The Bartered Bride (Bride Trilogy) Read online

  He hung suspended in rapture and fulfillment—which splintered when Kasan said tartly, “Congratulations, Captain. Not an impressive performance, but adequate for this test. You have won the Singa Mainam, and the woman is yours, to do with as you will.”

  Panting and disoriented, Gavin moved himself off Alex, jerking her sarong over her again as he did. The deed was done, and now he was saturated with shame for having experienced stunning pleasure in such a corrupt act. “Alex?”

  She didn’t answer. Her hands were knotted and the bones of her face sharp as a woman dying of fever. He raised a hand, intending comfort, then dropped it as he saw silent tears pouring down her face.

  They had won the Game—but dear God, at what price?

  Chapter 11

  ALEX GRIPPED the coverlet, desperately trying to prevent wrenching sobs. That would be the final, unbearable humiliation. Gavin had been a sensitive, generous lover—and that had made the whole experience worse. She had been violated, and didn’t even have the satisfaction of hating the man who had done it.

  As Gavin moved from the bed, she opened her eyes and pushed herself to a sitting position. For an electric instant their gazes met before she wrenched her eyes away. He looked as if he’d been emotionally flayed to the bone. Bleakly she recognized that they were bound together by a joint degradation no one else could ever fully understand.

  “I thought you fortunate to throw the goddess, Captain,” the sultan said musingly, “but it wasn’t good luck after all, was it? You will not sail away from Maduri unscathed.”

  Alex watched as the two men locked gazes. They were opposite sides of a coin—one fair, one dark; one rigidly controlled, the other gloating. The sultan was enjoying Gavin’s distress, while Alex’s anguish was as unimportant to him as if she were a mosquito buzzing about the room.

  Though she couldn’t hate Gavin, with Kasan hatred was easy. If she knew pentjak silat, she would kill him with her bare hands. Was this how her father and stepfather had felt fighting the French? No, her stepfather had always spoken of his French opponents with respect. In contrast, the sultan was despicable—a man who abused his power as easily and naturally as he breathed. She loathed him in a deep and very personal way.

  There was so much leashed emotion in Gavin that she feared he’d explode into violence, but luckily his control held. It wouldn’t do to anger a ruler who could have them executed on the spot if he wished. “Since all of your requirements have been met, Your Highness…” Gavin stepped into the hall and retrieved the manacle key from the head guard. Mutely Alex watched as he unlocked her chains, taking pains not to let his fingertips graze her skin.

  He lifted the manacles away—and in one smooth, furious gesture hurled them through the open arches that led to the terrace. Glittering in the sun, they sailed over the railing and hit the ground with a discordant jangle. She rubbed her raw wrists, scarcely able to believe that she was finally free.

  Voice eerily calm, Gavin said to the sultan, “It has been…interesting, Your Highness. I wish you well in finding the right man to act as your agent to the West.”

  “I found him,” Kasan said dryly. “A pity you did not agree.”

  “A man held against his will can never be the right man,” Gavin said with equal dryness. “But a word of advice. When you return to your list of possibilities, avoid the Englishman, Barton Pierce. He is not a man of honor. The Dutchman, Vandervelt, is a much better man. There are other good choices as well.”

  The sultan’s eyes narrowed. “Can I believe what you say? You are not well disposed to me at the moment.”

  “That is up to you, Your Highness, but on my oath, I wish neither you nor Maduri ill. Pierce is a man who does ill.” Gavin inclined his head. “With your permission, we will now take our leave.”

  Alex stood, desperate to depart, but Kasan frowned. “I’d thought to hold a farewell banquet for you tonight.”

  “Now that truly would defeat me.” Gavin gave a smile that matched the sultan at his most charming. “I haven’t the strength to endure more Maduri hospitality, Your Highness. I still haven’t recovered from my last experience of arak.”

  Kasan laughed, and the tense atmosphere eased. “Travel safely, Captain, and if you ever return to these waters, call on me again.”

  “Thank you. I shall remember that.” Gavin glanced at Alex. “But now we must make a voyage to Sukau.”

