Once a Scoundrel (Rogues Redeemed #3)

by Mary Jo Putney

  In a soft voice that couldn’t be heard over the sound of falling water, she murmured, “If I ever get back to England, I’m going to publish an exposé about life in a harem. There’s nothing romantic and glamorous about this—it’s just boring!”

  The sky was lightening in the east when Constance joined her at the fountain. Though she was softer and rounder, and her hair was dark blond rather than golden, she resembled Rory enough to prove they were related.

  Though Constance was a first cousin, they hadn’t known each other growing up, but when Rory had learned that Constance had been widowed and left virtually penniless, she’d asked her cousin if she would be willing to become Rory’s travel companion.

  Constance had immediately said yes, and not only because she was impoverished. She shared with Rory a longing to see distant lands. They traveled well together and had become close friends in the process. But Rory had never thought that her actions would bring her friend into slavery in Barbary.

  Constance perched on the bench by the fountain and joined Rory in watching the sky turn pink. “I think our quarters would be improved by having a few pets. A cat or two, or a dog. Which would you like?”

  “Either. Both.” Rory smiled. “Or some of the miniature animals that Malek keeps in his menagerie since they’re near at hand. A pair of the adorable little goats, perhaps. Do you think he’d let us keep a pair here if I asked him?”

  “Despite your legendary ability to charm men, I doubt it,” Constance said, her brief humor fading. “We may be privileged captives, but we’re still captives.”

  Rory made herself ask a question she’d avoided before now. “Are you sorry you accepted my offer of employment? If you hadn’t, you’d be safely back in England now.”

  “Up until the corsairs came, the answer was easy. If I were in England, I’d probably be living a horrid, constricted life as a teacher or governess, shivering in an unheated attic room. I’ve seen wonderful things traveling with you.” Constance sighed. “Do you think we’ll ever get out of this comfortable yet damnable cage?”

  “I haven’t wanted to think about that too much because I might not like the answer. But I don’t believe we’ll be kept here forever,” Rory said slowly. “Even though the time in captivity seems to have dragged on forever, it’s only been a few short months. Something will change, and being a foolish optimist, I’m hoping it will be for the better.”

  “Your optimism has carried us through challenging times before.” Constance bleakly regarded the high walls surrounding the women’s quarters. “I keep thinking how we might get out, but it always comes back to the knowledge that it’s impossible to escape on our own. Even if we could scale these walls, we’d be captured before we could leave the city, and we’d never be able to escape by ship or through the desert.”

  “Ransom is our best hope, but Malek’s price is extortionate. We’ll have to hope he’ll accept less,” Rory said. “I wouldn’t mind being cheap merchandise if it got me out of here!”

  They both laughed, but Rory’s secret fear was that her father wouldn’t even make a counteroffer. They would stay here in purgatory until Malek Reis’s patience ran out. Then she and Constance would be sold, probably into separate harems of rich men. Though they’d never see each other again, they’d be relatively safe. But the crew of the Devon Lady would be sent to the mines or the galleys. Such slaves did not have long life expectancies.

  She didn’t want to think about that, so it was a relief when their breakfast arrived. They were almost finished with their bread and fruit and Turkish coffee when Abla, the matron in charge of Malek’s harem, entered their quarters.

  The bread turned to sawdust in Rory’s mouth. The older woman said brusquely, “There is a viewing this morning. Prepare yourself.”

  Rory had endured this humiliation several times and learned to control her expression. “I’ll be ready soon.”

  Abla settled down and spread honey on a piece of bread as Rory and Constance withdrew into their sleeping chamber. Her friend’s expression was wretched as she opened their storage chest. They were fortunate that they’d been allowed to keep most of their belongings, apart from jewels and weapons.

  Resting on top of their European gowns were folded squares of virtually transparent silk veils. They took very little space.

  Rory stripped off her regular opaque robe, then stood still as Constance wound layers of translucent silk around her. She felt like a piece of marzipan being wrapped. Then she pulled a long blue scarf around her head and lower face so that only her eyes showed. Last of all, she donned a dark mantle that concealed every inch of her.

