The Perfect Wife (23 page)

She glanced around the prison, and for an instant abject terror washed over her. This could well have been the beginning of an adventure even Wynne would not have appreciated. Sabrina shivered at the possibilities. They weren’t out of danger yet. She gritted her teeth and grabbed the line that now dangled before her. Half climbing, half pulled, she made her way to the top and over the edge, to collapse on the ground, eyes closed, relief turning her legs liquid. A cooling breeze danced across her fevered skin, heated by fear and labor and, finally, elation.

“Mother?”

“Lady Sabrina?” Erick’s voice carried a note of concern. “Are you certain you’re not injured?”

“Quite.” Sabrina shook off her weariness, sat up and extended her hand to Erick. He grasped it and pulled her to her feet. “Erick, you have my undying gratitude for your timely arrival.” She swatted at her clothes in a futile attempt to rid herself of the dirt that covered every inch of her, an effort that did little more than release clouds of dust. “Now, I assume you have arranged some form of transportation to carry us away from this beastly spot before those despicable villains return?”

“Indeed, Lady Sabrina.” Erick grinned with the justifiable pride of a man who knows he’s done well. “I have, shall we say, borrowed two horses. We shall have to double up, and I suggest we leave at once. The sun will soon be up.” He glanced at Belinda, who gazed at him with unquestioning adoration. “Belinda can ride with me.”

Sabrina nodded, turned toward the horses and then stopped in her tracks. She swiveled on her heel and studied the young couple intently. Oblivious to the rest of the world, their gazes remained locked, and even the most casual observer could read love and devotion and ... desire. In the growing light, Belinda’s nightrail was transformed from a virginal garment for sleeping to a sheer, provocative veil that tantalized with unspoken promises of seduction and passion.

Sabrina stepped closer. “I suggest Belinda ride with me. Wynne can share your horse.”

Hot color flushed Erick’s face. “Of course.” Sabrina smiled to herself. She knew precisely what Erick was thinking; the boy was just like his father.

Erick assisted Sabrina and Belinda onto their mount, then pulled Wynne up behind him. Anxiety gripped Sabrina. The sun would break the horizon at any moment, and surely their captors would return. They must go, and quickly.

The moment Wynne settled on Erick’s horse, Sabrina’s gaze met the young man’s. “Do you know the course back to camp?”

“I believe so. It’s this way.” He gestured to the left of the glow in the sky that foretold the momentary rise of the sun.

“Let us be off, then.” She nodded once, and Erick spurred his horse, Sabrina a split second behind. They rode at a fast, even gait until well after the sun broke the horizon and climbed halfway up the sky, then slowed to a less punishing pace. Erick assured her that the camp was not much farther. They rode side by side.

“However did you find us?” Sabrina asked, curiosity in her voice.

Erick shrugged modestly. “We had just ridden over the hill when Father decided someone should stay to protect the women. He and Captain Madison had a bit of a row about who should go back and who should go after the horses. They really don’t seem to get along at all well.”

Sabrina snorted inelegantly. “That’s scarcely a revelation. Each would like nothing better than to see the other dangling by a fraying rope over a pit of vipers.”

“Oh, I daresay it’s not...” Erick sighed. “You’re right, of course. And it shall only get worse when Father ... well, knows everything.”

Sabrina glanced at Wynne, seated behind her nephew. Obviously, Erick knew about Wynne and Matt. Was Nicholas the only one of their party who didn’t know?

“At any rate,” Erick said, “I volunteered to go back to camp, and as I came over the rise saw you three plucked off the ground by a virtual horde of heathens in flowing robes. I simply followed on that damnable camel, as discreetly as is possible with a beast of that nature. I suspect I was undetected more because your abductors were confident there would be no pursuit than because of any skill on my part.

“The hole in which I located you is near a small village, and that’s where I was able to liberate these excellent steeds.” Erick regarded the beasts with admiration. “They are wonderful horseflesh.”

“You’re wonderful.” Belinda sighed from behind her mother.

