Desert Hostage

by Diane Dunaway

  At the front of the line a shiny black carriage stood, its door held open by a servant who bowed as they approached. Then, helping Juliette inside, and seeing her sink into the velvety comfort of the seat, Brandon called something to the driver. Then he was stepping in beside her. There was a crack of a whip, and immediately the carriage pulled away as the driver turned the four matched grays around and headed them off at a trot.

  Chapter 32

  With a subtle curve to his lips, Brandon watched Juliette leaning against brown velvet cushions, beads of perspiration glistening at her temples, all the color gone from her face.

  A moment before she had seemed ready to faint, and with an involuntary tightening in his loins that he chose to ignore, he had undone the constricting neckline of her dress down to the tops of her breast. Now, warily, he turned to look out the back window.

  It was essential they weren't seen on this road or followed. So far events had played into his hand, but still, he had known Juliette long enough to realize he could not be completely certain of anything until it was done and he wouldn't feel absolutely confident until she was aboard the Black Hawk, and they had put out to sea.

  He glanced back to Juliette, his eyes traveling over her face. And what would she do then? He asked himself. What would she say when she realized-he had abducted her? Already he had sampled her temper. His insides filled with a kind of laughter. She would be furious, of course a regular termagant. But that would pass and he would teach her to love him.

  How long could any woman resist her own desires? And he knew this woman wanted him with all the power of first passion. He had seen approaching surrender in the way her lips parted as he held her in his arms and in the soft molding of her body against his.

  Once they were alone--once she could no longer avoid him the outcome was inevitable. After a week or two in his bed, she would change, and when she came to her senses and consented to marry him, they would already be on their way to El Abadan.

  Everything would be different then; her love for him would help her understand why this kidnapping had been necessary. He would tell her everything, and she would realize he couldn't have waited any longer. The French rifles and ammunition were sailing to Tripoli for transport into the desert. It was absolutely necessary that he intercept them, particularly now when recent cables had informed him the Hussar was moving suspiciously in the direction of Tripoli. Was it possible his enemy also knew of the shipment?

  At the thought Brandon's face hardened. It was a chance he couldn't take, not for Juliette, not for anything. She would have to understand.

  Looking behind them again, Brandon noted there was still no one following, and his eyes returned to Juliette who seemed even paler. If he had not wanted to alarm her, he would have undone her dress and unlaced her corset. English dresses were not without charm, but those stays allowed only shallow breathing. And imagining Juliette wearing the clingy thin silk garments he would order sewn for her, he opened the windows so a breeze blew through the coach.

  Grateful for the cool air against her damp face, Juliette leaned closer to the opening, all her thoughts concentrated on trying not to be sick. She swallowed against the sting of bile in her throat and took long slow breaths for several minutes while the Spanish hills rushed past in a flash of wispy grass and orange trees.

  Finally then, her stomach began to settle and when she could fill her lungs again, she began to collect herself, glancing up at Brandon, who sat wordless and unreadable beside her, and then down to her own gaping dress.

  Automatically she gathered the opening together in one hand. Though she realized that unbuttoning it had been the sensible thing to do, she flushed as she said, "I guess I was quite shaken. It seems you came just at the right moment. I feel better now." Looking out the window she asked, "Is this the direction to the hotel?"

  .Brandon looked down, his expression inscrutable as he said, "I'm glad you're feeling better but I'm surprised you decided to come with me. The last time we met you weren't so inclined. Dare I hope this indicates a change of attitude?" he finished on a teasing note.

  Juliette's blush deepened. "The `last time' we met, Monsieur Phillips," she said firmly sitting up straight, "you were extremely overbearing. As I've told you before, I wish to avoid all entanglements."

  "And you find me-how shall I say then ... entangling?’

  Juliette's lips drew a tight line as she looked away. Why had he brought all this up now? She was just feeling better and now it seemed he was making things difficult all over again. "Entangling is the wrong word. Complicating would be better. Anyway you must know what I mean. I don't want to jeopardize my . . . my future."

  She felt him take her hand, his touch making that same tingling lightness flutter up her arm.

  "Your future?" he questioned. "Is that what made you run away?"

  "Not . . . I mean yes! ... I mean, if I stayed with you it was certain that I . . . that you . . . that we would have. ..:' Juliette paused, flustered and annoyed at her own reactions and dishabille, and by the returning memory of her resolution never, never to see this man again.

  And when she looked up to find his eyes dancing with amusement, she gathered her neckline tighter with the other hand as she said, "Oh, why are you making me explain? You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. I didn't want you to kiss me, that's all, and you know it!"

  The hooded expression didn't change. "Yes. But I'm curious why. Do you find me distasteful?"

  Juliette looked back toward the window. "You know I don't." Her voice was low. "You know I find you ... well . . . attractive."

  Brandon laughed shortly. "I suppose I should be flattered, even if I'm still not attractive enough to kiss. Or do you even know about kissing? You seemed in need of some experienced instruction."

