Текст книги "Golden Barbarian "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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He didn't need this problem after several hours of roistering and sexual indulgence. His head was only a little clearer than Sacha's, and his temper was not of the best. If the child had been beaten by that brutal ox of a father, it was Sacha's concern and not Galen's. She was not his kinswoman, and he had no reason to feel such a flare of rage at the sight of blood on her gown. His emotion for the waif probably stemmed from his rescue of her from the bog. He would listen to her tale of woe and then send her back to her chamber with a promise to talk to Sacha in the morning.

He opened the door to the dressing room to find Tess sitting patiently on a chair against the far wall. Lord, she was tiny. Fine-boned and fragile, she looked closer to nine than twelve in her prim, full-skirted white gown. The candle she had set on the low console beside her chair revealed a dusting of golden freckles over her small nose and burnished her wild aureole of curls. Said slept peacefully on a cot opposite Tess, Galen noticed with exasperation. How the devil had she managed not to wake him?

Galen stepped inside the room. "Said!"

Said Abdul raised his tousled head, instantly awake. "What is—" He broke off as he saw the child sitting a few yards away. "Who—"

"That's not important." Galen could hardly blame him for being stunned. When Said had retired for the night, the females with whom Galen had been occupied had definitely not been children. "Leave us. I'll call when I need you."

Said nodded dazedly, rolled out of bed, wrapping his blanket around his naked body. In another moment he stumbled past Galen into the bedchamber.

Tess sat up straighter in the chair as Galen shut the door and leaned back against it. "I have to hurry. Father told my mother she must take more concern in my upbringing, and she may check on me tonight."

"Your back?"

She frowned uncomprehendingly. "What are– Oh, is it bleeding again? I'm glad you told me. I'll have to soak my gown in cold water when I get back to my chamber." She shook her head. "No, my mother suspects Pauline of not watching me closely enough."

"Your presence here certainly supports that supposition." His lips tightened. "I'm glad someone cares that you're not in your bed at this hour."

"Of course they care," she said, surprised. "I have value for them. They have no son, and I must make a great marriage to compensate for my mother's failing. If anything happened to me, they would have nothing."

"I see." Arranged marriages were also common in his country, but for some reason the idea that this child was treated only as a game piece filled him with anger. "And who are you to marry?"

"It will be decided later. I should really be affianced by now." She wrinkled her nose. "But my father hopes I will become more comely later and attract better offers." Her gaze went to the door of the bedchamber. "Like Lady Camilla. She had many offers before they wed her to Count Evaigne. You must be a great relief to her after fornicating with that old man."

He bowed mockingly. "I tried to make the experience memorable. She did not seem disap—" He broke off as he realized he was talking to her as if she were an experienced lady of the court instead of a girl still in the schoolroom. "We should not be talking about the lady's infidelities."

She turned her crystal-gray gaze on him. "Why not? I meant no insult. I know that this is how things are done. First, the marriage, and then a young, strong man to bed. Pauline says that every wife has a lover, sometimes two or—"

"I'm not interested in what Pauline says," he said irritably. "Why are you here?"

She drew a deep breath. "Apollo."

Whatever he had expected, it was not this. "The dog?"

Tess nodded, her small hands clutching the arms of the chair. "I was stupid. Pauline was angry about the gown, and I told her about Apollo and the bog. She told my mother, and my mother told my father, and—"

"He beat you."

She looked at him, startled. "Why should that bother me? I expected nothing else. No, it was Apollo. My father was angry, and said that this was the last straw. The bitch will not mate, and Apollo had almost cost him dear." Her enormous eyes were filled with tears that shimmered in the candlelight. "He ordered them both killed."

He felt a sudden surge of tenderness as he gazed at her. He, too, had experienced the pain of having beloved animals taken from him by death. "I'm sorry."

"I did not come to you for sympathy. I need help." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "It's not done yet, and I can't let it happen. As soon as they locked me in my chamber, I came out the secret passage and across the courtyard to the kennels to see Simon, the kennel master. He's a good man. He said he could put off killing the dogs, but they must be gone before my father visits in the morning."

"And you want me to get rid of them?"

"No, I wanted Sacha, but he was in—"

"His cups," Galen finished. "So I'm your second choice."

"Don't you see? I have no place to take them where they'll be safe, and, in truth, you are a much better choice than Sacha, ' she said eagerly. "Because even if Sacha sent the dogs to one of his estates in the country, my father might still hear of it and take action, but he would never go to Sedikhan."

