To Catch a Bride (20 page)

Rafe gave a twisted grin. “You’re a good man, Baxter, and I’m glad to have met you. If you ever visit England again, come and stay. You’ll be most welcome.” He held out his hand and the two men shook hands.

 

 

 

 

S
hortly after dawn, Rafe arrived at Baxter’s house on horseback, leading a mare for Ayisha to ride. Behind him came two local men also on horseback and a mule laden with luggage.

“Horses?” said Ayisha in surprise as she left the house.

“We will ride to Boulac,” he told her. “It’s not far, and from there we’ll take a boat down the Nile.”

The others had followed her out to bid her a final good-bye: Laila, Ali, Baxter, and the servants. Even the cat.

Everyone was a little heavy-eyed from the feast the previous night; Laila had given Ayisha a wonderful send-off, with mounds of delicious food. Afterward they sat around a fire in the courtyard, under the stars, recalling times past and telling stories, singing, and playing music, and in Laila’s case, dancing. It had been a night of laughter and of tears.

This morning Ayisha was all bright, determined cheerfulness. Faking it gallantly, thought Rafe, noting the red-rimmed eyes.

She was still dressed as a boy, but had donned clothing especially for the journey: Bedouin robes and a head cloth, fastened with a knotted rope around the crown instead of a turban. Perfect for riding, as it happened.

“Have you got your things?” Rafe asked Ayisha. The contrast between her jaunty manner and her slightly puffy eyes ate at him.

She brought forward a small bundle and he handed it to one of the guides, who added it to the baggage.

“Well,” she said in a voice that shook only a little. “I suppose this is good-bye.”

She hugged and kissed first Baxter, then Ali who’d dropped his boyish air of bravado and was choking back sobs.

“Be good, little brother, and come to me in England when you are a man,” she said in a husky voice. “And practice your writing and send letters to me often, for I will miss you.”

“I will,” he promised.

Laila was last; the two women hugged in a long, convulsive embrace. Laila openly wept.

Ayisha was the first to pull away. “Fear not for me, Laila. I seek my destiny, remember? I will suck dry the sweet orange of life. And thank you, thank you for everything.” Her voice broke, and she pressed her lips together, unable to go on.

Laila wiped away a tear with a corner of her robe. “Remember always that you are the daughter of my heart, and much—very much—beloved.”

Ayisha nodded, unable to speak. She bent and picked up the cat, buried her face in his fur, and then slipped him into her robes. Closing the robe around him, she walked toward the horse.

“What are you doing?” Rafe said. “You can’t take that cat.” She stared at him in blind bewilderment. “Why not?” Her arms tightened defensively around the cat. “He’s my cat.”

Rafe glanced at the others. “It is a long and difficult journey.”

“Tom is tough. He can survive anything.”

“Can he travel in a cage?” he asked. “Could he stand being locked up?” The animal had always looked half wild to him.

Silence. Her head was bent over her cat.

“Because the ship will demand he be kept in a cage a lot of the time. And also when we are traveling in a carriage.” He glanced at the horses. “We will spend hours on these horses today and then we will be in a boat on the river. Will he stay all that time in your robes?”

They all knew the answer. Her lower lip was trembling. She bit down on it, hard enough to make Rafe wince. The cat climbed out of her robe and set its paws on her shoulder, butting her chin with its head. Rafe could hear its rusty purring.

“He’s an old cat, Ayisha,” Rafe said gently. “Old cats don’t like change.”

She buried her face in its fur so he could not see her expression. The cat kneaded her shoulder, staring at Rafe with a baleful expression, as if it knew he was taking its mistress away. Its tail, with the missing tip, twitched.

“He is right, my daughter,” Laila said softly. “The cat is too old to change his ways.”

“Give it to Ali,” Rafe told her. He nodded to Ali.

Ali ran forward and held his hands up for the cat. “I will take good care of him, Ayisha, I promise.”

