OUT OF TIME
Ardeth, Bahir, and Bart rode silently at full gallop. Ardeth pushed ahead aggressively, not bothering to wait for his father or Bart. He had forgotten everything, including the horrid pain in his side. The wound throbbed constantly, bleeding off and on. His body was weakening, but oddly enough, his spirit grew as each mile flew past him. The Englishman was set to harm Laurel and Ardeth was more determined than ever to stop it. He had not been this determined to stop anything since the creature was defeated. He told neither his father nor Ustâd what had sent him off in such an insane frenzy of panic. In fact, he didn't take time to do much of anything. The other men reasoned that something had apparently happened to the girl, but Ardeth wouldn't slow down long enough to elaborate, despite their repeated attempts at stopping him by screaming and yelling. He didn't stop. He couldn't. Ahead of them, Cairo waited. He desperately hoped to find Laurel safe and alive. The small group of men entered the crowded city and it was at that time Ardeth realized that his wound had begun to bleed again. It didn't stop him, nothing could. Soon, the men would have to dismount. The horses could not walk through the masses. Thwarted momentarily, Ardeth dismounted and pulled the reins on the tired animal, forcing him to walk. Suddenly, he became a little dizzy and felt sweat pouring off him in rivulets. Fever. As he feared, the wound had become infected. It didn't matter. As he had told his father, he would see a healer once he knew Laurel was secure. As if from a dream, he turned when he heard the soft call of a woman's voice. Dâyi nafs. His eyes had never beheld anything so beautiful. He began to walk toward her in a stumbling gait. Bahir and Bart stood back, watching Ardeth carefully. They had no idea who Ardeth was walking toward. They saw no one. Bahir left Bart behind and went after his delirious son. He saw the alarming red stain at his side, growing as the seconds turned to minutes. If he didn't get the boy to a healer, he would die. Although his fever was growing and consuming him, Ardeth still had enough stubbornness inside to fight at his father. He couldn't hear anything around him, he was entirely focused on his hallucination. He felt a strong hand going around his upper arm, trying to drag him back down to reality. Ardeth resisted, but his attempts were futile. He had little strength. Bahir pulled Ardeth along forcefully. Even as sick as he was, it was a challenge. Ardeth's vision grew dimmer and dimmer until all he saw was smooth blackness.
* * *
Laurel and her captors made it to Cairo some time before Ardeth, Bahir, and Bart. Reginald led her directly to the hotel. At first, she thought he would try to take her again, but for the moment, he seemed disinterested in her. Of course, she had agreed to do anything he wanted and there was no need to take her now. Before he left, he allowed her to take a real bath in relative privacy. She also noticed that he had somehow managed to secure clothing for her, clothing that he wanted to see her wear. She thought it ironic that he had been so smug to believe that he could find and conquer her. Basically, that is exactly what he has done. From this day forward, I am his slave. I fought him off once, but he will never let me out of it again. He gave me a reprieve for now, and when he has his chance, he will make me pay. She should have submitted to him in the desert, because for now, she had no idea what he had in mind for her. Whatever it was, she knew it wouldn't be good, gentle, or loving. Laurel leaned back in the tub and closed her eyes. The sight of Ardeth falling to his knees, bleeding out onto the sand, assaulted her again. Just moments before that, he had broken her heart and she hated him, hated him so badly that she could have shot him. When she saw him fall, all of that seemed to be erased. It was forgotten in that tiny space of time. She would have cheerfully joined him. She had no idea how things had gotten so bad so quickly. It was as if she had taken the gun herself and blown him away. She would give anything to take it all back. How many times had she thought that since meeting Ardeth Bay? She could no longer lie here and watch Ardeth die over and over again. She finished her bath and slipped into the dressing gown she had grabbed from the oak wardrobe closet. She hated this, hated every minute of it. Not only had the bastard killed Ardeth, but he had also won the war. As soon as she produced a male heir [the idea of having Reginald's child made her skin crawl], Tehotu would retire and give his 'son-in-law' full charge of his interests. When she reentered the main room, she noticed that Reginald had left [locking the door behind him, of course]. He had gone to send word to England of her 'retrieval.' He was in a gigantic rush to get back home. She was certain that he and Tehotu had already planned the wedding down to what knickers she would wear beneath her pristine white wedding gown. There was nothing for her to do but wait. Hoping that Reginald would not return for a while, Laurel went to the bed and lay down. If he happened to come back and saw her like this, he would take it as an open invitation. She turned to her side and cradled a pillow to her chest. What the hell would she do?