  The thought of Katie strengthened Alex. She straightened her weary body, holding herself like a soldier’s daughter.

  Kasan’s gaze ran over her with insulting thoroughness. “Don’t turn your back on your slave woman, Captain. She looks dangerous. What a pity it will be if you can’t enjoy her as you deserve.”

  “Mrs. Warren belongs to no one but herself,” Gavin said as he ushered her out the door. “She is, and always has been, a free woman.”

  For those words, she could almost love him.

  Within an hour, they were on the Helena. The journey to the harbor was a blur to Alex as she focused every shred of control on leaving bondage with her head held high. Gavin and Suryo flanked her, stern-faced, almost as eager to leave as she was.

  The Helena was a sleek, impeccably maintained ship that looked capable of outsailing anything on the high seas. As soon as their party climbed from the jolly boat to the deck, Gavin excused himself and began snapping orders to prepare for departure. Alex gathered that the tide was about to change, and if they didn’t leave immediately they’d have to wait for hours.

  “This way to your cabin, puan.” In Suryo’s compassionate gaze she saw that he knew what had happened, and would never speak of it.

  Near the breaking point, she followed him below and along a narrow passage to the rear of the vessel. As he opened a door, he asked, “Do you need anything, my lady?”

  “Just…to be alone.”

  “As you wish. When you want food or drink, ring for me.”

  Gratefully she recognized that she’d been granted permission to be private for as long as she needed. Hardly noticing her surroundings, she crossed the cabin and fell onto the neatly made bunk, wrapping herself around a pillow as she began to shake violently.

  In the past months she’d wept and raged. She’d damned the pirates and the Islands, blessed the soft-voiced slave women whose compassion had kept her sane, imagined slow, violent deaths for her abusers, and yearned desperately to find Katie. Now her complex emotions defied analysis.

  She couldn’t hate Gavin—he’d risked his life for her simply because he felt it was the right thing to do. But how could she ever look him in the face again without remembering his body inside hers? Her silent screams still echoed in her head. Yet somehow she must master her emotions where he was concerned. Otherwise months of proximity on a small ship would be unbearable.

  She remembered his expression when he’d pulled away from her, and buried her face in the pillow, shuddering. Though the encounter had been dreadful for her, she’d been inured by months of bullying and abuse with little hope that she’d ever escape. The damned Lion Game was merely the last, and least physically painful, instance of what she had endured. She would survive it as she’d survived everything else.

  For him, though, their forced intimacy had been shattering because he’d had to violate his deepest principles. That was a terrible burden for a man so innately decent. She must forgive him so he could forgive himself.

  As she made sense of what had happened, her shaking stilled and eventually she drifted into exhausted slumber. When she awoke, late afternoon sunshine slanted through the windows that ran across one end of the room. The steady roll of the ship and occasional snap of canvas overhead proclaimed that they were at sea.

  She stood, grabbing the edge of a built-in cabinet as her stomach shifted uneasily. Taking stock of her surroundings, she realized this must be Gavin’s own cabin. Spacious and well furnished, it included a wide bed and jewel-bright Chinese carpets on the polished oak floor. Desk and chairs were secured with discreet staples, and ha
ndsome teak storage cabinets had been built into the walls. Bookcases had also been built in, with bars to keep the volumes in place during stormy seas. It was a warm and welcoming place, cozy rather than sumptuous.

  Though she didn’t like displacing Gavin from his own quarters, she recognized that he wouldn’t offer a lady in distress anything less than the ship’s best. Still another gift she must accept graciously.

  She crossed to a window, still a little queasy even though she’d always been a good sailor. Outside, the sea was molten gold in the sun. In the distance, a dark line of rugged land separated water from sky. Maduri or another island? No matter. It was behind her now.

  With slow wonder, she absorbed the fact that she was truly free. Captivity and humiliation were behind her now.

  Joy bubbled up from deep within. Free. For most of her life she’d taken liberty for granted, but never again. It was a gift beyond price, one she’d die rather than lose again. The knowledge gave her an insight into Gavin’s adopted homeland, which had paid for its freedom with the blood of its sons.