  As she tweaked the mantle around Rory, Constance said, “Surely the ransom will arrive soon and we will be free. Then you’ll no longer have to endure such humiliations.”

  Rory wished the same, but she’d learned to accept what she couldn’t change. “I should be back soon. These things don’t usually last very long.”

  Her mouth a thin line behind her scarf, Rory returned to the courtyard, where Abla was waiting. Outside the women’s quarters, they were met by two muscular guards whose interested gazes flicked over Rory. The interest suggested that they weren’t eunuchs, but they could see nothing of her under the voluminous robe, which was rather the point of such garments.

  She was escorted to the expansive menagerie, which was Malek’s favorite place for these viewings. The reis kept exotic animals in spacious high-walled compounds, and the distinctive musky odor of lions drifted across the tree-lined alley. Like Rory and Constance, the animals seemed to have adjusted to captivity, but they didn’t look particularly happy about it.

  In the center of the menagerie was a wide pavilion with cushioned seats and patterned Turkish carpets. Two musicians played softly, their music blending in with the splashing of a three-tiered fountain. Half a dozen richly dressed and bearded men were drinking cool beverages from goblets, but their casual talk stopped when Rory appeared.

  “Ah, my golden desert flower!” Malek said genially in French as she approached. Surely he saw the fury in her eyes, but it only amused him. “My friends wish to see if your beauty is as great as I have said. Come and prove my promise.”

  The first time Malek had forced her to display herself, she’d resisted furiously. Unperturbed, he’d produced a vicious whip and said he’d use it on her cousin if she didn’t cooperate. Feeling ill, Rory had agreed to put on lascivious shows on demand.

  Wishing she could feed all these leering men to the lions, she slowly opened the mantle, sliding gracefully away as the heavy fabric folded to the ground. There was a gasp of shock from the assembled men when they saw that she wore only layers of translucent silk that did little to conceal her body. Rory survived these humiliations by imagining she was someone else, a fictional and powerful temptress named Sheba who could drive men mad. She was no longer well-brought-up Lady Aurora Lawrence, and that distance made these horrid performances possible.

  The musicians changed tempo to a dance rhythm. Rory glided away from the men and released the outermost veil, letting it float to the tiled floor of the pavilion as she modestly cast her gaze downward. What would her mother think if she saw Rory’s dancing? The teacher Malek provided taught sensuous moves nothing like what her childhood Italian dance master had taught the Lawrence offspring.

  As the second veil drifted to the ground, one of the viewers said in a thickened voice, “The blue eyes are interesting, but I want to see her face and hair.”

  Usually that came later, but when Malek nodded to Rory, she started unwinding the head scarf, taking her time and undulating a little under the silk veils. When her golden-blond hair spilled free, there was a strange sound like a sucking in of breath.

  She tossed her hair seductively and pulled the scarf from her face. One of the watching men began rubbing his genitals as he stared at her hungrily. She almost gagged at his vulgarity.

  Another man said, “She’s old and too thin,” in a tone that suggested not disapproval, but
that he was trying to bargain her price down.

  “Not so very old, a virgin, and with all the feminine delights a man would expect,” Malek said lazily. Clearly he enjoyed showing off his valuable captive.

  “She doesn’t look very docile,” another man said thoughtfully.

  “Docile women are boring,” Malek responded as he gestured to Rory. “This one will never be boring.”

  Rory was tempted to leap at Malek and pull his dagger from its sheath so she could prove just how undocile she was, but the short-term pleasure of knifing him wouldn’t be worth the cost to her and her fellow captives. She contented herself with baring her teeth in a threatening smile. Several of the men looked taken aback. The others looked annoyingly intrigued.

  Rory caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see a European man being escorted to the pavilion by two of Malek’s guards. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had sun-touched brown hair and an air of calm, unshakeable competence. This man would be a safe haven in any storm, she sensed.