* * *
Ardeth was back in the oasis with Laurel. He could plainly see her lying beside him, marveling at the only part of her body showing, which was the rounded curve of her buttocks. Either her position or her hair hid everything else. He had thrown his arm over his eyes because of the cowardly rush of emotions filling him. He was aware of what he had to tell her, but it couldn't leave him because he no longer felt it was right. For a day or more, he had tried to tell her he would never love her like she needed to be loved. He was contracted to marry a woman he barely knew. He actually didn't know Laurel either, but she had grown to mean a lot to him, and somehow it seemed as if he would make a horrid mistake by telling her what he had to. Ardeth thought that Laurel could sense the tentativeness in him, because she hadn't said much since they made love in the water. Yet, he had to say something to her before they entered Cairo. If he didn't, it would be much, much worse. He raised his arm and noticed that Laurel was gazing down at him. Once again, the words wouldn't come to the surface. All it took was one look from her beautiful eyes and he had forgotten all about his duty. He allowed her to kiss him and he pulled her over on top of him. Before long, they were making love again, and at the end of it, he held her tightly against him. He wouldn't tell her, he wouldn't say a word. Perhaps she would come back with him…and do what? Marry him? No. It was much too soon for that. She would think him insane. It was worth trying, though, and he vowed that before morning, he would talk to her and change his destiny.
Ardeth's black dream world was interrupted now and again by voices. None of them belonged to Laurel. It was his father and Ustâd. They hadn't been at the oasis with him and Laurel. Had they happened upon them? What would they think? [I think he's hallucinating, an unfamiliar voice said. He's moaning about an oasis and someone he refers to as a lost soul.] What were they talking about? Why would he be moaning about the oasis and her? She was lying snuggled up against him. Incredibly, he wanted to sit up and argue with them, but his body wouldn't listen to the command he had given it. [Will the medicine work, his father asked. He does not look well. What if the wound becomes septic?] Wound? What wound? There was no wound on him. All he was aware of was the light weight of Laurel's body on top of his. What was his father talking about? [I am not sure about that, but we've done all we can do. He is out because of the fever. When it breaks, he will awaken.] Fever? He didn't have fever. It was hot, but what did they expect? His father knew better than this. Whatever they were talking about was mad. [I will stay with my son. He needs tending.] He needed tending? He was a man of twenty-four, he wasn't a child who needed constant supervision. His father had never treated him in such a way. I do not need tending, he thought as he tightened his embrace about Laurel's body. All he needed was a lifetime of embraces from this woman lying so very quietly atop him. He reached out to run his hand through her thick hair, but all he touched was air. Suddenly, he missed the weight of Laurel's body. She was gone. Where? Why had she left him? What had he done to drive her away? Frantic now, he wanted to search for her, but didn't know where to look. He felt saddened by that thought. It was then that he remembered what had really happened. He had told her everything and she had broken. His unconscious mind finally understood. At that moment, he began fighting against the blackness. Laurel was gone and he had to find her. He didn't realize he was helpless.
* * *
Laurel sat at the dining table in the hotel room. Grotesquely, it was lit by candlelight. This was the most terrible parody of them all. Keeping up with his snobbery, Reginald insisted that they dress for dinner. A bottle of chilled champagne sat between them. The meal was exquisite, but she had no appetite for it. Reginald didn't seem to have a problem. He tore into his food with relish, acting as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. Laurel had subsisted on fruit and dried meat. She should have torn into hers just as ravenously. Yet, she couldn't eat a bite. The man sitting before her had killed any appetite that she had. Just looking at him made her sick to her stomach. Of course, there was also another thought digging at her. He had said nothing about the sleeping arrangements, and she believed he wouldn't hesitate to break their deal and take her tonight. If he did so, he would have to drag her down the aisle, but then, that was right up his alley. She wanted to broach the subject, but she was afraid to ask, fearing his answer. For the fiftieth time, she picked up her fork, but put it back down again. If she ate, it would only come back up. Without saying a word, she pushed away from the table, rubbing her arms as if she were chilled to the bone. She had no earthly idea that Ardeth, his father, and her father were riding like hell to get to Cairo. If she did, perhaps it might have offered her comfort. There was a balcony and she longed to step out to it, but Reginald locked it and had hidden the key. He thinks I'll jump off and kill myself. It's a novel idea, isn't it? It smacks of Romeo and Juliet and is quite melodramatic. The magic hour was getting closer and closer. Any moment now, she would have to ask about the sleeping arrangements.
She began to tremble when she heard Reginald leaving the table. The thought of him touching her like Ardeth had was a sentence worse than death. However, she understood that he would take whatever he perceived to be his, be it a woman, a business, or a piece of art. She hoped she could get through it without getting sick. If she did, he might hurt her, and he knew a thousand ways to do it. She breathed in deeply as she felt his hands settling on her shoulders. Any moment now, she expected him to begin ripping her out of her clothes. As flimsy as her dress was, it wouldn't take long.
"You are a beautiful temptation and I would like nothing more than to make this ache go away," he whispered down to her, his stinking breath fanning across her shoulder. "However, I'm a businessman, and I don't break deals. I should hope you are the same, Laurel."
Before he pulled away from her, he ran his lips and tongue up the side of her neck and down again. She turned her face away so he couldn't see the repulsed look painted there. She let out her breath as soon as the room door shut and locked behind her. Laurel walked back toward the dining room table and grabbed the bottle of champagne. Earlier, she had refused it. She had never developed a taste for alcohol. However, tonight, she needed something to dull her senses. If one simple touch did this to her, what would a night in bed with him do? Laurel had never been drunk in her life, but by the time she went to bed, she didn't sleep, she blacked out.