Once again a blush colored Erick’s cheeks, and he sat a bit taller on his mount. Sabrina ducked her head and grinned. She had no wish to embarrass Erick or her daughter. Still, it was difficult not to feel a certain amount of amusement, not to mention satisfaction. Belinda was once more enamored of her
fiancé, and Sabrina had no doubt theirs would be a long and happy marriage. As for her own ... she would not dwell on that now.

“Mother?” Belinda’s tone was cautious.

“Yes, darling?”

“I am sorry if I’ve been something of a disappointment for you.”

Sabrina started and twisted to face her daughter. Belinda’s eyes were downcast. “Why on earth would you think such a thing?”

“It’s obvious, Mother.” Belinda raised her eyes to meet her gaze. “I have come to see you in an entirely new light. You are not the woman I always believed you to be. You have a penchant for adventure I never dreamed possible, as well as a surprisingly expressive vocabulary.” Sabrina winced at her daughter’s words.

Belinda continued without hesitation. “You are capable and self-reliant, more than able to care for yourself, be it with kidnappers or rakes. Beyond that, you seem to have few qualms about flouting convention and doing precisely as you please.” Her voice lowered. “And, Mother, you obviously have had a great deal of experience with exceptionally lethal-appearing daggers.”

Belinda sighed. “I am nothing like you. I have found nearly everything since I left London to be irritating and inconvenient. Even Wynne has apparently leapt into this venture with enthusiasm and a great deal of enjoyment. What is wrong with me?”

Sabrina tossed back her head and laughed softly, relieved that her daughter’s concerns were not more serious. “My dearest, there is nothing wrong with you. You are exactly what you are expected to be: a properly raised young woman, the daughter of a marquess, who understands her place in society and the world. The fault, my child, is not with you but with me. I am the one who is not as she appears. The one who has never quite lived up to the expectations the world has had of me.”

Belinda pulled her brows together in a frown of confusion. “I don’t understand. You have always appeared the epitome of propriety.”

Sabrina shrugged. “It was an act. For years I pretended to be what the ton thought was appropriate. And I have no regrets about my behavior. However, the freedom I have tasted on this quest has changed me, I fear forever.
I feel again as the woman I once was.” She shook her head. “I cannot give up that woman again.” Her voice softened. “But you, my darling, are exactly as you should be. And I, and Erick, love you.”

“Thank you, Mother.” Belinda fell silent for a moment.

“Still, I feel as if I have failed you in some way.” Her eyes lit. “What if I were to ... well... perhaps ...” she drew a deep breath, “wear men’s clothing too.”

Eagerness stamped her face, and Sabrina stifled a smile. “Only if you would feel comfortable doing so.”

Belinda squared her shoulders, as if the simple act of changing her garments was a formidable challenge that required courage beyond her years. “I believe I would, Mother. I believe I would.”

“Lady Sabrina.” Erick’s tense tone interrupted them. He reined his horse to a stop, and Sabrina followed. “I do not wish to alarm you, but I fear there are riders heading in our direction.” He nodded at a rise that loomed before them.

Sabrina’s heart leapt to her throat. A cloud of dust puffed beyond the rise. The faint sound of hooves pounding parched ground sounded in the distance. The din grew nearer and louder.

“Erick, what are we to do?” Belinda’s eyes were wide with fright.

Even Wynne appeared anxious. “Surely they’re not the same men who kidnapped us?”

“Or worse,” Sabrina said under her breath.

Erick leaned across his horse toward her and spoke in a low voice meant for her ears only. “I suspect we have few options. We cannot go back the way we came. Whoever this is will top the rise in a matter of moments, and I do not see any means of escape. Unfortunately, I am also unarmed.”

The pressure of Wynne’s knife in Sabrina’s boot, where she had secured it, was scant comfort. She could only hope those who approached were neither kidnappers nor any other variety of bloodthirsty desert-dweller. A hope she feared was futile. Erick was right; there were few options.

She drew a deep breath and willed the trembling in her hands to cease. Regardless of what happened, she would not give in to fear. After all, she had once been a successful smuggler and leader of men. Sabrina could face whatever came next.

Swift as the desert wind, the riders appeared on the ridge and pounded toward them.

She tightened her grip on the reins and bit her bottom lip. “Bloody hell.”

