The Sheik and the Slave

by Italia, Nicola

  Maybe he must rely on the witch herself, to become so angry at Mohammed’s supposed infidelity that she would be unable to forgive him.

  The Qur’an was on his side. He was firm in his belief. There could be no misunderstanding. Non-believers and Infidels must be slayed. There could be no in-between. Mohammed was infatuated with the woman, and Abdullah would make it his goal to separate them. He had never seen such an obscene display of male obsession as Mohammed was with the woman.

  Even Mohammed’s father, who had kept a well-stocked harem and utilized the women at great length, had always known his duty and had never strayed from it.

  After all, women had their place and all knew it. Women’s lot was to bear children, preferably sons, be obedient, and keep a devoutly religious home.

  Abdullah shook his head and set the quill pen down. How could he have prevented this?

  No, he could not have prevented this. It had become an obsession almost from the time the witch was brought to the palace.

  There was a time when she had rebuked the sheik’s advances and he had demoted her to a lowly bath servant. But Mohammed was a man used to getting what he wanted. She had played right into his arms. He had only wanted her more after that.

  Once the white witch had succumbed to the sheik, both had started down a path of damnation that threatened to ruin them all.

  He tried to reason with himself. He had tried to rectify the matter and change the course they were on. He had brought in the mercenary Jean Baptiste to take her away, but it had failed. He sighed. He had tried. Yes, he had tried. He closed his eyes and felt the tears of frustration. No! It was not over yet.

  He would not let the bastard that she had birthed become the next sheik. It was impossible. He would not let it happen. He took up the pen once more. His hand shook as he continued writing the lies.

  The wedding is being planned and is a great event as it joins two great families. The bloodlines will be ensured once the child is born to the Sheik.

  Peace and blessings be upon you.

  Your servant

  He swallowed and felt a knot in his throat. His first instinct was to crumple the paper in his fist. But he took a breath, placed his quill pen on the desk, and looked over the note. His clean, fine penmanship was dark against the light-colored paper.

  No. He must not waiver. He must be firm in his belief. He would send it out tomorrow.

  He knew in his heart that this path he had started down would end badly. But he was willing to die for his belief rather than watch an infidel sit beside the sheik with her bastard son.

  ***

  Katharine had packed up her meager belongings into a small trunk that the Abbess had kindly given her. She looked down at her son, who was sleeping sweetly on the small bed.

  She had no notion of how far off course they had come nor how much farther they had to go to make it back home, but it was time. She knew she had left much chaos behind her, but it was not of her doing or choosing.

  She closed her eyes and saw the hills and green grass along her family’s property. She missed her mother and her father and longed for them to meet their grandson.

  She looked at her baby and felt herself start to cry when she thought of Mohammed. She missed him so much. She wanted to feel his arms around her and feel the heat and sand of Arabia. She wanted him to meet his son.

  She moved the trunk to the door just as a knock sounded.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  Abigail moved into the room and stood next to the bed, looking down at the sleeping child.

  “The stagecoach is here,” she told Kat.

  Katharine took her hands in hers.

  “How can I ever thank you?” she asked.

  “Nonsense, my dear. You are safe, and your son is healthy. That is all that matters,” Abigail told her.

  Katharine leaned in and kissed the older woman on her cheek.

  “Thank you. For everything,” Katharine said.

  Abigail touched the young woman’s cheek and then stood up quickly.

  “Let us be away. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

  Abigail had graciously agreed to accompany Katharine and her son back to England, while the novices would follow on behind them.

  “Yes. The journey is a long one,” Katharine said. She began to reach for her son, but then turned quickly to the Abbess.

  “Abigail, I’m worried. My family. What will they think? I am worried they will be ashamed of me. That they will not be able to forgive this transgression.”

  “No, my dear. You are wrong. You are their daughter. They will love you and your son. And, there is still time to set things right. All is not lost.”

  “You mean to marry him?”

  “Yes. You are not lost to them, nor to God. God is watching over you, my dear. It will all be settled. You will see.”

  “He never responded to your letter,” Katharine said. She looked concerned as she made eye contact with Abigail.

  “My dear girl. That letter was sent to Arabia. So many things could have happened to that letter. He may have been looking for you this entire time and be beside himself because you have disappeared. You will never know until you see him and talk to him.”

  “You are right,” Katharine agreed. She clasped her hands in her hands and smiled. “Let us away.”

  The two women collected their belongings and, with the babe wrapped up tightly in his blankets, they boarded the stagecoach bound for the coast.

  Chapter 22

  The stagecoach swayed gently as Abigail and Katharine took turns watching after the child. The trip from Kilkenny to England was nothing compared to the trip from England to Arabia. However, Katharine was overcome with anxiety and was worried about the reception she would receive from her family.

  She was certain her father would be pleased and overjoyed to see her after all this time. However, she wondered at her mother’s response and had no thoughts at all on what they would think about her son.

  Being an unmarried woman with a child did happen, but usually not to women of her rank. As a Lady, she had been expected to marry well and produce children. She had not married at all, and now had a son. She wondered if her mother would acknowledge her son or if she would be ostracized. It preyed on her mind.

