by Sarah Hegger
He lowered his head for the ceremony. Perhaps he planned to abduct her and carry her away from Henry. Except the priest continued. Incense filled the hot, heavy air and then Henry slid a ring on her finger.
There had not been much time for self-examination since she had told Henry she would marry him. At any point, she could have balked, and she felt sure Henry would have accepted her change of heart. All through the sleepless night before she had waited for doubts to assail her. Instead she had spent the hours watching the moon cross the sky and thought of life in England. What would her life there be like?
She blamed it on her practical nature. Marriage for a girl such as her was an inevitability. By extracting Henry’s vow to protect her, perhaps her father had given this marriage his approval. Regardless, she had always known she would marry, and that she would accept her father’s chosen groom.
Bahir cleared his throat.
Alya forced her mind back to the present.
Henry stood over her, looking at her as if he sought her permission.
She had missed something. Again. Verily, Christian marriage ceremonies seemed shamefully lacking in color and celebration.
“You may kiss your bride,” said the priest.
Henry slid his hand behind her neck.
She glanced at Bahir.
Bahir stilled.
Face lowering to hers, Henry pulled her closer until his lips touched hers.
Alya froze.
The priest grinned and waggled his eyebrows.
“May I?” Henry smiled.
“You are already.” Alya stood as still as she could. What a strange custom. Strange, but definitely exciting.
Henry’s lips returned to hers. A soft brush that ended before it had even begun and Henry straightened.
That was it! Alya felt cheated. She had been expecting something more than the dry peck and retreat. She wanted to demand he do a better job.
Henry tucked her arm in his and turned them.
Down the aisle they marched, with Bahir and Newt following.
Bright midday sunlight stung her eyes as they left the church.
Did Henry not think she was beautiful? Did he not want to kiss her? Such an idea had never occurred to her. Back in Cairo, Henry had stared up at her with such stark hunger. She had thought, for certain, he would want her in that way.
Newt stepped in front of her. “Let me be the first well-wisher to kiss the bride.”
Grabbing her shoulders, Newt planted a kiss on her. A far more enthusiastic kiss than that which she’d received from her husband.
Henry growled.
Instead of growling, he might consider doing a better job of the kissing.
Newt retreated with a smirk. “You will excuse me, I have a little matter to attend before we sail.”
“We sail on the tide,” Henry said.
Newt nodded and slid into a group of people walking away from the dock.
“Where does he go?” Even as she watched, Newt disappeared like smoke. He would have made an excellent spymaster.
Bahir and Henry exchanged a look. So now they chose to keep secrets from her.
“Come.” Henry gently pulled her along. “We will return to the boat, and perhaps we can find a goblet of wine to celebrate our marriage.”
Her first taste of wine. Alya allowed herself to be hurried back to the boat.
They arrived to find a grim-faced captain waiting for them.
“Go below.” Henry nudged her toward the hatch. “I will talk to the captain and then we will have that wine.”
Alya opened her mouth to argue, but Bahir took her arm and led her belowdecks.
“I will sleep above now,” Bahir said.
The nerves she should have concerned herself with the night before chose now to put in an appearance. Henry now had the right to sleep beside her, and to do those other things.
“Habibti.” Bahir took her by the shoulders. His stern face looked so sad she wanted to offer him comfort. “You are a woman grown now.”
Not so very grown. Suddenly she wanted to protest that she remained a child. She clung to his forearms. Bahir was all that remained of her past life. Her future loomed ahead of her, full of uncertainty. The ring Henry had placed on her finger seemed tighter.
“You have a husband and he will take my place in many parts of your life.” Bahir kissed her forehead. “But I will be with you for as long as you will have me.”
“There will never come a time when I will not want you beside me.”
Shrugging Bahir cast his gaze down. “That may not always be your decision. You have chosen this man to be your husband. I would counsel you to submit your will to him. Make of this marriage a blessed union, Alya. For your sake.” Then he winked. “And if you cannot, know that you always have a champion in me.”
“She will not need it.” Henry stood in the companionway from the deck. He jerked his chin at Bahir. “We must speak.”
Bahir followed him up.
Alya was alone. On her wedding day.
* * * *
Henry slammed his fist into the mast, and wanted to do it many times more. Sailors had big mouths the world over. The captain had grim tidings to share. Only half of his crew had reported back to the boat, bringing with them the news that the remainder had thrown their weight behind a couple of trouble-stirrers.
The contents of the boat hold had started the murmurings amongst the crew. That much wealth, floating in the harbor had attracted its share of notice. Added to which, Ugo felt it behooved him to collect more of his late brother’s amassed fortune. Rumor in the dock taverns had him gathering his men as they stood here. It wouldn’t take long for them to find the right boat.
“How long before we can leave?” Bahir’s gazed moved over the busy docks.
The captain sucked his teeth. “Tide is turning. Maybe another two hours before there is enough water over the harbor mouth to cross safely.”
Two hours! Henry eyed the mast. His fist gave an unenthusiastic throb. In two hours, they could all be dead.
