Lord of Desire

Shaking herself mentally, Alysson struggled to refocus her thoughts. How had they managed to change the subject? They had been discussing him, not her.

"I wish I had known you were part English," she said finally. "It would have made my captivity easier to bear."

Her wistful tone affected Jafar like a blow, making his soul ache.

Guilt smote him as he thought of the countless wrongs against Alysson that could be laid at his door. He had taken her captive, terrified her, humiliated her, almost gotten her killed. He had made war on her race and come within a hairsbreadth of slaying the man she loved. He had nearly caused the death of her beloved uncle. He had taken her virtue and destroyed her good name in the eyes of her society, perhaps destroyed her life.

At die time, when he had first embarked on his mission of vengeance, he'd had entirely justifiable reasons for every savage action he'd taken, every uncivilized thing he had done to her. But now, what he wanted most to do was take her in his arms and console her, to beg her forgiveness.

He stared down at Alysson, wondering at the bewildering gentleness she inspired in him. He had never felt that so strongly, not for any woman but her. How easily she could endear herself to him . , . No, she had already done so. She was dear to him. But was she so dear that he could put her interests before his own? Was he willing to let her go? Without warning, the word love invaded his thoughts. Was it love he felt for her?

The question prodded him like a dagger, as did his next reflection. If he truly loved her, he would value her happiness above his own. If he truly loved her, he would set her free.

But his feelings for his defiant young captive were not something he wanted to scrutinize, just as her freedom was not a subject he wanted to face. He wasn't sorry when Alysson interrupted his musings with a pensive query.

"Your being part English . . . does your tribe hold it against you?"

"In the past they haven't, but some consider my motives suspect for failing to carry out my oath. One member of the council has charged that my heredity caused me to sympathize with the Europeans."

"That," Alysson said emphatically, "is complete nonsense. I've never seen you act the least sympathetic toward Europeans."

He smiled tiredly. "Well, the charge will

have to be proven before the council. I will not give up my rule easily."

"Good."

Her obvious partiality warmed him, though her next comment made that warmth fade.

"You said our being here gave you greater bargaining power with the French, but I suppose your tribe would have been outraged at you if you had let us go?"

Jafar hedged, "That influenced my decision to keep you here, yes. I would have had difficulty defending my position if I released you before securing the freedom of as many of our war prisoners as possible."

Aware of his hypocrisy, but not wanting to explain his true reasons for keeping her captive, Jafar rose and went to the doorway. Alysson's next question, however, prevented him from leaving.

"Jafar . . . why didn't you want me to know who you were? Why didn't you tell me?"

Halting, he turned to glance over his shoulder, his expression enigmatic. "If you learned my identity, you would be able to lead your fiancé to me, to my tribe."

"And now you think I won't tell him, that I won't betray you?"

Would you betray me, Ehuresh? he thought silently. Aloud, he gave a different reply. "Now I think it doesn't matter. I have Bourmont's pledge not to come after you, if and when he is released. He gave you up . . . once he had my assurances that you would not be harmed.''

Alysson looked down at her hands, but not before Jafar caught the flash of despair in her eyes at the knowledge that her colonel had abandoned her.

"What else could he do?" Jafar said quietly, conscious of the irony in defending his archenemy. "His troops had just suffered a major defeat. He had wounded men who needed medical attention. And I had just spared his life when by all rights I should have killed him."

She raised her head then, her luminous gray eyes troubled and questioning. "Why didn't you kill him?"

Jafar hesitated. "Because of you," he replied softly. "What else could I do?"

Alysson had a number of disturbing reflections to ponder during the course of the following week. Jafar's background. The decisions he'd made regarding both herself and his blood enemy. His possible impeachment. His relationship with her.

He had given up his vengeance because of her. Not for Gervase, but for her. She was the reason he had betrayed his oath, and now his rule, his very future was at stake. It made her feel very humble.

As for their relationship, his revelations about his identity had not changed the circumstances between them . . . and yet they had. Knowing he was half English, she felt closer to Jafar, more attune to his thoughts and feelings. Which was absurd, considering that he treated her no differently after their discussion in the library than before. He still spoke French whenever they met in public, and he still played the considerate host, making every effort to entertain and please her.

Yet she was still his captive.