  "Oh!" Her head jerked around. "That's not true!" she flamed, inching away. "I've been kissed before."

  "Really? And did you like it?"

  Juliette glared. "No, I didn't, in fact, and I can assure you I wouldn't like your kisses any better!" Her eyes dropped to his mouth as she swallowed convulsively. "You see, I'm not the kind of girl who likes affection. I never did as a child, and I don't like it now. I'm sure there are other women-aren't there, monsieur?-who would be glad to favor you. Why be concerned whether I do or not?"

  His hands moved to clasp her shoulders, a mysterious, pleased expression just behind his features. "You don't fool me, Juliette. You aren't as frozen as you would like to appear."

  He took her hand and kissed the backs of her fingers before turning it over, pausing to deftly unbutton her sleeve and expose her inner wrist, before pressing his mouth there, too.

  Juliette felt her pulse jumping beneath his lips and abruptly tried to jerk her hand free.

  "Stop that! Why are you being so forward and such a . . . such a rogue?"

  "Rogue," he repeated raising his eyebrows. "Rogue?" He laughed still holding her hand. "I think you haven't had enough `rogues' in your life. I think you like me because I am a `rogue.' "

  Frightened yet strangely fascinated, Juliette stopped struggling as he drew her closer. "And I'll tell you a secret, my little one," he said softly a new luster shining in his dark eyes, "Today-right now, you are coming with me onboard the Bla-"

  A sudden noise interrupted him and made both their heads turn to look out the rear window. Juliette heard him curse under his breath as he recognized Rodney's coach approaching at breakneck speed, swaying and jostling on its springs and seeming ready to overturn, while Rodney himself hung out the window, ascot undone and blowing past his ear, his face purple, his arms flailing as his mouth moved with words drowned out by the din and clatter of the horses' hooves.

  Frowning, Brandon turned to her. "I'll make short work of him."

  Juliette grasped Brandon's forearm. "No!" she said, alarmed. "Please. Rodney is foolish, but for my sake, don't . . . don't hurt him."

  "So you wish to protect him?"

  "We are old friends. He does only w
hat seems best to him. I owe him more than I can ever repay."

  Juliette's eyes pleaded and Brandon hesitated. "I see. And if I agree, what will you give me in return?" His gaze rested pointedly on her mouth.

  Juliette lifted her chin. "You are not a gentleman, Monsieur Phillips, to bargain with me like this."

  Brandon raised one mocking brow. "But it is you who asks this favor, mademoiselle," he chided. "It is your `old friend' who comes, no doubt, to challenge my honor. It seems if I am to let the insult pass I should be given some compensation."

  "And what would you have?" she asked, fearing the worst.

  "For you to meet me tonight, at midnight, in the hotel gardens by the fountain."

  Rodney's coach was beside them now and Brandon called to his driver to stop. The carriage jerked abruptly as the horses slowed and finally came to a dancing halt.

  Rodney's coach stopped too, and without waiting for a footman, he threw open his own door and emerged to stalk toward them.

  "Your time has run out, ma petite," Brandon said. "What shall it be? Do you meet me tonight, or do I deal with this young man in my own way?"

  Juliette's over bright eyes darted from Brandon to Rodney and back again. She had no alternative. If they should fight a duel of some sort, or even if someone should witness an argument, everyone would find out. It would be a scandal and her reputation would be ruined. William Bond would probably not even listen to her explanation before cutting off her funds and thereby her independence. And what if Brandon should actually hurt Rodney? No, she couldn't allow it.

  So with a fleeting frown, Juliette compressed her lips and nodded. "Obviously I have no choice, as usual, Monsieur Phillips. I will be there, but not because I want to."

  Brandon nodded also and his face grew suddenly serious. "Poor Juliette," he said as he stepped from the carriage. He reached his long fingers to caress her chin with a gentle stroke. "Your kind heart makes you very vulnerable." Then turning, he walked out to face Rodney.

  Chapter 33

  Juliette doubled her, fist and plunged it into a satin pillow on her narrow bed. Oh, how could she have promised? And yet, how could she have done anything else? As usual, it had been Brandon's game and he who commanded the situation. With chilled fingers Juliette swept her long unbound hair out of her face. Just the thought of him roaming outside in the gardens made her shiver.

  How long would he wait? Already she knew patience was not one of his virtues. And what would he do when she didn't come? Certainly she couldn't deny he had kept his part of the bargain. Indeed, his self-control had been admirable as he silently waited while the younger man raged and insulted him. Long, horrible, moments had passed before Rodney controlled himself.

  Then Brandon had spoken to him in a voice so low Juliette couldn't make out his words. But whatever he said, it appeared to settle the matter. Slowly brightening, Rodney had finally shaken Brandon's outstretched hand.

  Just then, Lady Linley's coach appeared round a bend in the road, carrying the lady solitarily back from the race. The coach rolled past, then stopped, turned around, and pulled up close to Brandon's carriage.

