Jebal’s face was grim. “Have you worn bedouin robes, Zohara?”
Alex managed to shake her head.
“Are you a spy? Did you aid Blackwell in destroying thePearl?.Did you go to him in the bagnio? Have the two of you been cuckolding me beneath my very own roof?” Jebal shouted.
Alex shook her head wildly. “No,” she whispered.“No.”
“I believe an early morning meeting can be arranged. My father is not the gentle man that I am.” His tone had become deceptively, dangerously, soft.
Alex was terrified. “I am a time traveler,” she said faintly.
But Jebal did not hear her, because Zoe was speaking. “Her slave surely knows everything. They are very close. Torture him, Jebal, now, and by sunrise you will have all the proof you need.” She turned her wildly glittering eyes upon Alex. Alex now understood the real meaning of the term “bloodlust.”
“No!” Alex fought for calm. It was good that Jebal hadn’t understood her, because he would never believe that she was from the twentieth century, and that only explained some of her actions—it did not remove suspicion from her and Blackwell. “All men will tell their torturers whatever it is they want to hear to stop the torture, Jebal; surely you know that.”
Jebal stared, his eyes glittering as brilliantly as Zoe’s.
Alex hugged herself but could not stop trembling. “Please don’t hurt Murad. If anyone is innocent of wrongdoing, it is he.”
“So now you admit your guilt?” Jebal advanced a pace toward her.
Alex cried, “No!” Then, wetting her lips, she said in a rush, “If you hurt Murad, I will never forgive you.”
He spat, “Do you think I care?”
Alex hesitated. “Zoe is wrong. I did not betray you. I am your wife. We have an entire lifetime together. Unless you allow Zoe’s lies and my rescuing a dying man to interfere.”
Jebal glanced at Zoe.
“And what if I am pregnant?” Alex asked desperately.
Jebal jerked.
“You have no legitimate sons. What if I carry your eldest, your heir?”
“Jebal,” Zoe protested.
“Quiet,” Jebal roared. He confronted Alex, gripping her arm. Alex winced. “I no longer trust you, Zohara. I must think. In the meantime, you shall remain here, locked up, a prisoner.”
“A prisoner?” Alex cried.
“Yes. This chamber is now your prison, until I decide otherwise.”
Alex could not move.
Zoe smiled widely and preceded Jebal out.
“Wait!” Alex cried, running forward. She could not stop herself from asking the question that, undoubtedly, would seal her fate. “What will happen to Blackwell?”
Jebal’s eyes widened, and then his expression became savage. “Why, he will die, of course. Spies are beheaded, Zohara—as are all Christian men who dare to lie with Moslem women like yourself.”
History hadn’t lied.
Alex sat with her face in her hands. Blackwell was going to die. She herself would most likely meet the very same fate. But if he died, she did not think she cared to live.
She hugged her knees. She wondered where he was incarcerated. Was he thinking about her? Did he finally realize that he loved her? Did he have regrets? God, it wasn’t fair! They had only just found one another—and now they would both die.
Alex wiped her eyes. Crying wasn’t going to help. But the anguish in her heart and soul was impossible to ignore. She could not ever remember feeling such intense, deep pain or such cold, bloodcurdling fear.
