Ash turned, cupping her elbows in his desperate grip. “The sultan has absolutely no interest in Miss Montmorency. Couldn’t we send for her later?”
“She’s right off the main hall. It will only take me a minute to fetch her. You said you wouldn’t make me leave without her. You promised,” she reminded him sternly, although she had certainly learned not to put much faith in his promises.
Swearing softly but effectively, he bent and yanked from his boot the same small dagger he had used to slice his forearm. He pressed the weapon into her hand, folding her fingers around its hilt. “Don’t hesitate to use it if you have to.” She was already turning away when he yanked her back into his arms and pressed a brief but fierce kiss to her lips, much as he had in his father’s stables so long ago. “And don’t get your fool self caught and make me rescue you again. That will cost you far more than a kiss.”
With the dagger hidden in an inner pocket of her robe and her hood drawn up to cover the brightness of her hair, Clarinda slipped through the hall of the harem like a wraith, thankful the eunuchs had already dimmed the lamps so the women could prepare for sleep. She had left Ash pacing the secret passageway, running a hand through his hair and muttering something beneath his breath about the folly of trying to reason with a woman. She could still taste his kiss on her lips.
She slipped through the curtain veiling Poppy’s alcove, sighing with relief to find her friend propped up on a cozy nest of pillows on her sleeping couch, her wire-rimmed spectacles perched on the tip of her nose. A nose buried in a yellowing scandal sheet.
The sight was so familiar and so dear that it brought a rush of warm tears to Clarinda’s eyes. She still couldn’t believe she had been so consumed with her own misery at Ash’s desertion and joy at his return that she had allowed herself to forget her friend. Vowing she would find some way to make it up to her, Clarinda soundlessly crossed the chamber and sank down on the edge of the couch.
Poppy gave her a mild glance, then returned to perusing the scandal sheet. Given how insatiably curious Poppy was, she didn’t seem the least bit intrigued by Clarinda’s odd attire.
“We have to go, Poppy,” she informed her friend, stealing a nervous glance back at the curtain. “Captain Burke has returned to rescue us. We may have only a few minutes before the sultan’s guards sound the alarm.”
Poppy turned the page, her gaze still fixed on the scandal sheet. “You go on, dear. I’ve had the entire day to think about it and I’ve decided I’m not going.”
Clarinda leaned back, utterly bumfuzzled by her friend’s response. “Pardon?”
Poppy finally looked up from the scandal sheet to survey Clarinda over the top of her spectacles. “You heard me. I’m not going.”
“Have you lost your wits? You can’t stay here. Farouk is going to be even more livid than he already is when he discovers I’ve run away with the captain. What if he decides to take his revenge out on you?”
Poppy gave Clarinda a look Clarinda had probably given her hundreds of times during their years of friendship. “Don’t be such a silly goose. Farouk wouldn’t hurt me. He would never hurt me. And just so you know, he wouldn’t have hurt you, either. He’s not that sort of man.”
“If you’d have seen him waving his enormous dagger around this morning at breakfast, you might not be so quick to defend him. And besides, how on earth do you know what sort of man he is?”
Poppy laid aside the tabloid, her nostrils flaring in a superior sniff. “Trust me. I know.”
Clarinda stared at the composed stranger who had taken her friend’s place, comprehension slowly dawning. “Oh, dear Lord, it’s Mr. Huntington-Smythe all over again! You’re fancying yourself in love with the man, aren’t you?” She seized Poppy’s hands in hers, giving them a tender squeeze. “Listen to me, darling. I know it’s hard for you to accept this since you and Farouk have barely exchanged two words since we came to this place, but he isn’t some dashing, romantic figure from one of your scandal sheets or Gothic novels. He is a very dangerous and powerful man, and the sooner we’re free of his influence, the better. What do you think he’s going to do if you stay? Ask you to become his wife?”
“You did bring me along on this journey to find me a husband, didn’t you?”
“Yes. Preferably one who doesn’t have an entire stable of wives already. And concubines.”
A wicked little smile played around Poppy’s lips. “Perhaps I could coax him into making me his concubine instead of his wife. Then you could go back to England and tell all of our old classmates from Miss Throckmorton’s—and that nasty Mr. Huntington-Smythe—that plump little Penelope Montmorency has become the cherished concubine of a handsome and powerful Moroccan sultan. Wouldn’t that just make them pea green with envy?”