Ayisha lifted her head. “Of course I knew he couldn’t come with me,” she said with a hollow attempt at brightness. “I just . . . wanted to say good-bye to him. He is—he was my oldest friend.” With lips clamped together in a wobbly smile, Ayisha handed her cat over, and without a further word, turned and mounted her horse lithely, needing no leg up.

Rafe mounted his own horse. “Ready?” he asked her.

She nodded, unable to speak.

“Good-bye, good-bye,” the others called.

She waved back, smiling, her eyes blind with tears. Ali ran alongside the horses, the cat having jumped from his arms to the top of the wall. It sat, as his mistress disappeared, watching her with slitted golden eyes.

Two minutes away from home, just as Ayisha managed to get her tears under control, they passed a dusty-looking black-clad man, his face bruised from a recent beating. He stared up at Ayisha, his jaw dropping, and his eyes narrowed with dark fury.

“By God, it’s that villain from the river.” Rafe started forward.

She held up a hand to stop him. “No, leave it. I will handle this.” In Arabic, Ayisha called out to him. “Uncle of Gadi, greetings. I hope your aches and pains are terrible indeed. May they get worse! As you see, I am leaving with the Englishman. He has much gold. You will get none. My mother cursed you with her dying breath. It is all you deserve.”

He cursed her and raised a fist, then glanced fearfully at the Englishman.

She laughed. “Still a coward, eh? You asked me once how I escaped you that night.” She paused until they had almost passed him. “I was under the bed all the time, right under your nose, just this far from your feet.” She held her hands six inches apart. “And you know what, uncle of Gadi? Your feet stink!”

Her tears disappeared. She kicked her horse into a gallop, shouting back to Rafe, “Race you to Boulac, Englishman!”

 

 

 

 

T
he winds were fair and they made good time to Rosetta.

They didn’t disembark there, as many did, to make the short trip to Alexandria overland, via the lakes, but took the longer route by sea. Rafe had spoken to the captain, who told him it wasn’t a good time to pass through Alexandria, better to go direct to the port. As they still had plenty of time to board the ship, Rafe agreed.

Ayisha had a mischievous look on her face when he told her of the change of plan. “Not a good time, my foot,” she said. “You only agreed after you heard there were no horses for hire, and you’d have to ride a donkey from Rosetta to Etka and again from the Lake of Akoubir to Alexandria. I know!”

He grinned. “Well, but my legs are too long for riding a donkey. It would look ridiculous. And I would feel like a monster.”

In the days since they’d left Cairo, she’d cheered up a great deal. She had seemed to enjoy the trip, pointing out things of interest and odd curiosities, and appearing cheerful and positive, but Rafe knew much of it was an act.

Whenever she thought herself unobserved, her bright expression faded, and several times he caught her watching the land slipping by with unseeing eyes. Something was worrying her, and it wasn’t just going to a strange land—though God knew, that was intimidating enough.

“Your grandmother will be so delighted to see you,” he told her once.

“Yes, I’m sure she will be,” she said politely, sounding anything but certain. “And I, her.”

“Higgins will endeavor to procure you a single cabin,” he told her another time, thinking she might be apprehensive about the voyage. “It will depend on the other passengers,” he explained. “You might have to share a cabin.”

She looked at him with an odd expression.

“With another lady, possibly several ladies,” he added hastily, and she’d laughed.

Finally, they approached the ancient city of Alexandria from the sea and sailed around to the western harbor, where their ship waited. Rafe, having been here a short time earlier, pointed out the local places of interest: the Isle of Pharos, where the ancient Pharos lighthouse, one of the seven wonders of the world, had once stood and which was now occupied by a massive fifteenth-century fortress. There were a number of Roman remains, including Pompey’s Pillar, and between the buildings they saw the tip of Cleopatra’s Needle pointing upward to the sky.

“And there is Higgins, awaiting our arrival,” Rafe observed, seeing the figure of his valet frantically waving, standing with a small flock of porters.

