The Cobra & the Concubine (Khamsin Warriors of the Wind) (25 page)

"They are going to release you. Take this money, hire a gharry and go to the Shepherd’s Hotel. It is a large building, the driver will know the way. Await an Englishman named Kenneth, the Duke of Caldwell. Do not let anyone stop you from trying to see him. Tell him I am here. He is kind and will protect you."

Doubt shadowed the little girl’s face. Badra squeezed her hands. "Please, you must trust me," she implored. "It is the only way I can save you from here."

Jasmine looked up at her, eyes shining with innocence and goodness. In them Badra saw a flicker of her own childhood, innocent and joy-filled, until all had been stolen from her.

She must save her daughter.

"I will do it," Jasmine whispered.

Badra stood, gripping her daughter’s shoulder as the men returned. "I am taking her to find transportation," she told Masud in a cold voice. "I do not trust you."

Two armed guards escorted them outside into the open courtyard ringing the building. A waxing moon hung low in the sky. Badra glanced up, hoping her namesake would guide her daughter’s steps. Clutching her arms, the guards grimly bracketed her. Jasmine walked ahead, tossing anxious glances over her shoulder as they cleared the courtyard and moved outside. The brothel lay at the end of a deserted street, in a private clearing, like a pasha’s secluded mansion. Badra walked toward the street’s end until they reached the crossroad, a main street where pedestrian traffic became thicker. She spotted a gharry driver waiting with his horse.

"Go to that man. Do as I told you," she told Jasmine.

The child turned, uncertainty playing over her face.

"Go," Badra said, shoving her, feeling scalding tears burn her eyes. "Now! Run, Jasmine."

Her little girl scampered away, picking up the skirts of her gown. The guards watched silently as Badra uttered a low prayer.

"Go with God, little one. May He keep you safe."

Then she and the guards turned and they marched her back to the brothel.

Jabari wasted no time with questions when Kenneth told him what had happened; he insisted on accompanying the duke. Kenneth purchased first-class compartment tickets for the sheikh, himself, Rashid and Ramses. Their unity reminded him of the tight-knit bond among the Khamsin.

Worry and rage battled inside him. On the train to Cairo, his emotions choked him like a snake’s tightening coils. He slid the dagger Badra had dropped at the dig site out of its sheath, staring at it.

Once he’d cut his palm with this, and tossed it at her feet. Now it had become a symbol of their past. Their present.

Badra never did anything without reason. She craved the familiar and the comfortable. Few things drove Badra, but what did, she reacted to with ruthless determination.

To return to the brothel where she had been sold equated to flinging herself into a pit of hissing snakes. It sounded self-destructive, yet Kenneth recognized the stubborn jut of her chin. It could only mean one thing. Something terribly important was at stake.

She was in deep trouble, and he had to know why. She had shut herself off, erecting barriers thicker than any pyramid walls. He had to break the barriers down, find out what she hid.

They disembarked the train in Cairo. At the Shepherd’s Hotel, Kenneth led the way inside to the front desk, ignoring the puzzled stares of the genteel guests. He passed a clump of chattering Englishmen calling out greetings and halted dead as a little girl wearing a long scarlet gown embroidered with tiny yellow flowers darted in front of him.

A thin girl, her tangle of hair was dark as midnight. She looked at him beseechingly. "Please, sir, are you the Duke of Caldwell?"

A porter, striding past, spotted her. A torrent of angry Arabic filled the air. "Urchin! I told you to leave and stop begging from guests! She’s been asking every single Englishman that since she arrived last night."

The dark-haired child’s chin jutted out stubbornly, reminding him of Badra. She clung to Kenneth’s trouser-leg like a limpet. With a regal wave, he dismissed the porter, then squatted down to face the girl.

"Are you Jasmine?" he asked in Arabic.

"Yes. I’m Badra’s sister. She says she awaits you at the Pleasure Palace."

Dismay gnawed at him. Kenneth stared at the child, her woebegone expression, the brave way she thrust her chin upward. A courageous front, when her insides wanted to crumble, he guessed. Again, just like Badra...

"Where did you come from, little one?" he asked gently.

Fear glittered in those huge brown eyes. "I came from the Pleasure Palace. Badra said they were releasing me, but she stayed. Why?"

The words Badra had spoken slammed into him. Like a veil lifting from his eyes, he understood all. His throat constricted with emotion. "She stayed because she must love you, very, very much, honey."

Enough to trade herself for your freedom.

The Khamsin sheikh and the others gathered around in a circle. "Badra’s sister?" Jabari frowned.

"Not her sister," Kenneth replied slowly in English, standing and facing the sheikh. "Her daughter. And Fareeq’s."

For a comical moment he relished the shocked looks on the others’ faces. Jasmine looked clearly bewildered at the strange tongue the white Englishman spoke. Kenneth drew her to his side, rested a hand atop her head. Feeling a slight trembling, he glanced down. The poor thing shook with fear. He withdrew a small wrapped oval from his pocket and removed the paper. Kenneth bent down, offering it to her.

"Do you like lemon drops?"

She took the candy with a solemn expression. "What are they?"

‘Try one," he encouraged.

Her elfin face lit up with pleasure as she popped one into her mouth. Kenneth smiled.

"Don’t worry, Jasmine," he told her softly. "Badra trusted me to protect you, and I will."

Her large eyes, too adult and solemn for her years, regarded him. "Badra said I should trust you." Jasmine slipped her hand into his. "I trust her, so I’ll trust you."

The simple declaration tightened his chest. He beckoned to Ramses. "This is Ramses. He has a little girl, and he is a good father. He’s going to take care of you for awhile."