  Abigail was kindness itself as they journeyed closer to England. As a religious woman, she reminded Katharine that God would forgive her, and that once she was married, everything would be well. She spoke often of God’s love, and she was a great comfort to Katharine as the stagecoach continued on its path.

  ***

  Lord Edward was intrigued as he read the letter from the chief magistrate of the Bow Street Runners. Katharine had been traced to the mercenary Jean Baptiste, who had been seen by the young groom on his property. Interestingly, though Mohammed’s advisor had told him that she had been sent to Arabia, the Runners had found no evidence of that.

  The Bow Street Runners also noted, as Mohammed had, that Jean Baptiste had been murdered. But the disturbing fact the Runners learned was that the last man to have made contact with Jean Baptiste had been an Arab man. One barmaid and several patrons of the inn had sworn that they had seen a man dressed in dark Arab garb visit the mercenary, and that man was the last person to have seen him alive.

  The conclusion was made that the Arab man had killed Jean Baptiste. The Arab who had killed him was described as large and bulky, with dark eyes and hair and a hooknose.

  Lord Edward placed the lengthy letter on his desk. Though his daughter’s whereabouts were still unknown, the death of the one who had kidnapped her appeared to have been solved. Would Mohammed know who the murderer was?

  ***

  Katharine chewed on her lip, eyeing the landscape as it passed by. This is home, she thought. England, with its beautiful, rainy, cloudy, green, lush landscape was home. She smiled as she looked out the window and then back again to Abigail, who was quietly snoring. Her son was asleep in her arms.

  She placed a h
and over her stomacher and tried to quell the butterflies that danced in her belly. She had come so far, but this time she was not returning as the innocent daughter. This time, she had borne a child out of wedlock.

  She looked over at her son. No matter her faults, she would not allow her child to be abused or mistreated in any way. If her family would not accept her son, she would have to make her own way in the world. She didn’t know how she would do that, but she would have to try.

  The stagecoach swayed slightly and she heard the gravel under the horses’ hooves. That signified the beginning of the Willow Manor drive. She closed her eyes and willed herself not to tremble.

  She lightly woke Abigail, who arranged her long robes as the little child lay asleep. The stagecoach settled in front of the house, while the footman, Peter, whom she had known much of her life, stepped up to the stagecoach.

  Abigail reached across the stagecoach and squeezed Katharine’s hand.

  “Courage, my dear,” she said.

  Peter opened the stagecoach door and gaped in surprise when he saw the young mistress’ face.

  “Lady Kat!” he exclaimed.

  Katharine smiled, dazzling the man.

  “Hello, Peter,” she replied.

  “Welcome home,” he said, smiling as he helped her step out, followed by Abigail and the small child.

  Their large trunks were placed on the gravel drive before the coachman went to take care of the horses from their journey. Peter took the trunks inside.

  Katharine and Abigail stepped in the foyer and they exchanged a glance.

  “I will let Lord Edward know that you are come,” Peter spoke quickly before disappearing.

  “I am no different,” Katharine said. “I return home with my child, but I am no different.”

  “Of course you aren’t, my dear. And they will love you as they have always done.”

  Peter returned and escorted the women and child into the sitting room.

  Edward was turned away from the fire and stared in awe as they entered the room.

  “My own dearest, dearest girl,” he said as he opened his arms and Katharine came into them with tears in her eyes. He kissed the top of her as he held her tightly. “We have been so worried since your disappearance. I’m so glad that you are returned to us safely, Katharine.”

  He held her at arms’ length, inspecting her as she brushed away her tears.

  “Father, it was awful. An awful man kidnapped me. He tried to assault me but he did not succeed. This woman saved me. She is Mother Superior at the Abbey in London.”

  She felt the tears on her cheeks and motioned to Abigail.

  “I am in your debt, Madame,” he said as his eyes met Abigail’s.

  “Please call me Abigail,” she said. She fingered her cross and smiled kindly.

  “Father, she also saved…she also saved my son,” Katharine said hesitantly.

  Lord Edward swung around to look into the older woman’s arms and saw the small child in them. He was sleeping, but even in the firelight the man could see the honey-colored skin and dark hair. He knew instantly that the child was Mohammed’s.

  Lord Edward moved toward his grandson and caressed his small cheek.

  “My grandson,” he said proudly.

  He moved back to Katharine and rang a bell. Their longtime butler Mr. Horton joined them, and Edward instructed him to prepare a room for Abigail and to ready Katharine’s room. He also requested that accommodations be made for the baby in the old nursery.

  Mr. Horton nodded and smiled at Katharine in a welcome.

  “Please freshen yourself and the babe while my daughter and I speak privately,” Edward said. “We will dine shortly. You are very welcome here, Abigail.”

  Abigail thanked him and left the two alone.

  “Dearest girl,” he said as they settled together, facing each other on the leather sofa.

  “Father,” she began.

  “Katharine, there is much you may feel that I need to know. But there is much I know already.” He didn’t want her to feel that she must cower in an embarrassed way, as he knew how deeply in love she was with Mohammed.

