Night of a Thousand Stars (20 page)

“That’s why I don’t want you smoking, Poppy. You never know how the first time will take someone, and if you are overcome, you won’t have your wits about you when you need them.”

It was a reasonable, responsible explanation, and it made me furious. I kicked the corner of the captain’s desk and went to the bunk, stretching out on it and taking up as much room as I possibly could.

Sebastian blew out the lamp, and I could hear him moving about the cabin in the darkness. Only a little starlight shone through the porthole, reducing him to a shadow. I heard his boots hit the floor with a dull thud, first one and then the other. And then the edge of the bunk gave way under his weight.

“Shift over,” he ordered. “I’m not sleeping on the floor.”

I huffed out a sigh and moved as far as I could. The enforced intimacy was really a bit much, particularly after he had cut off my corset and I had got those tempting little glimpses of chest beneath his shirt. I put out a tentative finger and touched something unexpectedly firm and long.

“That’s my shin,” he said tightly.

“Your shin? What on earth—do you actually mean to sleep with your feet in my face?” I peered into the darkness, but all I could see was a great long lump where Sebastian lay next to me.

“I do. Now lie down and keep your hands to yourself,” he growled.

I pulled my finger back as if I’d been scorched. “I was just wondering,” I muttered.

“What’s the matter?” he asked nastily. “Sex-tides running high?”

“Oh! You are vile,” I began, but he gave me a quick shove.

“Hush now and go to sleep. You can abuse me in the morning,” he ordered.

I subsided back into the bunk, nursing my wounded pride and complaining under my breath. “The most unbelievably nasty mind,” I said at one point. “Prim as a virgin,” I said at another. He gave no sign he was listening until he surged up and put one firm hand to my shoulder, pinning me to the bunk.

“I said, go to sleep,” he told me, his voice tight.

He released me and lay down again, but I still felt the pressure of his hand, firm and warm through the chemise that covered my shoulder.

I lay quietly for a while, my mind whirling. He was not asleep. I could hear him breathing, uneven, frustrated breaths that told me he was as restless as I was.

“I’ve figured out what your trouble is,” I said finally. “You’re repressed.”

He gave a snort of laughter. “I assure you, I am not the least repressed.”

“You are,” I argued. “I should know. I took a course in psychology. The Freudian sort,” I added loftily. “Tell me about your dreams.”

“I am not going to tell you my dreams,” he said flatly. “But I can assure you I am entirely and wholly without repression, at least as much as any proper English gentleman can be,” he added wryly.

“Then what is it?” I asked. I wouldn’t have had the nerve to ask if I could have seen his face. But the dark is comforting that way. It lends courage when you haven’t got enough of your own. “Some people think I’m rather pretty,” I said slowly. “And we’re alone. In the dark. On a bed. And you haven’t so much as tried to kiss me. Why?”

He gave a heavy sigh. “Poppy—” he began.

I cut him off. “Never mind. If you have to explain, it’s not going to change anything.” I cleared my throat. “I still say there’s something wrong with you, though.”

He gave a short, mirthless laugh. “I daresay.”

I went on in a slow, dreamy voice. “I suppose there’s someone back in England. I ought to have considered that before. There is, isn’t there? You’re trying to be faithful to her. What’s she like? Accomplished, no doubt. I imagine she rides well and has perfect hair and arranges flowers and does nice things for the poor. She probably calls herself Pamela.”

“Why Pamela?” His voice sounded amused.

“All accomplished girls with perfect hair are called Pamela. Everyone knows that. I suppose you were just waiting to find Gabriel and put that business behind you before you married her. You’ll be very happy, I’m sure. Now the war’s over, you can find a nice living somewhere and marry her and breed Bedlingtons.”

He gave a low, rumbling laugh. “Why Bedlingtons?”

“They were the stupidest looking dogs I could think of,” I said savagely. I turned on my side and punched the pillow.

“I’ve always thought Bedlingtons were perfectly nice,” he said.

“You would.” My throat was tight and hot, but I swallowed hard until the feeling went away. I made my breathing deep and even, and after a long while I think I convinced him I was asleep.

And in the dark silence, he spoke, in a still, quiet voice so soft I almost didn’t hear him and I realised it was a scrap of poetry.

