The Sheik and the Slave (29 page)

But then it all came back to him. She was gone and he was
here alone. Nothing had come of his exhaustive search and he was becoming more
and more desperate. He imagined the worst things: her held captive, in the arms
of another man, raped and beaten. It even drove him to drink.

Why?
he thought to himself.
In the name of Allah,
the Most Compassionate, the Most Merciful. Why?

Enough! He slammed his fist into the closest thing to him,
smashing the glass into his flesh. The pain and blood didn
’
t even stop him. Enough.
He exploded with anger. Enough.

“
Abdullah!
”
he yelled. His voice
echoed in the room.

He was up and pacing the room, waiting for Abdullah
’
s response.

“
Sire?
”
Abdullah asked.

Mohammed knew he had to return to England. He
’
d had enough of waiting
and wondering. Either Jean Baptiste had lied to Abdullah, or perhaps his
advisor had misunderstood, but Katharine was not in Arabia. Of that he was
absolutely certain.

“
We
have spent enough time here. It
’
s
time to return to England. Katharine has not been seen or heard of, and I
’
m convinced she
’
s still in England.
”

“
But
my lord,
”
Abdullah
said.

“
No,
”
Mohammed yelled. He
raised a hand to stop him.
“
Whatever
that criminal told you, it was obviously not the truth. We have heard nothing
about her for weeks. She is not here. We must go back.
”

He gritted his teeth in anger. He had allowed himself to
seep into a depression for weeks looking for her and drinking his pain away,
while all that time he could have been journeying back to England.

Abdullah bowed to Mohammed, but inwardly he fumed. Safiya
had not done her job. He had planned so well, but had gambled too much on one
young girl
’
s charms.
She had failed.

“
Good.
Make the arrangements,
”
Mohammed said.

“
But
my lord,
”
Abdullah
said.

“
Yes.
What is it?
”

“
The
girl, Safiya,
”
he
reminded Mohammed.

“
Who?
”
Mohammed barely
remembered the girl he had seen weeks ago.

“
Safiya.
The sheik
’
s
daughter?
”

“
Oh,
yes? What about her?
”

“
She
begs an audience with you,
”
Abdullah said.

“
I
see. For what purpose?
”
Mohammed was irritated. He needed to be on his way

“
I
do not know,
”
Abdullah said as he shrugged.

“
Fine,
”
Mohammed said, nodding.

Mohammed paced the floor, irritated and angry at himself. He
hoped to be on his way before the next week
’
s
end. Mohammed remembered little of the night weeks before when the young girl
had supped and danced for him. He recalled vaguely that they had been invited
to the palace by Abdullah.

The young girl was breathless as she entered the room.

“
My
lord,
”
she said. She
trembled like a frightened doe and he smiled to put her at ease.

“
How
can I help you?
”
he
asked.

Safiya looked around the room at the Persian rugs and the
pillows strewn about in haphazard fashion. Her uncle and father had threatened
her with bodily harm if she did not make the sheik believe that she might be
pregnant with his child. It was a necessity. She was worried about where she
would live if she did not do as they told.

“
I
am frightened, my lord,
”
she said. She lowered her eyes demurely.

“
What
is the matter, child?
”
he asked her.

“
I
am a virgin no longer,
”
she said, as she blushed and took a step toward him.

Mohammed looked over at her and frowned. Suddenly, he
recalled that night when she and her father and uncle had supped with him. He
saw her dancing provocatively and then her naked body underneath him. He
swallowed and felt sick to his stomach.

“
I
fear I may be pregnant, and we are not married,
”
she said quietly.
“
My
father will kill me.
”

Her face was suddenly screwed up in fright and Mohammed felt
chilled as she threw herself in his arms.

Oh Allah! What had he done? What had he done?

He carefully withdrew from her arms. He was a man who knew
his duty, even if it was against everything he wanted.

“
I
will care for you, Safiya,
”
he told her woodenly.
“
Do
not worry.
”

But inside, he turned to stone. Katharine would never
forgive him. She would never allow herself to love and be with a man who had
impregnated this young girl. She was lost and frightened with his child, and he
had taken another woman. What had he done?

Katharine was his whole life, and now this girl who stood
before him was going to ruin everything. As a grown man who was a leader among
men, he wanted nothing more than to throw his head back and howl in pain.

He would do the right thing, of course, but he wanted
nothing to do with her beyond that. He would provide for her and she would have
a comfortable home, but he would not give up until he had found Katharine and
then she would decide their fates.

 
“
I
am yours to command,
”
she said, sobbing into him.
“
If
our child is a son, it will be the next sheik?
”
she asked in a childish voice.

Mohammed saw all his dreams and desires turn to ashes as
Safiya spoke.

“
Yes,
Safiya. He will be,
”
Mohammed answered. She stopped crying and she used her sleeve to dab at her
tears.

Safiya left his chambers and his vision clouded. He willed
the tears not to fall. He would not cry like a child. But the thought of losing
Katharine forever was a pain in his chest he couldn
’
t bear. He slammed his fists into the wall.

He would need to wait before he could venture out to sea and
England. He must wait to see if Safiya was indeed pregnant and make a decision
about her. If she was indeed breeding, he would make the necessary
arrangements. But after, he would return to England and track Katharine down.
He was honor bound to tell her the truth. And though he might lose her forever,
he would tell her and then she would hold their fates in her hands.