Jasmine warily studied the muscular warrior who smiled gently at her.

"Does he have more lemon drops?"

Ramses held out his hand. Kenneth laughed. He gave the sweets to his friend. "Now he does. Go with him, honey."

He watched Ramses lead her over to a cluster of overstuffed chairs in the lobby and do what any good father would—soothe a child who had suffered obvious trauma. Jabari stared at them, slack-jawed, clearly dazed.

"Why did Badra not tell us?" he finally managed to ask.

"I imagine she desired to keep her identity a secret because she was afraid of having borne an illegitimate child. The child of the man you hated above all others."

The sheikh looked horrified. "Does she think I would not welcome her daughter into the tribe?"

Kenneth’s gaze was even but not incriminating. "Do you remember what you once said—about how any children of Fareeq’s you’d consider enemies and be forced to destroy?"

Blood drained from Jabari’s face. He looked stricken.

"I said that in a rage. I would never hurt Badra’s child."

Kenneth sighed. "I know. Let me go arrange rooms for all of us. I have an account in this hotel."

Jabari’s gaze was as even as Kenneth’s had been minutes before. "And where will you go, Khepri?"

"I’m going to get Badra back," he answered grimly.

Rashid bristled and spoke up. "That is my duty," he snapped.

"You lack the money," Kenneth replied with blunt honesty. "And they will be less suspicious of an English duke desiring a bit of exotic entertainment than of an Egyptian warrior."

"So, the wealthy English duke desires to purchase Badra. You think your money will buy anything, do you not? But it will not buy you honor," Rashid shot back.

"You dare to insult me?"

The man’s dark eyes, filled with venom, met his. "I dare to tell the truth. You want to purchase Badra to finally use her as your whore."

Violent anger exploded inside Kenneth. He went to swing a fist, hesitating just in time, remembering Jasmine. He glanced at the little girl sitting next to Ramses.

"Not here," he grated through clenched teeth. "Let’s take this outside."

Jabari remained silent, nodding slightly as Rashid’s gaze whipped to his. With a grunt, Rashid trailed Kenneth outside. Past the elegant terrace where elderly men sipped afternoon tea, down the steps past the snake charmer entertaining tourists, on the street below they faced each other.

"Let’s have it out, Rashid. You and me. Right now."

The man’s dark gaze burned. "Gladly," he replied.

Kenneth did not wait. Women strolling idly with their English husbands screamed as his fist smashed into Rashid’s chin. "That’s for insulting me," he growled.

Rashid did not even flinch. The two men began sparring. Rashid’s hard fist slammed into Kenneth’s stomach. He doubled over, wheezing. Damn, the man had a hard punch.

"That is for insulting Jabari, my sheikh, when you left for England," Rashid jeered.

Dodging a follow-up blow, Kenneth managed to land a glancing punch. Rashid winced, pulling back.

This was ridiculous, squabbling like schoolboys. Kenneth grabbed Rashid by the lapels of his indigo
binish
, drawing him close. The warrior’s nostrils flared.

"Listen to me," Kenneth said in a low, dangerous tone. "Badra’s mine. She always was. I’ll do whatever I must to save her. She gave up everything to free her little girl from slavery. I’m going in to rescue her, but I doubt I can do it alone. If you’ll stop being such a pigheaded fool, you’ll help me and stop wasting my time."

Rashid’s lips thinned to a tight slash, but he did not raise his fists again. Instead, he glared at Kenneth.

"Always yours, Kenneth? To degrade? To use and discard? I would die before I allowed you to hurt her!"

"Good God," Kenneth shot back. "You think I would do that? I’d thrust a knife into myself first. I love her!"

Damn. He hadn’t meant to confess that.

"What?" Rashid asked, knitting his brows.

"I love her," Kenneth said simply, releasing his grip. "I always have. Always will. All those years I was her falcon guard, I loved her."

A troubled frown touched Rashid’s face. He seemed to sag into himself, brooding. "You love her," he repeated incredulously.

"I love her. And I would never, ever hurt her. Not deliberately. I’d do anything to assure her happiness."

A shadow passed over Rashid’s features.

"Will you help me then? Let’s put aside this foolish quarreling and, for once, stick together to help the woman we both seem to care about." Kenneth thrust out a hand.

For a minute he thought the warrior would refuse and push him aside in anger. But instead, Rashid shook it. "I will."

A grin found Kenneth’s face. "Good. Now clean up, man. You look like hell."

"You look worse," Rashid accused as they trudged up the steps.

Kenneth found the brothel on the outskirts of Cairo after dropping a discreet word to the gharry driver, along with a few coins. The building looked like an upscale Cairene home, with its two stories and solid wood door. However, it sat on a stretch of secluded land with no immediate neighbors—no one to hear the screams of the little girls enslaved there.

Opulent furnishings greeted him as he was escorted inside. Thick jewel-toned Persian carpets laid upon the marbled floors and the tall ceilings featured corniced moldings. Kenneth discovered an auction would take place the following afternoon. Two women were being sold, one of them Badra.

He returned to his hotel, frustrated and restless. Jabari said little when he heard the news, only that he’d sent for a few more warriors to join them. Kenneth sent a hasty cable to his solicitor in London, instructing him to wire a large sum to a bank in Cairo. He would need that to purchase Badra. He found Zaid and ordered him to the dig site to explain his quick departure to de Morgan and Victor as "an urgent business matter." Kenneth told Zaid to remain there and keep an eye on Victor. He did not trust his cousin.