“‘I sing the Poppy! The frail snowy weed! The flower of Mercy! that within its heart Doth keep “a drop serene” for human need, A drowsy balm for every bitter smart.

For happy hours the Rose will idly blow— The Poppy hath a charm for pain and woe.’”

He said nothing else, and after a while I heard his breaths come in a slow, even pattern, and I knew he slept. But I lay awake, thinking of the charm of the poppy.

When I woke, the light was streaming in the porthole. Sebastian had risen and washed, and courteously stepped out of the cabin while I did the same. When he returned, I stood with my back to him in my chemise and trousers as he laced me back into the corset. He jerked hard on the laces, never saying a word, and when he had tied them smartly he stepped out again until I had finished dressing. For all its glamour, I was beginning to loathe my beautiful Circassian gown, and I wished fervently Demetrius had given me one of the loose, enveloping black robes to wear instead. I would have suffocated, but at least I could have moved freely.

When Sebastian returned the second time, he brought a tray of food from the cabin boy and we fell on it like savages.

“It’s amazing how this sort of thing whets the appetite,” I told him as I reached for another bit of flatbread slathered in cherry jam.

He nodded. “You’ll learn to eat as much as you can when you find food. You never know when you’ll eat again. Although in our case, this only need hold us until luncheon.”

I brushed the crumbs carefully from my fingertips. “I’ve been thinking about that,” I began.

He held up a hand. “I told you last night. It is out of the question.”

“Oh, please,” I pleaded. “Ashkelon is right on the way—you said so yourself. We can disembark and have a look at the monastery where you found the map. I know Gabriel said he searched, but what if he missed something? It need only delay us a day. And it would add considerably to the confusion if anyone were following us,” I added slyly.

Sebastian did not rise to the bait. “The sooner I get you to Cairo, the better,” he told me in a tone that brooked no argument.

I tried a different tack. “You have a remarkably stunted sense of adventure,” I replied. “Surprising, given your occupation, but I suppose that’s why they kept you in the office.”

He gave me a bland look. “Yes, I’m sure that’s it.”

I tipped my head. “I hate that.”

“What?”

“When you give me that agreeable tone when I know perfectly well you don’t agree with me at all.”

He shrugged. “A wise man doesn’t fight every battle that comes his way, my dear. I save my strength for the fights that matter. And your assessment of my character does not matter to me in the slightest.”

“Well, that’s wounding. We’re co-adventurers together,” I pointed out. “We’ve put our lives in each other’s hands. You ought to care what I think of you.” He said nothing but continued to eat placidly while I found myself getting more and more enraged. “What do you think of me?”

He put down his bread and sat back, folding his arms over his chest. “Do you really want to know?”

I rolled my eyes in exasperation. “Of course. I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

“Fine. You’re impulsive. Now, I rely on intuition, but I have the experience to back it up. You, my innocent flower, do not. And one day that might get you killed. If you want to play at being a detective, you would do reasonably well at finding lost dogs and the odd stray sock, but anything more dangerous would be like handing fire to a baby.”

I gaped at him. “That is the most outrageous, unfair—”

“But you more than make up for it by your ability to accept criticism so reasonably,” he said with a sunny smile.

“Rat,” I said succinctly, but I was smiling a little in spite of myself. “You don’t really mean that, do you?”

He considered a moment, choosing his words carefully. “You do have a good brain, and you don’t rely on it nearly as much as you should. Poppy, I’m the first one who will defend the hunch. God knows I’ve seen them save a life more times than I care to count and in ways I cannot understand. But you also have to have a plan. Situations like the one we currently find ourselves in are like chess games. You must not only plan your own strategy, but anticipate your opponent’s.”

I thought that over, then ventured a question. “What if your opponent does something you couldn’t anticipate, not with all the planning in the world?”

He grinned. “Then you have to conjure solutions out of thin air with nothing more than your wits and a bit of luck. And everything I just said about strategy won’t matter a bit because that’s when that intuition of yours will come in handy.” He paused. “And you have to be ready for the luck to run out because one day it will.”

He spoke quietly, his words weighted with conviction, his eyes holding mine. I tried to take a deep breath and realised I couldn’t.

“Have you ever run out of luck?”

He hesitated then gave me a thin smile. “How could I? I’m just the office boy, remember?”

