thought she actually liked me.”
Hamil, who hadn’t the vaguest idea of how to deal with Kamal’s mother, merely nodded. He was hoping that she had heard he was not dead, and disappear.
“Lella loves you,” Arabella said unexpectedly, jerking Hamil from his twisting thoughts. “And she was my friend. You are very lucky, Hamil.”
“Yes,” he said, “I am.”
“Do you have other wives?”
“Yes, one other, but she died in childbirth. Lella is my only wife now.”
“But you keep many women in your harem, and use them, all in front of Lella.”
Hamil strove for patience. “It is our way,” he said. At her look of disapproval, he said, “Men have needs that one woman cannot—”
“Bosh. That is ridiculous.” She turned sharply in her saddle and frowned at him, Hamil El-Mokrani, the Bey of Oran. “How can a man ever justify hurting his wife by taking other women to his bed, especially when his wife loves him with all her heart? It is cruel and selfish.”
“Lella,” he said, “understands and accepts what she is. She is not outspoken and rude like European women.”
“I do not understand,” Arabella said, “why it is that Lella, your wife, cannot also have a harem filled with handsome young men. After all”—she shrugged elaborately—“women do have needs, you know, and you are but one man.”
Hamil stared at her. The thought of Lella in another man’s arms made him nearly blind with rage.
“Do not be angry with me,” Arabella said kindly, reaching over and patting his sleeve. “Kamal told me once that most Muslim men would throw me to the dogs for my sharp tongue. But,” she added, “if I were a man, and lucky enough to have Lella, I shouldn’t want anyone else.”
“You, my lady,” Hamil said, “will drive my brother mad.”
“Oh, no,” Arabella said, “Kamal does not need to prove his manhood by flaunting dozens of other women in front of my nose.”
“Kamal,” Hamil shouted over his shoulder. “Come and remove this woman before I am forced to teach her manners.”
Arabella laughed gaily. “If by manners you mean submission, I doubt that even you could succeed, Hamil. Poor Lella.” Hamil heard her bright laughter as she wheeled her horse about to join Kamal. Outrageous female, he thought, shaking his head. A woman with a harem. But the thought of Lella, hurt because she shared him with other women, gave him pause.
“Few survive a battle of wits with my sister,” Adam said, reining in beside Hamil. “Even, I see, the great Bey of Oran. Is your hide still intact?”
“Your father did Kamal a great disservice,” Hamil said. “A woman should understand that—”
“Ah,” Adam said, laughing, interrupting him, “she did poke a few holes in your hide.”
“She had the ignorant effrontery to suggest that women should have harems fille
Adam could think of no response, he was laughing so hard. He sobered quickly enough when their cavalcade reached Oran. Hamil had removed his kufiyah so that his people would recognize him. Adam gave his place to Kamal so that the two brothers rode side by side up the narrow path to the palace.
“I hope,” Kamal said, “that old Hassan will not collapse at the sight of you, my brother.”
“I only hope he will want me back after these months with you.”
“He has suggested upon occasion that I have shown more wisdom than he had expected.”
They reined in at the fort. Hamil and Kamal met with the Turkish captain, then rejoined the others and continued to the palace. Kamal’s face was a set mask at the news the captain had given them.
“Brother,” Hamil said, replacing his kufiyah, “I believe it best that you greet your mother as the Bey of Oran.” At Kamal’s startled look, he covered his brother’s hand with his own and said softly, “Let me remain dead for a while. I know it saddens you, but for your peace, she must admit to what she has done. Perhaps,” he added, not really believing his own words, “she now regrets her actions.”
Kamal nodded, and Hamil left him alone while he spoke to the others.
Hamil watched the obeisances made to Kamal by his Turkish soldiers at the palace. He hung back with Adam and Rayna, pulling his kufiyah farther down over his brow.
“You found her.” Hassan bore down on Kamal and Arabella, beaming at Kamal. It was but an excuse. He whispered hurriedly to Kamal, “Your mother arrived yesterday. She was told by Raj that you had the woman beaten. She was pleased.”