The next morning, Laurel was a mess. Her head ached and stomach ached miserably. She felt incredibly dizzy and queasy. If she made it to the boat, it would be a miracle. Right now, she felt as if she would die. She took a long bath and that seemed to help, but the headache never went away. Quietly, she dressed and awaited Reginald. He came to her door promptly at seven. Their steamer to England was due to set sail in thirty minutes. Reginald noticed that Laurel looked like death warmed over, but he made no comment. It didn't matter to him. He would take her any way she looked. He wasn't picky. She allowed him to take hold of her arm to lead her out of the room. He didn't trust her enough to let her walk away on her own. She didn't say as much, but today, she didn't have the energy to run even if he gave her the chance. As the night before, Laurel was completely oblivious to the fact that as she stepped onto the steamer, not quite a mile away, Ardeth was collapsing against his father.
As they set sail, Laurel remained on the deck of the boat as she had done coming to Egypt. She needed the air, but also needed to relieve her seasickness and expel the bottle of champagne she had drunk the night before. The last time she was on a boat, it capsized and threw her into the arms of the man her intended murdered. The water beckoned her and she was more than tempted to jump over the side. Then again, what good would it do? The dunderheads would notice and rescue her. It would give Reginald another opportunity to abuse her, and right now, he needed none other. Still headachy and pale, she inhaled deeply, hoping that it would settle her stomach. It worked for a few moments. She was sick a final time before the hangover released its hold. The dunderheads were waiting for her to recover before they forced her below decks. One thing they didn't want to happen was Reginald's fiancée vomiting all over them. Once under, she took to her tiny cabin to sleep. Perhaps she would remain asleep throughout the duration of their trip. While she slept, Reginald sent a telegram to Tehotu and asked him to be waiting when they arrived. He wanted the wedding to commence immediately. The sooner he had her, the sooner he had the money. Once he tired of her, perhaps the unfortunate Mrs. Portafoy could have an 'accident.' She could give him a son first, though, because Tehotu wanted an heir.
Just before they reached England, the gentle rocking motion of the steamer ship awakened Laurel. Holding her hand over her mouth, she charged toward the upper deck, just making it in time. She would never touch champagne again. She slumped down to a sitting position and allowed the cold mist to surround her. This was definitely home. Reginald appeared and gazed down at her hatefully. Her behavior throughout this entire trip nearly made him want to vomit. Laurel looked up at him and matched his glare.
"Can I help it if I'm seasick," Laurel asked through clenched teeth. "I drank champagne as well. My stomach did not like it."
"You're telling me you're seasick and hungover? I don't believe you," he said, sneering.
"What's to believe," she spat. "It's the truth."
"I told you what I'd do if I ever discovered that you're carrying your dead lover's child. I have never seen a woman be this sick without it involving a child."
"I'm not carrying his child," she said. "I know this because my body is acting as a woman's does every month. If there were a child, it wouldn't be happening. I can assure you there is no child."
"You would say anything to protect your bastard until such a time that it would be possible that I had fathered it. Do you think you're looking at someone stupid, Laurel? I know what you're trying to do. Deny it all you wish, but every indicator is there. I've seen it. I've heard you. When we dock, you're to see a physician, and I will accompany you to ensure you go. If there is a child, it will be eliminated."
"I'm not having a baby," she stated emphatically. "It's not warranted. You'll only end up looking like a fool."
"Don't try to manipulate me, Laurel."
Without a word, Reginald left her. She remained sitting out on the deck. How insane of him to dig at her because of her seasickness. Reginald was so paranoid and cruel that he thought everyone was out to get him. Damn him. There was nowhere for her to go, no one to turn to. Once more, the thought of pitching headfirst overboard seemed quite attractive to her. If Reginald were so upset, perhaps he'd allow her to drown. She hated the bastard and hated him even more the longer she was near him. The next few days would be torture. Laurel leaned up when she heard the steamer blow its whistle. They were close to port now. Very soon, Reginald would drag her to a physician, humiliating her, and himself. She thought she recognized the figures of her mother, Tehotu, and the boys, the sight of them depressing her even more. I'm sorry Ardeth. I'm sorry I ever touched you. If I had thought it would turn out like this, I would have never allowed you to make love to me. Wherever you are, forgive me.
* * *
Sitting beside his ailing son, Bahir reached out and touched his forehead. It didn't feel as hot to the touch as it had earlier. Perhaps the fever was finally releasing its hold. He glanced at the covered wound. The last time the dressing was changed, the swelling had gone down. It appeared that Ardeth was recovering, but he was still moaning deep within his throat, occasionally whispering the girl's name. If he would release his hold on her, he would recover even faster, but the thoughts were keeping him down. He thought he had failed her in some way, but he did not understand. How would he fail her? He had been sworn to keep her safe, but he had done exactly that. What happened to him was beyond his control. Yet, there was something else. His son had fallen in love with his charge.
____________________
To be continued…
