A cry of anguish escaped from Stanton’s lips, his eyes widening as he fell forward against the blade—a spray of blood dotting everything around him. With a hard shove, William pushed Mahmud out of the way, preventing the dagger that Stanton still clasped from burying itself in the sultan’s neck.
Shouts rose from those around them, undoubtedly in Turkish, though William’s mind was too numb to tell. He sensed that feet were shuffling back and forth, but he couldn’t focus on any of it as he looked down at the man who’d threatened his wife for so long. His eyes were still open, but the life behind them was gone. An ugly gash gaped open at his navel, deep and wide enough to reveal something that William guessed to be the stomach. A strong hand grabbed his arm, lifting him to his feet until his eyes met Mahmud’s.
“Merci, mon ami,” the sultan told him in a low whisper and with a meaningful expression upon his face. “Thank you, my friend.” He then added, to nobody in particular, “This auction is over. I’m taking the girl and returning her to her family. Ismet!”
The pasha came forward, his face completely red while he spoke a whole series of words that William could never hope to understand but which he surmised to be a long apology, for he looked about ready to leap out of the window if that was what Mahmud desired for him to do.
But Mahmud just waved his hand, said a couple of words, and then dismissed him. William reached for Lucy’s arm and paused for a moment before grabbing hold of her. She looked frazzled, shocked, and frightened. And then his fingers closed around her, and she gasped as if he’d startled her out of a private reverie. “Shh…” he told her as he guided her forward. He wanted to reveal himself but thought better of it. This was not the place for them to have their reunion, and since he knew that she must have realized by now that she was safe, he decided that the situation would not worsen if he waited until they returned to the privacy of the palace.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Lucy moved as if in a daze. Everything had happened so fast that she’d barely been able to grasp what was going on before Stanton had been felled by the sultan’s bodyguard. She didn’t want to look at him, but her head turned of its own accord until she caught a glimpse of Stanton’s glassy eyes. Her body trembled, and she felt her lips begin to quiver, but she did not cry. This was what she’d hoped for, what she’d dreamt about for so long, but now that he lay on the ground before her, split open and with no life left in him, she did not feel the sense of relief she’d imagined would flood her body to replace all the pain and anguish. She felt empty, numb. Her parents were dead, and she realized that nothing in the world would ever bring them back. Nothing would ever be able to compensate for their loss. Not even this.
A hand grabbed her arm, startling her, and she looked up to find that it was the sultan’s guard, and that he was trying to lead her away. The sultan had said that he would return her to her family. From what she’d gathered, he’d not only known her parents but had also considered her father a friend. Perhaps there was still hope then? She felt it flicker to life inside her, like a fragile little flame.
Her thoughts went to William, and as she placed one foot in front of the other and began to walk, she wondered what he might say when she returned to England, wondered once more if the reason why he hadn’t come for her was because he’d been unable to find her or because he simply didn’t care about her enough. The uncertainty gnawed at her heart, for she loved him with such desperation that she knew it would destroy her if she discovered that he did not feel the same about her. And yet, she reminded herself that she was probably hoping for too much. William had never been anything but honest with her, while she, on the other hand, had repeatedly lied. She sighed heavily as she stepped inside the awaiting carriage and turned to look out of the window. She had no desire for conversation right now, not even with the men who had saved her.
The ride back to the palace was short. When they arrived, the steps were set down and the sultan and his guard stepped out, the guard reaching up his hand to help her down. She allowed his kindness, but she did not smile as she placed her hand in his and began to alight, realizing then that she was incapable of any sensation right now. It was almost as if she was floating somewhere above her body, but as strange as it felt, she did not try to force it away, for she knew that it was protecting her from the onslaught of emotions that threatened to attack at any given moment.
“Mon ami,” the sultan said, addressing his guard as soon as they’d stepped inside the palace walls. “Lucinda Hakim ought to be taken to the harem until she is ready to depart for England, but under the circumstances…and in light of the fact that you saved my life today…we will make an exception to this rule.”
The guard said nothing but merely bowed his head as if to say thank you. Lucy was puzzled. She’d thought the man to be nothing more than a servant, but the way in which the sultan spoke to him—the way he addressed him as a friend—was really quite odd. And why would the sultan make an exception about the harem because he’d saved his life? It all seemed so confusing.
“Follow Amir. He will direct you to a suite of rooms that have been made available.” He paused as he looked at Lucy, and his lips drew upward into a kind and gentle smile. “Guard her well, mon ami, for she truly is a ravishing beauty.”
“I shall protect her with my life,” the guard muttered, bowing once again before giving her a light tug on the arm to indicate that she should follow.
Lucy didn’t know what to make of it all. Should she feel frightened or comforted by what was going on? The sultan had said nothing about when or how he would facilitate her passage back to England. Based on his interaction with the man who was now accompanying her, she assumed that he would be traveling with her as some sort of protector.
