“How could I not help a woman in your situation?” Not even aware that he had just done something extraordinary, he rose to prowl the room, scanning the sumptuous furnishings. “I presume you’re here for the night, so we must make you comfortable. This screen will give you some privacy.”
He folded the carved sandalwood screen and slid it between the narrowly spaced bars. The spicy scent of the wood tickled Alex’s nostrils as she pulled the screen inside, then positioned it to shield a corner of the cage from the view of the main door and Elliott’s bedroom. “This is perfect. I can’t tell you how much I’ve longed to have some privacy.” Tonight she’d sleep behind the screen, and also use it to mask the humiliatingly public chamber pot. Modesty was another quality she’d had to surrender. “Thank you.”
“What else do you need?”
“Is there a blanket or coverlet? It’s getting rather cool.”
He disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a folded square of ikat fabric richly woven in scarlet and brown. Gratefully she wrapped it around herself, appreciating its beauty and its warmth. “I’m going to spend the night in luxury. Thank you, Captain.”
“Gavin.” One side of his mouth quirked up. “Since we’re sharing quarters, we might as well be less formal.”
In normal society such a request would seem forward, but they were strangers alone together in a world far from home, and that created a rare kind of intimacy between them. “I’m called Alex by those who know me well.”
He sat opposite her again. “Alex. It suits you.”
“Actually, as a child I was called Amy. At fifteen I decided I wasn’t an Amy anymore.” She smiled as she reflected on simpler, happier times. “My middle name is Alexandra, which sounded so much more grand and grown-up. So I stopped answering to Amy, and soon everyone was calling me Alexandra or Alex.”
His face lit with amusement. “You must have been a proper handful as a girl.”
“I was. The result of wanting to be a boy, I suppose.” Her amusement faded as she thought about the decisions that had brought her to such a dreadful situation. “Being around my mother wasn’t always easy. I suppose that was one of my reasons for marrying a man who would take me away from England.”
“Your mother is difficult?”
Alex thought of Catherine Kenyon, missing her so much she wanted to weep. The wine was weakening the defenses she’d built for survival. “Only because she’s so…so perfect. The most beautiful woman in England, a wonderful mother, and so good and kind she was called St. Catherine when we followed the drum through Portugal and Spain. She made our life seem like a grand adventure.”
“You grew up with Wellington’s army? No wonder you found normal life tame.”
“Since I didn’t know anything different, I loved our life. It’s only looking back that I realized how difficult it must have been for my mother. She was responsible for me and two servants, often without enough money or supplies, and my father going off with his troops for weeks at a time.” There had also been her father’s endless infidelities, but that was a topic that was never, ever referred to, even after Alex had become a married woman herself. “Once she and I were almost captured by bandits. She drove them off with a pistol. She did everything right, while I”—her voice broke—“I couldn’t even protect my own daughter.”
“You can’t blame yourself for that, Alex,” he said sharply. “When pirates attack a small, unprepared merchant ship, passengers are lucky to survive.”
Again she swallowed back threatening tears. “You’ve been attacked by pirates?”
“Four times.” He absently touched a faint, almost invisible scar high on his left cheekbone. “The first time I was just a boy. That’s when I learned that a well-run vessel can never drop its vigilance. Later attacks, when I was chief mate and then master, didn’t do much damage. I only hire captains who share my views on setting a good watch, and my ships are better armed than most merchant vessels. Though extra guns reduce cargo capacity, I’ve never lost a ship, and my fleet sails some of the most dangerous waters on earth.”
So he wasn’t only a captain, but owner of a substantial trading company. It was clear why Sultan Kasan wanted Gavin Elliott’s services. “Were your parents Scots? Your accent is becoming steadily more Scottish.”
“It must be the wine.” Idly he swirled his glass. “My mother was from Aberdeen, the daughter of a Scottish vicar. I was born there. We lived in Scotland and England before my parents emigrated to America when I was ten.”
