Scoundrel's Honor (29 page)

T
HE SERAGLIO WAS TRULY
a place of wonderment.

Although recently refurbished, it maintained the charm of ages past with a domed ceiling decorated with blue-and-gold tiles to form a night sky slumbering above a large fountain carved into the center of the marble floor. The inner wall was covered by fine tapestries with a doorway that opened to the private gardens, while the arched windows on the opposite wall were covered by golden grills.

The furniture, however, was surprisingly European with several scrolled settees and an applewood writing desk situated beneath a framed mirror.

It was all very beautiful, but Emma was acutely aware of the heavily armed eunuchs patrolling the spiderweb of corridors and private rooms. It would be all but impossible for a person to slip unnoticed out of such a formidable fortress.

A knowledge that weighed heavily on her heart.

Ignoring the various refreshments served to her by veiled servants, Emma anxiously paced the floor, awaiting Rajih's return.

Not that she was particularly reassured when she was at last led to the lower stables where Rajih hurried her toward the waiting carriage. Not after he revealed that Dimitri was to remain a guest of the pasha until Alexander Pavlovich could be convinced to demand his release.

“No.” With a jerk she freed her arm from Rajih's grasp, her chin jutted to a stubborn angle. “I am not leaving until I am certain that Dimitri is safe.”

Regaining his grip on her elbow, Rajih steered her around the edge of the black carriage and away from the numerous servants milling about the stable yard.

“I promise that he is at considerably less risk as the guest of Muhammad Ali Pasha than in St. Petersburg where he no doubt possesses any number of enemies,” he said.

“But he is not a guest,” she hissed, “he is a prisoner.”

Rajih grimaced, casting a covert glance toward a passing groom.

“Emma, I beg that you keep your voice down unless you wish both of us to share his fate.”

She bit her lower lip, well aware she owed this man a debt of gratitude that could not be repaid.

Not only had he risked his life to rescue the poor girls from the brothel the previous evening, but he had sacrificed his pride to request Dimitri's release, even though he would as soon cut out his tongue.

And there was no escaping the knowledge that he had done so for her.

Just as so many others had suffered to assist her.

“Forgive me, Rajih, I never intended to put you in this awkward position,” she said. “I have caused enough trouble for others.”

Rajih frowned, cupping her chin to lift her face so he could study her suddenly subdued expression.

“None of this is your fault,
habiba.
”

She could only wish that were true. Perhaps then she would not be plagued with a relentless guilt.

“If I had not been so stubbornly determined to chase after Anya, then Dimitri would be enjoying his life in St. Petersburg and you would not be forced to jeopardize your friendship with the pasha to plead for his release.”

“The fault lies with the men who kidnapped the girls to sell like animals, not you.”

“Still—”

He placed a finger across her lips, his gaze sweeping over her face with an odd yearning.

“Emma, the past cannot be altered. We must consider the future.”

She sucked in a deep breath, ignoring the stench of horses and unwashed body that tainted the air. Her regrets would have to wait until she had the time and opportunity to make amends. Instead, she grabbed Rajih's hand and regarded him with a determined expression.

“You are right, of course, but that does not mean I am willing to abandon Dimitri.”

The dark eyes simmered with something that might have been disappointment before he had smoothed his features to an unreadable expression.

“I am not suggesting that you abandon him, but rather that you use your own influence to ensure that he is found innocent,” he said, his voice smooth.

She stepped back, suddenly wary. “You want me to speak with the pasha?”

His brows lifted at her impetuous words. “No, as charming as our leader would no doubt find you, this is a country that believes a woman should remain silent behind the walls of the seraglio. He would not allow you to testify on Tipova's behalf.”

“Barbaric.”

“It is the way of my people.”

“Then how can I help?” She twisted her hands together in frustration. She detested the sense that she was helpless to rescue Dimitri. “You just admitted that Baron Koman has proven to be a traitor.”

“Yes.” Rajih's expression hardened, warning that Koman could expect to be punished for his treachery. “A most unexpected complication.”