***

As Safiya left the great Sheik
’
s
room, she skipped down the hallways, threw herself on the pillows and giggled.
Her uncle
’
s bastard
would rule Arabia. What a good joke!

Chapter
20

Kat steadied herself as she sat up in bed. Her body felt
pained and sore, especially around her midsection.

Her head swam and she felt as if she was walking underwater.
She remembered walking to the stables and seeing Ares. She could smell the
grass underneath her feet as she walked along her father
’
s property.

The walls of her room were rough and there were no
adornments except for a simple wooden cross.

She heard a baby
’
s
cry and her head jerked up. A baby?

She had so many questions and no answers. Where was
Mohammed? Where was she? And where was her baby? She remembered the man with
the scar and the cabin and the floor stained red. Stained red with her blood,
she remembered. She closed her eyes.

He had taken her from her home and then tried to attack her.
She had fought back.

Her breasts were tender and heavy, and her milk had dried
since she had never suckled her baby. She wanted to feed her baby and hold the
child in her arms. She felt empty without the babe.

She moved her legs over the side of the bed took a breath to
steady herself. She heard voices outside and a baby
’
s cry.

“
Hello?
”
she called out.

The older woman came toward her, followed by a woman who was
carrying a baby. Katharine didn
’
t
see the baby at first. The Abbess
’
face showed concern.

“
Dear,
you shouldn
’
t be up,
”
the older woman said.
“
Let me help you back to
your bed,
”
she said
in a soothing voice.

Katharine took a deep breath and steadied herself. Then, she
uttered softly,
“
Where
is my baby?
”

Oona held the child tight and was still behind the Mother
Superior, whom she glanced at for guidance.

Katharine took another breath and screamed suddenly.

“
WHERE
IS MY BABY? WHERE IS HE?
”

Abigail tried to calm the woman, but she was almost
hysterical. She shushed the woman softly and tried her best to reassure her.

“
Shh.
Don
’
t upset
yourself, my dear. You are here among friends. We mean you no harm,
”
Abigail said. She took
the girl
’
s arm and
helped her into bed as Katharine
’
s
sobs overcame her.

Everything had been taken from her and she was exhausted

“
Please,
”
Katharine asked the
older woman.

“
Just
give me a moment, my dear, please,
”
she replied. The older woman left Katharine for a moment and then returned with
Oona and her bundle.

Katharine sat on the bed, crying into her pillow, when the
two women entered.

“
My
dear, there is no need for tears. You are safe, and so is your son.
”

Katharine looked up and sobbed out loud.

“
My
son? My son?
”
she
cried. She licked her dry lips and held out her empty arms.

Abigail placed the baby boy in her arms, filling them and
her heart.

“
My
son,
”
she said
softly. She breathed in awe at the small body.

“
My
son,
”
she repeated.
Tears streamed down her face as she looked at him.

“
I
thought he was dead. I thought I had lost him,
”
Katharine said. Her tears trickled down her cheeks, but they were tears of joy.

“
No,
dear. The Father here performed a very difficult surgery for you to have your
son. You lost a lot of blood, but you were both saved. Thanks be to God.
”

“
Thank
you,
”
Katharine
said. She looked into the older woman
’
s
eyes.
“
For all your
kindness. Thank you.
”

Abigail smiled back.

“
I
will leave you alone to acquaint yourself with your son,
”
she said.

She and Oona left the young mother alone.

Katharine sat on the bed and gazed down at her son with his
sun-kissed skin and eyes like the sea. She kissed him on the forehead and then
rained kisses all over his face.

She placed him lovingly on the bed and undressed him. He was
perfect, with two chubby legs, a little chest, two flailing arms and eyes that
danced.

“
You
are perfect,
”
she
whispered.

She dried her tears and wrapped him in his woolen blanket.
She wanted to hold him forever. He was the embodiment of her love with Mohammed
and she wanted to show him the world.

He squirmed slightly on the bed as Katharine held him close
to her, kissing his tiny ear.

“
Darling,
”
she cooed to him.
“
You are loved. You are
loved.
”

An hour later, Abigail knocked quietly on the door.

“
My
dear. I don
’
t mean
to intrude upon this time with your son, but I need to speak with you,
”
she said. She closed the
door and sat beside Katharine and her son on the bed.

“
Yes,
of course,
”
Katharine said. She held her son tightly and gazed into his little face.

“
I
don
’
t know anything
about you. You were literally dumped at the Abbey gates. So I don
’
t even know your name.
”

“
Lady
Katharine Elizabeth Rosamunde Fairfax,
”
she answered. Kat
’
s
lips twitched slightly.
“
A
bit pretentious, no?
”
she added playfully.

Abigail smiled. The woman had wit.

“
I
’
m the Mother Superior of
the Abbey that you were originally brought to in England. You may call me
Abigail.
”

“
So
we aren
’
t in
England?
”
Kat asked.

“
No.
We moved to Ireland to the monastery for your safety. I knew you were carrying
the child when you first came to us, and we could tell that the birth would be
soon. You had complications and bleeding, and I knew Father O
’
Day had medical
knowledge. He was able to help with the birth.
”