“We both know you never married a diplomat named Thornton. Am I correct?”
Alex was stunned. “No, you are wrong.”
“And I suspect Murad has been running errands for you outside of the palace. Now, what errands could he possibly be performing? He is either receiving, or taking. It is either physical, as in some kind of object, or intangible. Perhaps in the form of a message. In any case, he is some kind of go-between.” Zoe smiled broadly. “How am I doing?”
Alex was frozen. “You’re mad. Crazy. Off your rocker.”
“What are you hiding? Who are you, really?” Zoe asked with malicious delight. “Uncovering the truth—all of it—is going to be so amusing.”
“I’m not hiding anything,” Alex managed. “You have a very wild imagination.”
“I don’t think so.” Zoe laughed. “I am going to expose you for the liar you are, Zohara, dear.” She turned, gripping the brass door handle, then she eyed Alex. “And I do not think Jebal will be quite so fond of you then.” Zoe left.
Alex swallowed, beginning to shake. She found her way to the bed and sat down hard. She could hardly think. She was very frightened.
23
MURAD HAD JUSTreturned to the harem, and Alex could not believe her ears. “Commodore Morris has agreed to aid them?”
Murad nodded, unsmiling. “Word was passed on to Neilsen this morning.”
“How on earth did you ever find out?” Alex cried.
“Alex, don’t you know by now that for you I would move heaven and earth?”
Alex stared. She had asked Murad to learn all that he could about Blackwell’s plans. Murad had paid off several slaves in the bagnio to spy for them. While Alex was not at all pleased to be spying on Xavier, she had no choice. She did not trust him not to leave Tripoli without her.
“Neilsen and Blackwell had another meeting,” Murad said. “It was very brief. I still don’t know the details of the escape. But apparently it is scheduled for two weeks hence, Alex, which would put us in the first week of September.”
“I need to know the exact date. Otherwise I may very well be left behind,” Alex said tersely.
Murad regarded her. “And you would be very unhappy to be left behind, wouldn’t you, Alex?”
Alex nodded. Her pulse was racing. She was still furious with Blackwell for his treatment of her the other night, but she could not bear the thought of their being torn apart for all eternity. She had traveled through time to find Blackwell, to become his lover, to save him from an execution consigned by fate. She imagined waking up one morning to the warm Libyan sun, only to discover that he was gone. She might remain in Tripoli forever, never seeing him again. A captive to the Barbary pirates, a Moslem prince’s wife.
“Maybe I should go see him again,” Alex mused aloud. “Maybe he will now bend toward me. Maybe, if I refuse to give up, I can convince him of my sincerity.” She trembled at the thought of seeing him again. Of course, this time she would not let him touch her. Allowing him to kiss her had been a major mistake. No matter how she tried, she could not forget what it had felt like being in his arms.
“Don’t even think of trying,” Murad warned. “He has made himself very clear, not once but a half dozen times. And your going to the bagnio now, on the eve of the escape, is stupid, Alex. You would jeopardize everything, for what? To make him change his mind? Or to assuage your lust?”
“That’s not fair,” Alex said, shocked.
Murad just stared.
Alex averted her eyes. Murad was right. Going to the bagnio now was stupid and selfish, and it could ruin their chances of escape, which were increasing each and every day. And dammit, he knew her so well. A part of the reason she wanted to visit Blackwell was merely to see him again; she was compelled.
It was incredibly painful, being so close to him, yet so very far away.
But she tried to lift her own spirits by reflecting that, in two weeks time, she and Blackwell might very well be out of Tripoli—beginning not just their journey together to freedom, but the rest of their lives—if she could allay his suspicions of her, if she could convince him that she was not a political spy.
A moment later she sobered. “So much can go wrong.”
Murad was fiddling with his sash. “If anyone can succeed, it is Blackwell—and you.”
“That’s a tremendous compliment.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Unfortunately, I have no faith in Morris. Do you have any idea what his role is in the escape?”
