Bella smiled knowingly. “I was thirteen when Hamil took me from my brother’s ship, and within the year he married me and gave me my first son, Allah be praised. Another son and a daughter have followed, and I am yet but eighteen. You cannot doubt how potent a man my husband is.”
“I most certainly would not,” said Caro hastily. She had been barely older than Bella when she’d wed Frederick, but she herself had been all the children Frederick wanted. By the time Bella reached her own age of twenty-nine, she could well be a grandmother. No wonder they thought she was so appallingly old! Yet in a way she envied them the same way as she’d envied Desire Herendon, and she thought wistfully of how much she’d give to bear Jeremiah’s child.
She smiled gently at the two young faces before her. “You love Hamil, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” answered Bella fervently, and at her side Leilah nodded in agreement. “We do. We love him, and he loves us, as it should be between husbands and wives.”
How simple Bella made it all sound! “Then you will understand that I would not wish to come between you.”
“No?” Bella remained skeptical. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“Because I, too, have a husband that I love very much, and there is no more room in my heart for another,” said Caro, painfully aware of how much more her words meant. Between Frederick and Jeremiah, her heart was overflowing. “My husband was captured by Hamil and is his prisoner. I came to Tripoli to find him, not to become Hamil’s mistress.”
Swiftly the two girls exchanged glances. “If your husband were returned to you,” asked Leilah carefully, “would you leave and swear never to return?”
“I would swear it now,” said Caro fervently.
Another look passed between Hamil’s wives, and slowly Leilah nodded.
“Leilah’s father is a special friend of the pasha’s,” explained Bella. “If you swear you will leave Tripoli with your husband, and if, until then, you hold true to what you profess and keep yourself from Hamil’s bed, then we shall pledge to help you.”
“I swear, by whatever you wish.” It would be the easiest promise to keep that Caro had ever made, and impulsively she kissed each girl on the cheek. “You will never have anything to fear from me.”
Both Bella and Leilah went still, stunned by such a sign of affection from the woman they’d feared as a rival, then suddenly began to giggle with relief like the young women they were.
“We thought you would be very grand, my lady,” confessed Bella, her serious role as mediator done. “Hamil is most proud of having captured you. A British noblewoman! He told us we must be respectful to you, and speak only English in your presence.”
Caro laughed, amused to hear that anyone would consider her grand and daunting. Certainly no one ever had before. “Your English is better than that of many people born in England itself.”
Bella’s cheeks pinked with pride. “That is Hamil’s doing. He wished his wives to speak his language, and he bought us a tutor, a slave, from your royal city of London, so we might learn only the best.”
“Poor Mr. Peck!” Leilah sighed sadly. “He was a good teacher, but he wasn’t very wise.”
Bella sighed, too. “He was greedy, you see. He stole one of Leilah’s gold necklaces and tried to sell it at the market. Of course he was caught, and Hamil punished him himself, using his own sword to cut off Mr. Peck’s hands. Then he nailed them himself onto the walls near the east gate to warn other thieves against stealing from Hamil’s wives.”
She smiled contentedly, oblivious to the look of horror on Caro’s face. “You see why we cannot believe you wouldn’t want such a man as Hamil for yourself. What other man would show such love, such devotion, to his women?”
“Now I can see that Tomaso was right,” said Hamil with satisfaction. “Ye are every bit the noblewoman he promised ye were.”
At the other end of the dining table, Caro smiled faintly. It was one thing to swear to Bella and Leilah that she would keep away from their husband, but it was quite another to be alone with Hamil himself. His gaze had not left her since she had entered the room, and too well Caro knew that the hunger in his eyes had nothing to do with the mountain of food between them. Through an arched doorway, beneath a large framed looking glass, she saw another mattress on a raised platform much like the bed in her own room, only larger, broader, piled even higher with silken pillows and coverlets in luxurious invitation—an invitation Caro had every intention of refusing.
“An English countess, from one of the greatest families in Britain,” continued Hamil with relish. “No one would e’er doubt your blood an’ breeding to see ye tonight.”
She wondered uneasily what he would say if he knew the truth of her background—not, of course, that she’d any intention of telling him. “A countess, yes,” she said, “but hardly an English one, not dressed like this.”
“These garments are not proper for your rank?” he asked with a strange mixture of outrage and concern. “Ye would wear richer in London?”
“Not richer, no,” she said quickly, not wishing to anger him over something so inconsequential. “Few ladies at any court in Europe would dress so grandly, except, perhaps, General Bonaparte’s wife Josephine.”
“Proper, that is. The general is a great man.” Hamil himself was dressed even more splendidly than usual tonight, wearing a fitted waistcoat so thick with gold embroidery that the silk beneath was completely hidden. To Caro’s surprise, he had left off his turban, and unlike the other Tripolitan men, he had did not shave his head. Cherubic red gold curls surrounded his forehead, completely at odds with the cruel lines of his face. Caro thought again of the poor tutor and shuddered.
“And your chambers, m’lady? Are they pleasing?”
“My room is lovely, thank you, as is this meal.” The table was set with European silver and porcelain dishes—doubtless plunder—but no utensils, for Hamil had adopted the local custom of eating with one hand, scooping the food into his mouth with his fingers. So much, thought Caro unhappily, for claiming a knife for her defense.
Hamil grunted. “Your friend Sparhawk would weep to have such quarters this night.”
“Where is he?” she asked quickly. “Is he still on board your ship?”
“My ship?” He lewdly sucked the mutton grease from his thumb as he watched for her reaction. “The hold would seem like the very palace compared to where he lies now.” Caro’s fingers gripped the arm of her chair. “You have taken him to the quarries?”
“I told ye, m’lady, ye are to waste no more time considering a cowardly brute like that one,” he said carelessly, and tossed the mutton bone onto the floor behind him. “Ye are a lady. Ye deserve better.”
As desperate as Caro was for news of Jeremiah she realized that Hamil had no intention of telling her more, at least not then. He was toying with her, testing her. If she was ever to learn anything from him, she would have to do the same to him.
But while Hamil could taunt her with Jeremiah, all she had to bargain with in return was herself, and to succeed she must remain every inch the highborn countess Hamil believed her to be. If she faltered even for a moment, she would lose all her value to him. She would become simply another female captive, little better than a slave, and there’d be no hope for her, even less for Jeremiah and Frederick.
Oh, yes, the stakes were very high, thought Caro grimly, and it would be the most dangerous game she’d ever played.
“So you believe I deserve better,” she said slowly. “Better meaning yourself?”
He smiled, supremely confident, and sat back in his chair to study her. “Ye met my lassies this afternoon,