The Golden Barbarian (Sedikhan #1)

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. Marguérite 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 café?” She tilted her head to indicate a café bearing a sign with a painting of a mermaid curled up on a rock. “I’ve never eaten in a café, Sacha. Could we please?”

He nodded indulgently. “A café, 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 Café, 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 undefinable 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, candlemaking. 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 overluxurious, 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 animallike 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.”

“According to tradition, that is not at all natural.”

“I don’t think you care a snap of your fingers for tradition.”

She turned to face him. “You’d truly do this?”

He nodded.

It was too wonderful to be true. She would not have to go back to Belajo ever again. She would not have to subdue her behavior and act the mindless chattel as her mother did.

She began to pace back and forth, her hands clasped behind her back. “It could never work. My father would capture us before we reached the border.”

Galen shook his head. “The border is only a day’s ride from here.”

“He would follow us to your Zalandan.”

“He might be tempted,” Galen agreed. “But once in Sedikhan I anticipate no problem. We’re a warrior breed. Your Tamrovians are soft in comparison.”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “Then why do you need us as a show of power?”

“An invisible sword is as good as a real one, if the enemy believes it’s pointed at his heart.”

“Wouldn’t your show of force be useless if the other sheikhs realized Tamrovia was against this marriage?”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face. “Very perceptive. Yes, it would. But it won’t happen. I only need six months to soothe your father’s ire and make him tolerate me as a son-in-law.”

“You won’t have six months.”

“Yes, I will. Perhaps a little longer.” He paused. “It depends upon when he decides to send word to the convent that you’re to come home to Tamrovia.”

“But he’s already brought—” Realization dawned. “Sacha?”

“He paid a visit to his uncle and took the opportunity to write a letter to the Mother Superior and affix your father’s seal to the letter.”

She remembered Pauline’s sudden desertion at the last moment. “And Pauline?”

“She would have been in the way on the journey to Zalandan. I assure you that she was more than content with the compensation we forwarded her.”

“I see. You’ve been very thorough.”

“But eminently civilized,” he said mockingly. “My father kidnapped my mother and forced her to wed him after my birth. But I’m not my father. I’ve always found choice is far better than force.”

She gazed at him shrewdly. “As long as the choice is in your favor.”

“Why should marriage not benefit both of us?”

She nibbled at her lower lip. “Why me?”

“You’re the only daughter of the brother of the king of Tamrovia.” He met her gaze. “And you impressed me as possessing a certain boldness and sense of purpose that would be essential to my plan.”

“Three years and I’m free?”

He nodded. “You won’t find your life in Zalandan intolerable. We have certain comforts.”

“Could I have a horse? A wonderful, beautiful horse like Telzan?”

A tiny smile appeared on his lips. “It’s just as well I have little vanity, or I might be insulted that you require a four-footed bribe to wed me.”

“Could I?” she persisted.

He nodded gravely. “One beautiful horse. I have a golden palomino mare that would suit you admirably.”

Excitement and fear churned within her. “I don’t know.…”

“One more thing.”

She looked warily at him.

“I’ll require a child as quickly as possible.”

She stared at him in uncertainty. “A child?”

“You seem surprised. I don’t believe I’m being unreasonable.”

“No, every man wants a son.”

“It doesn’t have to be a son. Just a child to strengthen the bond. Your father would have a good deal more trouble making a match for you if you were carrying another man’s child.” He stood up. “And in my people’s eyes a child would prove the strength of the alliance.”

It had been drummed into her from childhood that it would be her duty to bear her husband as many children as she was capable of bearing, but the possibility had seemed as nebulous as the man who would give them to her. “A child…”

“The babe would be no bother to you. I’ll keep it in Sedikhan when you leave.”

For some reason that thought brought a wrenching pain.

Galen’s gaze narrowed on her face. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” She spoke haltingly. “But it hurt me when you took Apollo and Daphne away. What if…I might want—”

“I suggest we discuss the disposition of the child when it becomes a reality.” He smiled. “By ‘as quickly as possible,’ I didn’t mean tomorrow. I will let you become accustomed to me before the marriage is consummated. I’ve waited a long time. I can wait a little longer. Suppose I leave you to think about my offer.” He glanced over his shoulder as he walked to the door. “It’s a very good bargain. Everything you could want. Would you rather Sacha took you home to Belajo?” He read the answer in her expression and added softly, “Then be bold, kilen.”

The door shut behind him.

She whirled and looked out the window again.

“Be bold.”

She had never lacked boldness, but these circumstances were different, and the step he wanted her to take would affect her entire future. She would be defying her father to journey to a wild land with a man who was as strange and barbaric as Sedikhan.

Yet Galen had been entirely reasonable and urbane as he had outlined his proposal to her. He had used persuasion, not force. Why was she still thinking of him as a barbarian?

She caught sight of him below, striding toward the stable. His pace was unhurried, almost leisurely, but every step held enormous power under complete control.

She suddenly realized his iron control was at the core of her fascination with him. She had sensed a deeply layered explosive violence in him as he outlined his proposition, and she had been waiting for it to surface.

She was being foolish. If he did possess a violent nature, she would probably never see it. He had given her a choice. But what if she refused his proposal? Would he still be so calm and reasonable?