“We could drop anchor in the bay,” the captain said. “It would make it more difficult to reach us.”
Bahir turned to Henry and raised his brow.
Was the man actually asking his opinion? Henry resisted the urge to check behind him. “How many more men do you expect to return?”
“One or two.” The captain squinted at the docks. “For the most part, those who sail are already onboard.”
Henry motioned Bahir to follow him to the stern. “Newt is not here yet,” he said.
“You know where he has gone?”
“I can guess.” It was as much as he intended to tell Bahir.
Gaze searching the dock, Bahir nodded. “Then we wait.”
“We need to be through the heads before dark.” Head lowered, the captain approached them.
Dear God, if he sucked those rotten teeth stumps again, Henry would remove the temptation by shoving them down his throat. “We wait.”
“But—”
Looming over the man, Bahir scowled. “We wait.”
Midday brought relative quiet to the docks. Many merchants closed shop and went home for their midday meal.
The sun baked down on him and Bahir standing by the railing.
Faces concealed by lowered caps a pair of men stood near a stack of bales. Henry had spotted them earlier, and still the men stood there with no apparent reason for their presence.
The ship beside them weighed anchor in the creak of ropes and wood.
Bahir stiffened.
Oars hit the water. A slow drumbeat underscored the slap of oars through the water. Rowed by slaves and bound for Damascus, according to their captain.
Henry wiped away perspiration. No wind broke the midday heat.
Their boat neighbor crept away from the docks.
The two lurkers were joined by a third who leaned against the bales, arms folded.
Aye, Bahir had his eye on them too. Canny bastard hadn’t missed much in Cairo, no reason to believe salt water had dulled his wits now.
“Aye, but for what.”
“This, English, I do not want to discover.”
Henry choked back a laugh.
Shouting out her wares to the passersby, a young girl wheeled a barrow down the dock.
The sun slunk passed its zenith.
By the bale the group had grown to five now.
Jesu, Henry wished for his hauberk. Stolen from him by his ‘rescuers’ after the battle.
Bahir shifted and wiped sweat from his pate. “I hate waiting.”
“Aye.”
A faint scream sounded from the city.
Then a shout, louder now.
Through the jumble of buildings, people ran, arms raised.
“English?” Bahir tensed.
The running crowd wound behind the line of warehouses fronting the harbor but their shouts grew closer.
A man shot across the gap between two buildings, the crowd close on his heels.
Newt. God’s balls. “Captain!” Henry bellowed. “Get ready to be underway. Now!”
The captain blinked at him.
“Now!” Henry unsheathed his sword.
The loitering men straightened.
Sailors scurried around them, untying moorings, weighing the giant anchor.
Newt burst onto the docks, long legs pumping.
Behind him surged his pursuers.
“Move it!” Bahir cuffed a dawdling sailor into instant action.
Their oars slapped the water.
“What is it?” Alya popped her head up from the cabin.
“Nay!”
“Get down!”
With a gasp, she ducked out of sight again.
The boat eased away from her mooring.
Newt picked up speed. A mad grin split his face. He hit the end of the dock and launched into the air.
His pursuers slammed to a halt. One of them going over into the murky harbor waters.
Newt pedaled his legs through the air, and slammed into the railing.
Henry grabbed his tunic.
Bahir had him by the belt.
They hauled the addled bastard to the deck.
Newt dropped over to his back, a chest clasped in his arms, and laughed.
Arrows whined and thudded into the mast and Henry dropped.
The captain screamed at his men to row faster.
“What did you do?” Bahir crawled across the deck.
Newt rolled his burden to the deck. “Took back what was ours.”
With shaking hands, Bahir opened the chest. “You…”
“You mad sod!” Newt could have gotten himself killed. Henry punched his arm. Then hooked him around the neck and hugged him. “You mad, glorious sod.”
Chapter 12
Alya sulked belowdecks. She did not appreciate being yelled at by both Henry and Bahir. She was not stupid, however, and the noises coming from the boat persuaded her to stay hidden.
The boat lurched and she grabbed a support pillar to keep her balance.
She burned to know what was happening.
Yells, thuds, the creak of oars, and then nothing.
Straining to hear more she held her breath.
Was that laughter? Aye, it was. Alya stomped to the deck.
Henry, Bahir and Newt all lay about the deck, laughing. Lying between them was the chest of gifts they’d taken to Ugo.
Henry saw her first and sat up. He grinned at her.
The boat slid through the harbor toward the mouth.
Arrows arced from the dock and dropped into the churning water in their wake.
Bahir staggered to his feet and helped Newt to rise.
Henry need not think he could smile at her and tell her nothing. “What is happening here?”
“We are sailing away, my lady.” Newt made a lavish bow. “And not a moment too soon.”
“Is that—”
“Aye.” Henry handed the chest to Bahir. “Newt took it upon himself to take back what was yours.”
She liked that he said yours, and not mine. Many men would now regard all her wealth as theirs. Then again, Henry said he came from wealth. So many questions remained unanswered, so much she did not know about him.
