‘I’m talking reality. Aren’t you the one who’s big on that?’ Her breath was coming fast, in hard little gasps; she felt as if she’d been running for her life and it occurred to her that, in some strange way, she had been. ‘I don’t know how you set up today’s performance in Adaba, my lord Khalil, but it doesn’t matter. The point is, I’ve seen through it. Sam was right. You are a savage, and you always will be!’
He stepped forward swiftly and she flinched back, determined to show him no fear but unable to stop herself from reacting to the terrible darkness in his eyes.
‘Get on the horse,’ he said softly, in a voice that sent a shudder along her spine. ‘Sit still and say nothing until we reach the palace.’
Joanna tossed her head. ‘Certainly, my lord. Of course, my lord. Your every wish is my—’
She gasped as his hands closed on her shoulders.
‘Push me, Joanna,’ he growled. ‘Push me, and you’ll find out exactly how savage I can be.’
Her lips parted, preparatory to another quick rejoinder, but then she looked into his eyes and saw the coldness in them. The Hawk of the North, she thought, and a shudder went through her.
‘That’s right,’ he said, very softly. ‘I could do anything to you now, and no one—no one!—would ever call me to task for it. Now, turn around, get on the horse, and obey my every order. If you can do that, perhaps you’ll get back to the palace safely.’
Joanna clamped her lips together defiantly, swung away from him, and did as he’d commanded. But as he swung into the saddle behind her and jabbed his heels hard into Najib’s flanks, a little part of her wondered if she’d ever really be safe again.
CHAPTER TEN
JOANNA paced the confines of her room. Twenty paces to one wall, fifteen to the other, then back again. After a week, she knew the dimensions as well as she knew those of the garden, of the palace grounds, of Khalil’s library. And she knew, too, that she would never again look at a caged beast without feeling a swift pang of compassion.
Not that she was being mistreated. Never that. If anything, the circumstances of her captivity had improved since that day in the meadow. Rachelle had brought her the news the following morning.
‘You may walk with me where you wish, Joanna,’ she’d said with a smile, ‘and you may use my lord’s library at will.’
Joanna’s lips tightened. Perhaps Khalil had thought he could convince her he wasn’t the savage she’d called him by allowing her to read his books and stroll the grounds. But he was wrong. She knew him for what he was, and nothing would ever change that now. The reality he’d wanted her to see wasn’t in Adaba, it was here, in the way he kept her captive, in the way Rachelle turned pale each time Joanna dared to speak of her lord and master as the scoundrel he was.
Adaba! Joanna laughed bitterly. The dog and pony show that had been staged there only proved just how much power Khalil really wielded. Adaba had been a stage set! Oh, the thriving marketplace had probably been real enough—but the idiotically happy villagers had been straight out of Disneyworld!
Had Khalil bought their compliance with threats? Had he bribed them with promises? Or were the people who’d been so artfully displayed for her benefit simply among the worshipful followers that inexplicably collected around every tyrant the world had ever known, from Attila the Hun straight through to Josef Stalin?
Joanna kicked her discarded shoes out of the way and stalked the length of the room again, remembering how she’d awakened here that first morning, coming hazily out of a dream in which her father had been so busy moving a piece around a game-board that he hadn’t noticed the horseman riding down on her.
‘Stupid,’ she muttered, flinging back her head. ‘You were so stupid, Joanna!’
Her father wasn’t blind to what was happening to her. He just didn’t care!
No. No, that was putting things too harshly. Her father cared. It was just that he wasn’t worried about her being held here. Why should he? He’d figured what she should have realised all along, that although Khalil had not hesitated to abduct her he wouldn’t harm her, no matter what he threatened. He needed her to get what he wanted.
Sam had understood from day one. He had lots of time to wheel and deal and see if he couldn’t come up with a way to secure her release without giving up the lucrative contract he’d worked so hard to get. So what if she’d been sitting here, docile as a clam, waiting to be rescued while Khalil spun a web of confusion around her!
