Alex had never known such dismay, or such crushing disappointment. She looked blindly away.
He shoved past her. “Murad. Take her and go. And make certain that she doesn’t come back.”
“Let us go now, Alex. Jebal is probably looking for you as we speak,” Murad said softly. His voice was filled with compassion.
Alex shoved past Blackwell, determined not to cry. Murad wrapped his arm around her as she stumbled out of the cubicle. She had to look up, one last time.
His gaze was dark and penetrating, intense and disturbing. He did not say good-bye.
Blackwell stood staring after her as she weaved her way through the sleeping captives with her slave. He was aware of the tension filling his body so stiffly that his every joint ached.
He turned as someone came up behind him; it was the scribe, Quixande.
“Well, well,” he said softly. “You failed to mention to me that you knew this woman so well, Captain.”
“I don’t.”
Pierre regarded him.
Xavier finally tore his gaze away, for Alexandra had left the couryard, entering the tunnel, and she was no longer in sight. His heart felt heavy, his soul strangely bereft. “She says she is married to Jebal in name only,” he muttered. He did not believe it for an instant.
“I believe that is the truth.”
“What?” Xavier was surprised.
Quixande smiled. “An unconsummated marriage is a very big topic of gossip, Captain. In some quarters Jebal is a laughingstock. Not to mention that the bashaw wants a grandson.”
“He does not have an heir?”
“No. His first wife, Zoe, has only given him daughters.”
Xavier looked into the scribe’s dark eyes. “There is more, is there not? Something which you have not told me?”
“Yes.”
His pulse accelerated. “Feel free.”
“There is some speculation in Tripoli about her first marriage.”
“I do not understand.” But he had a dark inkling, one he did not like.
“There does not seem to ever have been a diplomat named Thornton stationed at Gibraltar.”
Xavier remained motionless.Another lie.
“Indeed, no one seems to quite know the name of the ship she arrived in Tripoli upon. But then”—Pierre’s smile flashed—“no one seems to care.”
It struck him then. Clearly. She was a spy.
And Quixande read his mind. “Yes. Captain, obviously she is a spy, planted here just last year. But the question looms. For whom?”
20
THEY LEFT THEbagnio behind them. “I almost hate him,” Alex said harshly. She wiped her eyes. “This doesn’t make any sense! Why the hell does he mistrust me so? He doesn’t even want to try to believe me.”
“You’re Jebal’s wife, Alex; worse, you are an American. Can’t you see how that must look from his point of view?”
“No!” But unfortunately, Alex could. “Murad, do you think he is in love with me? And that is why he is so furious with my deception?”
