Hostage of the Hawk (10 page)

‘It is an important language, the language of nations, Prince Khalil says, so we learn it,' a horse trader told her earnestly. ‘We start young, when we first enter school.'

‘Ah,' said Joanna. ‘Only boys learn a language, then?'

‘Is that how it is in your country?' the young man said, frowning. ‘That only boys may learn?'

She stared at him. ‘No. Of course not. Boys and girls both learn what they wish.'

‘Here, too.' He smiled. ‘I am glad to hear that America believes in educating its women.'

Khalil laughed. ‘I assure you,' he said, clapping the young man on the shoulder, ‘it does!'

At a stall where fresh fruits lay heaped in abundance, a group of young women stood chatting.

‘It must be difficult,' Joanna said to one of them, ‘to raise a family here, so far from modern conveniences.'

The young woman nodded. ‘It is not simple.'

Joanna's brows arched as she glanced at Khalil, who stood several feet away, lounging against a stall.

‘Why don't you leave, then?' she said. Her voice fell in pitch. ‘Is it because Prince Khalil will not permit it?'

The young woman repeated Joanna's words to her friends, who covered their mouths and laughed.

‘We are free to leave, if we choose,' she said, turning back to Joanna. ‘But only a fool would wish to live in the south, under the rule of Abu. Surely, you know this.'

Joanna stared at the woman. I don't know
what
I know, she wanted to say... But she only smiled.

‘Thank you for talking with me,' she said.

She was silent when Khalil took her hand and drew her forward along the dusty street.

‘Well, Joanna?' he asked softly. ‘Have you seen reality?'

‘It's been a long day, Khalil. I'm tired. Can we go back now, please?'

He looked at her, then nodded. ‘As you wish.'

They made their way to where the horses waited. Joanna walked to the mare's side and put her hand on the animal's neck. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead lightly against the coarse hair.

‘Joanna.' Khalil's voice was gentle and so was the hand he placed on her shoulder. He said her name again but she didn't answer. After a moment, he spoke to his men. One of them reached for the mare's reins, and they led her away.

Khalil clasped Joanna's waist and lifted her on to the back of the stallion, then swung into the saddle behind her. His arms went around her as he gathered the reins into his hands, but she didn't protest. A terrible languor had crept over her.

The town fell behind them as they rode slowly towards the mountains. Finally, in a field of wild flowers, Khalil reined in the horse and slid to the ground. He looked at Joanna and held up his arms. She hesitated, then put her hands on his shoulders and dropped lightly to the ground.

‘What is wrong, Joanna?'

She bowed her head, not wanting him to see the sudden dampness she knew must be glinting on her lashes, but he framed her face in his hands and lifted it to him.

‘Is the truth so awful to see?' he said softly.

She shook her head again. Had she seen the truth, or had she seen illusion? It was becoming harder and harder to tell.

‘Then why are you crying, Joanna?'

‘I'm not,' she said, while one small tear coursed down her cheek.

He smiled a little and caught it on his fingertip. ‘What is this, if not a tear?'

She sighed as she stepped away from him. Slowly, she bent and plucked a daisy from the chorus nodding at her ankles. She lowered her face to it, inhaling its sweetness, and then she stared blindly into the distance, where the mountains rose towards the sky. At last, she turned to Khalil and said what she had not even wanted to think.

‘You told me the truth when you said the price of my freedom would be my father's willingness to give up his deal with Abu, didn't you?'

He nodded. ‘Yes.'

Joanna swallowed hard. ‘And he's refused to do it, hasn't he?'

Khalil nodded again. ‘I'm sorry,' he said in a low voice. ‘The only reality I wished you to see was that of my people.'

‘There are many different realities, Khalil. Perhaps—perhaps it's time I finally faced my own.'

‘Joanna.' She lifted her head and the hood of her cloak fell back, revealing her pale oval face and the long, fiery spill of her hair. ‘I am certain he thinks I will change my mind and send you back to him.'

‘And will you?' Her eyes caught his. ‘Will you send me back, even though you haven't gotten what you wanted from Bennettco?'