Towers guarding the harbor heads threw dark shadows over the boat. Farewell, Genoa, and farewell any last connection with her father’s blood. Ahead of them the sea lay in deepest sapphire expanse, leading her to her uncertain future.
Brisk wind sprang up as they cleared the safety of the harbor, and Alya shivered.
Henry dropped a warm cloak about her shoulders. “You are chilled.” His deep voice came close to her ear. Closer than he had ever stood to her, other than those fleeting moments in the church. “Would you go below?”
Belowdecks. To the intimacy of the small cabin she had occupied alone with Bahir sleeping nearby. Now the space she would share with her husband. The man who had rights not only to the wealth this ship carried, but to her. Every part of her.
“Nay.” She swallowed to moisten her dry mouth. “I find it confining. I am enjoying the fresh breeze.”
His gaze searched her face and found the truth. His face gentled as he said, “You have nothing to fear from me, my lady.”
Nothing to fear? Meaning he would not hurt her, or that he would not lay a hand on her? Or some blurred area in between those two. She suddenly wanted to demand to know what he meant by that. She wanted to know what lay behind his reticence to take her to wife.
She faced the ocean instead. Such a course smacked of almost mind-numbing stupidity. Why pick at a thing that might unravel and reveal a gaping hole? “What do you mean by that?”
Alya wanted to smack her head against the railing. Her impetuous tongue would lead her straight to hell.
Back to the sea Henry leaned his hips against the railing and folded his arms. “Perhaps you are right, my lady. We should speak of these things.”
“Not if you do not care to.” Too late for her wits to reassert themselves now.
Afternoon sun tangled golden in his hair. How long would he grow it? She had never seen him with this much hair, never mind long as Newt seemed to favor.
“I mean you need not fear that I will demand from you that which you will not give,” he said.
Why not? Did he find her not to his liking? Did his desire run to women of his country? Did he lust for skin like milk, and golden hair? “I still do not understand.”
He ran his palm over his head stubble. “We are on a boat, Alya. There is no privacy here. I would accord you the respect of privacy.”
She nodded, she had not thought of that.
Bare feet slapping on the deck, a sailor trotted by.
“It is not because you do not find me to your liking.” Her words grew softer and softer.
Henry stepped closer. “Say again?”
The breeze cooled her searing cheeks. “I thought perhaps…” How to put this delicately? And what if he answered aye, he did not find her beautiful? “Never mind.”
“Alya.” Henry stepped closer, his body warmth a buffer against the sea. “I do mind. Now tell me.”
“Do you command this as my husband?” She tried to salvage some pride.
He cocked his head. “Do I need to?”
What was that word Newt used? Ballocks! That was it. Well, ballocks to Henry and his clever tongue. Well, let her face her humiliation with her head held high. She raised her chin. “I thought perhaps you found me not beautiful.”
Henry laughed.
Dear God. She had to get away. Never had she felt so shamed. She dashed for the cabin.
His arm shot out, and trapped her against the railing. “Where are you going?’
Alya clapped her mouth shut. She would say no more to humiliate herself.
; His mouth brushed her ear. “Ask me why I laughed.”
She shook her head.
“Ask me?’ His voice dropped to a low rasp.
It stroked like a cat’s fur across her skin. “Why did you laugh?”
“When I was your father’s slave and there was nothing of beauty in my life, I watched you on the wall. More lovely than the sun setting behind you. More beautiful than all the treasures in your father’s house.”
His words coursed through her blood. Her knees weakened.
Henry pressed closer. He slid his other arm about her back and caged her close to his heat and the smell of bay and cardamom. “I used to stand in the shadows and watch you stand on your roof at sunset.”
“I know.”
He tensed. “You know?”
“I wondered why you stood there and watched.”
“You never told your father?” His lips brushed her temple.
“Nay.” She wanted to turn her head and place her lips against his. Did she dare?
The opportunity passed as he nuzzled her cheek. “Of all the things you may question about me, know that I have never seen a more beautiful woman than you.”
“English?” Bahir’s voice shattered the spell around her. “I beg your pardon, but we must speak.”
* * * *
Henry sucked in a great breath of cooling air. Anger and lust pounded with each beat of his heart. Did Bahir think to stand between him and Alya now? The beast in him reminded him constantly that Alya was not yet his. He had made her his bride, but not yet his wife. It thundered through his blood. His beast forgot the boat, the curious sailors, the crude cabin. It forgot the innocence of his bride, and that she barely knew him.
Perhaps it was a good thing Bahir had interrupted them. “What is it?”
“Newt and I have been speaking.” Bahir motioned him to the quiet stern of the boat.
Newt waited in the shadows, lounging against a barrel, ankles crossed. He nodded. “Harry.”
“You’ve been speaking?”
Alya wrapped her cloak tighter around her body. Her raven hair streamed in the sea breeze. Jesu, she had thought he found her not to his liking. God’s balls! Never in his life had he seen a woman such as her. Never would he take from his mind the imprint of her sensuality. Her skin as honey, her eyes of that indeterminate mix of green and brown that tightened a vise around him.