  Suddenly anxious to remove all traces of slavery, she rang for Suryo. When he appeared, she asked, “Could I have hot water to wash myself?”

  “Of course.” He and a sailor returned with canisters of hot water so quickly that it must have been ready and waiting. She’d expected to wash herself with a cloth and water in a basin, but Suryo pulled a tin hip bath from one of the cabinets.

  “A hip bath!” she exclaimed. “I’ve never seen one on a ship.”

  “It can only be used when the sea is calm, like tonight,” said Suryo. While the sailor poured water into the tub, Suryo left and returned with a tray of food and some folded garments which he left on the desk.

  As soon as the men left, Alex stripped off her clothing and settled into the tub. She almost wept as the familiar tang of English lavender slid over her skin. Tropical flowers could be intoxicating, but lavender was the fragrance of her childhood, of dried blossoms scattered among her clothing and the lotion her mother made for dry hands in winter.

  The hip bath had high sides to prevent spills as the ship rolled, and was large enough to accommodate Gavin. How many times had he sat naked exactly where she was now? Her flash of embarrassment at the thought was instantly followed by memories of greater intimacy. Harshly she scrubbed her skin with a rough cloth and sponge, as if rubbing herself raw could banish the taint of slavery and defilement.

  The water was almost cool when she climbed from the tub and dried herself. Most of the bruises that had marred her skin when she was first brought to the palace had faded to ugly shades of yellow and green. Soon those exterior marks of brutality would be gone. As for the interior ones—well, she’d spent enough time on wailing and self-pity. It was time to reclaim her life.

  Suryo had brought a long skirt and overdress made of Indian print cotton in soft shades of blue. Though similar to Island garments, they were made to her size and the cut was Western. When she donned them, she felt more herself than she had since the pirates had attacked the Amstel.

  Wanting to regain her sea legs, she drifted around the cabin as she nibbled on a piece of the bread Suryo had brought. This wasn’t just Gavin’s cabin; it had been designed for his wife. That’s why there was a hip bath and a bed large enough for two and luxurious Chinese rugs. His love for Helena showed in every detail.

  Her eye was caught by a small painting tucked between the bookcases and a storage cabinet. Moving closer, she discovered the portrait of a young blond woman wearing a gown of blue Chinese silk and a radiant smile. So this was Helena. Lovely and ethereal, she was a woman who loved, and knew she was loved in return.

  Alex glanced involuntarily at the bed. Gavin and Helena had shared that bed. Quite possibly Helena Elliott had died there. Yet she felt no sad ghosts lingering. Ghosts were born of regrets, not happy marriages.

  Reminding herself again that Gavin had chosen to put her in this cabin, she decided that her first goal must be to eliminate the horrible awkwardness between them. Otherwise, he might spend the whole voyage avoiding her and tormenting himself. That could not be allowed to happen, and she must be the one to make the first move.

  The thought undermined her fragile composure, but the longer she delayed the harder it would become. She tied back her hair with a length of ribbon—Suryo had thought of everything—then left the cabin and headed up to the deck. The helmsman and officer of the watch were back on the quarterdeck. It was too dark to see detail, but she thought the officer was the young chief mate she’d been introduced to when she came on board. He ducked his head respectfully when he saw her.

  She was about to approach and ask the captain’s whereabouts when she spotted a familiar form at the ship’s bow. Gavin’s hands were braced on the railing, and his fair hair tumbled in the wind as he stared into the darkening sky, standing as still as carved marble.

  Wiping suddenly damp palms on her skirt, she made her way forward. A yard from the railing, she hesitated, swamped with vivid, disquieting memories of his physical strength. She’d seen him climb a sheer cliff, battle a dragon, defeat a master of unarmed combat—and trap her with his weight and scent and powerful male body.

  Her heart accelerated as irrational fear burned through her. Once it would never have occurred to her to fear a man. As a child, she’d feared nothing. Certainly not the men in her life.

  She hated being afraid.

  Her jaw set. Of all men on earth, Gavin was the last one she should fear. She moved forward to the railing before she could lose her nerve. He stiffened when he became aware of her presence. She half expected him to bolt, but he stayed. Someday, maybe she would find humor in their mutual skittishness, but not tonight.