Kamal merely nodded and strode forward, Arabella at his side, into, ironically to Kamal, the Hall of Justice. His mother, gowned not as a Muslim woman but as a European, stood beside his great chair. Her black hair looked glossy and was artfully piled about her face with small ringlets. Kamal felt sick at the sight of her joyous, triumphant expression.
“My son.” Giovanna gracefully stood on her toes to hug her son’s shoulders and kiss him lightly on his cheek. She was not aware that Kamal did not return her greeting, for her eyes fell upon Arabella, looking for all the world like a dirty waif. But she still had those proud eyes, Giovanna thought. Kamal had not broken her pride.
“Raj told me, my son, that the girl escaped you after you had her beaten. I see you found her.”
“Yes,” Kamal said. “I found her.”
He wanted to pull his mother into his private suite, to hide her shame and his, but Hamil would not be able to follow. He gazed at his brother from the corner of his eye, standing at the back of the hall, his head slightly lowered.
“Well, Lady Arabella,” Giovanna said, “have you enjoyed my son?”
Arabella smiled at her. “Actually, he is not as polished a lover as all my others, contessa. The gentlemen at the court of Naples”—she gave a delightful little shudder—“particulary the comte, were so gallant, so civilized.”
“You lie. You were a virgin. I protected you against violation so that you would come to my son undiseased.”
“Then why did you write to me that she was a slut, Mother?”
Giovanna drew up at the sound of her son’s calm voice. Too calm. She drew in her breath. “So that you would use her, my son, use her as I was used. So that she would experience what her parents forced me to experience.”
“I had thought, Mother,” Kamal continued in the same calm voice, “that we agreed that the children of the Earl and Countess of Clare were not to be involved.”
“I had no choice,” Giovanna said. “The earl was too cowardly to come to Naples as I had hoped. His daughter—”
She broke off as Hassan gestured to Kamal. She frowned at the old man, but Kamal turned to him and listened to him. Kamal straightened and turned back to his mother. “It seems, madam,” he said, “that you will have your wish. The Earl of Clare has come to Oran and awaits outside.”
Giovanna closed her eyes as joy swept through her. Nearly twenty-six years had passed. And now he was her prisoner, the man who had spurned her. Would he look his years, be old and bent, his face wizened and ugly with age? Would he recognize her? She touched her fingers to her face, feeling the lines. Better to savor the revenge that was now hers, and not the old flare of desire that had made her ache.
Anthony Welles, the Earl of Clare, paused in the entrance, gazing about the large chamber. His eyes fell upon his daughter, and he smiled at the proud tilt of her head and the calm expression on her lovely face. Adam had assured him but moments ago that Arabella was unharmed, but his anxiety had not vanished until he saw her. He hoped that Edward Lyndhurst, speechless upon seeing Rayna clothed like a boy and standing in the curve of Adam’s arm, would not erupt until this business was done.
Giovanna’s breath caught at the sight of him. Age had touched him, but not as she would have expected. He was still tall and upright, his shoulders wide, his body lean. His once-black hair was streaked with white, but his dark eyes as they touched her face were as vibrant as they had always been. Soon, she thought, he would be pleading with her to save his precious daughter. How she would delight in telling him that her son had taken Arabella’s valuable virginity, treated her as he would any slave, and beaten her. How she would enjoy his humiliation, his rage, his helplessness.
The earl nodded to his daughter, staying her with his hand, and walked toward Giovanna.
“You have finally come,” Giovanna said.
“As you see, Giovanna,” the earl said.
“And your countess. Did she willingly send you to your punishment alone?”
The earl raised his eyes and smiled at her. “Actually, Giovanna, my wife would now be at my side, despite my wishes, but she had the misfortune to badly sprain her ankle. You have seen my daughter, Giovanna. Her face must give you the memory of Cassandra’s beauty.”
“She will come.” Giovanna said. “Were it not for her, you would have wed me.”
“Do you really believe that, Giovanna?” the earl asked pleasantly. “I fear, contessa, that your character now shows on your face.”