Clarinda gaped at her friend, on the verge of tearing at her own hair in frustration. She knew from experience just how stubborn Poppy could be once she got an idea into her head.
She stole another desperate glance over her shoulder. Every second she lingered put Ash and his hiding place in more danger of being discovered by the harem guard.
It was Poppy’s turn to squeeze Clarinda’s hands. She smiled tenderly, her spectacles magnifying her fine periwinkle eyes and making the sheen of tears in them look even more brilliant. “There’s no point in arguing with me. I’ve already made up my mind. I’m not going with you. Now go!” she urged. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to kiss Captain Burke for the both of us.”
A helpless sob escaped Clarinda as she threw her arms around her friend, treasuring her solid and dependable warmth, perhaps for the last time. “I don’t care what you say. I’m coming back for you,” she vowed fiercely. “Even if I have to lead a regiment of East India Company soldiers myself. And if Farouk harms so much as a hair on your head—or breaks your heart—I’ll kill him. I swear I will.”
Poppy squeezed her back. “Don’t you worry about me, Clarinda Cardew. I do believe I’m finally ready to embark upon that grand adventure you promised me.”
As Clarinda reluctantly drew away and rose, Poppy thrust the scandal sheet into her hands. “Here. You might need something to read on your journey.”
Clarinda tucked the tabloid inside her robe and started for the door. She turned in the doorway. “The desert sun is very fierce. Don’t forget to always wear your bonnet or a veil when you go outdoors. You know how absentminded you can be and how fair your complexion is.” She started to go, then turned back again. “Take care not to leave your spectacles someplace where you’re likely to sit on them. And don’t you let those other women bully you. You stand right up to them and tell them Penelope Montmorency is not a woman to be trifled with!”
Poppy made a shooing motion with her hands. “Go! Captain Burke won’t wait forever.”
Dashing a tear from her cheek, Clarinda said, “You’re the best friend I ever had.”
Poppy beamed at her. “I know.”
Smiling through her tears, Clarinda touched two fingers to her lips, then lifted them to Poppy in silent tribute before ducking through the curtain.
Several of the women were already curled up on their sleeping couches fast asleep, allowing Clarinda to tiptoe back through the hall of the harem without incident. She broke into a trot as she reached the torchlit corridor that would lead her back to where Ash was waiting.
Her heart was already reeling with relief at the thought of seeing him again when she darted around a shadowy corner only to find her path blocked by a raven-haired beauty wearing little more than a diaphanous silk shift and a triumphant smile.
O
ne scream from Yasmin’s beautiful damson lips and all was lost.
When the hood of Clarinda’s robe slid from her hair, Clarinda made no effort to stop it. There would have been no point. “Good evening, Yasmin,” she said pleasantly. “I was just on my way to the hammam for a bath.”
Yasmin tossed her head, sending her own glossy midnight-black tresses spilling down her back. “Do not waste your breath on foolish lies, ice princess. I know you are running away with your lover.”
“Captain Burke is not my lover,” Clarinda snapped, not realizing her mistake until Yasmin’s smug smile deepened.
“Not now perhaps. But he has been before and he will be again.”
It was utterly absurd that those words still had the power to make Clarinda’s heart leap with hope. Especially when she would never again be any man’s lover if Yasmin summoned the harem guards. Neither she nor Ash would leave this place alive.
She slipped a hand inside her robe, her fingers inching toward the pocket where she’d secreted the dagger. “You’ve been locked away too long in this hotbed of lust and intrigue, Yasmin. You’re imagining trysts and conspiracies where none exist.”
“It takes little imagination to expose the truth.”
Clarinda wrapped her fingers around the cool metal of the dagger’s hilt, her hand steadied by an image of a blindfolded Ash being led up the steps of a scaffold where a black-hooded executioner awaited him, the shiny blade of his scimitar glinting in the desert sun. She had briefly stood off a pack of rapacious Corsairs with a hatpin. If one catty little concubine thought she was going to get the best of this English ice princess, she had another think coming.
“Do not do anything foolish,” Yasmin said, plainly alarmed by the look in Clarinda’s eye. “I will not rouse the guards.”