Joanna spun towards the mirror on the far wall and stared at her reflection. The woman in the mirror looked well. Her cheeks had taken on a pink glow from the hours she spent in the garden. The sun had burnished her hair, and her eyes gleamed brightly.
‘It is our mountain air that brings such a glow,’ Rachelle had said just this morning.
Joanna smiled coldly. The girl was almost pitiably naïve. What her eyes glowed with was rage—and yet, for all her anger, she’d been able to do nothing to alter things.
But that was about to change. After days of scheming, she had finally come up with an idea that might work.
‘With an idea that will work,’ she whispered to her reflection.
God, it had to!
She took a deep breath. There was no reason to wait another minute. It was time.
Determinedly, she stabbed her feet into her shoes, then stalked to the mirror again. She peered into the glass and took half a dozen slow, deep breaths. Good. Now to relax her features. Yes. That was the way. She looked wistful, almost forlorn. Now a little tilt of the head. Not too much. Just enough to… OK. That was fine.
‘It’s now or never,’ she said softly, and then she turned and walked to the door.
The guard in the corridor snapped to attention the instant the door swung open.
‘Ya?’
Joanna gave him what she hoped was a tremulous smile. ‘I should like to see the Prince.’
His brow furrowed and he shook his head.
‘The Prince,’ she said. ‘Khalil.’
‘Dee Prinz?’
‘Khalil. Yes. I must speak with him.’
‘Rachelle, ya?’
‘No. I don’t want to see Rachelle. I want to see your Prince.’
‘Prinz. Ya. Rachelle.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ Joanna snapped, her modest smile gone in a flash, ‘if everyone here speaks English, what stroke of bad luck put you at my door?’
She elbowed past the man before he had time to react and began marching down the corridor. His voice called after her, rising in intensity, and then she heard the thud of his footfalls following her. His hand closed none too gently on her shoulder.
‘Let go of me, you ape,’ she snarled. ‘Let go, or I’ll kick you in the—’
‘What is going on here?’
&n
bsp; Joanna and the guard both swung towards the sound of that steely voice. Khalil stood in the doorway of a room just beyond them, his hands on his hips, his expression grim.
The guard began babbling an explanation, but Joanna cut it short.
‘Tell your Dobermann to let go of me,’ she said.
Khalil’s brows rose a little, but he barked out a command and the man released her.
‘Now, Joanna, suppose you tell me what you are doing here.’
‘I have to talk to you,’ she said stiffly. ‘I told this—this creature that, but he didn’t understand me.’
‘Mustafa is neither an ape, a dog, nor a creature. It is hardly his fault he doesn’t speak your tongue. He was told to send for Rachelle if you needed something.’
‘Rachelle can’t help me. Only you can do that.’
‘I am busy.’
‘I’m sure you are. But—’
‘Speak with Rachelle,’ he said as he stepped back inside the room. ‘She will convey your message to—’
‘Wait!’ Joanna sprang forward and thrust her hand against the door. The guard sprang forward too, clasping her arm and growling a warning, and almost too late she remembered that she’d come here with every intention of playing the reserved, unhappy maiden. ‘Please,’ she murmured softly, and turned her face up to Khalil’s with a desperation that made her stomach threaten to give up her breakfast.
But it worked. She could see the faintest softening along the hard, set line of his mouth. He stared at her for a few seconds and then he waved his hand at Mustafa, who let her go instantly.
‘I will give you five minutes, Joanna.’
She nodded as he opened the door and motioned her past him. She glanced around curiously. This was his den, she thought, or—
‘This is my office.’
She swung around. Khalil was standing at the closed door, looking at her.
‘I didn’t realise I’d spoken aloud.’
‘You didn’t.’ Frowning, he walked quickly to a handsome old desk that stood before the window. ‘But I knew you must be wondering what possible use a savage could have for a room such as this, so I decided to save you the trouble of asking.’