“If you would help me, Falak, I’d like to tuck all her hair up and cover it with the turban. While the guards outside the door will undoubtedly suspect who I’m taking away, I don’t want to be stopped by anyone else with questions why I have a strange blonde lady with me. Hold still, my dear, and let Falak bind up your hair.”
Both women cooperated, although Falak’s eyes blazed with jealousy. Lars thought she could have been gentler. He ground his teeth as the girl winced. Still, she was soon ready, covered from head to toe.
Lars held out a hand to her and she moved toward him. Frowning, Lars stopped her and, taking out a knife, leaned over swiftly and cut off her anklets of tinkling bells. Sticking them in his pocket, he held out his hand to her and turned to Falak.
“I promise to lift the spell on the Caliph in one hour. If you send men after me I will know and I’ll make the spell on him permanent. Are you sure you understand, Falak?”
Falak glanced at her happy, humming master and swallowed again with a gesture that betrayed her rebellion against these unnatural events. However, Lars thought she’d be afraid to cross him. He hoped so as he wasn’t sure he could spellbind another’s mind for too long. The spell would wear off in an hour whether he was here or not. But Lars could inflame him with lust so Falak would be the handy recipient. Hopefully mounting Falak again and again would dim the Caliph’s anger.
Taking the girl’s hand in his, he salaamed briefly to Falak. “Enjoy your evening to the fullest, First Wife. It will be a time of great satisfaction to you both.”
Falak’s eyes gleamed and she opened the door for them. Everything went as planned. The guard tried to stop them with drawn scimitars, but Falak ordered them to let the two go free. Their reluctance was obvious—still, they did as their Caliph’s favorite wife ordered. They could see their master lounging and humming happily.
Lars walked down the long corridor, holding tight to his companion’s hand, his ears tuned for footsteps running after them.
But no one followed.
They came to a small outer gate and went swiftly through into the night.
Chapter Two
The instant he shut the gate behind them he turned to her.
“I think it’s time I knew your name, don’t you? We’ve a long, dangerous journey ahead of us. You know by now I’ll not harm you, but I can’t keep calling you ‘girl’.”
His smile blazed in triumph.
For the first time since her personal nightmare started Sophia felt out of danger. Looking at his handsome face, she saw only his dark eyes and the genuine concern in them. She’d been unable to draw a deep breath for almost two months. Now she did, and the fresh night air, perfumed with a floral scent she didn’t recognize, filled her lungs. Doubtless some exotic flower she’d never heard of. She tried to smile but found herself sagging to the ground in a semi-faint.
He caught her and held her tightly to him. The feel of his strong body holding her to him somehow assured her she’d not be attacked on the spot. He shifted his hold so her hips didn’t quite touch his but his powerful arms around her shoulders told her all she needed to know. She could feel a large shaft pressing against her stomach before he loosened his hold and stepped away. Puzzled and wishing he’d stayed close to her, she tried to draw him back.
Still groggy, she smiled at him. He gave a little hiss as he set her aside. A sound of surprise? Or resentment? She couldn’t tell, although he quickly resumed a pleasant expression.
The night air, cool and bracing after the day’s hectic events, invaded her bewildered mind.
“It’s Sophia. Sophia Masters. In another world I’m a mathematician. A good one, too.”
She waited for him to look at her in derision. Instead his eyes widened.
“Daughter of Matthew I believe. I definitely need the full story, but not now. We’d better get started to my yacht. Once there we’ll be safe. How fast can you walk?”
She actually chuckled. Of all the nonsensical questions. Her father’s home had been secluded, but she’d joyously walked for miles every day. The Cotswolds were famous for their rolling hills and scenery from the tops of many of them. She’d always exercised both for enjoyment and for physical health.
More than anything else in her captivity she’d longed for the freedom to see that lovely, oh-so-green landscape again. The memory kept her sane as she’d spent weeks on a ship, locked in a hold so she could not even see the waves she felt pulsing against her prison. And then the sandy and hot streets of Constantinople, where her every step had been that of a prisoner. She’d be delighted to walk as fast as she could.
“I can keep up with you, sir.”
“Lars,” he said. “I’m Lars.”
He smiled again, his almond-shaped eyes regarding her with a warmth that made her heart jolt. He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. She nodded and he struck off at a rapid pace in the direction of the ocean. Taking a deep breath, she followed him at a half-run.