“Where in the name of all that’s holy have you been?” Nicholas’s roar sounded above the din of the horses’ hooves. Sharply, he reined in his mount so close beside her that the air sizzled with the heat of the beast. “Don’t you know better than to take off in the middle of a blasted desert? Have you no sense, woman?” In the back of her mind she noted Matt and a rather motley army of attendants mounted on camels accompanied Nicholas.

“I see you recovered the horses,” she said mildly.

“The bloody horses can go straight to hell.” His eyes flamed with anger. “You have not answered my question. Well?”

Perhaps it was the already stifling heat of the day. Perhaps it was simply her filthy, exhausted state. Or perhaps it was his self-righteous, outraged manner. Whatever the reason, something snapped within her. She would not put up with even the mere implication of wrongdoing on her part.

Sabrina drew herself rigidly upright on her horse, gazed at him with all the composure amassed from years of practice and smiled coolly. “Well, what?”

Nicholas stared as if he could scarce believe his ears. She met his gaze calmly, coldly, controlling the defiance simmering just beneath the surface, daring him to push her further.

“Nicholas, it was quite awful,” Wynne said with a cheerfulness that belied her words. “We were kidnapped, snatched practically from our beds—”

“By the most awful men,” Belinda joined in eagerly. “They imprisoned us in this horrible hole with dead bodies.”

“Dead bodies?” Confusion diffused the anger on his face.

“A mummy pit,” Wynne explained.

“What’s a mummy pit?” Matt said curiously.

Wynne drew a deep breath and launched into her by now practiced explanation. “A mummy pit is something of—”

“Quiet!” Nicholas bellowed above the rest. “Erick, is all this true?”

Erick nodded. “Quite true, sir. They have had a considerable adventure.”

Belinda cast an adoring glance at the young man. “And Erick saved us. He was magnificent.”

Nicholas turned back to Sabrina, his eyes troubled. “Why did you not tell me this at once?”

“Why did you not give me the chance?” She jerked her gaze from his, urged her horse to a trot and headed in the direction from which Nicholas had come, not bothering to see whether the others followed. Vague, excited voices behind her indicated that Wynne and Erick had filled Nicholas and Matt in on the details of their so-called adventure. At the crest of the rise she spotted the camp and headed toward its dubious comforts.

“Mother...” Belinda said hesitantly.

Sabrina sighed. “I have little desire for conversation right now.”

“But, Mother, Lord Wyldewood was—”

“Belinda.” Sabrina’s voice cracked in the air. “Please.”

Belinda fell silent, and Sabrina dug her heels in the horse’s side. The animal seemed to sense her irritation and responded instantly. In no time the beast had covered the short distance to the camp.

Attendants helped Belinda off the horse, and Sabrina gratefully slid to the ground on her own. She leaned against the animal, closed her eyes for a moment and breathed deeply, the air sweet with freedom.

“I believe an apology is in order.”

Sabrina snapped her eyes open at Nicholas’s words. She laughed, a short, harsh, mirthless sound. “I shall not apologize to you.”

Nicholas nodded. “No doubt, but I shall apologize to you. I believe I jumped to some rather hasty conclusions.”

“Oh?” Her eyes narrowed. She would not make this confession easy for him. “And what were those conclusions?”

“I believed you and my sister had set out on your own to locate the horses.”

She raised a skeptical brow. “That would be exceedingly foolish.”

“It would indeed.” He ran a weary hand through already disheveled hair.

Only now did she note how very tired he appeared. More than likely, he too had not slept. Still, unreasonable anger, fueled by her own weariness, surged within her at his assumptions. “And you think I am that foolish?”

“Bloody hell, Sabrina.” Nicholas’s eyes blazed at her goading. “What was I supposed to think? Since the moment I first laid eyes on you, you have been completely unpredictable, not to mention stubborn and, yes, I believe foolish is a fairly apt description for some of your actions.”

Fury stormed through her. “And exactly what have I done that was so foolish?”

“What have you done?” Astonishment colored his face. “First you attempt to flee to Egypt without telling anyone where you are going or why. Then you join forces with a man of disreputable background, more than likely a bloody smuggler, and a blasted American at that. Through it all, you disregard even the basic tenants of proper behavior in the manner in which you dress. And you do all of this because of a document of questionable veracity.”