Khalil came closer to her and cupped her face in his hands. ‘How can I send you back?' he said fiercely. ‘How can I do that, Joanna?'

He couldn't. She was his pawn, his bargaining chip—and, knowing that, believing she was in the hands of a man he thought a bandit and a barbarian, her father was still reluctant to do the one thing that would free her, to give up a fortune in the earth for his daughter's release.

No. No! It couldn't be! Khalil was lying. He was lying about everything.

‘If there's a shred of decency in you, you'll free me,' she said.

His eyes darkened. ‘I told you, I cannot.'

‘You've lied to me! You haven't really contacted my father—'

‘Joanna!' He took her by the shoulders. ‘Listen to me.'

‘My father loves me,' she said, her mouth trembling.

‘In his way, I'm sure he does. But—'

‘There is no “but”, Khalil. Whatever you showed me today was—it was interesting, but—'

‘Interesting? What do you mean, “interesting”?'

‘I mean, it's interesting to—to see a little backwater town where—where people aren't living in poverty and misery, and I suppose—I suppose it must be quite a salve to your ego, hearing them talk about how wonderful you are, but that's not the whole story. There's more to it.'

‘Joanna, dammit! If you won't listen to me, listen to yourself! What you're saying makes no sense.'

‘No!' She flung her hands over her ears. ‘I won't listen! I won't!'

‘You will listen,' he said fiercely, catching her wrists and forcing her hands to her sides. ‘You will, because—because...' He looked into her eyes, and then he pulled her into his arms and his mouth fell on hers.

‘Don't!' Joanna pushed against his chest. ‘I hate you, Khalil!'

‘Liar,' he whispered, catching her mouth with his again.

‘You think you can solve everything this way,' she said, twisting her face away from him. ‘You think you can silence me and—and make me believe things that aren't true!'

Khalil's arms tightened around her. ‘The only truth that matters is this one, this hunger that has been between us since the night we met.'

‘Don't try and make it sound romantic! We met because you were determined to make it impossible for Bennettco to conduct legitimate business, and—and then you—you kidnapped me! You carried me off on your plane and—'

‘And desired you, even then.' He laughed huskily. ‘A hundred years ago, I would have carried you off on the back of my horse.'

‘Exactly!' Joanna thrust her hands against his shoulders. ‘Your ancestors were barbarians, and you—'

‘My ancestors knew what they wanted and took it.' He caught her hands in his and held them against his heart. ‘As I want you now—as you want me.'

‘No! That's not true! I despise you, Khalil, I—'

He kissed her again, his mouth moving softly against hers.

‘Despise me all you will,' he whispered, ‘but do not deny me—or yourself.'

He was wrong. She was not denying anything. She didn't want this, didn't want his mouth on hers or his hand moving against her skin...

No. No, she didn't. She didn't...

Oh, God! With a desperate cry, Joanna threw her arms around Khalil's neck. He whispered her name and then his open mouth met hers in a wild kiss. His fingers speared into her hair as they sank to the ground and she fell back among the flowers, taking him with her. Khalil groaned and kissed her again and again, his mouth hot against hers.

It was as if Joanna were being swept along in a fever of desire. Her fingers flew to the neck of his jellaba, burrowed beneath his open-throated shirt. She had to touch his skin, had to feel its heat against hers or surely she would die.

Khalil lifted her to him, curving her soft body into the hardness of his. He kissed her deeply, crushing her mouth under his until she knew the taste of him would be a part of her forever.

He knelt and drew her up with him. ‘Joanna,' he whispered as he slipped the white cloak and then her cotton shirt from her body. The air was cool against her skin, but his mouth and hands were hot. She caught her breath as he cupped her breasts and when he bent and kissed the nipples, she cried out in pleasure.

Khalil lowered her gently to the grass, then drew back.

‘No,' she cried, reaching out to him—but he had only left her so he could strip off his jellaba and then his shirt. How beautiful he was! His skin was the colour of honey, his muscles hard and clearly defined. He was male perfection, and he was hers.

‘Touch me,' he whispered, taking her hands in his and bringing them to his chest.

