But in her bed, Alex turned over onto her belly and began to cry into her pillow. Whom was she fooling? This wasn’t a romance novel. This was real life, only worse—this was the Moslem world in 1804. Blackwell was courageous, powerful, and strong, but he was a flesh-and-blood man, not a paperback hero. If Blackwell tried to rescue her, he would most likely die. She was never going to see him again. They would never share a lifetime together.
It crossed her mind that she had been a fool, to think that she could rewrite history. It crossed her mind that she should return to the century where she belonged, and forget all about Xavier Blackwell. Maybe, one day, her memories would fade to the point where they didn’t hurt so much, like the blade of a scimitar shredding her already bleeding heart. Maybe one day she would be able to recall thisadventureand it would be out of focus and blurred, feeling only like the fragments of some old, odd, nightmarish dream.
Alex did not think so.
In any case, she wasn’t sure she could return to the twentieth century even if she wanted to. Zoe had the oil lamp. Either that, or she had destroyed it.
Jovar paced across her bedchamber. “He escaped! It was impossible, but he escaped. We tried to cut off the entrance to the harbor, but the Danes beat us out. Blackwell escaped—Neilsen with him!”
Zoe sat up, yawning. “I say good riddance, Peter.”
He stared at her without seeing her. Blackwell’s image remained engraved upon his mind. Rage coursed through his veins, swelling his pores. “I want him dead.”
Zoe slid from her bed, clad in a whisper of transparent silk. “Come, darling, let’s use your rage to good ends.”
Jovar ignored her, knowing he would use her body later, roughly, even cruelly. He continued pacing. “I can only hope he will return to rescue Alexandra Thornton. I saw his face when Jebal dragged her from the horse. He was actually a moment away from going back to her—the fool. If I hadn’t run out of powder, I would have killed him then and there.”
“He won’t come back. At least, not soon. Maybe next year, with a big American battleship.”
Jovar wheeled. Zoe was actually smiling. “Are you amused?” he said with deceptive calm.
She shrugged. Her big breasts heaved. “It is so rare that you are thwarted, Peter.”
He crossed the room in three long strides and gripped her by her hair, pulling her head back so that her spine was awkwardly arched, her throat exposed, her breasts upthrust. Zoe gasped. “I think he will come back. I think he will come back soon, to attempt to rescue her.” Jovar smiled grimly and jerked on her hair once. “And I shall be waiting, Zoe. This time he will not elude me.”
The best that Alex could do was send a message to Jebal and pray that he would respond. He hated her so thoroughly that she had little hope.
But he appeared shortly after. He stared coldly at her, his arms folded across his chest. “I cannot imagine what it is that you wish to say to me.”
Alex sat up slowly. “I know I am doomed,” she began hesitantly.
“So now you confess your guilt?”
“I only confess to loving a man and saving his life.”
“You tried to escape with him!” Jebal’s voice rose.
“How can you blame me when you hate me, when you have imprisoned me—and threatened me with death?”
“What do you want to speak about?” Jebal was cold and impatient.
“I believe that Zoe has my possessions, those items stolen from my slave when he left Neilsen’s.”
“Oh, really?”
“I am asking you to return those things to me. They are just a few items from home. Or will you be so cruel and deny me any comfort at all?”
“Zoe maintains she did not take those things,” Jebal said firmly.
“She is lying. She is a liar.”
“You are a fine one to call another a liar, Zohara,” Jebal spat.
Alex looked down. There was nothing else she could say—and nothing she could do.
Jebal turned and left the room. Alex glanced up just as she heard the heavy metal bolt slamming down outside of her door. She wiped her eyes, which were tearing again. She was only flesh and blood too. How stupid she had been to cast herself in the role of a heroine. She wasn’t brave and she wasn’t strong, not anymore.
And without the lamp, she could not escape Tripoli and Jebal.