  Lady Linley's face peered sharp-eyed out the window, taking in the two men in a single curious glance before looking directly at her.

  "Is everything all right, dear?" she questioned in a high-pitched voice. "Would you care to ride the rest of the way with me?"

  In spite of this woman's obvious curiosity and her reputation for prying, Juliette was eager to escape the pending awkwardness of deciding which man she should ride back with. So smiling brightly now, as if she hadn't a care in the world, she called back, "How kind of you to invite me."

  Then as Brandon's footman reluctantly opened the door, Juliette picked up her long skirt in her left hand and stepped out, not giving a backward glance to the two men, as Lady Linley's footman carefully helped her in.

  "Poor dear! Did both carriages break down?" Lady Linley inquired when Juliette was seated.

  Juliette opened her fan and casually began fanning herself as she answered matter-of-factly.

  "No, not broken down actually. It was only that Monsieur Phillips so kindly offered to ride me away from that terrible accident. He had some business with Rodney ... ah . . . Lord Keiths, and when Lord Keiths caught up with us, Monsieur Phillips stopped so they could have a word together. Gentlemen's conversation always bores me," she continued, smiling her sweetest smile and stifling a small yawn. "It was so nice of you to stop and bother about me."

  Juliette watched Lady Linley closely. As she wondered if this sharp-eyed lady could possibly believe such a story, she suddenly felt the older woman put a thin wrinkled hand over her own. "Now don't worry yourself, dear," she was saying in a motherly tone. "Men will do what they do, and there isn't anything we women can do about it. The sooner you understand that, the easier life will be."

  Juliette smiled weakly as the older woman continued. "But never mind them, it's an hour back to the hotel, and you and I can have a nice chat."

  It was a trying hour filled with Lady Linley's endless gossip. But finally they reached the hotel and Juliette alighted with the help of the footman. She waved Lady Linley off then, and holding her composure long enough to climb the stairs to the privacy of her room, she threw herself full-length on her bed.

  What a day! And it wasn't over yet! What about her bargain with Brandon? She couldn't break it, dared not. Again she sank her fist into the pillow. Oh, what a mess! For an hour her thoughts raced in endless circles until a gnawing pain in her stomach reminded her she hadn't eaten since morning. She rang for her maid, who unlaced her and helped her out of her dress before going to the kitchen and returning with a tray full of food, which Juliette could only nibble at and swirl around her plate as the carved ivory hands of the clock moved continuously forward.

  At eleven o'clock, Juliette forced herself to go to bed, and feeling utterly exhausted, managed to sleep for an hour before awakening to a sudden tingling sensation that rushed over her with a new urgency.

  In her half-waking, half-sleeping state, she imagined Brandon's lips again pressed against her throat and traveling down to caress the flesh above her breasts. She trembled beneath the cold sheets, a sensation manifesting itself in her abdomen and spreading with liquid warmth. Her eyes opened with a snap then, and uttering a soft cry she sat up, throwing back the covers and turning on a light.

  What had he done to her? Why couldn't she escape him even in sleep? Juliette squinted against the brightness of her lamp, suddenly aware then of a noise coming from her balcony. Catching her breath she held it, listening intently.

  Again the noise came, and yes, it was from her balcony. Quickly she grabbed her dressing gown and slipped it on, running to the balcony doors on tiptoe. Her heart pounded as she pictured Brandon's mocking smile. She would put nothing past him. He was not a man to be thwarted, and she had made a bargain with him.

  Twisting the brass handle of one of the doors, she silently opened it and stood in the opening looking over the rail to the empty beach and back to the gnarled vine entangling itself around her balcony. The whole vine was shaking now with a movement that was not the wind.

  Wide-eyed, Juliette stepped back, pulling the long curtain in front of her. Was he there? Had he come for her? Somewhere in the distance a bird cried as the sea rushed in and out below. A breeze blew softly against her face. Again the vine trembled, but it was not Brandon who then abruptly appeared over the edge of the balcony, but rather a tiny cream-colored kitten who pulled itself up onto the railing, ears pricked toward her as it mewed plaintively.

  "So it was you," Juliette said walking forward and taking the kitten in her arms. Then leaning out over the railing, she gazed out to sea and then in the direction of the garden as, inside, the clock chimed three small bells indicating the hour.

  She had not gone to him, and he had not come. It was better this way, she told herself. So soon she would be leaving him behind, and seeing him tonight would have made everythin
g more difficult.

  Juliette petted the kitten, making small coos of comfort until it began purring. Then clutching it to her heart, she walked back into her room, the sounds of the sea diminishing behind her.

  So much has happened to me in such a short time, she thought, and somehow, indefinably, everything seems different, as if something has changed forever. Her lips compressed. When had it happened and how? She asked herself, knowing the answer without thought.

  It was Brandon Phillips who was responsible, and well he knew it too. If only she didn't respond to him, but he was so intense, so wonderfully exciting. Whenever she was with him she felt mesmerized, fascinated. And his touch... How did it affect her so?