are English or American.” He regarded her with bemusement. “What passion! What beauty. I shall do very well with you.”
Alex did not like his tone or his words. Worse, she did not like the way his eyes kept wandering over her body. She was hugging herself. “That is a very sexist statement.”
He blinked. “You make no sense.”
“Sexist,” Alex said. “Why am I here?”
He smiled at her. “You are different—unique. I can demand a tremendous sum for you.”
Alex stared. This was a nightmare—it could not possibly be reality.
“You should have known better than to wander the streetsof Tripoli alone, in such a state of dress,” he said softly—unapologetically.
“You can’t do this,” Alex whispered, beginning to sweat.
“Of course I can. In fact, I have already made appointments to show you to several prospective buyers. A great beauty is always easy to sell.”
Alex thought that she would faint. Her knees felt boneless. She forced herself to take deep gulps of air and to remain standing. Perspiration collected between her breasts. “You cannot sell me like I’m some … some … some
object.”
The Frenchman laughed, as if pleased. “But I can—and I will.”
Alex backed away, breathing sharply. “Let me go; you must. I promise I won’t say anything to anyone. I will not go to the police.”
He regarded her with open amusement. “I cannot let you go. But I suppose a ransom might be arranged. Do you have a rich husband? Rich relatives? Rich friends?”
Alex was about to say no, instead she kept her mouth shut, thinking the better of it.
“I did not think so.” He started for the archway. “Rest. Zendar will bring you food and wine. You may use the courtyard as you wish.” With a brief smile, he exited the room.
Alex rushed after him, only to have her way barred by one of the black servants. His expression turned so menacing that she immediately backed away, to stand shivering in the center of the room.
Oh, God, what should she do? The worst had happened. As she should have known. She had been kidnapped to be sold into white slavery. Alex heard herself moan.
And she was so damn weak and so damn exhausted.
Tears suddenly blurred her vision. Where was Blackwell? Why wasn’t he with her now, if not to help her, then to give her moral support? Desperately Alex willed his presence to return to her, but she felt nothing in the air around her, nothing at all.
Alex swiped at her tears, angry with herself, because self-pity would not help anything. She had to be strong, and she had to think. She was a smart woman. Surely she could find a way to outwit her captor and escape.
Alex crossed the room, her back to both guards, and facedanother archway. It opened onto an outdoor courtyard filled with fruit trees, stone benches, and a small inlaid marble pool. Alex glanced over her shoulder briefly at the guards, but they were ignoring her now. She stepped outside. Her captor had told her she could use the yard if she wished.
Her captor’s house was on a hill. Now, standing in the center of the courtyard, she could see over the facing wall. The many jumbled, red-tiled rooftops of Tripoli greeted her, and beyond them, a line of jagged, shadowy mountains. Clearly she was facing inland.
Tripoli was surrounded on three sides by water, however, and instantly Alex turned to face the sea. Beyond the next courtyard wall she glimpsed the many roofs and domes of the palace, where only yesterday she had been a visitor like any other tourist. Somewhere near that palace was the shop where she had met Joseph and bought the lamp.
Alex’s gaze veered to the harbor. Where she expected to see busy wharves and longshoremen and cargo ships and steel trawlers. Instead, she stared, stunned.
Incapable of taking even a single breath.
Unable to move.
Time had stood still. Or gone backward.
For Tripoli Harbor was filled with nineteenth-century ships.
5
A LEX REMAINED IMMOBILIZED , Staring at the harbor. Her
Alex did not like his tone or his words. Worse, she did not like the way his eyes kept wandering over her body. She was hugging herself. “That is a very sexist statement.”
He blinked. “You make no sense.”
“Sexist,” Alex said. “Why am I here?”
He smiled at her. “You are different—unique. I can demand a tremendous sum for you.”
Alex stared. This was a nightmare—it could not possibly be reality.
“You should have known better than to wander the streetsof Tripoli alone, in such a state of dress,” he said softly—unapologetically.
“You can’t do this,” Alex whispered, beginning to sweat.
“Of course I can. In fact, I have already made appointments to show you to several prospective buyers. A great beauty is always easy to sell.”
Alex thought that she would faint. Her knees felt boneless. She forced herself to take deep gulps of air and to remain standing. Perspiration collected between her breasts. “You cannot sell me like I’m some … some … some
object.”
The Frenchman laughed, as if pleased. “But I can—and I will.”
Alex backed away, breathing sharply. “Let me go; you must. I promise I won’t say anything to anyone. I will not go to the police.”
He regarded her with open amusement. “I cannot let you go. But I suppose a ransom might be arranged. Do you have a rich husband? Rich relatives? Rich friends?”
Alex was about to say no, instead she kept her mouth shut, thinking the better of it.
“I did not think so.” He started for the archway. “Rest. Zendar will bring you food and wine. You may use the courtyard as you wish.” With a brief smile, he exited the room.
Alex rushed after him, only to have her way barred by one of the black servants. His expression turned so menacing that she immediately backed away, to stand shivering in the center of the room.
Oh, God, what should she do? The worst had happened. As she should have known. She had been kidnapped to be sold into white slavery. Alex heard herself moan.
And she was so damn weak and so damn exhausted.
Tears suddenly blurred her vision. Where was Blackwell? Why wasn’t he with her now, if not to help her, then to give her moral support? Desperately Alex willed his presence to return to her, but she felt nothing in the air around her, nothing at all.
Alex swiped at her tears, angry with herself, because self-pity would not help anything. She had to be strong, and she had to think. She was a smart woman. Surely she could find a way to outwit her captor and escape.
Alex crossed the room, her back to both guards, and facedanother archway. It opened onto an outdoor courtyard filled with fruit trees, stone benches, and a small inlaid marble pool. Alex glanced over her shoulder briefly at the guards, but they were ignoring her now. She stepped outside. Her captor had told her she could use the yard if she wished.
Her captor’s house was on a hill. Now, standing in the center of the courtyard, she could see over the facing wall. The many jumbled, red-tiled rooftops of Tripoli greeted her, and beyond them, a line of jagged, shadowy mountains. Clearly she was facing inland.
Tripoli was surrounded on three sides by water, however, and instantly Alex turned to face the sea. Beyond the next courtyard wall she glimpsed the many roofs and domes of the palace, where only yesterday she had been a visitor like any other tourist. Somewhere near that palace was the shop where she had met Joseph and bought the lamp.
Alex’s gaze veered to the harbor. Where she expected to see busy wharves and longshoremen and cargo ships and steel trawlers. Instead, she stared, stunned.
Incapable of taking even a single breath.
Unable to move.
Time had stood still. Or gone backward.
For Tripoli Harbor was filled with nineteenth-century ships.
5
A LEX REMAINED IMMOBILIZED , Staring at the harbor. Her
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