"True. Who would go to such a savage wasteland?"

She ignored the irony in his tone. "You saw Apollo. I know he's gentle, but he's only a little over a year old, and perhaps he could be taught to hunt or guard your home. And Daphne—"

"Refuses to breed."

"You could find another use for her." Tess's voice was shaking. "She's very good-tempered and loving. She comes when I call her and puts her head beneath my hand and her hair feels so soft and—" Her voice broke, and she had to stop for a moment. When she spoke again, her words were almost inaudible. "I love them so. I can't let them die. Please, will you take them away from here?"

He was journeying by land, and the animals would be nothing but trouble on the long road home. He would be a fool to burden himself with two animals already considered useless. Yet Galen found himself immeasurably moved by Tess's plea. She was clearly a poignantly lonely child, and the wolfhounds were probably the only things she loved in this world. Yet she was being forced to beg him to rob her of them. Galen sighed in resignation. "Where are they now?"

Her face was suddenly luminous with hope. "You'll do it?"

He nodded reluctantly. "Though how I'll manage them on the journey back to Sedikhan, I have no idea. Said and I don't travel with the same pomp and fanfare as the nobles of your court."

She collapsed back against the cushions of the chair as the tension left her. "Thank God."

"I don't mean to be blasphemous, but shouldn't your thanks include me? I'm the one who's going to be severely inconvenienced for the next several weeks. "

"I do thank you." Her voice vibrated with passionate sincerity. "And I promise I'll find a way to repay you."

He looked at her quizzically. "Indeed? And just what would you do to express your gratitude?"

"Anything," she said simply. "Anything at all."

She meant it. He could almost feel the intensity of the emotion sweeping through the young girl. "Without reservations?" A curiously arrested expression crossed his face as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Someday I may decide to take advantage of your generous offer." He came across the room and drew her to her feet. "But not now. Where is this secret passage?"

She gestured to a candelabra affixed to the wall a few feet away. "You turn the candelabra to the left."

Galen twisted the candelabra, and a recessed wooden panel swung open. "Back to your chamber now. I'll get dressed and go down to tell your kennel master to take the dogs to the woods beyond the castle and wait for Said and me."

"What if he won't do it?"

"He'll do it. Gold has a certain persuasive eloquence."

"You'll bribe him?"

"Your debt is increasing by leaps and bounds, isn't it?" He handed her the copper candle-holder and gave her a gentle push toward the waiting darkness of the passage. "You must remember how great your debt is when it comes time for me to collect."

"I will." She cast a quick glance over her shoulder. "They'll be safe? Truly?"

"Truly." He smiled. "You have my word."

The next instant she had disappeared into the darkness.

The panel swung shut, and Galen gazed thoughtfully at it, the curious smile still lingering on his lips.

It seemed fate had intervened on his behalf, and he would be a fool to refuse her gift. It would take patience, determination, and a certain amount of planning before he could accomplish his goal, but the unity of Sedikhan was all-important.

He turned on his heel and strode back toward the bedchamber. He would dress and tell Said they were leaving for Sedikhan at once.

No, not quite at once.

He must first seek out Sacha and sober him up enough to have a long talk with him.

Chapter 1

« ^ »

Port of Dinar, Tamrovia May 3, 1803

The longboat was only a few yards from the dock when Tess caught sight of Sacha's tall, graceful form. He was leaning indolently against a stack of wooden boxes.

Sacha hadn't changed a whit, Tess thought with relief. His auburn hair so like her own, blazed in the sunlight. As they drew close to shore, she saw that his slim, muscular body was garbed as it always had been, with faultless elegance. Today, he wore tight cream-colored buckskin trousers and a gold brocade coat. An intricately tied cravat complimented his pristine white shirt.

"Sacha!" Tess waved frantically, leaning perilously far over the side of the longboat. "Sacha, it is I!"

She heard the captain mutter something in the front of the boat, but she ignored him and continued waving. "Sacha!"

He straightened away from the boxes, and a grin lit his face.

"I warn you, if you fall into the sea, I'll let you drown," he called. "This is the first time I've worn this coat, and I like it over much."

"You look like a peacock," she called back. "In Paris they're dressing with far more simplicity."

"Brat. How would you know? You've been in a convent for six years."

