The other man stiffened, a stubborn expression settling on his lean face. Not that Dimitri was surprised. Rajih made no secret of his desire to keep Emma for himself.
“That is her decision.”
“No, you must be firm with her,” he insisted. “We both know how stubborn she can be. She will remain so long as she fears I am in danger, regardless of the fact that my enemies might very well use her to punish me.”
“You do not believe me capable of keeping her safe?”
Dimitri crushed his possessive instincts. For now all that mattered was that Emma was whisked far away from Cairo.
“Once she is in St. Petersburg, she will be under the protection of Herrick Gerhardt, the czar’s most trusted advisor. And more important, she will be too far away to be an effective pawn. That is the only true means to keep her safe.”
There was a pause as Rajih considered Dimitri’s request, then with a wry smile, he offered a dip of his head.
“I will do my best, but I do not perform miracles.”
“That is all I ask.”
The caliph turned to walk across the floor, pausing as he reached the heavy doors.
“It has been many years since I visited your country,” he murmured, his voice filled with a blatant anticipation. “It will be delightful to spend a few weeks at the Summer Palace.”
Dimitri clenched his hand, watching as the caliph stepped out of the room and the door closed behind him.
He should have stabbed the bastard with his own sword.
Indifferent to Dimitri’s brooding desire for blood, Josef moved to stand directly before him, his hands planted on his hips.
“Have you gone completely mad?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THE SERAGLIO WAS TRULY a place of wonderment.
Although recently refurbished, it maintained the charm of ages past with a domed ceiling decorated with blue-and-gold tiles to form a night sky slumbering above a large fountain carved into the center of the marble floor. The inner wall was covered by fine tapestries with a doorway that opened to the private gardens, while the arched windows on the opposite wall were covered by golden grills.
The furniture, however, was surprisingly European with several scrolled settees and an applewood writing desk situated beneath a framed mirror.
It was all very beautiful, but Emma was acutely aware of the heavily armed eunuchs patrolling the spiderweb of corridors and private rooms. It would be all but impossible for a person to slip unnoticed out of such a formidable fortress.
A knowledge that weighed heavily on her heart.
Ignoring the various refreshments served to her by veiled servants, Emma anxiously paced the floor, awaiting Rajih’s return.
Not that she was particularly reassured when she was at last led to the lower stables where Rajih hurried her toward the waiting carriage. Not after he revealed that Dimitri was to remain a guest of the pasha until Alexander Pavlovich could be convinced to demand his release.
“No.” With a jerk she freed her arm from Rajih’s grasp, her chin jutted to a stubborn angle. “I am not leaving until I am certain that Dimitri is safe.”
Regaining his grip on her elbow, Rajih steered her around the edge of the black carriage and away from the numerous servants milling about the stable yard.
“I promise that he is at considerably less risk as the guest of Muhammad Ali Pasha than in St. Petersburg where he no doubt possesses any number of enemies,” he said.
“But he is not a guest,” she hissed, “he is a prisoner.”
Rajih grimaced, casting a covert glance toward a passing groom.
“Emma, I beg that you keep your voice down unless you wish both of us to share his fate.”
She bit her lower lip, well aware she owed this man a debt of gratitude that could not be repaid.