Clarinda cocked her head to the side, refusing to relax her own guard. She had seen that cunning look on the woman’s face too many times before. Yasmin granted no favor without a price. It just remained to be seen whether that price would be too steep to pay.
“I will not rouse the guards,” Yasmin repeated, drawing close enough to whisper, “
if
you take me with you.”
Clarinda gaped at Yasmin in astonishment, the dagger sliding from her limp fingers and back into its hiding place. “You want to go with us? Why would you even contemplate such a thing? I thought you were madly in love with the sultan.”
“I am. But I will never be his wife. And as long as I stay here, I will never be the wife of any man. No man will ever look at me the way your captain looks at you.”
“He’s not my … ” As Yasmin arched one raven eyebrow in blatant skepticism, Clarinda trailed off. She was still trying to absorb the unexpected shock of the concubine’s request. “What makes you think I’d even consider taking you along? You’ve done nothing but torment Poppy and me since the day we arrived here. Instead of ridiculing and undermining us at every turn, you could have extended a hand of friendship, which might have encouraged the other women of the harem to do the same. Give me one good reason why I should help you now.”
“Because if you do not, I will scream at the top of my lungs and everyone you love will die.”
“That’s a very good reason.” Yet still Clarinda hesitated, torn between her desperate need to rejoin Ash and her hatred of this woman.
“Please.” Yasmin choked out the word as if it were poison in her throat. She stared at a spot just over Clarinda’s right shoulder. “I am begging you.”
Given that the concubine was even more stiff-necked with pride than she was, Clarinda knew exactly how much those words must have cost Yasmin.
Clarinda held within her hands the power to rescue this woman from a half life that could just as easily have been hers. She could have been the one growing older and less desirable by the day, watching younger and more beautiful women take her place in the sultan’s heart and his bed. She could have ended up a toothless old woman, relegated to pouring opium and aphrodisiacs down the throats of terrified virgins, just so they could bear what she had once desired more than life itself.
Clarinda blew out an exasperated sigh. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, you’re embarrassing yourself. Stop groveling and come on!” She grabbed the startled Yasmin by the hand, nearly yanking her off her feet, and took off down the corridor. “We can’t keep the captain waiting forever.”
“That is
not
Poppy,” Ash said when Clarinda and Yasmin ducked into the hidden passageway where he was waiting.
Despite making a noble effort, he could not stop his gaze from darting ever so briefly down to the magnificent sight that was Yasmin’s ample breasts heaving with exertion beneath the diaphanous silk of her shift. A man would have to be a eunuch to ignore them, and Clarinda knew only too well that Ash was no eunuch.
She rolled her eyes. “Poppy refused to come because she thinks she’s in love with Farouk, and Yasmin insisted on coming because Farouk will never love her. If I hadn’t agreed to bring her, she was going to wake up the entire harem with her screams.”
“I could just knock her out,” Ash offered, the ruthless glint in his eye giving her a glimpse of what a dangerous adversary he must be on the battlefield.
Crowding Clarinda aside, Yasmin twined one arm around his neck and offered up her parted lips as if they were ripe, juicy pomegranates picked just for his pleasure. “You could kiss me insensible instead.”
Clarinda grabbed a fistful of Yasmin’s shift and yanked her off Ash. “Try that again and I’ll knock you out myself.”
Ignoring Yasmin’s pout, Ash gave Clarinda an arch look. “For a woman with two fiancés, you have quite the jealous streak, Miss Cardew.”
“Haven’t you heard, Captain?” she asked, smirking at him. “I’m down to only one fiancé now.”
Ash’s lips thinned into a grim line. “And if either one of us ever hopes to see him again, we’d best catch up with Luca before he takes off without us. Unless, of course, there’s someone else you’d like me to rescue while I’m here. Two or three more concubines? A half-dozen eunuchs? A litter of tiger cubs perhaps?”
“You didn’t tell me I could bring the tiger cubs!” Clarinda acted as if she were going to go darting back toward the harem, prompting Ash to snare her by the elbow and pull her into his arms.
Despite their dire circumstances, he looked so much like the boy who had caught her sneaking a baby hedgehog into his favorite beaver hat she could not resist laughing up at him.
“Mind your tongue, you incorrigible little minx,” he warned, “before I’m forced to mind it for you.”