“So you’re British,” she said, pleased that he’d been born in her own country. “A London lawyer told me ‘once a Briton, always a Briton.’”
“There’s some truth to that. I’ve never forgotten my childhood home,” he said slowly. “But America formed my mind and ideas. We have our problems, but the country isn’t crippled by a class of arrogant, parasitic noblemen, as the nations of Europe are. A man can create himself in ways that are impossible in England.”
She made a mental note not to tell him that she was closely related to several noblemen, some of whom had their share of arrogance. “Have you created yourself as a new man, Gavin?”
He smiled with a touch of humor. “I’ve done my best.”
She divided the last of the wine between their glasses. “A good thing there’s no more, or I’d be in danger of drinking too much. I’m surprised there’s any wine at all, actually, since the Indies are Muslim.”
“My Malay steward, Suryo, is my expert on the Islands. He says while Maduri is nominally Muslim, there is still a Hindu influence, as well as older, traditional beliefs. In other words, the Maduris worship Allah but like to drink.” Covering a yawn, the captain got to his feet. “It’s late, and we both need rest. There is much to be done tomorrow.”
“Good night,” she said, feeling safe for the first time in months. “And thank you.”
He smiled again, this time with a warmth that reached across the room and eased her heart. His expression said that she was no longer alone. Gavin Elliott was not only kind, but perceptive. What a remarkable man.
As he withdrew to his bedroom, she stepped behind the screen and stripped off her sarong and kebaya before donning the shirt again. Lord, what luxury to have a clean garment to sleep in! If—when—she was free, she’d never take such things for granted again.
Drowsily she rolled up in the ikat and rested her head on a pillow, hoping her fatigue would allow her to sleep despite her excitement. Tomorrow, God willing, she would become a free woman. And all because of a stranger who, in one short hour, had become her hero.
Chapter 5
GAVIN AWOKE early, his fuzzy head making him wonder if he’d dreamed the previous night’s encounter. No, it had been real—he could never have imagined a woman like Alexandra Warren.
He rose, shaving and dressing in his normal subdued style rather than the gaudy faux uniform. Since he would give the sultan his decision, he’d do it as himself.
Quietly he entered the main room. The gilded cage glowed in the dawn light, the sinuous patterns at top and bottom improbably pretty for a slave cage. Not seeing Alex, he circled the enclosure to make sure she was there. It wasn’t impossible that the sultan could have had her removed during the night. But she was safely curled up behind the screen, her finely cut features relaxed in sleep.
Her strength amazed him. She’d spent the previous six months like a caged bird beating frantically against the bars of slavery, desperate to escape and find her daughter. Knowing how the loss of his own daughter haunted him, he could only begin to imagine how much worse it would be to lose an eight-year-old. He hoped to God that Alex would someday be reunited with her Katie, but the odds weren’t good.
She sighed and rolled onto her back. The coverlet fell away, revealing that she wore only his shirt, which covered her only to midthigh. The sight of her bare, shapely legs was piercingly erotic, and struck him with the impact of a swinging spar.
After a dozen heartbeats, he wrenched his gaze
away and retreated to the bedroom, shamed by his desire for a woman who was so vulnerable. Beautiful female slaves were not bought to be scullery maids, and Alexandra Warren had surely endured abuse and rape from her owners before being discarded as insufficiently docile. A lesser woman would be hysterical or paralyzed. Alex had been honed to pure steel. Though he couldn’t undo the humiliations she’d suffered, he could honor her tacit desire not to discuss what had happened, and treat her with the respect she deserved.
He rustled through his belongings, deliberately making noise, before returning to the main room. “Alex?”
“Just a moment,” she called.
He saw shadowy movements behind the screen and heard the sound of tearing fabric. Then she emerged with the bright sarong swishing gracefully around her ankles, and his voluminous shirt converted into a tunic. With her battered shirt refashioned into a sash that emphasized her slim waist, and one ripped sleeve tying back her unkempt hair, she actually looked rather dashing, if one overlooked the raw flesh that circled her wrists.
