by Bobbi Smith
"Hello, Victoria . . ." David bent over her hand with practiced ease, ever the gentleman. He thought her far more attractive than her small portrait had revealed, and he was pleasantly surprised.
"Hello, Alexander, and please . . . call me Tori," she returned with a smile that didn't reach her heart. She wondered why, even in this first innocuous meeting she was mentally comparing him to Serad. There could be no comparison. There was no one who could compare with Serad. He was strong . . . and handsome . . . and powerful and . . . Tori suddenly realized the direction of her thoughts and grew even more determined to make a success of this engagement. With a concerted effort, she turned on her charm.
When the duke and the marquess retired to the study some time later to give the two young people a chance to get acquainted, Tori and David were already enjoying a lively conversation as he brought her up to date on the goings-on in London during the season and told her about his interests and she told him about her life in India and her activities there.
Tori had not known what to expect from Alexander, and she was happy to find that he was interesting and well read, too. When her grandfather asked her what she thought of him later that night after they'd gone, she had to admit that she thought he was a very nice man and that she'd liked him very much. Encouraged by this news, Alfred knew that he and Edward had done the right thing in keeping to the marriage contract.
"Well, Alexander, what did you think of Victoria?" Edward asked when they were in the carriage on their way back to their London home.
"You were right, Grandfather. She's a beauty." In the elegant, understated, turquoise gown she'd been wearing, Tori had looked lovely. Even as he acknowledged her stunning looks though, Tess was in his heart, her hold on his love unshakable.
"I think so. And her background is impeccable. Her family's holding, while not as vast as ours, will do nicely. Yes, I think she's quite a good match for you."
David nodded solemnly, wondering what Edward would think if he knew who he really was.
"There's no need to rush into anything, of course," Edward was saying. "Take all the time you need and get to know each other. It's important that you like each other. Love can come later."
The next two weeks passed in a blur of activity for the betrothed couple. At Edward's urging, David escorted Tori to every important social event in town. Others from their social set gathered around them and they became a most sought-after couple.
As the days passed and they grew more familiar and comfortable with each other, a bond of sorts formed between them and they became friends. One evening at a ball during an unusually romantic moment on a deserted balcony, David did kiss Tori, but the embrace aroused no burning desire within him. It was pleasant, sweet almost, but held none of the wild emotion he experienced with Tess. He did not at any time press his affections upon her.
Tori found her fiancé to be genuinely interesting. When he kissed her, she thought his embrace nice, but nothing at all like the explosive ecstasy she'd shared with Serad. It infuriated her that she kept comparing the two of them. Try as she might, she had not been able to wipe the maddening pirate from her memory. He was constantly haunting her, ruining this, her one chance for happiness. Wasn't this what she'd fought with him about? Hadn't she told Serad over and over again that she loved Alexander and wanted to come home and marry him? Yet, now that she was here, she couldn't forget the fierce corsair who had swept her off her feet and into his arms.
To all the world, the engaged couple gave the appearance of being thrilled with their arrangement. Little did anyone suspect that both Tori and David were existing in their own private hells, and David became even more morose when Edward suggested they all travel to Huntington House for a stay and his invitation was immediately accepted by the marquess.
David's life suddenly threatened to become one long, endless stretch of misery and tension-filled days. He knew he would have to devote all his attention to Tori, and the thought that Tess would be there, watching him do it and suffering because of it, hurt him.
His conscience began to badger him again. He liked Tori, and the more he considered the sham he was foisting upon her and the pain he was causing Tess, the more agonized he became. They both believed he was Alexander, and the deception was getting to be more than he could stand. David was beginning to wonder if he could live with the future he'd created for himself.
"Alexander? What are you thinking about?" Tori asked as she slowed her horse's pace so she could ride abreast of him.
Tori's question cut through the haze of unhappiness that surrounded David, forcing his attention back to the present, back to their ride across the open green fields of Huntington. "Nothing in particular, why?"
"Oh, I don't know. Sometimes you have the most thoughtful expression on your face. It's almost as if you're pondering the world's problems and trying to find solutions for them all."
"You give me far too much credit, Tori." He managed a derisive laugh. If he couldn't solve his own problems, how in heaven's name could he manage to help the world?
"Oh, I don't think so. I think you're a very intelligent man."
"Thank you, but there are moments when I have my doubts."
"Well, don't. Come on! I'll race you to that copse of trees!" She pointed to the small grove a mile or so away, and then put her heels to her horse and was off.
Left in her dust, David could only follow. His steed was quick, but her head start was too large. She beat him by half a length and was laughing in delight when he reined in beside her.
"You certainly are an excellent horsewoman."
"Thanks. I love to ride. Tiger hunting was exciting, but I really enjoyed riding in the desert. I . . ." She suddenly realized she was thinking of Serad again, and she could have sworn out loud. Was she never to have any peace?
"You went riding in the desert?" he asked with interest. They had spoken very little about the time she'd spent in the hands of the pirates, and he wanted her to feel free to discuss it if she wanted to.
"Yes, it was quite different from anything I'd ever done before. While the desert seems quite barren, it can be beautiful."
