Alex’s heart broke for him.
“You are softening the truth,” Murad returned.
“Yes, I am softening it. But I don’t want to lose you; I can’t bear the thought of never seeing you again. Please come with us, Murad.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“I will free you. You will be a free man,” Alex said, strained and urgent.
“Free to do what? I was born a slave. I only know how to serve. I have no doubt I will die a slave, Alex. That ismyfate.”
Alex could not believe her ears. She had the incredible feeling that he had made up his mind—that he was refusing her—that he would remain behind in Tripoli—that she would never see him again.
“Let’s not discuss this now,” Murad said very gently. He smiled, his expression oddly fragile and tender, gentle and sad. “We still have two weeks.”
It struck Alex then with stunning force why he could not remain behind. Why he had to escape with them. “Murad! You will be put to death in our stead! For your participation in our escape! Jebal and the bashaw will see you beheaded! They will seek vengeance upon you!”
His gaze was steady now, both very old and very wise. It was also resigned. “I know,” he said.
Alex watched Zoe leave the large marble swimming pool in the gardens the women shared. The afternoon was quiet and peaceful, but Alex was disturbed. All elation she felt at their escape being so near at hand was gone. She could not stop thinking about Murad, who would surely take the blame for their escape. She had no doubt he would be tortured and then put to death.
Murad had gone, taking her clothes to the palace laundresses. Alex sat down on the edge of the pool, lifting up her trousers and kicking off her sandals. She stuck her feet in the water, which was warm. Could she force Murad to escape with them? Or somehow maneuver him into it? Clearly she could not leave him behind to become a martyr for their cause.
Alex cradled her head in her hands, her temples throbbing. Was she a fool? Had she been terribly arrogant, coming to Libya in search of Blackwell, then waiting for his appearance, naively assuming she was going to live out some romance-novel story line? Blackwell wanted her, perhaps was even falling in love with her against his will—Murad actually thought so. But Alex wasn’t sure now about anything other than her feelings for him. Did they have a future together? He was a nineteenth-century man. She was a liberated woman from the future.
Was she in an impossible coil? What if their escape was successful—and he still rejected her? Then what?
Once again, Alex wondered if she could somehow travel back to the future. The question both worried and saddened her.
She felt trapped. She might very well be trapped.
Alex stood and stripped off her several layers of clothing. Nude except for the copy of the ruby and gold choker Jebal had given her and ordered her to wear at all times, Alex stepped down into the bathing pool. The warm water caressed her body, lapping between her thighs and breasts. Blackwell’s image filled her mind. These days, it did not take much for Alex to become painfully aroused.
Alex floated in the water, trying not to think about the future. Her fantasies always had the same conclusion—in which she would reap the greatest reward of all, riches of the heart and soul, the love of an incredible man. But now she was afraid she was deluding herself.
She had the sensation that she was being watched.
Alex sat up, looking around, but saw no one. She hesitated, then lay back on the pool’s shallow steps. The sun was warm on her face, the water tepid and soothing on her body.
“Do you need me?” Murad asked.
Alex started, sitting, drawing her knees up to her chest. She had never been modest in front of Murad until recently. She felt her cheeks heating. “I’m fine.”
He was not looking at her. “In which case, I am going inside. I’ll straighten up your room and put away your clean clothes.”
Alex nodded. She relaxed when he turned his back on her and began walking down the pale shell path toward the gallery and her room. She slipped back into the water when Murad disappeared.
What was happening? Once, it had been so natural between them. Was it possible? Alex already knew that Murad loved her, but as a friend. And Murad was a eunuch. Eunuchs did not notice women in a male-to-female way.
Zoe’s words returned to Alex, harsh and disturbing. She had accused Alex and Murad of being lovers. She had said that eunuchs could be the best lovers. Alex sat back up. She stared toward the palace where Murad had disappeared.
Murad could not be thinking of her that way. It was impossible. Wasn’t it?
“Why haven’t you sent for me this week?” Zoe pouted.
“If you were not my first wife, you would be severely punished for even daring to ask me such a question,” Jebal said. He sat cross-legged on a cushion, idly picking at grapes.
Zoe stood facing him. She had dared to request an audience instead of waiting to be summoned. And she had dressed for the occasion.
