Page 19 of Kismet

“Difficult? Hmmm,” Laila mused out loud. With a laugh she nodded. “No, I simply think Shaheen is more selective than most men.”

“And what man doesn’t consider himself discriminating,” she replied with a smile.

“Perhaps, but Shaheen is different. My father has offered to find him a bride on many occasions, but he has been adamant in his refusal.”

“What does his name mean?”

“It is the Bedouin name for falcon. He earned the name and his title of Sheikh when he saved my brother’s life during a ghazu.”

Laila’s voice faltered and her eyes darkened with a deep pain that made Allegra reach out to touch her arm in concern. As if realizing she’d revealed too much of an inner turmoil, the young woman smiled and shook her head.

“That was a long time ago, and they are far less frequent thanks to Shaheen’s efforts.”

“These ghazus, what are they?”

There was a slight darkening of Laila’s eyes, but it quickly disappeared. “It’s when a neighboring tribe raids another tribe’s camp. In most instances it’s to steal sheep or horses.” Laila shrugged slightly as she averted her gaze. “It’s rare that anyone is ever really hurt.”

Something about the young woman’s expression said she’d witnessed a ghazu that had been much more than a simple theft of livestock. Whatever had happened, it had affected Laila deeply.

“Whatever are they doing over there?” An unidentifiable emotion edged its way through Millie’s voice. Turning her head in the direction her maid was looking, she heard Laila utter a noise of dismayed disgust.

“It is a slave auction. Parents often sell their children when they’re unable to provide for them. Unfortunately, it’s quite common.” Sadness filled Laila’s quiet words. “Father and Shaheen have done much to educate people against such practices, but old customs die slowly.”

Laila’s voice faded into the background as Allegra moved through the crowd toward the makeshift stage the slave trader was using to hawk his wares. There were at least a dozen children ranging from age five and up. One little girl was clinging to a boy not much older than her. When the slave trader broke them apart, the small child screamed with fear.

The bile rose in Allegra’s throat at the sound. She’d screamed like that for her sister a long time ago. The memory sent a wave of nausea cresting over her. It sickened her to admit it, but she understood the girl’s fear. A chill crept across her skin, and she shivered despite the blistering heat.

Like a receding wave, the riotous sounds of the market had all the substance of a bee buzzing in her ear as she stared at the faces of the children on the rickety platform. Some were teary-eyed, their bottom lips quivering as they fought to keep from sobbing. In the case of several older boys, their fear made them stand at attention with a vacant look on their faces. It was an expression she knew well.

The dark memories flooded her head, and her throat slowly tightened until it was impossible to swallow and difficult to breathe. What kind of a parent would sell their own child? Slavery was terrible enough, but when they were your own flesh and blood . . . she bit back a sob.

Rooted in place, she watched in horror as a man moved across the stage and jerked a child forward in a clear display of the child’s assets and capabilities. Anger thrummed its way through her blood and she pushed her way forward through the densely crowded stage. She’d pay the man whatever he asked to free every child on the stage.

Someone thwarted her efforts to reach the rickety platform by grabbing her arm and dragging her to a halt. Startled, she glanced downward at the grimy, calloused hand holding her in place then up at its owner. The man leaned toward her, and she gagged at the stench coming from his mouth as he grinned menacingly at her.

“Let me go,” she snapped as she tried to tug herself free of his grip.

His fingers dug deeper into her skin as he responded in the Berber tongue. The sharp jerk of his head said she was to go with him.

“Go to hell.” She sent him a defiant glare and continued to strain against his hold. Her actions made him dig his fingers into her arm that much harder. Wincing with pain, Allegra looked back toward her friends. The sight of a small group of men preventing Laila and Millie from joining her sent an icy finger down her back. Something was terribly wrong here. Her gaze darted to where Laila’s bodyguards were roughly shoving their way through the crowd in an effort to reach the young woman.

Again, the ruffian detaining her tugged on her arm, only this time he managed to drag her with him a few steps. Furious, she clenched her fist and drove it as hard as she could into the man’s groin. Instantly he screamed out in pain and dropped to his knees. As he sank to the ground in front of her, several of the men holding Laila and Millie hostage turned their heads in her direction.

One of the men headed toward her, while the man on his knees reached for her arm in an attempt to hold her prisoner. In response, she slammed her fist into the man’s jaw. His roar of pain filled her with satisfaction as she jerked free of his hold. Her gratification died quickly when she heard an angry cry from the makeshift auction platform. Turning her head, she saw the auctioneer point at her and gesture wildly at the man slumped to the ground.

Several people in the small crowd turned to glare at her, and she took a quick step back only to find her way blocked. Two large hands gripped her from behind and panic settled a knot of fear in her stomach. She didn’t understand what the men wanted from her, but their determination was frightening.

Fear sent her elbow driving into the person behind her. A loud grunt of pain said she’d found her mark. She found the target again then jerked free of her attacker’s hold. No longer thinking, she simply reacted. She found an opening in the crowd and pushed her way through it. It was in the opposite direction of Millie and Laila, but an angry mob could easily turn on her friends if anyone realized they were all together.

Shoving her way through the crowd, she struggled not to gag on the rank odor of so many people in one place. Behind her, several voices cried out in protest and someone clutched at her veil in an attempt to stop her. Desperately, she clawed at the fabric until it ripped with a loud cry and she was free to continue her flight.

After several frantic seconds, she escaped the crowded square and darted down one of the souq’s populated streets. She should have listened to Millie. They should have visited the souq before Isabelle left on her honeymoon. With a glance over her shoulder, she saw one of her attackers emerge from the crowd. Frantic now, she moved as quickly as possible through the busy street until she was certain she’d lost the man.

Breathless, she darted into a small alleyway and pressed her back to the wall. Guilt sped through her. She’d deserted her friends. Suppressing a soft sob she bit her lip. No, she hadn’t deserted them. They’d not been the ones in danger. She was the one the men wanted. If their intent had been to take Laila and Millie, she would have seen the two women being dragged away. But she hadn’t. No, she was the one the men wanted. But why? Who would want to harm her?

None of this made any sense. Straightening, she pushed herself away from the wall to move on. As she did so, her foot caught on the edge of her skirt. Head bent, she worked the heel of her shoe free from the ripped hem. She’d barely succeeded in her task when a hand roughly covered her mouth, and a strong arm jerked her backward several feet into a small, dark room. For the second time in her life, she went numb with fear.