  He didn’t look at Rory, who was off to one side, but at Malek. Both of the men’s expressions changed with what she realized was recognition as they exchanged words. These men had a history, and if she was any judge, it wasn’t a comfortable one.

  Then the newcomer’s gaze shifted to her and she felt a snap of something she didn’t recognize. This one, a voice deep in her mind whispered.

  This man. Now.

  Chapter 3

  Gabriel could see that the corsair who’d captured Lady Aurora Lawrence had done well from his piracy; his home was not a mere house, but a sprawling palace. Did he demand an exorbitant ransom to maintain this splendor, or was he so wealthy he no longer understood what money meant to lesser folk? Gabriel could only pray that the fellow would be willing to negotiate the price for his captive’s freedom.

  Gabriel’s command of the local dialect was still fluent enough to startle the servants, and perhaps that was why the majordomo offered to take him to the master right away. They passed from house to gardens to the impressive menagerie. There was the distinct musky scent of lions on the right, and above the opposite wall of the walkway a giraffe could be seen peacefully grazing on a tree.

  Thoughts of exotic beasts vanished when his escort brought him to an open-sided pavilion where half a dozen richly dressed Algerian men were gathered. The broad, powerful figure in the middle turned to see who was coming, and the sight of his face stunned Gabriel to near paralysis. The name Malek wasn’t uncommon, and he hadn’t expected to see a man he knew, and had never thought he would see again.

  The moment of shock was swift and mutual. Using all his hard-won discipline to control his expression, Gabriel gave a courteous nod. “Malek Reis. It is my honor to be received by you. I have come all the way from England to discuss the freedom of a lady in your custody.”

  Malek’s expression was as guarded as his own. In Arabic, he said to his fellows, “The viewing is over, my friends. I thank you for coming today.”

  A man said with annoyance, “Does this mean the merchandise is not for sale?”

  “That remains to be seen.” Malek ushered his guests down the steps and onto the walkway that led out of the menagerie.

  While the small knot of men left, talking intently, Gabriel scanned the pavilion, and for the second time in a matter of minutes, he was lightning-shocked to his core, this time by the sight of a profoundly naked young woman.

  No, she wasn’t quite naked, for layers of transparent silk veils floated around her flawless body. They had the paradoxical effect of emphasizing how very bare she was. The golden hair and delicate features confirmed this was Lady Aurora, but she wasn’t laughing as she’d been in the miniature portrait inside her mother’s locket. Her blue eyes were stark as hot, humiliated color rose in her face. She looked ready to faint. Even so, she was shatteringly beautiful.

  A dark pile of fabric lay crumpled on the ground. He scooped the material up and handed it to her at arm’s length, forcing himself to keep his gaze on her face. Speaking in a low voice so as not to be overheard by Malek, he said, “Lady Aurora. I’m Gabriel Hawkins, captain of a ship from England. I’ve come to negotiate your freedom.”

  She grabbed the garment, a voluminous cloak, and wrapped it around herself so thoroughly she looked like a nun. That didn’t diminish the impact she had on him. She’d been stunning in her portrait, and was even more so now.

  Lady Aurora’s face reflected a tumult of emotions: shame, fury, and humiliation, but also courage and determination. The face of a woman who was as admirable as she was beautiful.

  Having composed herself to apparent serenity, she spoke as if that shocking scene hadn’t taken place. “I’m very glad to see you, Captain Hawkins. My father sent you?”

  “Not your father. Your mother.”

  She bit her lip. “My father couldn’t pay Malek Reis’s exorbitant demands, so my mother collected what she could and sent you here with hopes and prayers?”

  “You know your parents well.” After a moment’s hesitation, he added, “Though I did not meet your father, I’m told he was deeply concerned for your welfare. But he couldn’t meet the price.”

  She smiled ruefully. “I don’t know how much money my mother could raise, but I’m sure it was much less than fifty thousand pounds. I hope you’re a good negotiator.”

  “Reasonably so, but my principal qualification is having some knowledge of the Barbary Coast. How are you? Have you been treated well?”

  “Apart from having to appear naked before men who would show more respect if I was a horse?” she said bitterly.

