Murad blanched.
By the time they reached the harbor, the corsair ship was just edging past the mole and through the bay’s bottleneck. She was firing a thunderous multigun salute. Murad was correct. The entire town had turned out to witness the return of Rais Jovar and his prize. A thousand Tripolitans lined the streets of the harbor, men, women, and children, soldiers, merchants, and slaves. They huzzahed and cheered. Some men jeered. The women and children laughed and danced. The firing from the corsair ship continued. The noise of the crowd and the ship’s cannons was deafening. One cannonball actually hit one of the palace walls, tearing a hole in it.
Alex gripped Murad’s hand tightly as they pushed through the throng so they could be in the first row of spectators on the very edge of the waterfront. “Alex,” Murad warned. “We are being noticed because of your radeness.”
Heads were turning. A woman grumbled in protest. But Alex did not care. She paused upon reaching the dock, breathless and perspiring. The corsair ship had entered the harbor now—and another ship, a larger American brig, was following. Alex’s heart skipped a beat.
“This is all wrong!” she cried.
“What is wrong?” Murad asked, glancing nervously about them. “Oh, God, Father of All Men!” he gasped. “Your husband is here, Alex!”
Alex didn’t hear, didn’t care. “ThePearlis supposed to be destroyed. It is not supposed to be taken as a prize. Blackwell destoyed her at sea.”
Murad tore his gaze from Jebal, who sat a white Arabian stallion tacked up in crimson velvet and real gold and silver, beside the chiaus, who was also mounted, not fifty feet distant from them. They were at the edge of another dock. However, both Jebal and the bashaw’s general were oblivious to the crowd; they had eyes only for the two incoming ships. “What are you speaking about, Alex?” Desperation laced Murad’s tone.
Alex was frantic. “ThePearlwas destroyed before it reached Tripoli, Murad. I read about it in the history books.”
His gaze whipped to her face. “What history books?”
Alex realized exactly what she had said and she paled. She could not come up with a suitable answer.
“Are you feverish? Ill?” he demanded.
Alex shook her head, swallowing, her pulse thundering in her ears. “No, I’m fine.” She turned to watch thePearl,now entering through the harbor’s bottleneck. Then she stared at theMajaagain. It was coming close enough now for her to make out the figures of the many men standing by its railing. Her heart skipped alarmingly. Where was Xavier Blackwell?
“He’s coming this way!” Murad cried out. “Jebal is approaching, Alex!”
Alex looked up just in time to see Jebal riding leisurely in their direction. For a moment she thought that he had espied her and was coming purposefully toward her. She froze in real and sudden fear. She could not even breathe.
But he was only riding his steed to their dock, as it appeared that this was where theMajawould berth.
However, Jebal’s eyes did briefly turn away from the approaching cruiser, to skim the waiting throng.
His eyes skimmed right over her.
Alex was already shrinking away, ducking her head, expecting him to call out sharply to her. An excuse for her being there was already forming in her mind. But at that precise moment. Murad gripped her with a strength he had never exercised before, and before Alex knew what he intended, he had yanked her back into the depths of the crowd.
“We are going home,” Murad snapped furiously.
“No.” Alex began to struggle, looking over her shoulder, but she was surrounded by Moslems now, and she could not even see the harbor, much less the corsair ship—much less Xavier Blackwell.
Murad put an iron arm around her and dragged her away.
Alex wept.
Murad sat by her hip, unable to console her. His face was lined with worry, compassion, and regret. “I’m so sorry, Alex.”
She lay on her stomach, her face buried in her pillow. She had never known such disappointment before. She had been waiting for him for so long, and dear God, she had been within moments of actually laying her eyes upon him. Only to be denied.
“I am sorry, Alex, so sorry, but I had no choice. I was protecting you,” Murad said seriously, his hand upon her shoulder.
“I know,” Alex mumbled. She turned her face onto one cheek so she could see him. “Don’t you see? That only makes it worse. Murad, I must see him.”
Murad was silent. The look in his eyes told her that he had grave reservations—and he appeared pained. “I don’t know how that will be possible,” he finally said.
“Where will he be taken now?” Alex asked.
Before Murad could reply, a knock sounded on her door and he answered it. One of her husband’s servants stood there: Jebal wanted to speak with Alex immediately. Alex sat up, frightened. Had Jebal seen her after all?