"Was it a difficult time for you?"
"It was hard . . ." She paused, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. "But Jonesey and I kept our spirits up. After all, I had my family and you to come home to. I'm glad things worked out as they did. Jonesey said I did well. She said I conducted myself in a manner suitable for a future duchess." As she said the words, though, an image of Serad appeared in her mind, bending over her, kissing her. Suddenly, Tori found herself wondering what his reaction had been when he'd returned to find her gone, and she wondered, too, where he was and what he was doing at that very moment.
Chapter Thirty-One
"Take a look, George," the filthy, toothless guard chuckled as he threw open the door to the dark, dank, windowless cell. Stepping just inside, he held the torch he was carrying up high so his companion could see the savagely beaten man who was chained to the far side of the cell. The prisoner was sitting listlessly on the floor, his back braced against the wall for support, his head down, his eyes closed. "What did I tell you? He don't look much like a cutthroat pirate now, does he?"
"Hell, no, Sam. He looks like some slovenly drunk off a back alley," George commented, staring at the man they'd been told was a dangerous Barbary corsair.
"He ain't drunk, he's near dead. Why, Fred and me, we took turns on him last night when they first brought him in. He ain't near so proud any more now that we straightened him out."
"I can tell," George remarked. He knew how much Sam enjoyed beating the prisoners.
"You know what he claimed last night?"
"What?"
"It was the damnedest thing. He tried to tell us that he was related to a duke!"
"A duke?!" George bellowed with laughter.
"That's what he said. That's when Fred and me really got mad and gave it to him. He ain't going to be claiming to be related to nobody anymore
. Imagine . . . him related to royalty!" He guffawed at the thought as he turned and led George out of the room, then slammed the door shut and locked it securely.
Serad didn't bother to look up until the sound of their voices had faded away. Not that it mattered much, for there was no light in his cell and only the faintest of glows shining through the tiny barred window in the door from the passageway beyond. He stared up through blackened, swollen eyes at the one small fragment of light in his life, wondering if he would ever see the sun and the sea again.
Serad had known returning to England in chains would be bad, but he had never thought his life would end like this—alone in a pitch-black hole in the ground. He tilted his head back against the cold, unforgiving stone of the wall and let out a deep, ragged sigh.
Tori slipped into his thoughts like a warm spring breeze, and in spite of his pain and degradation, Serad smiled. He loved her, and what pained him the most was the fact that he had never gotten to tell her. His thoughts drifted to his aunt, Malik, and Hasim, and he wondered if they'd heard of his capture yet. It had been weeks now since he'd had the misfortune of crossing paths with Captain Demorest, and he had no idea how long it would take for the news to spread. Worry for his men returned to plague him, and he could only hope that they were faring better than he was. He stared off into the darkness, wondering if a death fighting at sea wouldn't have been preferable to being left in a hellhole to rot.
Letting his eyes drift shut, Serad rested. He didn't know if the guards would come back, but he knew he would have to conserve his strength just in case they did.
Malik stood alone in his bedchamber. His mood was dark and surly as he stared out the window to the gardens below. It had been over three weeks since Serad had sailed and two weeks since Rabi had gone after him—two miserable weeks that had been the longest, loneliest ones of his life. Malik was worried about Serad, and he hoped Rabi could save him as she'd promised she would. But even though he knew it had been necessary for her to go, he missed her. He felt lost without her, and he ached to hold her in his arms again, to kiss her and to take her to his bed.
As he thought about the beauty of their lovemaking, the doubts he'd held at bay so long returned. With a muttered curse, Malik strode from the room to escape the memories of their nights together. He told himself that Rabi would come back to him, that he just had to be patient. But even as he tried to convince himself, the uncertainties remained to haunt him. He'd always known Rabi wanted to return to her home and family. He'd always known she'd loved another. Stubborn woman that she was, she had held her heart away from him all these years, and no matter how hard he'd tried, she had never fully surrendered that part of her. A heaviness settled in his soul.
Malik reached the gardens and moved onward into his harem. Only his daughter, Talitha lived there now, and it was strangely silent and deserted as he moved through the wide halls to enter Rabi's rooms. He could have filled all the rooms with many willing women, but he had no interest in others. He wanted only Rabi. He needed only her.
"Father? Did you want to see me?" Talitha heard his footsteps and came forth to greet him. The moment she saw his forbidding expression she knew he was worrying about Serad and Rabi. "Would you like to talk?"
Malik took a quick look around Rabi's empty bedroom and then turned to gaze upon his only daughter with affection. She was a sweet, sensitive young woman, and he loved her very much. "I don't know that I would be very good company."
"You are always good company, Father." Talitha came forward, smiling gently as she took his arm and drew him outside into the garden away from Rabi's rooms.
"It's good you think so. There are not many who would agree with you right now."
"You're worried about Serad, that's all."
"You're very observant, much like your mother was."
They began to walk together through the flowering foliage to the center of the garden where only the fountain's soft, melodic splashing disturbed the peace of the night.