Lars glanced behind once or twice to check she was with him, but concentrated on using his elfin senses to check for danger. So far they’d not been followed, but they still had a little ways to go. Not much, and he started breathing more easily.
He could have used his elfin abilities to stride like the wind and carry her with him, but he wanted her to follow of her own free will. Besides, going through the streets would let him check the shadows to see if they were being followed. He’d thought they’d gotten away cleanly, but if not he needed to know their danger.
Relaxing his prescience as they neared his yacht, he thought he heard a little sob. He swirled to find Sophia behind him, limping a little, with tears streaking down her perfect face.
“My gods in heaven.” He stopped abruptly and swung her up into his arms. Horrified, he saw the thin shoes she wore had cloth soles, made only for use on the marble floors of the Caliph’s palace. How could he not have noticed before? Her lacerated feet were bleeding, probably had been for some time. Still this gallant girl had followed him, not saying a word.
“You idiot child, why didn’t you say something?”
He brushed aside the hair escaping from her turban so he could see her face. Filled with equal parts regret and admiration, he waited for her answer.
Sophia tossed her head. “I would not slow you down. I did not, did I?”
“No, you did not. But I will carry you the rest of the way. It’s not far and my crew will have the medicine we need for your poor feet. No, don’t struggle. You’re not heavy but it’s easier for me if you lie still. Can you put your arms around my neck?”
She did so with such an air of a queen honoring her subject that he almost grinned.
“Let’s go. You’ll soon be on the high seas and on your way to my home.”
“And where is that, sir?”
“My main residence is in London, but we’ll stay at my place in Dover until you’re rested and your feet heal. Now hold onto me. Please don’t choke me even though I deserve it for being so thoughtless.”
His grin took any possible sting from his words and she smiled up at him and nestled against his chest.
“Dover,” she murmured. “That’s green.”
A bit puzzled, Lars looked down at her, wondering how much his sudden erection would hinder his stride. He dropped a swift kiss on her forehead and broke into a slower trot than his former pace.
This girl was even more dangerous than he’d thought, but she fit so neatly in his arms.
* * * * *
His yacht was steaming and ready when Lars reached the obscure bay where he’d left it. Saluting his captain with a nod, Lars told him to lift anchor at once and head for Dover. And to send hot water to his cabin as soon as possible. He could feel the powerful engines throb as they built up pressure. They’d soon be at sea where the sails could take over.
He headed for his own cabin, a luxurious suite suitable for this special girl. He’d sleep in the guest cabin. He’d be close enough to hear her if she cried out in her sleep. Doubtless she’d have nightmares after her hellish experience, although he planned to enter her mind and calm her each night before she slept. Now he needed to see to her injuries.
Laying her gently on the bed, he removed her ugly headdress, letting her hair and features free. Sitting beside her, he lifted her injured feet onto his lap. The silken soles of her slippers hung in shreds from her lacerated feet.
“My dear gods, child, why didn’t you say something? This is even worse than I thought. Ah, here comes the hot water. I’ll be as gentle as I can, but your feet must be cleansed.”
He trusted his voice didn’t betray his horror. How had one slight girl endured so much? He’d never forgive himself for not noticing sooner.
She reached up one hand and patted his face. “I didn’t want to hold you back. Believe me, I’d endure pain much worse than this to escape slavery. I am now safe, am I not?”
Her great eyes searched his and another shudder shook her body. His heart leapt in his chest and his damned cock swelled uncomfortably.
“Yes, my dear. You are safe and I promise to keep you that way. Now sleep a little while I bathe your feet.”
She smiled and willingly succumbed to the sleep spell he laid on her. The hot water arrived, and he carefully began washing the cuts, even as he cursed himself. When he was done, he applied an ointment of his own making and bandaged each foot. Even with his powers she’d need several days to heal. Pleased he’d given her the master cabin where she’d be more comfortable, Lars went to talk to the chef. He wanted a light meal ready soon, and then he’d waken her. She must have been too anxious to eat large meals for quite a while, even if she’d been offered them. She mustn’t have too much at once.
When he came back he found her still asleep. He sat on the bed beside her, admiring her beauty. Though exhausted and disheveled, the purity of her features turned his heart over. He leaned over and kissed her luscious lips. Suddenly hot desire almost overwhelmed him. He stroked her pale cheeks and then her lovely hair. A few strands lay like streaks of gold across the pillow. He reached up and ran his fingers through the rest so the magnificent mass flowed around her shoulders, reaching to her waist.
He simply stared, his physical response evident as his cock stretched more tightly against his pants.