Keeping his gaze from following the deep V of the shirt’s neckline, he offered his comb. “Sorry I didn’t think of this last night.”
“A comb.” She took it reverently. “You are a saint.”
“Hardly.” He’d merely learned a few things during his years of marriage. “My steward, Suryo, should be here soon. He’ll find you breakfast and anything else you need. He’s a master forager. By this time he’ll have made friends with the chief cook, the head groom, and the captain of the guard.” And he would discover half the secrets of the palace in the process.
She untied her hair and began combing the tangled ends. The thick waves were brown, not black, with auburn and golden highlights that marked her as a European. “What happens next, Gavin?”
“I’m to join Sultan Kasan for his morning meal. I’ll ask him again about allowing me to buy your freedom.”
Quiet as a cat, Suryo entered the room, a basket in one hand. He showed no surprise at the sight of the giant cage or its occupant. After Gavin introduced the two to each other, Suryo bowed. “I had heard you were here, puan.” Puan meant lady, as tuan meant lord. He opened the basket to reveal bread, rice, fruit, and a jug of hot tea. “Would you care to breakfast?”
“Efficient as always.” Gavin poured some light, sweet tea into a small cup and passed it through the bars to Alex.
She sipped the drink with a sigh of pleasure. “I suppose that everyone in the palace knows that a foreign woman is caged here like a wild beast.”
“The kitchens of a king know all that happens in the palace,” the Malay agreed.
Though the room offered no concealment for eavesdroppers and there could be few people in Maduri fluent in English, Gavin dropped his voice when he asked, “What do the sultan’s people think about Kasan?”
“He is a good ruler, though perhaps not a good man,” Suryo said slowly. “He can be cruel, and toys with people like a tiger toys with its prey. In his mind, he and Maduri are one, and he will be ruthless for his nation’s sake. Though he is a great sportsman and gambler who loves to win, he respects those who have the skill and courage to defeat him. A dangerous man, Captain, perhaps a tyrant, but not a vicious madman.”
That confirmed Gavin’s own impressions, and offered guidance for dealing with the sultan. “If I refuse to work for him, will he strike me dead on the spot?”
“I do not think so,” Suryo said seriously.
Gavin found that less than reassuring, but before he could ask more, one of the sultan’s slaves appeared in the door and bowed deeply. “Captain Elliott,” he said in bazaar Malay. “His Highness awaits.”
Gavin glanced at Alex. Sounding as if she was trying to convince herself, she said, “There is no reason for him to keep me a slave.”
Gavin hoped she was right. But his sailor’s instinct for trouble told him it wouldn’t be that simple.
A leisurely repast in a palace in paradise should have been relaxing, particularly with balmy tropical breezes wafting through airy rooms decorated with gilded statues and silk rugs that would be worth a fortune in the West. Nonetheless, Gavin was knotted tighter than a sailor’s rope. Though neither he nor Suryo thought the sultan was the sort to kill a man for disagreeing, that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen if the sultan was feeling bloodthirsty today.
As the last course of fruit dishes was removed, Gavin watched a jewel-bright songbird swoop inside to steal a tidbit, then land on the head of a gilded statue. An ancient goddess of fortune, perhaps, since her outstretched palm held a pair of the twelve-sided Maduri dice.
He hoped the goddess would favor him today, since he’d need all the luck he could get. The lengthy private meal had confirmed that Kasan wanted Gavin not only as an honest trader, but a window to the West—an ambassador to represent Maduri’s interests when dealing with Europe and America. He’d also discussed how much Elliott House would earn from the partnership. If Gavin accepted, within a decade he’d be rich beyond the dreams of avarice.
Kasan rose and beckoned for Gavin to walk through the graceful arches onto the terrace, which had a stunning view of the western end of the island. Gavin said, “This is a sight for a sultan, or perhaps the great legendary garuda bird of the Islands.”