The servant whom the sultan had referred to as Amir arrived at a beautifully carved door that arched into a sharp point at the top. He opened it and stepped aside, gesturing for Lucy to enter. With a small breath of apprehension, she moved forward, her eyes widening at the opulence of what she saw. What a change from the small and simple room that Stanton had kept her locked away in. This was so incredibly lavish by comparison, with piles of fluffy cushions in rich silks and velvets, beckoning for someone to sit or lie upon them. Rugs in vivid displays of pattern and color brightened the floors. The windows stood open, their soft, veil curtains drifting back and forth with whispery airiness. There were low tables with brass trays carrying fruit bowls and wine glasses upon them, each with its own intricate design carved into it.
“Is it to your liking?” A deep voice rumbled from behind her.
“It’s incredible,” she muttered, stepping further into the sanctuary and looking around at all the details. A moment passed, and then she realized something. The question and her answer had not been spoken in French. She paused, hesitated, and then turned around to face the guard who was quietly standing a few paces away and regarding her. “You speak English?”
He nodded, and she breathed a sigh of relief—not because she didn’t speak French fluently, but because there was something very comforting about being able to converse in her native tongue. She studied him for a moment and was just about to ask how long it would be before they traveled when he stepped toward her instead and pulled her into a tight, and very unexpected, embrace. “What…”
“I’ve missed you so terribly much, Lucy.”
His voice was a low murmur, but it was also familiar. So was the body that she was being pressed against, she realized. She loved that voice and that body—had missed them both so terribly much these past six weeks. “William?” It seemed impossible, ridiculous even, given the way the man who was holding her looked. And yet she knew it to be true, and as her mind registered the facts, her arms circled around his chest to hug him against her with all her might. He’d come for her after all and had saved her. Tears welled in her eyes, and she allowed them to fall.
“I’ve been so worried about you, Lucy,” he whispered against her hair. “I’m sorry it took so long, but we lost track of you and…Bloody hell.” She heard his voice falter and choke and knew that he was crying too. He cared about her…more than she had ever dared believe.
“We?” she suddenly asked, frowning a little as she eased away from him so she could look into his eyes. He looked strange and unfamiliar with the beard he was wearing, and she reached up and gave it a gentle tug. “Does this come off?”
He grinned a little, lifted his own hand, and began pulling it away, revealing the handsome face that she loved so dearly. “Ryan and Trenton are here too—couldn’t have kept them away if I tried.” The beard came away with one last tug, and he began unraveling his turban until the fabric was in a heap on the floor.
Lucy’s heart drummed in her chest as he pulled her toward him once more, that same familiar heat diving beneath her skin. Her breath caught and her stomach fluttered with expectation as her hands swept over the well-defined muscles of his back, and then he finally lowered his mouth to hers, sweeping her off her feet. It was a kiss unlike any other that they’d ever shared before—full of longing, hope, and love. It was rough, and it was desperate, but it spoke volumes about their feelings for each other.
“Lucy,” he murmured as he kissed his way toward her neck. “I love you so very, very much.” He pulled back a little, and as she met his gaze, she saw the truth behind his words, and her heart swelled with happiness. He wiped his thumb across her cheek, and she realized that she was once again crying. “I was a fool not to tell you sooner, but I thought we had time…I thought I could keep you safe, protect you. I’m so sorry that this happened to you.”
“Things didn’t exactly turn out the way we’d expected, did they?” She gave him a sad little laugh. “But the important thing is that I love you more than words can say, William, although I must admit that I’d begun to doubt that you would come. I’m sorry.”
“I would probably have been skeptical too if I was you. It took much longer than I had anticipated.” He pulled her back against him and kissed the top of her head.
“None of that matters anymore.” She nuzzled her face against his chest, inhaling the rich, musky scent of him. “Right now, all I want to do is forget. Will you please help me?”
It was clear that he knew her meaning, for his mouth closed over hers once more, and his tongue swept inside to tangle with hers. So lost was she in the heat of the moment that she didn’t even realize that she’d been picked up off the floor until she found herself being settled upon the bed. And while he undressed her, William never stopped kissing. He kissed her cheeks and her jawline, the curve of her neck and her collarbone. His kisses scorched her chest while her fingers raked through his hair.
Before she knew it, her clothes were completely gone, and a moment later, so were his. She wanted to stop for a moment to look at him, but he kept on worshiping her with his mouth, and as his tongue swept across one of her n**ples, she knew that looking at him would have to wait. She was lost now and could think of nothing but the feel of his body against hers, the touch of his fingers as they drifted over her hips. And as he gently nudged her legs apart and kissed his way along her inner thighs, she could not stop herself from rising to meet him. This was heaven—complete and utter bliss.