"Are you concerned about Rabi, too?"
"Very much. I love her as I loved your mother," he answered simply.
"I know. She'll come back with Serad just as soon as she can, Father. I'm sure of it," Talitha said with assurance.
Malik wondered how it was that she could be so certain, but then he considered her youth, and understood. His daughter was still too innocent in the ways of the world to understand the cruelties of life. First, he had lost Lila, and now he had lost Serad and his beloved Rabi . . . perhaps forever.
"I hope you're right, sweet one."
"You'll see. Nothing's going to happen to either of them. They're going to be fine."
When Malik left her a short time later, he found his mood a little improved. Talitha's gentle innocence and unwavering faith made everything seem clearer. He loved Rabi. He had to believe she would return to him and he had to believe that Serad would be all right.
Up the coast from Algiers, a dark-clad, solitary figure moved silently through the night heading for the city with murder on his mind.
Tori and her grandfather returned to London, refreshed from their week's stay at Huntington House. The last day there the subject of the wedding had come up and they had agreed on a date in five months. Alfred had calculated they would need that long for her parents in India to be notified and make the trip home, not to mention the ordering of the gowns and all the other things that had to be taken care of.
Tori had been swept along in the happy tide of their planning. She told herself that her future was going to be perfect and that she would be content with Alexander. He was a good companion and an interesting conversationalist. They shared many similar interests, and while his kisses did not excite her the way Serad's had, she didn't worry. She had tasted passion once and it had made her the fool. She would settle for gentle caring this time, and be satisfied.
No one had sensed the edge of unhappiness in Tori's agreement to all the plans—no one, that is, except Jonesey. The older woman was far too knowing, and though she didn't get the opportunity to speak with her about it right away, the moment they were alone in her room in London, she spoke her mind.
"Miss Victoria, I think we need to talk."
"About what?" Tori hedged, always cautious when she used that tone of voice.
"You know about what. I've been watching you with Alexander, and I get the feeling that you're not really happy."
"I'm very happy," she denied far too quickly. "I'm engaged to a very handsome, intelligent man, and I'm going to be a duchess."
"And I'll venture to say you're going to be downright miserable in a few years, if you're not careful," she said pointedly.
"Why do you say that?"
"You don't love him."
"Does it matter? I like him. Alexander's everything a man should be. He's kind and considerate and handsome . . ."
"He may be all those things, not to mention rich and titled, but Victoria, he's not Serad," Jonesey finished.
"I know that." There was just the slightest edge of sadness to her words.
"How do you feel about Serad, Victoria?"
"Serad means nothing to me. He was a brute, and I'm glad I got away from him when I did."
"I never noticed he was such a brute," Jonesey said thoughtfully.
"Jonesey, what is your point?" Tori demanded. "We're back home, my life is going the way it's supposed to be going, and now you're bringing up a past I want forgotten."
"I just wanted to make sure that the past was forgotten for you, Miss Victoria. Sometimes we get so caught up doing what we're supposed to do that we lose sight of what we want to do."
"If you think for one moment that I want to go back to Algiers and be with . . ." Tori snapped, but the older woman held up a hand to silence her tirade.
"I don't think anything. I just want you to think, that's all."
Tori stared at her, perplexed.
"If you need anything I'll be in my room," Jonesey told her as she left her alone.
&
nbsp; Tori had meant to go to bed, but Jonesey's incisive remarks had stirred all the feelings she'd been trying to hide and trying to deny. Serad . . . She allowed herself the freedom to think about him now, and she remembered everything. He had not been a brute; in fact, if she faced it, she realized that he had been very careful not to hurt her in any way. The only time he'd been too forceful with her had been the day he'd carried her from the harem. Tori smiled at the memory in spite of herself. Deny it though she might, the time she'd spent with him in the desert had been beautiful. She had fallen completely in love with him then . . . and, she confessed to herself reluctantly and painfully, she was still in love with him. True, he was arrogant, but he had also been kind. True, he had been demanding, but he had also been gentle. Tori's heart ached, and she wondered how she could ever go through the rest of her life married to a man she "liked," when she'd tasted of Serad's passionate love.
Unable to even think about resting, Tori left her bedroom and went downstairs to the study in hopes of finding something to read. Her grandfather had already retired and so she was alone as she studied the endless shelves of leather-bound books. Tori wanted to find a book that would take her mind off her situation, but no particular title drew her attention. It was then that she happened to see a newspaper lying on the desk.
Tori wasn't usually given to keeping up on the news of the world, but for some reason tonight, she decided to read it. The first page offered little in the way of enlightenment, but on the second page, what she read shocked her so deeply that she could only stand there and stare at it in complete disbelief.
"Captain Demorest of the frigate Bellwether reports that he and his men took the pirate ship Scimitar captive on the high seas several weeks ago. The ship was brought into port today, and its captain and crew were taken to Newgate."
All the color drained from her face as she stared in horror at the article. The Scimitar . . . its captain . . . The paper slipped from her numb fingers and she ran from the room and up the stairs. She didn't bother to knock, but opened Jonesey's door and barged in without pause.