She gasped at the feel of his skin, hot from the sun and from desire.

‘Joanna, my beautiful Joanna.' He came down beside her and stroked his fingers along her skin, over the curve of her breasts, down over the slight arch of her belly. ‘How I want you,' he whispered, ‘how I have wanted you from the moment I saw you.'

She reached up and clasped his head, brought his mouth to hers and kissed him, and then she smiled.

‘How much do you want me?' she whispered.

A dark flush rose along his cheeks. He clasped her hand, brought it to his mouth and bit lightly at the soft skin below her thumb, then drew it slowly down his body, to where his aroused flesh pressed against his trousers. Her lashes fluttered to her cheeks as he cupped her hand over him. His erection seemed to pulse through the cloth, the heat of it burning her palm like flame.

‘That much,' he said thickly. He bent to her and kissed her, his tongue moving within her mouth as she knew his body would soon move within hers.

A primitive rush of joy and desire swept through her. This was what she wanted, what she'd wanted from the start. Khalil, in her arms. Khalil, kissing her and touching her and bearing her down, down into the soft, sweet grass...

...Khalil, her captor. Her keeper. He had spoken of reality, and of truth, and yet wasn't that the one truth that mattered? She wasn't here of her own free will, she was here because one man refused to bargain for her freedom and another refused to grant it—and now she was in the arms of the man who'd caused the conflict, behaving as he'd predicted she would from the first night he'd met her.

With a cry, Joanna shoved free of Khalil's arms and scrambled to her feet, snatching up her cloak and whipping it around her, trembling with rage at him, at her father, but most of all, at herself. Khalil rose too, his eyes blurred with desire, and held out his hand.

‘Joanna,' he whispered, ‘what is it?'

‘Who in hell do you think you are?' she said shakily. ‘Treating me like—like one of your slave girls!'

His brows knotted together. ‘What?'

‘I've read a lot of stuff about women and—and this kind of sex,' she said, her words rushing together, ‘about—about rape fantasies, but—but I never believed any of it, not for a minute, until—'

‘Stop it!' Khalil's mouth twisted as he took a step towards her. ‘You're talking nonsense.'

‘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.

J
OANNA
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?'

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.'

‘I didn't come here to quarrel, Khalil.'

‘Why did you come here, then?' He pushed aside a stack of papers and leaned back against the desk, his eyes cool and steady on hers. ‘If it is to ask if I have had any word from your father, I have not.'

‘No.' She touched the tip of her tongue to her lips. ‘No, I—I didn't come for that, either.'

‘What is it, then?' He frowned, pushed back the sleeve of his shirt, and looked at his watch. ‘I have much to do, and little time to spare.'

You arrogant s.o.b., Joanna thought. You impossible, imperious bastard...

‘Well? What was so important that you saw it necessary to push past my man and disgrace him?'

She ached to tell him that it was she who had been disgraced, from the minute she'd walked into the Oasis Restaurant almost a week ago. But she had a plan, and she was going to make it work.

‘I've been thinking about something we touched on the day you took me to Adaba—'

‘Nothing that happened that day is worth discussion,' he said, his face hardening. He leaned away from the desk. ‘Now, if that's all—'

‘I told you that I was bored, sitting around and doing nothing,' Joanna said quickly. He looked at her, and she forced herself to smile politely. ‘Surely, you can understand that.'

‘I have granted you the freedom of the grounds,' he said. ‘And the use of my library.'

‘Oh, yes. You've been very generous.'

His eyes narrowed, and Joanna groaned inwardly. Don't overdo it, she told herself. The man may be arrogant, but he's not a fool.

‘Then what more do you want of me?' His look hardened. ‘If you have come to ask to spend time with Lilia, I must tell you that I have changed my mind about permitting it. I do not think you would be a good influence on her.'

Joanna's chin lifted. ‘No,' she said evenly, ‘of course not. She's much better off in your company.'

His eyes flashed to hers and she smiled pleasantly. After a moment, he nodded stiffly towards the shelves that lined the walls.