  “When you disappeared, my dear, Mohammed and I met to discuss how to have you returned to us. As you recall, I knew him already from my dealings with him and your Arabian horse. I believed him to be a strong, intelligent man.”

  “He is,” Katharine agreed.

  “He had his advisor track down the man who had kidnapped you. This man told Mohammed that you had been sold to another man and taken back to Arabia.”

  “His advisor Abdullah? He is a most trusted friend of Mohammed’s. But I was not taken to Arabia. I was left at the doors of the Abbey outside London, when I was bleeding and with child,” she said as she lowered her eyes. “Mother Superior took me to Ireland, where a man of God had medical knowledge. There he performed surgery to save the babe and me.”

  Edward smiled and then wondered aloud.

  “Not taken to Arabia? You know, my dear, once this was discovered, Mohammed journeyed back there to save you. He would waste no time and was most concerned for your safety.”

  Katharine’s heart skipped a beat. He had gone only to save her. He had gone only to save her! She wanted to cry with joy.

  Lord Edward took her hands in his.

  “He loves you, Katharine. He came to me, man to man, and asked for you. He wants to marry you.”

  Katharine placed her hand over her mouth and her tears flowed. She smiled through them.

  “Yes, my dear. He came to me as an honorable man to beg my forgiveness. He asked for your hand in marriage. He said he had loved you for a long time and that had he done the right thing long ago, it would have saved everyone heartache.”

  “Oh, Father. I have waited so long! I have thought of him often, and my love for him has only grown. And I have been in such pain, thinking that I was alone and without him. It has been at times almost unbearable.”

  “Dearest, you are not alone. I love you and he loves you,” Edward said as he patted her hand. “Dry your tears.”

  She sniffed and then he smiled.

  “And I see that I have a grandson.”

  Katharine beamed.

  “Yes. He is a sweet babe.”

  Edward nodded.

  “You and your child are welcome here until Mohammed returns to claim you both.”

  Katharine threw her arms around his neck.

  “Thank you, Father. Such a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Thank you.”

  “Go rest now,” he told her.

  Alone with his thoughts, Edward mused over all that had been discussed. His daughter had never been taken to Arabia. What did that mean? Had the mercenary lied to the advisor? Why on earth would he do that? Why would the advisor lie?

  Then, he recalled the last letter received from the Bow Street Runners and the Arab man who had last been seen talking to the mercenary before he was killed. What did this Abdullah look like? he wondered.

  ***

  Katharine watched her small son sleep in the cradle and closed her eyes. With no one around, she let the tears flow. He loved her. He loved her. She hugged herself and smiled.

  He had done exactly as he had said he would. He had approached her father and asked for her hand. Had she not been kidnapped, they would have been married, her child would have been born safely, and nothing would have gone wrong.

  She moved one finger along the babe’s soft cheek and moved to the bed. She should never have doubted him. He loved her and she loved him. Soon she would be safe in his arms, never to be separated again.

  ***

  Meanwhile, Edward dreaded telling Anne about their daughter’s child. Though he was absolutely certain Mohammed would return to marry Katharine, she was at the moment not married, and the child had been born out of wedlock.

  Edward was not so modern to admit that he was at least a tad embarrassed of the child born out of wedlock. But he also knew it was hypocritical, as many couples lay togethe
r before marriage and had a ripe belly at the altar as the marriage vows were spoken.

  He also knew of many couples who were married, yet took lovers or mistresses on the side. That his daughter had a living copy of her lover only made it more obvious. But she was not the first nor the last woman to have a child outside of the marriage state.

  Anne was indignant when she heard the news. She closed her eyes against the shame and anger and turned on her husband.

  “I blame you entirely,” she spoke roughly.

  Edward was not surprised at all by his rigid wife’s response.

  “And why is that?” he asked.

  “Because you spoiled the girl and gave her an education not befitting her station.”

  “So her education was a waste?”

  “Yes, Edward. It was. When a woman’s role is to rule a household and marry, then the arts, music, and embroidery are sufficient.”

  “Then you and I are in disagreement in this matter, as we always have been,” he said and shrugged.

  Anne rolled her eyes in frustration.

  “So now, we have an unmarried daughter in our house as well as her bastard.”

  Edward took two strides to reach his wife and grabbed her upper arms in his hands.

  “Madame, as long as I am alive, my daughter and her son have a place here. Should you ever mention the word bastard in my or her hearing, it will not bode well for you. Do we understand each other?”

  Anne looked at him coldly.

  “Perfectly,” she hissed at him.

  ***

  Charles had enjoyed the first few years spent with his new bride, Sarah. But after the newness wore off, he settled back to joining his friends at the gaming halls and an occasion visit to the brothel. He spent his coin sparingly, but allowed himself these little trifles.

  Sarah had given birth to two daughters and doted upon them rather than her husband. He spent much time with his good friend Thomas Merritt, who was the second son of an earl. Thomas would not inherit any lands or titles, but his father was generous with his allowance. Charles had first met Thomas at Eton, though he was several years behind him. Thomas was a likeable man, with brown hair and hazel eyes, compared to Charles’ blonde hair and blue eyes.