He seemed shuttered then, like a house that a moment before had been welcoming and warm but had suddenly closed its doors. I pressed further.

“Tell me about working here. During the war, I mean.”

His lips parted, and his eyes took on a faraway gleam. Just then there was a knock at the door.

The cabin boy called out something in Arabic, but I understood one word and I jumped to my feet as Sebastian gave me a grudging nod.

“Very well. We can go above deck and look at the port.”

I didn’t stop to give him a chance to change his mind. We had reached Ashkelon.

Seventeen

We hurried up to the deck just as the steamer docked, and Sebastian guided me to an out-of-the-way spot where we wouldn’t interfere with the business at hand. Sailors shouted and laughed at one another as they manoeuvered themselves about, unloading goods and the few passengers who wished to go ashore. The port was much smaller than I had expected and not in excellent repair. It was difficult to imagine that it had once been the gateway to the southern lands of the Outremer, the Crusader kingdoms wrestled from the Muslims and lost again in countless battles and untold lives. As we stood on the deck, Sebastian quietly pointed out where the fortified towers had once stood, fifty-three of them built by the Fatimids to repel the Crusader armies. He was careful to keep his voice to a whisper to conceal the fact that we were speaking English, and to anyone watching, we would have looked like a devoted bridegroom and his shy bride, taking the air on our sea voyage. We attracted no attention.

At least, not at first. But as the last of the new passengers came aboard and the cargo hatches were neatly closed, I became aware of a prickling between my shoulder blades. I did not turn, not then. I waited a long moment, keeping my expression calm so my eyes shouldn’t betray anything. After I had counted to thirty, I reached down to tighten the lace of my boot. As I did, I darted a glance between my arm and the side of my body. Behind us and a deck above, I saw him.

I rose slowly, pointing to a spot on shore as if asking Sebastian a question. He leaned near and I murmured softly, “On the deck behind us. A man named Faruq. He is the driver of the Comtesse de Courtempierre.”

Sebastian merely smiled at me fondly and pointed elsewhere.
“Habibti,”
he began loudly. I knew the endearment meant something like
sweetheart
, and he was playing his part to perfection. He lowered his head close to mine, and when he did, his voice was deadly serious even as he smiled into my face.

“Are you sure?”

I gave a single quick nod.

“Very well.” He turned back to look at the tired remnants of Ashkelon.

“What are we going to do?” I hissed.

He gave me another of his fond looks and dropped his head to whisper into my ear. “Remember when I told you that you must always have a contingency plan?”

I nodded and he turned so that only I could see his face. Then he winked.

Instantly, I felt the initial cold rush of terror ebb, and something warm and certain filled me. We would be fine.

Of course, in the next moment, the fear was back and treble what it had been. I felt a bolt of sheer panic, and my palms went icy cold. Sebastian took one in his. He had not looked at me again, but kept his eyes fixed on the silhouette of the town. How he knew what I was feeling, I could not imagine, but he held my hand firmly in his own.

“You have to trust me, or this won’t work,” he said tightly.

“I trust you.” The words were faltering, and he heard my hesitation.

“Mean it.”

“I trust you,” I said, this time with more conviction.

“Halting, but it will have to do,” he said. Still he stood, waiting for something. I didn’t know what, and I dared not look behind me. I couldn’t tell if Faruq had left his perch on the deck above us or if he had even spotted us. There was a chance he hadn’t, but would Sebastian take the risk of fleeing to our cabin knowing the villain was on board? It made perfect sense now. Faruq had been in league with Hugh and had followed us out of the villa, intent upon killing him and taking the gold for himself.
A quarrel amongst thieves
, I thought coldly. And now he was following us in order to get us to lead him to the gold. Then what? Would he kill us as brutally as he had killed Hugh?

I tortured myself a few moments with thoughts like those while Sebastian still stood, looking for all the world like a bored tourist. I was screaming inside for him to do something, anything, and it wasn’t until the sailors moved to the gangplank that he finally made his move.

Just as they began to heave it back onto the steamer, Sebastian grabbed my hand and lunged for it. Caught by surprise, the sailors had only winched it back a few feet, but the gap seemed like a yawning abyss as we pounded down the gangplank towards it. The further we got, the more the gangplank bounced, tossing us this way and that as we teetered near the edges.

