Panther's Prey Read online

  * * *

  “Kourista, what are you doing out here?” Kalid asked, coming through the terrace doors and putting his arm around Sarah. “The sun is hardly up, it’s too early for you to be wandering around half dressed. Come back to bed.”

  “I can’t sleep,” Sarah replied, glancing over the balustrade at the tiled courtyard below, where a palace guard paced his lonely route. “I keep thinking about Amelia Ryder.”

  Kalid took off his woolen robe and placed it over her slender shoulders. “I have already sent the message to the rebels. I’ll make a decision about what to do when I hear their response.”

  Sarah looked up at him, his shadowy features barely illuminated by the lamps inside his bedchamber and the gray dawn. She had shared his suite in the mabeyn, or main court of the palace, with him for a decade now and the harem stood almost empty, populated by his grandmother and a handful of aging female relatives. He had been monogamous since his marriage, and she still marveled that he had changed his whole way of life for her, for Sarah Woolcott of Massachusetts. But one thing was yet the same: he remained the Pasha of Bursa, and the Sultan’s lieutenant in the western empire. He might not agree with Hammid’s philosophy or tactics, but he had managed to keep his position and his head while doing his best to give the people of his district some autonomy.

  Sarah was afraid that might change, and soon. Amelia Ryder’s kidnapping could upset the delicate balance Kalid had maintained for so long and force a confrontation. Kalid had hoped to keep the peace until Hammid died and left his more reasonable brother as his successor, but Hammid continued to breathe and Malik Bey grew stronger every day. Sarah could almost feel the pressure building, as if she were standing on a volcano from which steam was escaping as the ground rumbled beneath her feet. She knew that Kalid felt it too, but it was his nature to dismiss her misgivings in his protective way.

  “I remember how strange everything seemed to me when I first came here,” Sarah said suddenly. “And I at least entered Topkapi of my own accord, I wasn’t snatched off a passenger coach by a pair of bandits.”

  “You accused me of kidnapping you,” Kalid said, grinning. “I, on the other hand, looked upon the transaction as legal and binding, a legitimate sale.”

  “I still don’t find that amusing,” Sarah said crisply.

  He laughed. “I don’t think Hammid’s palace has recovered from your visit yet,” Kalid said, grinning. “I’m certain that Roxalena never did.”

  “It’s hard to believe that she’s married to Malik Bey’s brother,” Sarah said softly. “Osman always seemed so evenhanded and restrained, not the type to have a bandit for a brother.”

  “Osman ran off with Roxalena, didn’t he? A lot must have been going on beneath the surface there. And Malik is not at all like Osman,” Kalid replied.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I remember him as a lad when Osman used to bring him to Topkapi. Even then he was...”

  “What?”

  “Different. Intense, or...” he stopped. “Memorable.”

  Sarah stared at her husband. “You admire him, don’t you?” she said.

  Kalid shrugged. “Let’s just say I think I understand him. If I hadn’t been born to the position I hold I might be where he is right now. Quite a few of the people in this country see Malik Bey as a courageous freedom fighter, not as a brigand or some sort of criminal. And you used to be the tireless champion of democracy, if I recall correctly. That’s what Malik is fighting for, isn’t it? I should think you’d be right with him.”

  “I might be more sympathetic to his cause if he hadn’t abducted Bea’s niece,” Sarah said darkly.

  “Or if his eventual success didn’t mean the loss of Bursa for your son?” Kalid asked quietly.

  Sarah didn’t answer.

  “Quite a dilemma for ‘free the slaves, down with the despots’ Sarah, isn’t it, my darling?” Kalid asked. “You never imagined that your own child might have to sacrifice his birthright for your American ideals.”

  “Tariq would make such a fine pasha,” Sarah said sadly. “He would be fair and wise and take this district right into the twentieth century.”

  Kalid tightened his grip on her shoulders. “The days of the Sultan and his system are numbered.”