"I have eyes." As the longboat drew up to the dock, she took the hand Sacha reached out to her and rose cautiously to her feet. "Besides, Pauline told me."

"Ah yes, how could I forget Pauline." Sacha's hands were on her small waist, lifting her onto the dock. He groaned and staggered back a step. "Merde, you weigh a ton. It must be all that learning and religion they've stuffed into you." His blue eyes gleamed with mischief as he looked her up and down. "Thank God it doesn't show, or you'd never get a husband."

Tess's happiness dimmed at his mention of marriage, then she firmly dismissed the thought. There could be no other reason for her father to send for her, but it was not her way to brood on storm clouds in the distance when the sun was shining and the world close at hand was beautiful.

"I don't weigh a ton." She had often wished she did weigh more. No matter how much she ate, she remained unimpressively tiny in height and far too slender. She scarcely came to the middle button on Sacha's fine linen shirt. She lifted her chin, a mock expression of hauteur on her face. "It's you who have grown weak and puny with dissipation and excess. I wonder my father even puts enough trust in you to escort me to Belajo."

His smile faded, and he glanced away from her. "I'd better get you to the inn. The carriage is around the corner."

"One moment." She turned to the captain, who was getting out of the longboat and held out her hand. "Good-bye, Captain. Thank you for being so kind to me. It's been a very interesting voyage. You must come to Belajo sometime soon."

The grizzled captain lifted her gloved hand to his lips. "It's been interesting for us also, Your Highness," he said dryly. "Still, I wouldn't mind sailing with you again." He paused. "In a year or two."

She nodded. "I understand." She turned back to Sacha and slipped her arm through his. "I'm ready now."

Sacha glanced curiously back over his shoulder at the captain as they strolled toward the street. "The captain doesn't appear too pleased with you. What did you do to the poor man?"

"Nothing." She noted his skeptical glance and said defensively, "Well, it was the first time I had been aboard a ship without someone peering over my shoulder and telling me what I must or must not do. When I sailed for France six years ago, Pauline was with me. She wouldn't allow me a proper exploration of the ship." Quartered in Paris after she had escorted her charge to France, Pauline had married a young baker when Tess had been in the convent of St. Marguerite only a few months. "Pauline failed to show up at the pier when this ship was about to sail, and the sisters didn't have time to make other arrangements for my chaperonage."

"And what portions of the ship did you explore?"

"Have you ever been in the crow's nest?"

"That little box on top of the mast? Good God, no. I have no head for heights."

"You can see forever," Tess said dreamily. "And the wind blows your hair, and the scent of the salt and the sea is like nothing I've ever smelled.”

"May I ask how you got up to the crow's nest?"

"I climbed up the masts. I had to take off my shoes, but it was little different from climbing trees in the forest at home." She frowned. "The captain's shouting did distract me, however."

"I imagine he was a bit concerned," Sacha said solemnly.

"Well, he should have waited until I reached the top before he shouted."

"I'm sure you told him that."

She nodded. "But he was too angry to listen." She looked intently at Sacha. "Is our escort at the inn?"

"No, our party arrives tomorrow. I came on ahead." A young groom jumped down from the back of the carriage and opened the door. "I thought you'd appreciate a few days of rest before we started overland. It's a four-day journey."

"I did nothing but rest on board the ship. I tried to help the sailors, but they wouldn't let me." If the fate she suspected did await her at Belajo, she was not eager to make haste on the journey. "May we have supper at that cafe?" She tilted her head to indicate a cafe bearing a sign with a painting of a mermaid curled up on a rock. "I've never eaten in a cafe, Sacha. Could we please?"

He nodded indulgently. "A cafe, yes. But not one on the waterfront."

Her face fell in disappointment. "Why not? Sailors are most interesting. They tell such grand and glorious tales."

Sacha handed her into the carriage. "More glorious than truthful."

"I'd like to see for myself." She leaned forward, her face glowing with eagerness. "Someday I'd like to take a journey to the east and follow the route of Marco Polo. Wouldn't that be a great adventure?"

Sacha's expression softened as he looked at her. "A very great adventure." He followed her into the carriage and seated himself across from her. "But you won't find any Marco Polos at the Mermaid Cafe, and sailors' haunts are notoriously disreputable."