I saw the end of the gangplank bouncing higher and faster and knew there was no way in my tight gown and thick corset I could ever make the leap. But Sebastian had anticipated that, too. At the last moment, he grabbed me by the waist and tossed me onto the dock. I landed in a pile of rope, and looked up just in time to see him take an almighty leap and clear the gap by mere inches. The crew laughed and waved and finished winching back the gangplank as Sebastian gave them a quick salute.

He put out a hand and lifted me from the coil of rope, setting me on my feet. I glared at him, wishing I could unleash a stream of choice words on him. But that would have to wait. Sailors and fishermen and merchants were crowding the docks, most laughing and pointing. Sebastian gave them a good-natured smile and sketched a gesture of
salaam
, saying something pithy in Arabic. He put an arm around my waist and squeezed and they all laughed as they parted and let us pass. I darted one glance behind to see the steamer easing away from the dock. And on the top deck, Faruq stood, watching us with hate burning hot in his eyes.

“That was close,” Sebastian hissed in my ear. He took me by the hand and pushed me forward, away from the docks and the laughing spectators until at last we reached an alley where no one had seen our dramatic exit from the steamer and we stopped to catch our breath.

“What did you say on the dock?” I asked him.

“Something to the effect that I was too eager to sample the charms of my bride to spend another night of my honeymoon on a narrow ship’s berth,” he told me absently as he studied our surroundings. “Only not in quite such gentlemanly terms.”

“I was right to call you a rat,” I replied. “What now?”

He pursed his lips in annoyance. “Now we find horses and provisions and get out of town as quickly as we can. The next port isn’t far and our friend will certainly disembark there and make his way back. And if he has co-conspirators, he’ll no doubt warn them where we were last seen.”

I turned to him with shining eyes. “That means—”

“Yes,” he said irritably. “That means you get your way after all. We’re going to the monastery.”

I tried not to gloat, particularly as hiring a horse was impossible. Sebastian could only manage a donkey, and it was so old and decrepit it made the donkey from Damascus look like a Derby winner. Sebastian had only his purse of money and our papers with him. The rest of our provisions—food and goatskins and saddlebag—had been left in the cabin of the ship. He moaned loudest about the loss of his razor, and we dared not take the time to look for one in Ashkelon.

“You have a beard in any event,” I pointed out reasonably. “I can’t think why you need it.”

“Because a neatly trimmed beard marks the difference between a gentleman and an ape,” he told me coldly. “We are also out of soap.”

I sulked a little at this, but he secured food and water and had the little donkey packed and ready to go within half an hour of jumping off the steamer. I moved to mount and held up my foot for him to help me up. But he was already on its back, gathering up the rotting rein.

“Where do I ride?” I asked.

“You don’t.” He clucked gently to the donkey and it perked up its enormous ears. They walked off, the little donkey waving his ears happily while Sebastian sat upright as a lord on his swaying back. I trotted after them.

“You’re not serious.”

Sebastian flicked me a glance. “In a Muslim country, a wife does not ride while her husband walks.”

I gave him a withering look.

“I know it is the custom but surely—”

“Hush. Mind your place and don’t look so sullen. It’s only until we get outside the city. And watch your feet. You trod in something a goat left behind.”

I swore savagely, lifting my beautiful dress out of the goat dung and hurrying after him. I continued to swear with every step, absolutely certain Sebastian was enjoying this more than he should. I stumbled and slipped on the disgusting stones of the streets and dragged my embroidered hem in the muck, tripping over it occasionally. I fell behind a little, and Sebastian did not wait for me. He continued on at the same stately pace with no regard for my irritation. Once he even looked back and winked at me. “An adventurer should expect physical hardship,” he called softly.

He stopped at one point to take water from his new goatskin, and after a long, noisy drink, held out the skin to me, waving it a little.
“Habibti?”

I caught up to them, baring my teeth in a vicious smile I hoped he could see through my thin veil. “Stop calling me that.”

“It’s a term of endearment,” he said, sounding a trifle hurt. “It means—”

“I know what it means. And it’s becoming increasingly inapt. I think I like you less and less as this trip goes on,” I told him.