  “Will you miss them?”

  “I plan to survive them and forge a new government. With my family intact.”

  “Then you really are on Malik’s side?”

  “Let’s simply say that I’m not on Hammid’s,” Kalid replied dryly. “I will work for some sort of compromise, but I can see that the chances for that are fading. I’ll tell you this: when it comes time to fight, I will not take up the sword for the Sultan.”

  “So you’ll go with Malik?” Sarah said. She couldn’t quite believe they were actually talking about this; Kalid always evaded the subject, as if the choice wouldn’t have to be made, but Sarah knew he would never stand on the sidelines and let his fate be decided by other people.

  When the armies faced each other, he would be on horseback leading one of them.

  He kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry about that now; the immediate problem is Amelia Ryder. If she’s anything like you were when I met you Malik has his hands full. I almost relish the thought of him dealing with an American woman from Boston, I’ve had the experience myself. Now come inside and let’s have breakfast. The sun is up and Memtaz will be bringing the children soon.”

  Sarah took his extended hand and followed him through the terrace doors.

  * * *

  Malik saw that his captive was gone as soon as he opened his eyes. The ropes used to bind her were discarded in tatters on the dirt floor, and the burrow she’d created to get out was littered with freshly dug soil.

  He leaped to his feet, pulling on his tunic and dashing out of the tent.

  “Anwar!” he yelled, crashing into Matka, who was walking toward him carrying a bowl. Its contents flew out in an arc onto the ground.

  His lieutenant emerged from a nearby tent, his face still fogged with sleep, his hand on his pistol.

  “What?” Anwar called, looking around alertly.

  “She’s gone,” Malik said, running for his horse.

  “Who’s gone?”

  “The American woman. I’m going after her.” Malik untethered his horse and then vaulted onto its back.

  “How could she get away? You had her trussed up like a pig ready for slaughter!” Anwar replied.

  “I don’t know how, but she did it. I have to get her back.” Malik kicked his horse’s flanks and the animal surged forward.

  “You can’t leave now, we’ve got to plan the next train raid!”

  “I’ll be back in time to do it,” Malik called as he raced past his friend. “She can’t have gone far, she’s on foot.”

  Anwar stared after him in amazement, then looked at Matka, who was watching the scene with the empty pottery bowl still in her hand.

  “Clean up that mess!” he barked at her, then stalked back into his tent.

  * * *

  Amy ran until the sun was sinking, her mouth was dry and her legs would no longer support her. She reached a clearing and fell to her knees on a patch of grass, then sprawled full length, staring up at the afternoon sky through a screen of intertwining leaves.

  She was free, but she was also starving. She had no food or water and she was lost in a foreign country where she didn’t speak the language.

  Suddenly freedom had its drawbacks.

  She knew before she left that she wouldn’t be able to bring anything with her. She was too closely guarded and she didn’t know where any supplies were kept in the camp. It had taken so much effort just to get away that she thought once that was accomplished she would be able to handle the rest of it.

  Now she wasn’t so sure.

  The rebel camp was in a remote location, Malik had selected the spot for that reason. It was probably miles in every direction to another living soul, and she was still dressed in the
gauzy gown and thin slippers she’d been wearing when she was shown to the slave dealer.

  At the very least she would spend a chilly night.

  Amy turned on her side and wondered what the coming night would be like in these woods, a night with no softly glowing oil lamps or welcoming fire, a night with whatever wild animals the hills contained coming out to prowl.

  She shivered and decided not to think about it any more. She took off her shoes and dug her toes into the carpet of grass, closing her eyes.

  She couldn’t go any further just now and she might as well get some sleep.

  When she woke up she would see if there was enough light left to travel further.

  But after only a few moments of rest she heard a muffled sound nearby and her eyes flew open immediately.

  Malik Bey was sitting on the ground next to her.

  Chapter 4

  “Going somewhere?” he said.

