for it and lure the men after me.”
She nodded. “Fine. Once I’m sure they’re after you, I’ll go back the way we came.”
“Be careful,” he said. “Put on one of the robes.” He tugged down a veil. “And it wouldn’t hurt to disguise your face.”
The sound of fabric ripping jolted through the tent. She clutched his arm. “That was close,” she hissed. “You’d better go.”
He nodded and started for the slit in the flaps, but she pulled him back. “Be careful.”
He grinned. “Don’t worry, ma belle . I’ll save my neck for you.”
With a frown, she turned away from him, but he grabbed her shoulder, turned her back, and kissed her hard. She sputtered a protest, but he silenced her with a finger on her lips. “For luck,” he murmured and was gone.
Bastien swore as soon as he exited the tent. The moon was full and bright and provided him no cover whatsoever. He wasn’t even lucky enough to be afforded a smattering of cloud cover. He heard another rip and saw El Santo and one of his men tear into the tent across from the one he’d just occupied. They each held cutlasses, and they were slashing through the fabric as though it were butter.
Bastien ducked behind one of the meager boards comprising the stall, but it did almost nothing to conceal him. El Santo stumbled out of the tent and turned for the one Bastien had just vacated. In that moment, Bastien clearly saw his escape. While El Santo and his man tore the tent apart and found Miss Russell in the process, he could secure a better hiding place. They’d take his cabin girl to Jourdain, and he’d follow. Of course, they might decide to rape the girl first. They might even kill her if she put up much of a protest—and knowing his cabin girl, she would.
But that wasn’t his problem. She had insisted on coming after him. He told her numerous times to turn back. He’d ordered her to turn back, but she hadn’t listened. Her situation was her own fault, not his.
“ Merde, ” he swore. Of course he wouldn’t allow El Santo to touch her. And like a fool, Bastien stood up when El Santo reached the cabin girl’s tent. “Looking for someone?” Bastien taunted.
El Santo whirled for him, and Bastien drew his sword. “Why don’t we stop this game of chase, and fight like men?”
El Santo didn’t lower his pistol, and Bastien cursed his misplaced sense of honor. He should have let them find the girl. She would only try to kill him for his pains.
“ Mon ami ,” Bastien said, spreading his arms in a peaceable gesture. He was certain he made a perfect target for El Santo’s pistol. “Do you remember that time in Algiers? It must have taken quite a bit of catgut to sew you up. Maybe you’d like to pay me back.”
“I’d rather just shoot you, señor. ” The sound of the hammer locking into place cut through the silence, and El Santo’s man laughed.
“But Jourdain wouldn’t like that.” He was reaching, but the shadow that crossed El Santo’s face told him he’d hit on something. “He wants me alive.”
“Alive,” El Santo said, “but not necessarily in one piece.” He lowered the pistol, aiming it between Bastien’s legs. Bastien’s groin tensed, but he kept his legs braced apart.
“Shoot me, then,” Bastien said with a shrug. “I just hope I don’t die before you get me back to Jourdain.”
The man with El Santo said something in a language Bastien didn’t know, and Jourdain’s lieutenant answered him harshly. Obviously they had differing opinions as to Bastien’s fate. While they argued, Bastien’s mind raced
There had been four men with El Santo earlier. Were the other three searching the marketplace, or had the group split? If he did take El Santo in a sword fight, what chance of escape did he have?
“Very well, señor . ” El Santo gestured with his pistol. “Put down the sword and come with us. We’ll let Jourdain decide what to do with you.”
Bastien cocked a brow. “You want me to surrender?
She nodded. “Fine. Once I’m sure they’re after you, I’ll go back the way we came.”
“Be careful,” he said. “Put on one of the robes.” He tugged down a veil. “And it wouldn’t hurt to disguise your face.”
The sound of fabric ripping jolted through the tent. She clutched his arm. “That was close,” she hissed. “You’d better go.”
He nodded and started for the slit in the flaps, but she pulled him back. “Be careful.”
He grinned. “Don’t worry, ma belle . I’ll save my neck for you.”
With a frown, she turned away from him, but he grabbed her shoulder, turned her back, and kissed her hard. She sputtered a protest, but he silenced her with a finger on her lips. “For luck,” he murmured and was gone.
Bastien swore as soon as he exited the tent. The moon was full and bright and provided him no cover whatsoever. He wasn’t even lucky enough to be afforded a smattering of cloud cover. He heard another rip and saw El Santo and one of his men tear into the tent across from the one he’d just occupied. They each held cutlasses, and they were slashing through the fabric as though it were butter.
Bastien ducked behind one of the meager boards comprising the stall, but it did almost nothing to conceal him. El Santo stumbled out of the tent and turned for the one Bastien had just vacated. In that moment, Bastien clearly saw his escape. While El Santo and his man tore the tent apart and found Miss Russell in the process, he could secure a better hiding place. They’d take his cabin girl to Jourdain, and he’d follow. Of course, they might decide to rape the girl first. They might even kill her if she put up much of a protest—and knowing his cabin girl, she would.
But that wasn’t his problem. She had insisted on coming after him. He told her numerous times to turn back. He’d ordered her to turn back, but she hadn’t listened. Her situation was her own fault, not his.
“ Merde, ” he swore. Of course he wouldn’t allow El Santo to touch her. And like a fool, Bastien stood up when El Santo reached the cabin girl’s tent. “Looking for someone?” Bastien taunted.
El Santo whirled for him, and Bastien drew his sword. “Why don’t we stop this game of chase, and fight like men?”
El Santo didn’t lower his pistol, and Bastien cursed his misplaced sense of honor. He should have let them find the girl. She would only try to kill him for his pains.
“ Mon ami ,” Bastien said, spreading his arms in a peaceable gesture. He was certain he made a perfect target for El Santo’s pistol. “Do you remember that time in Algiers? It must have taken quite a bit of catgut to sew you up. Maybe you’d like to pay me back.”
“I’d rather just shoot you, señor. ” The sound of the hammer locking into place cut through the silence, and El Santo’s man laughed.
“But Jourdain wouldn’t like that.” He was reaching, but the shadow that crossed El Santo’s face told him he’d hit on something. “He wants me alive.”
“Alive,” El Santo said, “but not necessarily in one piece.” He lowered the pistol, aiming it between Bastien’s legs. Bastien’s groin tensed, but he kept his legs braced apart.
“Shoot me, then,” Bastien said with a shrug. “I just hope I don’t die before you get me back to Jourdain.”
The man with El Santo said something in a language Bastien didn’t know, and Jourdain’s lieutenant answered him harshly. Obviously they had differing opinions as to Bastien’s fate. While they argued, Bastien’s mind raced
There had been four men with El Santo earlier. Were the other three searching the marketplace, or had the group split? If he did take El Santo in a sword fight, what chance of escape did he have?
“Very well, señor . ” El Santo gestured with his pistol. “Put down the sword and come with us. We’ll let Jourdain decide what to do with you.”
Bastien cocked a brow. “You want me to surrender?
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