“Yes, I’m English through my mother, but my father is an Arab and these are his people.”
“You’re half-Arab, then?” Christina interrupted, finding it hard to believe.
“Yes, and my father captured my mother, just as I have captured you. He let her return to England later with my brother and myself. So I was raised in England until I came of age. Then I chose to come here and live with my father.”
“Your father is here?”
“Yes, you will meet him later.”
“Surely your father doesn’t approve of your kidnapping me?” she asked, hoping his father might help her.
“I have done nothing to you yet—but yes, my father approves,” he said, a smile playing on his lips. “You forget, Tina, this isn’t England. It’s the way of my people to take what we want if we can. And I made sure you were available for the taking. You will understand better after you have been here awhile.”
He escorted her back to his tent and left her there alone.
Would she ever understand Philip Caxton? Christina looked around the tent, wondering what she was supposed to do with herself. She suddenly felt quite lonely, and it annoyed her.
Without thinking, Christina raced out of the tent to see Philip mounting his horse along with four other riders. She ran to him and clutched his leg. “Where are you going?” she demanded.
“I will be back shortly.”
“But what am I supposed to do with myself while you’re gone?”
“That’s an absurd question, Christina. Do whatever you women usually do when you’re alone.”
“Why, of course, Mr. Caxton,” she said flippantly. “Why didn’t I think of that? I can make use of your sewing room, though it’s not really necessary—I’m used to wearing hand-me-downs. Or perhaps I could take care of your correspondence. I’m sure you must be a busy man and can’t find time to do it yourself. But if you’d rather, I could just browse through your well-stocked library. I’m sure I can find something interesting to read there. I do have a mind as well as a body, Mr. Caxton!”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Christina,” Philip said angrily.
“Of course, you’re a better authority on what suits me than I am,” Christina retorted.
“Christina, I will not tolerate this tirade of yours any longer. You may act as you please in our tent, but in public you will show me respect!” he replied, the muscles twitching dangerously in his jaw as he stared down at her.
“Respect!” She stood back to look at him, slightly amused. “You want respect after the way you’ve treated me?”
“In this land when a woman shows disrespect to her husband she is beaten.”
“You’re not my husband,” she corrected.
“No, but I’m the same as a husband to you. I’m your master, and you belong to me. If you’d like me to find a whip and bare your back in public, I’ll be happy to oblige you. Otherwise, return to my tent.” He said it so coldly that Christina didn’t wait to see if he would carry out his threat. She scurried back into the tent and threw herself onto the bed to cry out her frustrations.
Must she now fear a beating as well as rape? That devil wanted respect after what he’d done! But she’d be damned if she’d show him anything but hate and contempt.
She detested feeling sorry for herself, but what was she supposed to do whenever he left? For that matter, what was she going to do when Philip was around? She cried herself to sleep.
Christina was rudely awakened by a hearty whack on her behind. She turned quickly to see Philip standing by the side of the bed, hands on his hips and a taunting smile on his handsome face.
“You spend a lot of time sleeping in that bed, my sweet. Would you like me to show you another way to use it?”
Christina jumped off the bed. She was finding it easier to understand his crude meanings.
“I’m quite sure I can do without that kind of knowledge, Mr. Caxton.” Christina faced him with her arms akimbo, feeling safe with the bed between them.
“Well, you’ll learn soon enough. And I’d prefer you to address me as Philip or Abu, as I am called here. I think it’s time you dispensed with the formalities.”
“Well, I’d prefer to continue the formalities, Mr. Caxton. At least your people will know that I’m not here willingly,” she said flippantly.
Philip grinned devilishly. “Oh, they know you’re not here of your own free will, but they also know that I’m not a man to be kept waiting. They assume you were deflowered last night. Perhaps tonight you will be.”