  Amy leaped up instantly and took off barefoot across the grass. She was fleet and Malik was unprepared for her to bolt before his very eyes. She was halfway across the clearing before he caught her about the waist and brought her down. He pinned her arms as she kicked and writhed beneath him, flailing wildly even though it was obvious that she had no hope of getting away from him. For a second as he subdued her his face was pressed to her shoulder and his hair brushed her nose and mouth. It was surprisingly soft, smelling of the pine soap she had used herself, a rich contrast to the hard masculinity of his pinioning arms.

  He raised up on his elbows and held her easily, waiting for her to calm down, and when she finally did their eyes locked. His face was inches above hers, the only sound their harsh breathing, accelerated from the struggle.

  Amy stared up at him, her rage fading as she became aware of the muscular frame holding her fast, the sensual lips parted inches from hers. Everything about him became more vivid suddenly, as if her vision had improved: the black stubble covering his cheeks and chin, the wavy hair swept back from his forehead, the dark eyes boring into hers. His expression changed as he lay above her, his determination to control her melting into something else as she felt his body respond to hers.

  “Are you going to rape me now?” she asked him, her expression contemptuous.

  He released her suddenly, flinging her away from him and rising to his feet.

  “If I planned to rape you I would have done so already,” he replied quietly, facing away from her.

  “And why have you restrained yourself? Is that privilege reserved for my purchaser?”

  He turned and looked at her, saying nothing.

  “I know exactly what’s going on here. I know why I was taken and what you plan to do with me,” she informed him, gazing up at him from her position on the ground.

  “You know nothing,” he answered. He walked away to the horse she now saw tethered a few feet away and took two blankets and a hand stitched leather pouch from its back. When he returned he sat on the ground and removed a tinder box and a tied bundle of sticks from the pouch.

  “What are you doing?” Amy demanded, sitting up and pushing her hair back from her eyes.

  “Starting a fire,” he replied, striking a flint and then holding it to the fasce. It smoked and then caught. He tossed the bundle on the ground and then added bits of dried leaves and chips until it was blazing.

  “Why?” Amy asked, taking a step closer to him.

  “We can’t go back in the dark. We’ll have to stay here and return to the camp in the morning.” He threw a few bigger sticks onto the fire, nudging them into the flames with his booted foot.

  “I’m not spending the night here alone with you,” Amy said, and started to walk away.

  He was at her side in two bounds and caught her wrist. “It is about time you realized that I am not the worst thing that can happen to you in this country,” he said between his teeth. “Do you want to die of hunger or thirst in these woods? Or be devoured by hyenas? Do you? Or do you want to be set upon by bandits far worse than I, who will slit your throat and then desecrate your dead body until no one could tell that it had ever housed a human being?”

  “I didn’t realize there were degrees of brigandry,” Amy replied, snatching her arm back and rubbing her wrist. “How interesting to know that there are men even you look down upon. They must be very low indeed.”

  “You should be thanking me for coming after you,” he said, picking up more dry branches from the ground and tossing them onto the fire.

  “Thanking you! If you hadn’t abducted me in the first place I wouldn’t be standing in the middle of this wilderness having a pointless discussion with a common criminal. I didn’t come half way around the world to be treated like this!”

  He put his hands on his hips and glared at her. “And how have you been treated? Have you been beaten or violated or starved? Tell me, for I would like to know!”

  “Oh, that’s right, I forgot. You’re a great humanitarian because you gave your flunkies orders to feed me.”

  He strode away from her angrily, but she followed, sweeping in front of him to face him. “You must think I’m a simpleton. You’re taking care of me to get the maximum price when you sell me to some scoundrel like that odious man Halmad. I felt I needed a bath after he had just looked at me. You’re maintaining me the way a farmer maintains the livestock in his pens. And you came after me to safeguard your investment, for no other reason, let’s be clear about that, agha. So you answer me now, do I really have reason to be grateful?”