Sabrina glared, all the more furious at his words because they struck perilously close to the truth. “It is no doubt difficult to be married to a woman as foolish as I.”

“And that’s yet another matter.” He grabbed her arms and yanked her to him, his eyes stormy, dark and dangerous. “You married a man you scarcely knew simply because he angered you. Because he offended your pride. That was indeed foolish. And yes, Sabrina, sometimes it is difficult. Sometimes it is extremely difficult.”

She stared, stunned by his words. Anguish slammed into her chest. His comments confirmed her worst fears. Obviously he regretted his actions. Regretted his marriage to a woman who had turned out to be a far cry from the perfect wife he had expected. The back of her throat tightened, aching with tears she refused to shed. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She was bound to this man, no doubt forever. A man who not only did not love her but found her a trial as well. There was little hope here for the future she had dreamed possible in those glorious moments when she was in his arms.

Pain and anger hardened her heart and chilled her words. “I regret you find marriage to me such a distasteful burden. Perhaps it would be preferable if we return to our original bargain. A marriage of convenience, in name only. Preferable ... for both of us.” She turned on her heel and stalked off.

“That’s not what I said.” His voice rose in frustration and she ignored him. He stared at the tiny, defiant figure striding toward her tent. Gad, she was infuriating. He realized his anger with her was perhaps irrational, and even possibly out of proportion. But damnation, the terror that had settled in his gut when he returned to find her missing still lingered like a poorly prepared meal. On further reflection, it might well have been unwise to assume she would search for the missing horses on her own. Still, if he understood nothing else in these past weeks about the woman he’d married, he had learned she was fiercely independent and more than likely to take matters into her own hands.

Given that, the conclusions to which he’d leapt were not far-fetched at all.

How had her first husband put up with her? His mood darkened at the unbidden thought. She and Stanford were no doubt two of a kind. The bloody man probably would have joined in this misguided quest with joyous abandon and scarcely a second thought for the hazards of the venture. No matter; Stanford was dead and Sabrina was his wife now. And if he did not compare favorably with the notorious marquess in one respect or another, it was bothersome, but so be it.

She disappeared into her tent and his fury ebbed away. Would life with Sabrina always be this frantic, furious and unsettled? Surely when they got out of this blasted desert and returned to London their existence would calm substantially. Abruptly, the thought struck him: He no longer desired a composed, collected woman to share his days. The serene Lady Sabrina he’d selected for a wife was well and good initially, but even in the beginning he’d suspected boredom would be the ultimate consequence. Now he wanted much more. Wanted her. Her passion, her laughter, even her outrageous self-sufficient manner. Life with her would be anything but boring.

For a moment he toyed with the idea of following her into the tent. Of sweeping her into his arms and showing her just how much he wanted her. How much he loved her. No, he would let her calm herself first. Let her ponder her illogical comments, her unreasonable reactions. His resolve was firm: This would never again be a marriage of convenience, never a marriage in name only.

He smiled slowly. He’d let her stew in her own juices for a while. He could wait. He had plenty of time. Whether she believed it and accepted it right now or not, they would indeed spend the rest of their lives together. If, of course, he didn’t kill her first.

Sabrina paced before the fire, arms wrapped tightly around her, and glared at the offending flames as if they were somehow responsible for her foul mood. It had been three days since their ordeal. Nicholas said the horses apparently were stolen simply to get the men out of camp so the women could be kidnapped. It all had something to do with the foolish European passion for Egyptian artifacts and the cutthroat competition here among various factions to procure the ancient items. Of course, he did not tell her that directly. She refused to speak to him and avoided his very presence.

He no doubt thought she was still angry. She’d caught him studying her these past days, the hint of a smile on his lips, a glimmer of amusement in his eye. Her ire had vanished long ago, replaced by a deep, abiding pain that throbbed and pulsed with every beat of her heart. A pain she would never allow him to see.

Sabrina kicked at the sand and glanced across the flames. The servants had long since retired. Belinda, Wynne and Erick sat talking quietly. Their voices were low, but even from a distance Sabrina could sense their excitement. None of their party would sleep tonight.