Galen disappeared into the stable, and Tess felt a sudden easing, as if she had been released from bondage. Bondage? What an odd thought when he had offered her only freedom.

She turned away from the window and sat down in the chair. Resting her chin on her hand, she dreamily gazed into thin air.

Freedom. The thought was honey-sweet, and the temptation nearly irresistible. Three years and she could be free for the rest of her life. Three years was not such a long time. She had spent six at the convent, and Zalandan had to be better than that dreary place.

Freedom.

“Well?” Sacha asked as Galen came into the stable.

“I left her to mull over my proposition.” Galen took off his coat and hung it over the side of the stall again. He knelt beside Sacha in the stall. “I’ll carry on.”

“Does she need me?”

Galen’s brow rose as he glanced sidewise at Sacha. “I don’t know why you persist in believing I’m victimizing your sweet cousin. I was everything gentlemanly and courteous to her.”

“She’s still a child. I’d hoped while she was away, she would become—”

“Convents don’t contribute to worldly wisdom.” Galen dipped the cloth in the hot water again. “That’s why you were able to persuade her father to send her away.” He applied the salve and wrapped it tight around the stallion’s ankle. “She’s not really a child. She may lack experience, but we both know she is anything but ignorant and naive.”

Sacha remembered the luminous look on Tess’s face when she had spoken of traveling the route of Marco Polo. “She has her dreams.”

“So do I.” Galen waited another moment, then loosened the bandage and began to unwind it. “Sedikhan.”

Sacha frowned as he looked at the bandage. “How many times are you going to do that?”

Galen put the cloth in the hot water in the bucket. “As long as it takes to get the results I need.”

“All night?”

“If necessary.” Galen squeezed the water out of the cloth and began spreading the salve on the bandage.

Sacha felt a sudden uneasiness as he realized Galen’s determination in this matter, small as it might be, was as nothing compared to his devotion to his grand plan.

“Why don’t you warn her?” Galen suggested without looking at him. “It’s what you want to do.”

“You won’t try to stop me?”

“Why should I? It will make you feel better.” He wound the bandage tightly around the horse’s ankle. “And it won’t make any difference.”

“You think you’ve convinced her?”

“No,” Galen said softly, “I know I’ve convinced her.”

“You don’t have to do it.” Sacha gazed at Tess’s taut back as she looked out the window. “All you have to do is say you don’t wish to marry Galen, and we’ll set out for Belajo in the morning.”

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Tess asked in a low voice. “I was surprised when my father told me I was to go to France. It was you who presented the idea and talked him into it. Why?”

“Galen decided you needed protection, and he believed the sisters would provide it.”

“And do you always do what Sheikh Ben Raschid tells you to do?”

“He convinced me it was for your good.”

“Yes, he can be very persuasive.” She turned to face him. “But I’m surprised he can so easily get you to do as he wishes.”

“He does not—” He broke off and grimaced ruefully. “It’s true he had no trouble molding me to his wishes at that time. I was a thoughtless popinjay who had more concern for the cut of my coat than anything happening around me.”

She studied him thoughtfully. “But you’ve changed.”

“Sedikhan changed me. Galen changed me.” Sacha glanced down at his gold brocade coat. “Though I admit I still like an occasional bit of flash and glitter.”

“There’s nothing wrong with flash and glitter.” She smiled affectionately. “And that empty-headed popinjay was very kind to me.”

“No, I wasn’t. I should have done more to help you. It’s not enough to care, one has to act.”

“Is that what you learned in Sedikhan?”

“Yes, that and other things.”

“Then it must be a very interesting country. Why are you trying to persuade me not to go?”

“I feel responsible.”

“And?”

“It’s a difficult situation. I don’t want you hurt.”

“Yet you consented to maneuver me into this position.”

“Galen needed you. Sedikhan needed you. I thought it wouldn’t be such a bad bargain for you.”

“And now you do?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Galen is…He’s not always…” After a long pause he said softly, “In Zalandan Galen is all-powerful, and his people love him. His power is even greater than my father’s.”

“That cannot be so bad if his people hold him in affection.”

“You don’t understand. Galen’s desire to have Sedikhan united is a passion that sweeps everything else away.” He gazed at her soberly. “I don’t want you to be swept away, Tess.”

She laughed. “Why should I be affected by all that? I’d be a visitor in Sedikhan for three years, perhaps less.”

He could see the excitement flushing her cheeks and had a sinking feeling his words had not swayed her. “Three years can be a long time.”

“I have only one question. Do you believe I can trust Galen to keep his promise?”

“Yes.”

She crossed the room to give him a fleeting kiss on the cheek. “I thank you for your concern, Sacha, but it will truly be fine.” A hint of bleakness colored her voice as she continued, “I know I’m only a pawn to your friend, but when have I ever been anything else? At least I’ll have a chance at independence, if I agree to his terms. No one else will offer me even that possibility. You were right, he was right; It’s not a bad bargain.”

“You’ve made up your mind?”

She nodded as she took a step back. “And I’d better tell him. Where is he?”

“In the stable. I’ll go with you.”

“I’ll go alone.” She cast him a gamine grin. “Stop frowning. Everything is going to be splendid.”