"Dutiful wife, indeed," she muttered. Sheshot him a venomous glance which seemed to amuse him, but she did stay close tohim, avoiding the crush of humanity all around her, and clutched his armtightly.
The docks were crowded with all manner of folk,mariners and richly clad foreign merchants, barefoot urchins dashing in andout, ragged hawkers selling their wares, pilgrims and hooded clergy, and evenbrazen women baring their breasts and calling out lustily to disembarkingpassengers. Leila was so shocked she forgot her self-imposed reticence andtugged on Guy's mailed sleeve.
"Are those women—?"
"Prostitutes," Guy finished for her, a wrysmile on his lips. "Incoming ships bring them a healthy trade, and fromthe looks of this lot" —he nodded toward some dusty pilgrims comingashore— "they could use what these ladies have to offer."
"Ladies?" Leila scoffed. "Those womenwould be executed without a trial in Damascus!"
"Then it's a good thing for them they're not inDamascus," Guy quipped, waving off a russet-haired woman who wassauntering toward him.
"Are you sure now, my lord?" the womanqueried skeptically in heavily accented English, flashing Guy a wide,gap-toothed smile. "That little lady doesn't look to me as if she can bearthe weight of you like these lily-white thighs! Why don't you give 'em a try? I'llgive you a ride you won't forget!"
"Better yet," another harlot shouted, shovingthe red-haired woman aside, "you're such a fine-looking man I'll pay youfor the tumble! If the rest of you is as big" —her eyes fell to his crotchand she grinned lustily— "ah, now that would be a sight to see!"
"How—how darethey!"Leila blurted, her cheeks firing as both women laughed and pushed their wayback into the crowd when Guy merely smiled and shook his head.
"Ignore it," he suggested, guiding her towhere a line of horse-drawn wagons were waiting for hire. "You'll find thepeasants are a crude lot, but they generally mean no harm."
Crude wasn't the word for it, Leila thought, her headbeginning to ache. More like vile, base, and barbaric, just as she expected.She felt as if she had been dropped into some sort of swirling hell, such wasthe raucous activity and babble of languages all around her.
"Wait here," Guy said, leaving her beside astack of wine barrels before she could protest and walking toward a group ofcoarsely dressed man gathered by the wagons.
Leila didn't like being left alone in this motleythrong, but she had the distinct feeling Guy was maintaining a watchful eye onher, which made her feel a little better. She kept her gaze trained on him,trying to ignore the curious and leering glances being cast her way from malepassersby.
It shocked her that men would stare at her so openly.In Damascus, women were treated with respect, and of course in public they worenumerous veils to shield themselves from any unwelcome attentions.
Without a face veil she felt exposed and naked, and shewondered how long it would take her to become used to the fact that women herewore no such veils. She hoped she would be back in Syria soon, and wouldn'thave to worry about it!
Leila watched Guy through her lowered lashes and wasastonished to see the men sweep off their caps and bow their heads in deferenceas he approached. Was he a great man, that they would treat him so? She decidedthey were probably acting out of fear. Guy towered above them, the ruggedbreadth of his shoulders equal to that of two men. With the sunlight glintingoff his polished mail, he was a formidable sight.
She surmised the transaction was completed when one ofthe men ran to a nearby wagon and jumped into the driver's seat, snapping hiswhip across the two draft horses' rumps while Guy strode back to her. Sheexperienced a rush of pleasure in his commanding appearance, but she quicklybrushed it off, angry that she would feel that way.
"The driver will load our chests and then comearound to pick you up," Guy said, glad to be back by her side. He didn'tlike leaving her alone, even for a moment.
Leila looked lovelier than any woman had a right to,despite the gray linen tunic and matchingsurcoathehad insisted she wear for their journey overland to Avignon. He would see thatshe continued to dress plainly until they were out of France. He did not trustthese foreigners, even though it was from this land that his own ancestors hadsprung. In England few would dare to assault them, but here. . .
"Won't you be riding in the wagon?" sheasked, glancing sideways at him.
"No." Guy nodded to the dappled gray stallionbeing led toward them. "If I need to fight, I want to have a good horsebeneath me."
He saw a flicker of fear in her eyes, and she seemed aboutto respond when she was distracted by a wild brawl that had broken out betweensome sailors. He paid the men no heed, studying her face instead. Anoverwhelming sense of protectiveness surged through him as he wondered if theirjourney would take any further toll upon her health. He hoped not.
Leila had lost weight during the voyage, due to herseasickness but also to the galley cook's indifferent fare. He, too, had hadtrouble stomaching the poorly prepared food, but he had forced himself to eatwhile Leila could not. Her high cheekbones were more finelyetched,her eyes large and darkly violet in a face that had grown too pale. He wouldhave to see that she ate well to restore the healthy glow she had possessed inDamascus. Thankfully he still had plenty of Lady Eve's jewels to amply providefor their needs.
"Yourcharette, my lady,"he said when their newly hired driver halted the four-wheeled wagon in front ofthem and prepared to jump down from his seat. "Stay where you are, man. I'llsee to my wife."
Ignoring Guy's proffered arm, Leila looked doubtfullyat their roughly constructed conveyance. It was so crude compared to the silkcurtained litters she knew from home; no pillows or cushions, only dank strawheaped upon the wagon floor to soften the ride. "Where am I to sit?"
"In the back with our chests," Guy replied,catching her around the waist. "Up you go."
Leila gasped as he swung her into the wagon, and was mortifiedby the driver's gruff chuckle of approval. From the man's reaction, it seemedto be a common thing for women to be so roughly handled. She sat down awkwardlyamid the straw, wrenching thesurcoat'svoluminousfolds around her knees.
"We have to make a few stops before we leave thecity," Guy informed her as he mounted the stallion. "We need food anda pallet for you to sleep on—"
"Please, my lord, don't trouble yourself on myaccount," Leila interrupted irritably, sneezing at the musty straw. "Thishay will serve me just as well."
"Are you sure?" Guy asked, amusement lightinghis eyes.