The gold was at long last within reach, a mere few hours’ ride from this very spot. Sabrina had wanted to continue on, but Nicholas had insisted they set up camp with nightfall. The others agreed, in an altogether irritating acknowledgment of Nicholas’s leadership, and Sabrina reluctantly held her tongue. The thrill of the quest had dissipated with the shattering of her heart. Now all she wanted was the freedom from her husband the treasure would surely bring. How ironic that it was French gold that would bring her liberty. Nicholas hated the French, even more than he disliked Americans.

“Bree, we need to talk.” She started at the sound of Matt’s voice and turned. Nicholas stood beside Matt, a dark shadow to the American’s fair figure.

Irritation washed through her. “What is there to talk about?”

Annoyance crossed Matt’s face. “Tomorrow, Bree—we need to talk about tomorrow.”

Sabrina shrugged. “Tomorrow we shall recover the gold, then get out of this God-forsaken country as swiftly as possible. It all seems quite straightforward to me.”

Matt nodded toward Nicholas. “We don’t think so.”

“We?” She raised a brow. “This is an unholy alliance, is it not?”

Nicholas remained silent. Matt cleared his throat, as if embarrassed by her recognition of the relationship between the two men. “We are all partners, Bree, more or less. Your idea, I might add.”

She tossed Nicholas a scathing glance. “I wouldn’t trust him, Matt.”

Matt laughed, his natural sense of amusement restored. “Oh, I still don’t trust him. But I’ve worked with any number of men,” his eyes twinkled, “and women too, for that matter, that I didn’t particularly trust.” He grinned. “I’ve found a certain lack of trust makes for a better business relationship on both sides.”

“Really?” Her gaze traveled insultingly over Nicholas’s stoic figure until it rested on his eyes. “You may be right. Trust may not be necessary. In any type of relationship.”

A smile quirked the corners of Nicholas’s lips. “Perhaps trust has to be earned?”

A hot flush swept up her face, she snapped her gaze from his and turned to Matt. “Very well, Matt; what did you wish to discuss?”

Matt glanced from Sabrina to Nicholas and back. He shook his head slightly, as if exasperated by the continued tension between his old friend and her husband. “All right, Bree, who’s going on your treasure hunt tomorrow?”

“Who?” The unexpected question caught her unawares. “I had not given any consideration to the makeup of the party, but I am going, of course, and you—”

“And I,” Nicholas said firmly.

“No doubt,” Sabrina said under her breath.

“Well.” Matt cleared his throat again and darted a quick glance at Nicholas. What on earth was the man so obviously uneasy about? “Wynne wants to go. Frankly, I don’t think you can get away without her.”

“I suspected as much.” Sabrina nodded in resignation. “Very well, she may come. I would hate to throw a damper on her enthusiasm for adventure. But I wish to leave as soon as the sun is up.”

“Do you have the letter?” Nicholas asked.

She stared him straight in the eye. “I have kept it on my person since we left Cairo.” She placed her hand on the laces of her breeches, just below her waist. “I have it here. I did not want it misplaced.” Sabrina fairly spat the words. “That would be exceedingly foolish.”

A grin split Nicholas’s face. “It would indeed.” His gaze trapped hers, and she responded with a withering glare. An odd tension smoldered between them: fury on her part, amusement on his.

Matt rolled his eyes heavenward, planted a look of disgust on his face and ambled off to join the others.

Nicholas crossed his arms over his chest. “Have you yet reached any conclusions regarding your recent behavior?”

“Indeed I have.” She narrowed her eyes and softened her voice. “I should have had you thrown to the sharks when I had the chance.” Sabrina swiveled on her heel and stalked off. Nicholas’s deep laughter trailed after her.

She stopped at the edge of the pool of flickering light cast by the campfire. The dark stretched endlessly into the desert. She dug at the sand with her toe and studied the shifting grains with a focused intensity. How could Nicholas find any humor in their situation? Obviously, the man did not have the merest ounce of sensitivity. He’d stomped on her heart and seemed to find it all laughable. Perhaps he was right about her foolishness in at least one respect: She never should have married him.