"What difference does that make? You'd be with me." She wrinkled her nose ruefully. "If you fear for my virtue, I assure you no one will pay the least notice of me. I'm too small. The sailors on the ship treated me as if I were a demented infant. "She leaned back on the cushioned seats as the carriage started the bouncing journey over the cobblestones.”When the man my father has chosen as my bridegroom sees me, he will very likely back out of the arrangement." She grinned as a sudden thought came to her. "What a splendid idea. If I make myself even uglier, it may be years before he can make another match."

Sacha's lids half veiled his eyes. "You have no desire for marriage?"

"Why should I?" she said. "The convent was bad enough, but at least the sisters were kind. A husband…" She abruptly looked out the window. "I do not like the thought of it."

"Not every man is like your father," he said gently.

"No, but they all seek to use women for their own purposes." She straightened her shoulders and smiled with an effort. "I do not wish to speak of it. Tell me what you have been doing this long time I've been away. I received only a few letters from my mother since I left Tamrovia, and each was heavy with lectures on learning meekness and obedience. You've not wed?"

"Sweet Mary, no," Sacha said in horror.

"How have you escaped that fate? You must be all of thirty."

"By staying away from court and letting every woman there forget I exist." He frowned. "And thirty is far from ancient."

She chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "But we've already discussed how puny you are."

"And how impudent you are." He smiled. "I'm glad the nuns didn't crush the spirit out of you."

His narrowed gaze on her face held surprising keenness, and Tess realized that her first impression had been wrong. Sacha had changed.

When she had left Tamrovia, he had been softer, lazier, even a bit foppish. Now, in spite of the languid airs he assumed, she could sense an indefinable toughness, a greater confidence, as if the softness had been honed away by the experiences of the last years. "You didn't answer me. What have you been doing?"

The sharpness of his regard was hooded again as his lids veiled his eyes. "Oh, this and that. Traveling. Acquiring new skills."

"What new skills?"

He leaned back on the cushions. "You're a curious puss. Perhaps I should ask the same of you. What did you learn in your convent?"

"That I never wanted to return to one."

He chuckled. "What else?"

"Sewing, weaving, candle making. Nothing of real importance. Well, except scripture, of course." She tilted her head and studied him shrewdly. "Why don't you want to answer me?"

"All in good time." He glanced out the window. "We're about to reach the inn. I've arranged for the innkeeper's daughter to act as your maid, and your boxes should arrive—"

"Why did you arrange for a servant? You didn't know Pauline wouldn't be with me."

He hesitated before he smiled teasingly. "Perhaps I thought you needed the help of a younger, more vigorous woman. Our winsome Pauline must be all of two and thirty by now." He sighed morosely. "Even more ancient than my humble self."

She laughed. "Her husband wishes she were a little less vigorous. Married a little over five years to her and he appears worn and weary."

"Pauline was never one to accept anything but the most enthusiastic cooperation… even if she had to force the pace."

The carriage came to a stop, and instantly the footman opened the door. Sacha sprang to the ground and helped Tess out. "Go into the inn. The innkeeper will show you to your chamber. I'll stay here until the second coach arrives and send up your boxes."

"Surely, the innkeeper could—"

But Sacha was already striding across the flagstones toward the stable, and after hesitating a moment, Tess turned and entered the inn.

"All is well?" Galen asked as Sacha entered the stable.

Sacha waited just inside the door until his eyes adjusted to the dimness. The stable was empty except for Galen, who was kneeling beside his stallion in one of the stalls to the left of the door.

The sheikh's coat had been cast aside, and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled past his elbow. A huge kettle of water boiled over a small fire at the back of the stable, and the air was filled with the scent of herbs mingled with hay and manure.

"No," Sacha said shortly. "All is not well. I feel like a Judas."

"There's no reason for you to feel a traitor." Galen carefully wrapped a warm, damp cloth around his stallion's delicate left front ankle. "The poison is drawing well. He should be ready to travel in a day or so."

"Why don't you let Said do that?"

"Because Selik belongs to me, and I take care of my own." He lifted his head and met Sacha's gaze, saying with soft emphasis, "Everything I own."

Sacha knew this was true, and it was the only fact that made this situation tolerable. "She's little more than a child, dammit."

"Old enough. I've waited a long time."

"I know, but—"

"I won't use force."

But he would still have his way. Sacha had learned during these last six years how strong Galen's will could be. "I like the imp. I've always liked her. She doesn't deserve to be used."

"Unless she chooses to let herself be used." Galen rose to his feet and patted the black's nose. "And we're all pawns in the scheme of things."