‘There are more books here, but I doubt if they would be to your liking. However, if you wish, I will tell Rachelle to bring you—'

‘Thank you. But I've enough to read. I need to do something active.'

‘Rachelle takes you walking each afternoon.'

Like a pet dog on a leash, she thought. ‘Yes,' she said evenly, ‘she does. But I need more activity than that.'

His lips drew back from his teeth. ‘I wish I could help you, but, unfortunately, we haven't much to offer in the way of parties or discos.'

‘Exercise,' she said, hoping he couldn't hear the sharp edge of anger in her voice. She gave him another stiff smile. ‘That's what I'm talking about. I'm not used to sitting around, Khalil. When my father and I are in New York, I work out at a gym.'

‘I know this will astound you,' he said, his eyes cold, ‘but somehow I've not got around to having a Nautilus machine installed.'

Oh, how pompous he was, how arrogant...

‘I didn't think you would have,' she said pleasantly.

‘Well, then—'

‘When my father and I are on our ranch outside Dallas, I ride.'

‘Ride?' he said, his brows angling up in his otherwise expressionless face.

‘Yes. We have horses, and—'

‘You?' He laughed. ‘On a horse?'

‘What's so funny?' she said, the carefully drawn smile slipping from her face.

Khalil shook his head. ‘Nothing much. I was just remembering how you couldn't tell the front of my horse from the rear.'

‘I was upset.'

‘Not as upset as Najib,' he said, chuckling. ‘He must have thought he was—'

‘I don't give a damn what that miserable black beast thought!' Joanna slammed her hands on her hips. ‘He's not a horse, he's—he's a creature come straight out of a nightmare.'

‘Like his owner,' Khalil said, very pleasantly.

‘Yes! Exactly like...' She stared at him, horrified. ‘No,' she said quickly. ‘No, I didn't mean—'

‘Stop this farce, Joanna!' His smile vanished; the stony look settled on his face again and he rose to his full height and glared at her. ‘I am not for a moment going to believe that you have suddenly turned into a sweet-tempered lamb when we both know that what you are is a sharp-toothed vixen. Tell me what it is you want, and be quick about it.'

Joanna nodded. ‘All right. I was quite serious when I said I was going crazy with boredom and just as serious when I said I like to ride. Don't look at me that way, Khalil! I was too upset the night you brought me here to think straight, about getting on and off your horse or anything else.'

He nodded curtly. ‘Perhaps.'

‘It's the truth! I didn't have any trouble the other day, did I? I didn't need you to tell me how to handle the mare.'

He scowled. ‘She is docile.'

‘I can ride, I tell you. And I came here to ask you to let me ride an hour a day, to—'

‘It is out of the question.'

‘Why?' Joanna folded her hands in front of her so he wouldn't see them tremble. If he denied her this... ‘Why?' she repeated. ‘I do know how! If you don't believe me, you can take me out yourself the first time, you can watch me—'

‘No.' He swung away from her so she couldn't see his face and walked around the desk. ‘I'm much too busy to waste time in your company, Joanna.'

The sharp words knifed into her breast, although surely what she felt was anger at his insolence, not pain at his dismissal.

‘I wouldn't expect you to.'

He looked at her and smiled. ‘Do you really think me so stupid, that I would let you ride by yourself?'

‘What I thought was that you could let me ride with an escort.'

‘It's impossible.' He sat down behind the desk, bent over some papers, and began rifling through them. ‘Now, if you're done—'

‘Why is it impossible?'

Khalil looked up. ‘Because I said it was.'

‘You could let me ride the mare—heaven knows the only thing she'd do is plod along obediently beside my guard's horse.'

‘Joanna—'

Desperation made her do what she'd promised herself she would never give him the satisfaction of doing. Her eyes grew shiny with unshed tears, her mouth trembled, and when she spoke, her voice did, too.

‘Please,' she whispered, ‘Khalil, please! I'll—I'll die if I have to sit around like a caged bird.'

Her words drifted away and she fell silent, hating herself for having thrown herself on his mercy, hating herself even more for the real wave of despair that suddenly threatened to overwhelm her. Why was looking at him, seeing that coldness in his eyes, so agonising?