He’d never wanted any woman as he wanted her.
Why now, when it would complicate the whole situation?
What a hell of a predicament, when he was honor-bound to protect her, not ravish her.
With a groan and one last touch to her cheek, he left the bed and walked as far away from her as the small cabin allowed. Peering out the window, he saw they were at sea and steaming fast for Dover. Leaning against the wall with folded arms, he waited while he willed his erection under control, and then left to check on the food.
He was in one big damned mess.
* * * * *
He let her sleep three hours and then wakened her with a slight shake.
She snapped awake, eyes alert and terrified, and he leaned farther down so she could see his face.
“It’s all right, Sophia. It’s only me, and you know I won’t hurt you.”
She bolted upright. “Yes, I know that in my heart. It’s only that right now I have little trust left.”
“And no wonder.” Lars brought the tray to a table beside the bed. “Here is some light food. I’m sure you can eat more, but I don’t want to overtax your starved stomach. I’ll be giving you frequent but small meals for a while.”
She looked at the tray with one piece of white chicken, some fruit and a slice of homemade bread slathered with honey butter.
Her eyes lit with pleasure as she pushed herself up in bed. “How perfect. May I eat now? Oh do you want to join me, Sir Elf? You must be hungry too. I won’t mind if you have the bigger portion. You’re a large man, after all.”
You have no idea how large I am and where
, Lars thought.
“I’ve eaten.” It was all he could manage to say. The generosity of her offer stunned him.
The curtness of his tone made her snap her eyes to his, and then, looking down at her plate, she began to take one small bite at a time. The cabin was silent as Lars again leaned against the wall, watching her with hooded eyes. In spite of her doubtless ravenous hunger, she ate with the comportment of a born lady. One steeling herself to remember her manners.
She sighed when she’d finished every bite, then looked up at him with a smile.
“Would you believe I’m sleepy again? Not very polite of me, I know, but it’s like a big wave is dragging me under.”
“Of course you must sleep. That’s what your system is urging you to do. We’re well under way to England, with no pursuit in sight, so rest as long as you wish. I’ll see you when you waken.”
He started to walk past her to leave and she put out her hand to stop him.
“Lars, I can never thank you enough. I’ll do anything I can to make it up to you.”
He carefully removed her hand and turned toward the door.
“Just sleep. That’s the only thing important now. I’ll see if I can find some clothes for you to replace that scratchy Arabian robe.”
Leaving her staring at his curt tone, he walked away. He’d check on her soon, but for now he’d better take his susceptible body from her presence and her touch. Why in mortal’s hell did he have to respond so blatantly to this one girl? For years he’d concentrated on helping others less fortunate than he. This was what he was meant to do. He’d found sexual pleasure when it was offered, but he’d never pursued it. As for clothes, what he was going to find on board his small yacht was debatable. But he never wanted to see that damned dark thwab on his beautiful girl again. An ugly name for an ugly garment.
And he’d give ten years of his life if he could show her how she could easily repay him. Letting him caress her into forgetfulness of all her troubles. Having his body assure her he’d take care of her no matter what happened. Initiating her into a sexual joining that would doubtless startle them both.
* * * * *
His senses told him when she woke, and again he hurried back. So much for resolving to stay away from her as much as possible. He’d slung one of his own shirts over his arm. He’d found nothing on board suitable for her to wear. Since he was the tallest his shirt would cover her more than most.
As he walked into her cabin she smiled at him and swiveled to sit on the edge of the bed. He stopped where he was. He’d meant to be cool and impersonal. He couldn’t do it. This girl devastated him with one smile.
He didn’t move, but he let his warm gaze drift over her body. The thwab was hiked up over her long, bare legs. He’d massage them with his healing touch again today, but the whip marks on them already were dimmer. Her long, beautiful hair hung in disarray, although she tried to push it back as she looked up at him. Cheeks flushed and eyelids still heavy with sleep, she was even more beautiful than last night. Part of this was due to the food and her long sleep. And part to the look of trust she gave him. He forced himself to step back so it was a bit harder to grab her.
“Here’s one of my shirts if you’d like to wear it. We’re heading out to sea and it’s getting chillier. At least you can wear this under that scratchy thwab. Most of Arabian garments are soft, but I guess I picked one made for slaves when I visited the market in a hurry. One of our deck hands is a youngster I’m trying to train, and I’ve got him washing out some of his things for you. Until they’re dry, this will offer some protection for your skin.”