Sacha stared broodingly at him. "What would you do if I asked you not to carry on with your scheme?"

Galen's stroking hand on the horse's muzzle stopped in midmotion. "I'd consider it. You're my friend, and the woman is your cousin."

"Consider, but not comply."

"You know how important she is to me. You've been to Sedikhan." Galen continued to stroke the horse.

Yes, Sacha knew the importance of Tess in Galen's plan; it only added to his sense of being torn between loyalties. He smiled lopsidedly. "I've often wondered if that was why you persuaded me to go to Sedikhan. Am I a pawn, too, Galen?"

Galen smiled. "Of course that's why I wanted you in my homeland. Do you expect me to deny it? But it's not a pawn you've been to me all these years." He said gently, "I have no greater friend in the world."

Yes, they were friends, companions at arms, closer often than brothers. Sacha slowly shook his head. "Hell, I don't know what to do."

"Do nothing." Galen's hand fell from the horse. He turned and picked up his black coat. "It will be her choice." He shrugged into the coat, and then started toward the door. "Suppose I go and see what she says."

"Now?"

"I thought I'd wait until after we'd supped, but I think I'll have to put you out of your misery. You'll be happier once the decision is made." He grimaced. "And since I stink of horse and herbal salve, you'll know that I'm not trying to sway her with anything but reason." He started for the door. "When that cloth cools, dip it into the bucket of hot water and apply it again. I'll rejoin you after I've talked to Tess.”

The chamber wasn't over luxurious, but at least it was clean. Tess bounced experimentally on the bed and made a face. Hard as the pallet in her cell in the convent. Well, it did not matter. She refused to let anything spoil her last few days of liberty.

She smiled in satisfaction as she untied the ribbons on her bonnet, took it off and sent it sailing across the room onto the cushioned chair by the door. That was better. She had always hated hats, but Pauline had insisted on providing her with dozens of the dratted things as they assembled a wardrobe for her before leaving Paris.

She stripped off her long white gloves and ruffled her hair, sending pins and clips flying before she crossed to the washstand and poured water from the flowered pitcher into the basin.

A knock sounded on the door.

"Entrez," she called as she splashed water on her face. "You've been long enough, Sacha. It will be dark soon, and I'm hungry." She reached for the towel and turned to face him. "And I do want to go back to the waterfront—" Her eyes widened in shock.

Galen Ben Raschid stood in the doorway. "May I come in?"

He didn't wait for an answer as he took a few steps forward and closed the door. He bowed slightly. "It's been a long time. You've grown into a young lady, Your Highness."

"I'm only three inches taller." What a stupid thing to blurt out, she thought in self-disgust. She couldn't seem to form an intelligent thought.

His gaze flicked to the fullness of her bodice. "Sometimes a few inches can make an enormous difference."

She felt an odd heat surge through her, and knew she must be blushing. "I'm waiting for Sacha. I've just come from France and—" Enough of this babbling. "But you must know. Are you traveling with Sacha? I didn't expect to see you again after you left Tamrovia."

"I had every intention of seeing you again." He strolled across the room toward her, moving with animal like grace. He was bigger than she remembered, a giant of a man, and she found herself mesmerized by the flexing of the powerful muscles of his thighs and calves beneath his clinging black trousers. He wore a black silk coat but no cravat, and the top button of his white shirt was unfastened to reveal his strong brown throat. She was conscious of a blatant maleness about him that was shocking in intensity. He looked the same, but he must have changed in some way. All those years ago she had not felt nervous in his presence.

"In fact, I've expended a good deal of effort to see you again." He took the towel from her.

"Your face is wet." He began to gently dab her cheek.

The action was almost servile, yet there was nothing servile about Galen Ben Raschid. He dried her face as if he had every right to touch her intimately. She was quite still as she stared up at him, unable to look away. His shining black hair was tied back in a queue, and his face appeared leaner and tanner than it had been six years before. Yet the power she had sensed still seemed to be running deep beneath his controlled expression. She began to feel an odd breathlessness, and looked hurriedly away from him. "I was washing my face." Another stupidly obvious remark. What was wrong with her?

"Yes." He dabbed lightly at her chin. "You still have the most exquisite skin. Most women lose such a silky glow after childhood."

