Page 50 of Barbarous

Delacroix threw up his hands and muttered a very vulgar word in French. “She brought the Ghost to the brink of mutiny—dangling her favors before the men, trying to convince one of them to seize the ship and return for her son after we dropped him where he’d asked.” He shook his head and made an angry clucking sound. “Thank God the boy left. He was on the verge of dueling with at least three of the crew for dishonoring his mother.”

Hugh had been with her for only a few hours and already understood what his haggard first mate had meant.

Right now she was staring at him with open displeasure, but at least she was no longer threatening him with mutilation, which was what she’d done when he had bodily removed her from the Ghost and told her, in no uncertain terms, that he was not sending his ship back for her son.

Hugh sighed. He would have to accompany her to her father’s; she would need somebody to serve as cultural translator, at least for a few days. Not that even a year would be enough for her to fit into the ton.

Hugh pitied the tiny woman. A high-stickler like the duke would tend and care for her, but she would never be accepted by society. No man among the ton would take an ex-harem slave as a wife—no matter how much money Carlisle heaped on her.

Hugh had seen it before with reconciliations between long-separated family members. They might cherish the memory of a lost loved one, but the person who came home was not the same one who’d left. How would her family reconcile their memory of an innocent daughter of fourteen with the reality of a woman steeped in sin and treachery?

While Mia’s contemporaries had been learning watercolors and the pianoforte, she had been learning the art of pleasuring a man as if her life depended on it: because it had.

“Hugh? Hugh! Are you attending to me?” Mia’s imperious voice broke into his thoughts.

“Hmm, what were you saying?”

Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits but she maintained her temper, no doubt saving the tongue-lashing for later, after she’d forced him to do whatever it was she wanted.

“I wish to go back for Jibril,” she said for the hundredth time.

Hugh sighed. “Jibril is almost a man grown and you must allow him to fight for the only birthright he knows. If he fails he can find his own way back here.” Privately, Hugh thought that would be disastrous. Mia, at least, had spent her first fourteen years in England. Jibril was the son of a sultan and the product of North Africa; he would never fit in here.

“Come,” he said, changing the subject, “we should both get some rest as we will be leaving before first light. I just heard horses—that will be Kemal arriving with your possessions. He will take you to your room, where a hot bath and food await you.”

She grudgingly nodded, the gray smudges beneath her green eyes mute testimony to her exhaustion.

Kemal was waiting for them when they entered the hall. “I will put her in the Rose Room, my lord.”

“Thank you, Kemal. Good night, Mia. Try to get some rest.”

Kemal bowed to the tiny woman and spoke to her in rapid Arabic. She rewarded him with a glorious smile and a stream of Arabic in return.

Hugh went to the library, half hoping to find Daphne. The room was lighted by two dozen candles, and drawings and papers covered her desk, but she was not there.

His shoulders sagged with relief—he was such a coward. But what could he say to make things better? Nothing. He poured three fingers of brandy and put the problem of Daphne aside, turning his thoughts to Delacroix’s disturbing news.

The wharf master in Gibraltar said Calitain’s ship passed through only two days before—heading west. The scarred Frenchman had sounded both aggrieved and guilty.

You could not have pursued Calitain and made it to the rendezvous. You did the right thing, my friend. Hugh had meant what he’d said, but he couldn’t help feeling just as frustrated as his first mate. It was poor luck Calitain had returned from wherever he’d been hiding. Hugh had pursued that traitorous bastard around the globe for years, only catching sight of him three times. Each time blood had been shed—lots of blood—but never Calitain’s.

Hugh looked down and saw his knuckles were white just thinking the man’s name. Calitain was the turncoat responsible for the death of six of Hugh’s closest friends, not to mention the loss of Hugh’s eye and a great many other scars on his body and soul. Calitain was the lowest order of criminal and Hugh was burning to go after him. But that was his hatred speaking. To leave now would be to chase his own tail.

Instead he would do the wise thing and send word to the various ports—Hugh had friends everywhere—to keep an eye out for the Golden Scythe, Calitain’s ship. It didn’t surprise Hugh that Calitain had returned to the waters off the Continent, no matter how dangerous they were. Calitain had been involved in the slave trade since he’d quit being a slave himself, and Europeans low in morals and money often financed slave ships, especially since imported slaves now fetched a high price in the American South.

Delacroix would locate Calitain, and then Hugh would deal with him. He smiled grimly at the thought and took a sip of brandy. And then he remembered Daphne.

Hell and damnation! He could not tell her about Mia—at least not yet. After all, it was not his secret to tell. Mia deserved to be the one who decided how and when her story would be revealed.

Which left him with no explanation for Daphne, at least nothing that would keep her from believing him a swine of the lowest order.

Hugh gritted his teeth and took out a sheet of paper. Thank God he’d be miles from Lessing Hall when she read the weak missive.

* * *

Daphne was up bright and early the next morning, fueled by cold rage, humiliation, and determination. Like Samson bearding the lion, she marched down to the breakfast room. But when she flung open the door to the cheery, sun-filled room, all she found were Lady Amelia and a dozen pugs.

Daphne stared. The older woman never came to breakfast—ever. Why, of all mornings, was she here today? How was Daphne supposed to speak to Hugh with Amelia and her dogs in attendance?