“Don’t interfere, Thea.”
“I will interfere. You know better. She’s worshipped you since she was a child of eleven.”
“Worship? She’s never worshipped me. She knows me too well.” He smiled. “You may not believe in my devilish qualities, but she does. She’s always known what I am. Just as I’ve always known what she is.”
“She’s a hardworking, honest, loving woman who needs a husband.”
“She’s more than that. She’s extraordinary, the light in my darkness. And she’s still not ready for me.”
“Ready? Most women her age have children already.”
“Most women haven’t suffered as she suffered. It scarred her. I can wait until she heals.”
“But can she?” Thea glanced toward the hearth again. Oh, God, Selene was no longer there.
“It’s all fight. She and Lord Douglas just left the hall and went out into the courtyard.”
How had he known that? Sometimes it seemed Kadar had eyes in the back of his head.
“Kadar, don’t—”
He bowed. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and bring her back.”
“Kadar, I won’t have violence this night.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t shed blood on the fine new rushes you put down on the floor.” He moved toward the courtyard. “But the stones of the courtyard wash up quite nicely.”
“Kadar!”
“Don’t follow me, Thea.” His voice was soft but inflexible. “Stay out of it. This is what she wants, what she’s tried to goad me to all evening. Don’t you realize that?”
Where was Kadar? Selene wondered impatiently. She had been out here a good five minutes and he still hadn’t appeared. She didn’t know how long she could keep Lord Douglas from taking her back to the hall. He was a boring, stodgy young man and had been shocked when she’d suggested going out to the courtyard. “It’s a fine night. I do feel much better now that I’ve had a breath of air.”
Lord Douglas looked uneasy. “Then perhaps we should go back inside. Lord Ware would not like us being out here alone. It’s not fitting.”
“In a moment.” Where was he? She had felt his gaze on her all evening. He would have seen—
“The Saracen was watching us,” Lord Douglas said. “I’m sure he will tell Lord Ware.”
“Saracen?” Her gaze flew to his face. “What Saracen?”
“Kadar Ben Arnaud. Isn’t he a Saracen? That’s what they call him.”
“Who are ‘they’?”
He shrugged. “Everyone.”
“Kadar’s mother was Armenian, his father a Frank.”
He nodded. “A Saracen.”
She should be amused that he had put Kadar, who could never be labeled, in a tight little niche. She was not amused. She fiercely resented the faint patronizing note in his voice. “Why not call him a Frank like his father? Why a Saracen?”
“He just seems … He’s not like us.”
No more than a panther was like a sheep or a glittering diamond like a moss-covered rock, she thought furiously. “Kadar belongs here. My sister and her husband regard him as a brother.”
“Surely not.” He looked faintly shocked. “Though I’m sure he’s good at what he does. These Saracens are supposed to be fine seamen, and he does your silk trading, doesn’t he?”
She wanted to slap him. “Kadar does more than captain our ship. He’s a part of Montdhu. We’re proud and fortunate to have him here.”
“I didn’t mean to make you—”
She lost track of what he was saying.
Kadar was coming.
She had known he would follow her, but Selene still smothered a leap of excitement as she caught sight of him in the doorway. He was moving slowly, deliberately, almost leisurely down the stairs. This was not good. That wasn’t the response she wanted from him. She took a step closer to Lord Douglas and swayed. “I believe I still feel a little faint.”
He instinctively put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. “Perhaps I should call the lady Thea.”
“No, just stay—”
“Good evening, Lord Douglas.” Kadar was coming toward them. “I believe it’s a little cool out here for Selene. Why don’t you go fetch her cloak?”
“We were just going in,” Lord Douglas said quickly. “Lady Selene felt a little faint and we—”
“Faint?” Kadar’s brows lifted as he paused beside them. “She appears quite robust to me.”
He’s not like us, Douglas had said.
No, he wasn’t like any of these men who had come to honor Ware tonight. He was like no one Selene had ever met. Now, standing next to heavyset, red-faced Lord Douglas, the differences were glaringly apparent. Kadar’s dark eyes dominated a bronze, comely face that could reflect both humor and intelligence. He was tall, his powerful body deceptively lean, with a grace and confidence the other man lacked. But the differences were not only on the surface. Kadar was as deep and unfathomable as the night sky, and it was no wonder these simple fools could not understand how exceptional he was.
“She was ill,” Lord Douglas repeated.
“But I’m sure she feels better now.” Kadar paused. “So you may remove your hand from her shoulder.”
Selene felt a surge of fierce satisfaction. This was better. Kadar’s tone was soft, but so was the growl of a tiger before it pounced.
Evidently Lord Douglas didn’t miss the threat. He snatched his hand away as if burned. “She was afraid she would—”
“Selene is afraid of nothing.” He smiled at Selene. “Though she should be.”
LAST BRIDGE HOME
A Bantam Book
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Bantam Loveswept edition published April 1987
Bantam edition / September 1992
All rights reserved
Copyright © 1987 by Iris Johansen.
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eISBN: 978-0-307-56788-8
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Iris Johansen, Last Bridge Home
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