“Does Dimitri know why the baron would claim he is guilty?”

Rajih shrugged. “He says he does not.”

“Maybe he is a part of the trafficking and now hopes to deceive others into believing Dimitri is responsible,” she absently mused.

“It would be a convenient means to make another pay for his sins,” he agreed. “But Dimitri is convinced there is another forcing the baron to do his bidding.”

She snorted. “Dimitri is not always so infallible as he wants others to believe.”

His lips twisted. “I will readily agree with Tipova's bloated arrogance.”

Emma glanced toward the looming citadel, shivering despite the heat of the late-afternoon sunlight and the heavy ivory-colored robe that was richly embroidered with pearls.

“If I am not to approach the pasha or Baron Koman, then who am I supposed to influence?”

“Czar Alexander.”

Emma's mouth dropped open in disbelief. Had Rajih just suggested that she blithely call upon the emperor of Russia and demand that he have a notorious criminal released from the prisons of Muhammad Ali Pasha?

“Are you jesting?” she breathed.

“Not at all.”

She shook her head, swallowing her urge to laugh. “I fear you have a mistaken notion of my importance, Rajih.”

His expression softened as he lifted a hand to brush a stray curl from her cheek.

“That is not possible.”

“But it is,” she insisted. “You met me in London in the companionship of the Duke and Duchess of Huntley, but that is only because they owed Dimitri some mysterious debt. I am not the lady of society I pretended to be.”

Amusement smoldered in the dark eyes. “For which I am
eternally grateful, considering you were posing as Tipova's wife.”

She ignored his teasing, determined that he would know the truth of her.

“What I mean is that I am not the person I pretended to be.”

“Then who are you?” he asked, his voice soft.

“I am…” With a sharp motion she turned away, hiding her troubled expression. “Nobody.”

Rajih's hands settled on her shoulders. “Emma.”

“No, it is true.” Her gaze absently lingered on the stunning sight of Cairo spread below. “I am a mere commoner from an unremarkable village in Russia. And even there I am a source of mockery. I have no influence.”

She was not certain what she expected, but it was not his breathy chuckle as he lowered his head to speak directly into her ear.

“You could not be more mistaken,
habiba.
I am quite certain that within moments of being in your company, Alexander Pavlovich would be willing to demand the release of every prisoner in Egypt.” He deliberately allowed his lips to brush her cheek. “But that will not be necessary.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tipova mentioned that you are related to Herrick Gerhardt.”

Caught off guard by the unexpected words, Emma stepped from his lingering touch. Turning, she regarded him with a wary frown.

“He is a distant relative,” she admitted, “but we had never met until I came to St. Petersburg to seek his assistance in finding Anya.”

“Distant relative or not, he is a well-respected advisor who has the ear of the czar.”

“Herrick has been very kind, but I am not certain he
would be willing to speak with Czar Alexander on my behalf.”

Rajih frowned, sensing her hesitation. “What is it Emma? Do you find it difficult to ask others for help?”

She was briefly distracted by his perceptiveness, even if it was misplaced on this occasion.

“To be honest, I used to find it impossible.” She wrinkled her nose, all too easily recalling her stiff-necked refusal to seek out those distant relatives who might have been of assistance. “I considered it essential that I be able to survive on my own. After all, what could possibly be more important than my independence?”

“Anyone who has endured your loss would seek to gain a sense of control over their lives.” He glanced up at the birds of prey circling overhead, his jaw clenched with suppressed emotions. “I understand better than most.”

“Of course.” Sympathy tugged at her heart. “You have lost both your parents.”

His gaze shifted to the distant outline of the pyramids that stood with ageless splendor among the sand.

“And my country,” he murmured. “Now I would do whatever necessary to protect it.”

A bittersweet smile arched her lips. Until her sister had left her stranded in that brothel, she had believed that there was no sacrifice too great to keep her family safe.

“You do understand,” she murmured. “A pity Anya was not so forgiving.”