“Excellent timing, sir,” Higgins said, directing the porters to the baggage. He turned to Ayisha as he ushered them toward the ship. “Miss Cleeve, how have you enjoyed the journey?”

“It’s been fascinating, thank you, Higgins,” she said. “But please call me Ayisha.”

“Miss Ayisha,” Higgins agreed, with a quick glance at Rafe. Rafe nodded. Higgins would be the best one to teach Ayisha how to talk to servants. He was sure she wouldn’t listen to him nearly as well.

“I wasn’t able to get you a single cabin, I’m afraid, miss,” he said as he guided them to the gangplank. “There were only three berths still available: two men’s berths and one ladies’. I was able to obtain one of the staterooms for Mr. Rafe but only because—”

“Miss Ayisha will take the stateroom,” Rafe told him. “I will take her berth.”

“Mrs. Ferris won’t like that, sir,” Higgins said.

“Who the deuce is Mrs. Ferris?”

“The lady whose cabin Miss Ayisha will share. It was the only other berth available.”

“It will be nice to have another lady to talk to,” Ayisha said placidly. “Please, Higgins, could you show me the way?”

“Of course, miss, we’re all on the same deck. There’s only twenty passengers.” He directed Ayisha toward the stairs.

“Higgins, when does the ship leave?” Rafe said, not moving.

“In two hours, sir,” Higgins replied. “The tide will turn then, and the ship will depart.”

“Excellent,” Rafe said. “Two hours will be plenty, I’m sure.”

“Plenty for what—” Higgins turned, but Rafe was halfway down the gangway. He shouted something after Rafe, but the wind was picking up and Rafe didn’t catch it. Long strides took him toward the city. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he even knew the Arabic word for it.

“Sir, sir, the captain is dependent on the wind and tides,” Higgins bellowed. “What if he leaves early?” He started to follow, but his master was already almost at the city entrance.

“He always does this.” Higgins turned a gloomy face to Ayisha. “Some last-minute idea. And what if he misses the ship, eh? Then where will we be?”

“Tossing a coin over a stateroom?” Ayisha suggested with a smile.

Higgins looked appalled. “Oh no, miss, you’d have to take it. I couldn’t possibly.”

He eyed her garb and then said diffidently, “However, miss, since Mr. Ramsey has taken himself off for a while, may I suggest you use his cabin to change into your lady’s clothes? It might be best if Mrs. Ferris didn’t see you dressed as an Arab boy.”

Ayisha glanced down at her attire. “I suppose so.” She wasn’t particularly looking forward to being turned into a lady.

“Excellent, here is the key to Mr. Ramsey’s cabin. The number is on the tag. It’s the best of the cabins—the owner’s private quarters, and on the same level as yours. I’ll fetch your baggage and meet you there, miss. Oh—and I’ll get a bath sent up, too.”

A
yisha didn’t want to move. When Higgins said a bath, she’d expected a bucket of water—it was how she’d washed for the past six years, except for the days when they took the washing down to the river and went in and bathed in their robes.

This was a tin bath, large enough to sit down in—an unexpected treat. And the warm water, even better. But the soap . . . she sniffed again. Ali had said it smelled good enough to eat, but this wasn’t the same smell. This smelled of . . . jasmine? And something else. She must ask Higgins.

But her fingertips were getting wrinkly, proof that she’d stayed in too long. She took a clean pitcher of water, stood up, and rinsed the soap off herself, hair and all. She stepped out of the bath feeling clean and—she sniffed her skin—delicious.

Higgins had thought of everything; there were even towels. She wrapped her hair in one and dried herself with the other.

The stateroom was a superior cabin and very ingeniously designed, with a bed big enough for two built into the corner of the ship, with drawers built in under it. The open side of the bed had a low enclosure of rails, like a child’s cot, to prevent anyone in bed from falling out in rough weather, she supposed.