Giovanna’s hands flew to her cheeks. “My son has rutted your daughter, my lord. Rutted her as a stallion ruts a mare. She is ruined.”
The earl’s expression did not alter. Slowly he turned to face his daughter. “Are you ruined, my dear?”
“No, Papa,” Arabella said. “I am not ruined. It is true, I promise you.”
The earl’s face gave nothing away. “Giovanna,” he said slowly, turning back to her, “did you not tell your son that you and my half-brother tried to have Cassandra killed? That she was brutally raped and would have died had I not saved her in time? Did you not tell him that I had broken with you long before I brought Cassandra to Genoa, that I no longer wanted you as my mistress? Did you not tell him that Khar El-Din captured you and my half-brother for the ten-thousand-pound reward I promised for the villains?”
“It is not true,” Giovanna yelled. “You lie, my lord. You lie to save yourself and your precious daughter.”
“Why would I lie, Giovanna? You have paid for your crime, and the years have dulled my vengeance toward you.”
“No. It is my vengeance.” She flung her arm toward her son. “Kill him, Kamal. He lies as he has always lied. Kill him and his miserable daughter.”
“Mother,” Kamal said, pain dimming his eyes, “Hamil is alive.”
Giovanna stared at her son. “No,” she whispered, her eyes blank. “He cannot be. I was promised—”
“Mother,” he said, “it is true then.”
Arabella wanted to go to him, to comfort him, but she stood still as he continued in a leaden voice. “He survived your plot to kill him.” He turned slowly, like an old man, and called to Hamil, “My brother, the time for truth has come.”
Giovanna felt her throat close at the sight of Hamil, vigorous and strong, his appearance changed only by the wide white streak through his black hair. She felt numb, frozen, her eyes l
“No,” she said.
“Ah, Giovanna,” the earl said, “what has your hatred brought you to? You had so much in Genoa. You could have wed another, enjoyed a full and happy life.”
Arabella had listened to her father’s calm telling of the crimes Giovanna had committed. It seemed impossible that such things had happened, and to her mother. Kamal now wore a shattered look, and her heart ached for him. Slowly she walked to his side and closed her hand over his.
“Do not touch him, you slut!”
Arabella had no time to move. Giovanna’s hand struck her hard, and she felt her lip split.
Kamal gave a low feral snarl and caught Arabella against him, holding her tightly to keep himself from striking his mother.
“She has bewitched you,” Giovanna yelled at Kamal, “just as her mother did him. She is a doxy, a whore, just like her mother.”
Hamil saw the awful pain on his half-brother’s face. Allah, he should have had her killed. He should have spared Kamal. He stepped forward, but was stopped by the earl, who said in a coldly dispassionate voice, “Giovanna, can you not admit to yourself that the images you have created from the past are not true? Must you now destroy your son with your hatred for me?”
Giovanna stared at the man who had haunted her dreams for so many years, the man she had desired above all others. “I loved you. You cast me off.”
“Then it was I whom you should have tried to kill instead of Cassandra. She was innocent, Giovanna.”
“She was your slut, not your wife. She followed you from England; it was she who kept you from me. If the bravi had killed her, you would have returned to me.”
The earl met his son’s eyes across the hall. He heard Arabella say, “Father?” He had prayed that neither of his children would ever learn what had happened so many years before. Now, he realized, there was no hope for it. He felt the waves of tension sweeping about him like eddies in a whirlpool. He saw Rayna Lyndhurst in the circle of Adam’s arm, her father standing still as a stone beside them.
“Giovanna,” he said, his voice clear and calm, for he was speaking not only to her but also to Rayna and his children, “I told you Cassandra was innocent. She is more innocent that you know. It was I who forced her to accompany me to Genoa. I stole her from the man she was to have married, Edward Lyndhurst, but a day before her wedding. I wanted to wed her, but it was she who refused me. She was my prisoner, Giovanna, at my villa. It was many months before she came to return my love. Let me ask you, Giovanna. Would you have tried to kill her had she been my wife?”