  “Your President is not the only American who makes speeches,” he said disgustedly, striding back to the fire and adding some larger limbs to it. “Come over here, sit down, and be quiet. Have something to eat.”

  She didn’t obey but watched him remove a packet of food and a leather bottle of water from his pouch.

  “Is that your kidnapping kit?” she said sarcastically.

  “I keep it with my horse always, for emergencies,” he replied, taking a long drink. Amy licked her lips and took a step forward hesitantly.

  “How exciting to think that I qualify as an emergency,” she said, but took another step.

  He saw her movement and held out a woven sack tied with a string. When she didn’t accept it he set it on the ground.

  “How did you find me?” she asked, finally walking over to the fire and sitting down next to him.

  “I’ve been tracking people and animals through these hills since I was five,” he replied, handing her the water bottle. “I had a horse and you left a wide trail. You were very easy to find.”

  She took a drink, guzzling the cool water, and he finally ripped the bottle away from her, alarmed.

  “Take it easy, too much at once after a thirst is sick making,” he said.

  It was strange to hear him using British expressions, stranger still to hear the Oxford accent emerging from his bandit’s mouth. What an odd hybrid creature he was: if the newspaper she had read was correct, the daughter of his sworn enemy, the Sultan, was married to his brother.

  And he certainly didn’t speak or smell like her American idea of an outlaw.

  “Did I drink it all?” she asked anxiously, the prospect of going thirsty again alarming her.

  “There’s a brook just through those trees,” he said, nodding to the left. “I’ll refill it in the morning.”

  She opened the sack he had produced and began to eat the contents, strips of dried goat meat mixed with raisins, berries and split hazelnuts.

  “This is like pemmican,” she said, chewing.

  “What’s that?”

  “The western people of my country prepare it for the trail. It’s high in protein and keeps indefinitely without spoiling.”

  He grunted.

  She chewed some more, thinking. “Look, can’t we make a deal?” she finally said, striving for a reasonable tone. “You want money. I can get you money if you let me go.”

  He shot her a sidelong glance but said nothing.

  “It’s true. I have money,
an inheritance from my parents. I’ll be getting it in ten months.”

  “Ten months,” he said, as if it were ten years.

  “But if you just let me write home to my guardian I can get an advance on it and he will send a bank draft...”

  “A bank draft from the United States of America?” he said, laughing. “Why not a cache of diamonds from the mountains of the moon?”

  Amy stared at him; she had never seen him laugh, and she was charmed in spite of herself. His teeth were white and even and his chuckle infectious. She looked away.

  “My aunt’s husband has an export business in Constantinople. I was coming to stay at his house when you snatched me,” Amy said, trying again. “He is wealthy and I’m sure he would pay a lot of money to get me back.”

  Malik continued to eat as if she hadn’t spoken.

  “And my uncle’s cousin is married to the, oh, what do you call it? I forget the title, the district commissioner or something...”

  He held up his hand. “Enough! You Western women talk too much. Finish eating and go to sleep.” He rose and stoked the fire, adding enough wood to keep it burning for hours. He shook out one of the blankets and tossed it to her.

  “You don’t believe me?” Amy asked, catching the woolen square. “It’s the truth! Why do you think I was on that coach in the first place?”

  “You could have been on that coach for a hundred different reasons and I am not interested in any of them. What I am interested in is sleep. I’ve been tracking you all day and I’m very tired.” He spread the second blanket on the ground and stretched out on it, closing his eyes.

  “Why would you rather sell me into slavery than contact my family? I’m telling you they would pay to get me back!”

  He opened his eyes. “If I were your family I would pay to send you away. Now if you don’t be quiet this minute I will leave you here for the leopards.” He rolled over deliberately, turning his back to her.

  “Aren’t you going to tie me up?” she said tauntingly.

  “If you think of taking off during the night, you should know that what you will find out there is far worse than what you will experience here with me.”