“Become my chief agent, and your villa will also be on this mountain.”
His comment signaled that it was time for business. Mentally crossing his fingers, Gavin said, “I am deeply honored, Your Highness. But I cannot accept.”
The atmosphere chilled noticeably. “Why not?” the sultan asked. “Would your profit be insufficient?”
“You are generous beyond imagination,” Gavin said truthfully. “But my mind and ambitions lie elsewhere.”
“What ambition could be greater than to be a prince of Maduri?”
“Going to London is not merely an ambition. It is a matter of…settling scores that have haunted me for a lifetime.”
Settling scores was something Kasan understood. “Settle them and return.”
Changing his tack, Gavin asked, “Why are you so determined to have Elliott House as your agent? You have spent years studying Western trading companies, and surely there are others that will suit your needs.”
“None so well as you.” The sultan’s eyes glinted with dark humor. “Your honesty and stubbornness are known throughout the East. I have considered other captains—the English Barton Pierce, the Dutch Nicolas Vandervelt, the French Foucault, among others. Good men all, but you are the best. Your allegiance is not given lightly, but if you pledge your loyalty I will be able to trust you absolutely.”
Gavin’s face blanked when he heard Pierce’s name. The weak link in an otherwise sound list of merchants. “There are other honest men.”
“You are being less than honest now,” Kasan said shrewdly. “What are your true reasons for refusing? Perhaps your objections might be overcome.”
Gavin hesitated, knowing he risked infuriating his host, but he could not deny a request for honesty. “I accept that the ways of the East are what they are, but I can’t ally myself with a kingdom where slavery and piracy are a way of life.”
The sultan frowned, but didn’t erupt in fury. “That is a very Western way of thinking. The British and Dutch are the world’s greatest thieves and robbers, and your America has built its wealth on the backs of slaves.”
“I don’t approve of that, either, which is why I’ve always worked for myself rather than any government. To represent Maduri’s interests to the world would violate my principles by saying that I condone slavery and piracy when there is profit for me.”
“I admire principles, except when they interfere with what I want.” Kasan smiled charmingly. “Where do your principles leave the woman?”
The knot in Gavin’s stomach doubled in size. He’d wondered when the issue would arise; it wasn’t as if Alex had appeared in his room by accident. “I beg your permission to buy the freedom of the Englishwoman Alexandra Warren,” he said, praying the sul
tan would be reasonable. “I wish to return her to her family.”
“She is not for sale, now or ever.”
The response was what Gavin had feared most. “I shall pay generously.”
“I am not interested in your gold, but your time, and that you refuse me.”
Though Gavin had prepared other arguments, merchant instinct warned him that Kasan had dug in his heels and wouldn’t listen. But how could he leave Alex Warren in slavery? For her to find hope, then have it snatched away, would make her captivity even more unbearable. “If you will not sell, will you barter?”
Surprised, then intrigued, the sultan asked, “What would you trade for her?”
Knowing that only a lavish offer had a chance of success, Gavin said, “I will trade my ship Helena for Mrs. Warren.”
The other man whistled softly. “You desire her that much? I’ve never found a woman worth a tenth of that.”
“I want her not for desire, but for honor’s sake.” Though it would hurt to lose the Helena, he could afford the loss, and build another, even better ship.
“Work for me and you can have the woman to do with as you will, but the only price I will accept is your service.”
Gavin’s jaw tightened as he realized he’d been cornered. He was more than ready to leave the East. Staying would frustrate the ambitions that had driven him for more than half his life. How much did he owe Alexandra Warren? He’d done his best to buy her freedom, offered the ship that was the pride of his fleet. Wasn’t that enough?
He’d given her his word. And after last night, she was no longer a stranger.
He tried to think of a solution that would aid her without trapping him. He should never have let the sultan know he cared about her fate, but that had been impossible to conceal from the moment he’d seen her struggling against her captors. Now, because of his interest, she’d become a pawn in Kasan’s game.