He blinked rapidly. “You wound me, dearest. Here I am doing everything I can to give you the Levant at its finest. I’ve set up camp for you within sight of Lady Hester’s home at Djoun. I’ve secured the finest shipboard accommodations for you—”

“Stop speaking,” I told him, securing the goatskin and flinging it back. “Stop speaking now and continue not to speak until we get where we are going.”

“I am yours to command.”

I raised my hand, but he had already touched the little donkey’s flanks and they were moving on.

Sebastian was as good as his word. Once we reached the outskirts of Ashkelon, he dismounted and led the donkey, leaving me to trudge along behind. We walked in silence, but he knew where he was bound. He did not hesitate or look around, and I wondered how long it had been since he had travelled this way. We walked for hours, taking small dusty roads that grew narrower and narrower until they were little more than goat tracks leading upwards into low hills. We skirted a few of these into ever more barren country, and finally, when I thought I couldn’t walk another step, he raised his hand. “There.”

I looked to where he pointed and saw absolutely nothing—just a bare brown stretch of hillside leading up to two taller peaks.

I shook my head and Sebastian pointed, more emphatically this time. “In the saddle between those two peaks.”

I squinted and still couldn’t see anything.

He persisted, pointing with more emphasis. “Beyond the little river. Can you see the white line in the rock? That’s the path.”

I shrugged. “You’ve eyesight like a hare,” I told him.

He gave a short laugh and walked on, encouraging the little donkey, who twitched her ears at him and batted her long lashes.

“I think that animal is flirting with you,” I told him as I struggled to keep up.

“I have a way with females,” he said blandly.

“Not all of them,” I countered with a tartness I hadn’t quite intended. “Shall we call the donkey Pamela?”

He laughed again and murmured an endearment to the donkey, stroking one of her long, floppy ears. She gave a happy little bray, and they carried on, toiling upwards into the hillside. I panted after, scrambling over rocks and pits in the path while they seemed as leisurely as if they were out for a Sunday promenade. They crossed the narrow river together, picking a careful path between the stones while I hesitated on the bank.

On the other side, Sebastian turned. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little fresh water.”

“It looks cold,” I called.

“It’s bloody freezing,” he returned cheerfully. “But neither Pamela nor I are coming to carry you over, so you might as well get along.”

With yet another muttered curse, I took up my skirts in my hands and walked into the river. Sebastian lied. It wasn’t freezing—it was the most horribly frigid water I had ever felt in my life. I yelped as it ran over the tops of my boots, and Sebastian shrugged and pointed to the snowy mountain peaks in the distance.

“Melted snow,” he explained.

“Yes, thank you,” I said, struggling out on the other side. “That’s terribly helpful.”

I pushed past him to lead the way up the hill path, thinking only of a warm fire and sleep. Sebastian lagged behind, no doubt looking for pursuers, and I was content to be alone for a bit. From time to time he disappeared completely, but he always found me again. At last, as the last rays of the westering sun disappeared behind the hillside, we reached the saddle between the peaks, and I saw the monastery for the first time. It was a ruin, roofless and missing a few walls, but here and there I could see traces of vast fortifications. The stones that remained were crumbling, some scorched by fire, and I was amazed to see how seamlessly it blended into the landscape. We had been nearly on top of it before I had even seen it was there, and I felt marginally more relaxed about our chances of eluding our pursuers.

“It looks like one of the Crusader castles,” I observed.

“Because it was built with the same purpose in mind,” he told me. “Christians weren’t always the most popular fellows out here. Many of the monasteries were built to withstand a siege.”

“From whom?”

He shrugged. “Muslims who didn’t much care for being lectured to by foreigners. Warlords, brigands, thieves. Take your pick.”

Sebastian attended to the donkey and fetched water while I poked into the various rooms that were still standing. He found me in the largest room and the only one with a fireplace.

“The old chapter house,” he told me. It was missing half its roof, but it was in the best repair of any I had found.

“I suppose it will have to do,” I said cheerfully. We set about making it habitable, and I made up a makeshift pair of beds while Sebastian conjured a fire.

I gave the blankets he’d handed me an inquisitive sniff and reared back.

“They reek of donkey,” I protested.

He quirked up an eyebrow at me, and I put on a determined smile. “But that’s to be expected, I suppose. I guess we’re lucky to have anything at all to lie on.”