"Do they?" He stood so close, she caught the scent of horse, leather, herbs, and soap clinging to him, and felt the warmth his body was emitting. She took the towel from him and put it on the washstand. Her hand was trembling, she noticed with no surprise. "How are Apollo and Daphne?"

"In fine health."

"Good. I've often thought of them." She took a step back and asked again, "Did you come with Sacha?"

"No." He smiled faintly. "Sacha came with me. Not very willingly, I might add. He's full of doubts and apprehensions." He moved across the chamber to the chair by the door. "May I sit down?"

"I'm expecting Sacha at any moment."

He looked curiously at her. "You're afraid of me. How odd. It's not how I remember you."

"Nonsense. I'm not afraid of you. I'm merely surprised. I wasn't expecting to see you, and I was caught off guard."

"Off guard?" He repeated the expression thoughtfully. "And are you always on guard?" His gaze searched her face. "Yes, I think perhaps you are. Not surprising, considering the life you've lived." He gestured to the chair by the window. "Please sit down. I'm no threat to you."

"Sacha will—"

"Sacha won't be here until our discussion is over."

Tess hesitated, then moved quickly across the room and sat on the edge of the chair, folding her hands in her lap.

He smiled, started to sit, and then paused. "Yours?" He reached down and picked up her feathered bonnet.

The bonnet looked exceptionally silly and frivolous in his tanned, capable hands. Beautiful hands, she noticed absently. Long, graceful fingers with a certain rhythm of movement as he turned the bit of velvet-and-feather-trimmed confection to look at it from all angles.

"It doesn't look like you."

"Pauline chose it. She said it was all the crack."

"And you believed her?"

Tess shrugged. "It didn't matter."

"No." He set the hat on a table near the chair. "You're not a woman for fuss and feathers. I'd choose something entirely different for you." He sat down and rested his hands on the arms of the chair. "If you were mine."

Her gaze flew to his face, her muscles tensing.

"That frightened you again." He smiled. "A slip of the tongue. We barbarians are regretfully primitive, and possessiveness is one of our uncivilized traits." He leaned forward. "But there's nothing to be apprehensive about. I've learned to control myself so that I'm a savage only when I choose to be."

She frowned. "I don't understand you."

"You will. It's quite simple. I have a proposition for you." His gaze held hers steadfastly. "I need to join with you in marriage."

Her eyes widened, and she could feel the muscles of her stomach go rigid as if she were warding off a blow. "What?"

"I need an irreversible bond between Tamrovia and the El Zalan. King Lionel has seen fit to refuse an alliance between us. He regards the El Zalan as just another wild tribe of Bedouins. However, in my country a marriage tie is as strong as a political agreement. Brother does not fight brother. The tribes would assume a marriage with a member of the Tamrovian royal house would also offer me military protection." His hands tightened on the cushioned arms of the chair until his knuckles turned white. "I have to unite the tribes of Sedikhan under one rule, and the only way I can do it is to show them that my forces are more powerful than theirs. Might is everything in Sedikhan. An alliance with Tamrovia would—"

"Stop." She shook her head dazedly. "Why do you come to me? I have no say in this. My father will choose my husband, and he—"

"Will not choose a wild sheikh from Sedikhan," he finished for her.

She nodded slowly. "I meant no offense."

"None taken. I know how the court of Tamrovia regards me, and that's why I've come to you. We will wed tomorrow." He smiled. "And we will not bother to tell your father until it's too late for him to act."

Incredulous, she laughed. "That time will never come. Do you not realize I'm his property? If I married without his will, he would only petition the pope to annul it."

"Do you wish to remain his property?"

"I have no choice."

"I'm giving you a choice, one a woman of your station seldom gets to make." Galen's voice deepened persuasively. "Freedom."

Tess felt a flutter of hope stir deep within her. "Marriage is not freedom."

"It could be. It will be." He smiled. "Have you ever thought how it might feel to be free? To do what you wish, when you wish?"

"No." She had not let herself think of it because it hurt too much. "It's not possible."

"I can make it happen."

She jumped to her feet and went to the window to stare blindly down at the courtyard below. "You're no different from other men. You said it yourself. You like to own things."

"I also said I could control myself. Wed me tomorrow, and in three years I'll send you to Paris or London, wherever you wish to go. I'll give you a fine house and take care of your every need. You can play the great lady and have a fashionable salon. You'll live the life you wish to live." He paused before adding, "Without the encumbrance of a husband. Naturally, I'd remain in Sedikhan."