  She lifted her face into the clean, free wind. The rhythmic rise and fall of the bow soothed her jangled nerves and reminded her why she was here.

  “I thank you from the bottom of my heart, Gavin. Don’t blame yourself for what had to be done. You saved me and yourself. That’s not a sin.”

  “Perhaps not. But it’s certainly no virtue.” After a long silence, he said, “We can be married in Batavia. There are Christian churches there.”

  “Marriage?” Her head snapped around and she stared at him, shocked out of her composure. “What are you talking about?”

  “Having behaved like husband and wife, we must now make that a reality,” he said with bone-dry precision.

  She should have realized he’d think this way. He was a gentleman, he had compromised her, and he was doing the honorable thing by offering marriage. Why was she so disquieted by the thought?

  Because she didn’t want marriage ever again. Because she wasn’t fit to be a decent man’s wife. Least of all, Gavin’s wife.

  Burying her feelings for later pondering, she said, “Of all the generous things you’ve done, this is the most generous, but it isn’t necessary. You have sacrificed quite enough for my sake. You certainly don’t have to marry a stranger as well.”

  “We’re hardly strangers anymore, Alexandra.” His deep voice was cool and emotionless.

  “There’s no point in being bound for life by something that happened on the opposite side of the world from our homes. You don’t want to marry me, I don’t want to marry you or anyone, so the subject is closed.”

  He smiled faintly. “I can see why you were so bad at being submissive.”

  She colored. “Sorry, was I rude? Don’t think I’m not appreciative, Gavin. I already owe you more than I can repay in one lifetime. There’s no need to make my debt even greater.”

  “Marrying you wouldn’t be a punishment, Alex. I think we could rub along tolerably well. But…,” he hesitated, groping for words, “perhaps there is too much between us to ever be comfortable with each other.”

  “I’d like to be friends. Is that possible?”

  She could feel a lessening of his tension. “I’d like that, too,” he said. “It’s a long voyage to England. Better to be relaxed than walking on eggshells.”


  “Agreed then—we shall be friends, and it will be as if the…the last event of the Lion Game never happened.” Forgetting wouldn’t be that simple, but agreeing to put the incident behind them was a start. “If you ever wish to marry again, find a sweet young bride who hasn’t been tarnished by life.”

  “I did that once. I’ll not destroy another innocent girl.”

  “Destroy?” She frowned, sensing he’d said more than he intended. “From everything I’ve seen and heard, Helena was a cherished and much loved wife. That’s hardly destruction.”

  He hesitated before saying haltingly, “Helena’s health was always frail. I worried that shipboard life might be too much for her, but she didn’t want us to be separated, and neither did I. If I’d left her safe in Boston maybe she’d be alive today.”

  Her heart ached for him. Believing he’d cost his beloved wife her life must have created a bottomless well of guilt. No wonder he’d felt compelled to rescue a desperate slave woman. Wanting to assuage that deep grief, she said, “I saw the painting of Helena. You gave her years of happiness. Many women don’t have that much in a lifetime.”

  “We were happy,” he agreed, “but her physician in Boston had warned it would be dangerous for her to have a child. If I hadn’t…” He stopped abruptly.

  Knowing she was on very delicate ground, Alex said, “Didn’t Helena want a baby desperately?”

  He glanced at her, a silhouette against a starry night. “How did you know that?”

  “I’m a woman. It’s natural to want to have the child of the man you love.” Or to have a child even if the marriage was less than loving, but that didn’t need to be said. “Helena took her risks willingly. And now—well, she and Anna are together.”

  “I’d like to believe that,” he said in a raw whisper.

  “Believe it.” Alex had never been surer of anything. “Remember how Achilles was given the choice of a short, glorious life or a long, dull one? He chose glory and died young, but his fame lives on. If Helena was always frail, you gave her a great gift by letting her choose love and adventure. We all die. At least she died where she wanted to be, doing what she wanted to do with the man she loved, and she will always live in your heart. You didn’t destroy her, you fulfilled her.”