The Cobra & the Concubine (Khamsin Warriors of the Wind) by Bonnie Vanak

Badra. Trapped. There was no escape."
    Rashid’s voice scraped across her shivering body. "This is the real reason I loathed coming to England. He is here, in London. I know it. I cannot bear seeing him again. That face, his red hair, it haunts my deepest dreams."
    "How old were you?" she asked quietly.
    His long black hair curtained his expression. "Old enough to know what he did. What I allowed him to do. I was eight."
    Badra forced down the rising nausea, thinking of the little boy subjected to such horrors. For all she had suffered, Rashid had suffered double.
    "Do not blame yourself. I wasted years doing so. You must learn to live with the memories. With time, they will fade." Though she tried to assure him, a hollow note rang in her voice.
    He caught it. "Do they?" he asked. Doubt riddled his tone. "For years I have lived with this torment. I cannot look upon any Englishman without breaking into a cold sweat. I feel so ... ashamed."
    His haunted eyes met hers. ‘Tell me, Badra. Please. Tell me that it will fade, that I will be a man once more."
    Her heart ripped in half. She imagined a young boy’s terrified screams as Fareeq’s second-in-command indulged in his evil pleasure ... and then the boy’s shame as he allowed an Englishman to do the same.
    "You are a man, Rashid. A brave, honorable warrior. And no one ever doubts it. Your secret will remain safe with me."
    He touched her hand, nodded. Some degree of control had returned and his old, familiar look of command returned. "As will yours," he stated formally.
    She squeezed his hand. For a minute they sat, lost in memory. And regret.
     

     
    It was a horrible mistake, appearing at Lord Smithfield’s party. Badra realized that now. She had wanted to shut herself away and mourn her cowardice in refusing Kenneth’s marriage offer last year, but conflicting emotions tore at her. Her curiosity had won. She’d wanted to experience the English society that would have become her world had she married Khepri. So Badra had summoned a maid to help her dress and then went downstairs to the dinner party.
    Beneath her elegant emerald silk gown, Badra broke into a cold sweat as she glimpsed the crowd. Choking panic welled in her throat.
    The swirl of elegant women in ruffled silk gowns and the gentlemen in elegant black suits was flustering as Lord Smithfield introduced her. Men gave her speculative glances and smiles. The women were cool and assessing. Badra felt like a display piece, gazed upon and examined by curious spectators.
    And then a familiar face towered over the crowd. The Duke of Caldwell. Her mouth went dry.
    One woman in a lemon-yellow gown leaned close to Kenneth, clearly enthralled. Badra noticed several other ladies rivet their attention to him, too. His prodigious height, dark good looks and piercing blue eyes attracted females like sand to wet skin. With seeming ease, he conversed with his admirer.
    Then Kenneth lifted his head. His gaze caught Badra’s and held it across the room. For a single moment his eyes burned into her, scorching her with a heat more intense than her beloved Egyptian sun. Then he fastened his attention back on his companion. His deep, rich laughter sounded as he responded to something she’d said.
    Anxiety clenched Badra’s stomach. She was here in his foreign, imposing world. On her own. If she committed some grave social error, he would not rescue her. Sweat dampened her palms.
    As the footman announced dinner and they were ushered toward the dining room, full-fledged panic arose. She wanted to turn and run.
    But her feet, and pride, would not permit flight.
    An enormous table with a handwoven lace cloth featured shiny dishes, sparkling crystal and gleaming silver. The sour-faced footman stood nearby, his manner as stiff as the dark blue velvet and gold-braided uniform he wore. The relative casualness of Lord Smithfield’s usual dinners did not match this cold formality. No wonder Rashid remained upstairs.
    Her heart