  He winced. “Apart from that.”

  “There was a very unpleasant examination to certify my ‘purity’ since that affects my price, but otherwise I’ve been treated well. Comfortable quarters, good food, and a language tutor to help us learn Turkish and the local version of Arabic.” She smiled a little. “A dance instructor to learn shameless exotic dances. Those are rather fun. Some women would consider it a wonderful life, I imagine.”

  “Some songbirds might not mind their cages,” he said quietly. “But others beat against the bars till their hearts burst for a chance to be free.”

  She drew a shaky breath. “Exactly.”

  “I will do whatever I can to free you,” he said tautly.

  Their gazes locked. “I believe you will do your best. I pray that will be enough. I do not underestimate the difficulties,” she said softly. “I hate that there is so little I can do for myself!”

  He wished he could take her hand to offer comfort, but that might annoy Malek, who could see them even though he was out of earshot. The reis’s good will was required if Lady Aurora was to be released. “The fact that you are calm and clear sighted about your situation is more help than you realize.”

  “I hope so. It’s all I’ve had.” She smiled. “But now I have you.”

  Her smile was enough to melt a man’s bones. Before he could think what to say, Malek returned. They’d been speaking in English, and Malek spoke in the same language, saying, “So we meet again, Hawkins.”

  “You speak English?” Lady Aurora asked, startled.

  “I am a man of many talents,” the reis said blandly. “What brings you to Algiers, Hawkins? Courage or stupidity?”

  “A quest to save a damsel in distress.” Gabriel gestured at the estate surrounding them. “You have prospered, Malek Reis.”

  “Indeed I have.” A touch of malice in his voice, Malek continued. “Are you still merely the master of one small ship?”

  So they were going to fence with words. “Great possessions are a great burden,” Gabriel replied. “A man is very free when he sails a single ship, and my Zephyr is a free wind blowing.”

  Malek gave a snort of acknowledgment. “So with your freedom, Hawkins, you have become Lord Lawrence’s errand boy to retrieve his careless daughter.”

  Gabriel smiled, unperturbed. “Exactly so. Lady Aurora’s family cherishes her and wishes for her retur
n home.”

  “You have the fifty thousand pounds to purchase her freedom?” Malek asked sharply.

  “Not so much as that,” Hawkins replied. “As a wise man once told me, all transactions are subject to barter.”

  Malek gave a bark of laughter as he recognized words of his own from the past. “Your friend is indeed wise. How close are you to my ransom demand?”

  “Not as close as you would like, I’m sure, but nonetheless, I am authorized to offer you an enormous sum of money.”

  Malek frowned, and Gabriel wondered if the other man needed the full ransom amount in order to achieve a particular goal. “I must consider whether there is room for negotiation in this case.” He made a dismissive gesture toward Lady Aurora. “The wench must leave so we can discuss business.”

  “Wench?” Lady Aurora said in a dangerous voice.

  Gabriel said, “Why should the lady leave when she has the greatest stake in our negotiations?”

  Malek hesitated, then shrugged. “As you wish. But females greatly complicate business discussions. Have a seat and I will order refreshments brought.” He made a gesture to a servant outside the pavilion.

  They settled on cushioned seats, watching each other like points on a triangle. Lady Aurora kept her cloak wrapped protectively around her, though a glimpse of bare ankle was visible under the folds. Her face was still as carved marble.

  “Where shall we begin the negotiations, Hawkins?” Malek asked bluntly. “You’ve already admitted that you don’t have the full amount of the ransom.”

  “A ransom which was absurdly high,” Gabriel retorted. “A mere starting bid. Though Lady Aurora is beautiful and beloved by her family and friends, fifty thousand pounds was surely just a way of saying that you expect a high price. I’m not aware of current market prices of beautiful European slave girls, but even in Constantinople such an amount would be ridiculous.”

  Malek’s dark brows arched. “You didn’t know that the lady insisted the ransom must include not only her cousin, Lady Constance, but the captain and all the crew of the Devon Lady, the ship I captured?”