His expression hardened at the mention of Anya. “You cannot continue to punish yourself for the failures of your sister. You have done all that was possible to offer her a stable home. Her future is now in her own hands.”

“Yes.”

“So, will you overcome your reluctance and ask for Herrick Gerhardt's assistance?”

She paused, unconsciously shifting her feet. “Of course. I will do whatever possible to help.”

“And yet you hesitate.”

A wry smile curved her lips as she met his deliberately bland gaze.

“Because I am not utterly stupid,” she said, her eyes narrowing in warning. “I know very well that Dimitri demanded that I be rushed away from the dangers of Cairo and returned to Russia.”

His lips parted, as if he were debating the ridiculous notion of lying to her. At last he reached to take her hand in a comforting grip.

“Emma, there is nothing you can accomplish by remaining here. A female, especially an unwed female, has no power or freedom in Cairo.” A suddenly wicked promise smoldered in the dark eyes. “Unless you prefer to remain hidden in my harem?”

Conceding that she had been neatly outmaneuvered, Emma gave a rueful shake of her head.

Rajih spoke the truth.

What could she possibly achieve if she lingered in Egypt? It was not as if she had a small army at her disposal to overrun the citadel. Or even the skills to slip past the guards and secretly free Dimitri.

And while she was far from convinced her plea to Herrick Gerhardt would be more than a waste of breath, she was willing to make the attempt.

“I am beginning to suspect you are attempting to be rid of me,” she teased.

With a mysterious smile, Rajih lifted her fingers to his lips.

“Quite the contrary.

“What do you mean?”

“I intend to escort you to St. Petersburg.”

 

W
AITING UNTIL THE DINNER
trays had been removed and the servants had finished preparing the beds for the night, Dimitri gathered several pillows from the outer chamber and arranged them beneath the silk sheets.

“This is a very bad plan,” Josef muttered as he stuffed his own bed with pillows.

Dimitri smiled wryly. His servant had been grumbling and moaning for hours. Not that he blamed his companion. They were very much the pasha's prisoners, even if they were not locked in the dungeons. But, Dimitri was familiar enough with his long-time friend to know it was not being held in the citadel that was causing his foul mood, but fear that Dimitri's suspicions might not be as stupid as he wanted to believe.

Josef would stand before the firing squad without batting an eye, but the thought of someone he cared for in danger nearly unmanned him.

“It is not a plan at all,” he pointed out. “Merely a hasty attempt to avoid being murdered in my bed.”

Josef snorted. “I still don't understand why you believe we are going to be attacked.”

“It is the only explanation that makes sense.”

“Sense?” Josef straightened from the bed, throwing his hands in the air. “What sense is there in trying to keep you locked behind this fortress if someone wants you dead? It is much easier to shoot you in the back if you are walking down the street.”

“Yes, but the benefit is knowing my precise location.”

“So would kidnapping you.”

Dimitri smiled, recalling numerous traps meant to destroy him that he had efficiently avoided. There were many on the streets of St. Petersburg who would swear he possessed magical powers.

“I am not so easily captured, as many men have discovered over the years.”

Josef grunted, unable to argue with his logic. Not that he was satisfied. The servant would be snarling and snapping until they were far away from Egypt.

“But how could any enemy know you would kill Valik and that the pasha's guards would bring you to the citadel? Do you think they are fortune-tellers?”

Dimitri stepped back, regarding the narrow bed. At the moment it appeared to be a sheet pulled over a line of pillows. But in the dark and at a distance, the lumps beneath the sheet should give the impression of a body.

Or at least that was his hope.

All he needed was for his enemy to be distracted for a few moments to launch his ambush.

Dimitri returned his attention to Josef, accepting he had done all that was possible with no weapons, no notion of who or how many might attack, and a wounded shoulder that still ached like the very devil.

“No fortune-tellers, merely a man swift to take advantage of the situation,” he said. “After all, no one attempted to have me arrested before now—”