Captive Bride

Chapter Twenty-seven

IT was midday in late September, and the slow-moving ceiling fans did nothing to alleviate the stuffiness in the small hotel dining room. Philip had arrived in Cairo only yesterday. This morning he'd managed to find a decently fitting suit, and had ordered everything else he would need for his journey home. Now he sat with a glass of cognac waiting for his meal, his mind a blank. He didn't want to think about his last eight months of living hell.

"Philip Caxton, isn't it? Imagine running into you. What brings you to Cairo?"

Philip looked up from his drink to see John Wakefield standing before him. "I had some business to take care of," Philip replied. He Iwondered if John knew that his business was with John's sister. "But it's finished now, and I will be returning to England at the end of the month. Won't you join me for lunch?" Philip asked out of courtesy.

"Well, I'm expecting someone for lunch, but I'll have a drink with you while I wait."

"Is it your sister who's meeting you here?" Philip asked, hoping the answer would be no. He had no wish to see her again—ever.

"Christina went back to England about five months ago. She couldn't stand Egypt. Can't say I care for it, either. The only good thing about my stay here was meeting my wife. We were married only last month, and we'll be sailing for home soon, probably on the same ship as you."

"I guess congratulations are in order. At least your trip here wasn't a total loss—as mine was," Philip said bitterly.. He would be glad to be gone from Egypt and the recent memories it held for him.

John Wakefield stood up and waved toward the entrance, and Philip saw two lovely women coming toward the table. John kissed the older of the two on the cheek and introduced Philip to his wife and her sister.

"Mr. Caxton is an acquaintance from London. It seems that we will be traveling back to England together," John informed the ladies.

"I can't tell you how glad I am to meet you, Mr. Caxton!" Estelle Hendricks gushed. "I just know the journey is going to be much more pleasant with you along. You're not married, are you, Mr. Caxton?"

"Estelle!" Kareen exclaimed. "That is none of your business!" Then she turned to Philip, a slight smile on her rosy lips. "I must apologize for my sister, Mr. Caxton. She's too outspoken for her own good."

Philip was amused by the young girl's boldness. "That's quite all right, Mrs. Wakefield. It's refreshing to hear someone speak her mind."

That night as Philip lay on the small hotel bed, he cursed his luck for running into John Wakefield. The meeting had brought Christina back to his mind vividly. He had hoped to forget her, but it was impossible. Every night, her image haunted him: her beautiful slender body lying beneath his; her hair when the light would touch it; her soft blue-green eyes and alluring smile. Just the thought of her had the power to arouse him. He still wanted her, even though he would never have her again.

At first, Philip had been determined to stay in Egypt. He couldn't go back to England and chance running into Christina. But everywhere he looked, he saw her. In the tent, at the pond, in the desert—everywhere. He just couldn't get her out of his mind as long as he stayed in Egypt

Philip had been ready to return to England four months ago. But then Amine's brother, Amair, had come to visit the camp, and had told Philip the truth about Christina's abduction. Rashid had planned the whole thing. He had wanted Philip dead so that he could become sheik himself.

Rashid had never returned to camp after taking Christina back to her brother. If he had, Philip would have killed him. Philip had searched four months for Rashid, but he'd disappeared.

The day before his ship sailed, with nothing better to do, Philip went down to the marketplace to stroll by the many open stands and small shops. The streets were crowded with bartering Arabs and Egyptians. Everywhere Philip looked were camels packed heavily with trade goods.

The fragrant odor of perfumes filled the air and reminded Philip of the first time he had walked through this marketplace, some fourteen years ago. He had been only twenty years old, and Egypt had been a strange and terrifying land. He had come to find his father, but had no idea how to go about it. He had known only his father's name and that he was the sheik of a desert tribe.

Philip had spent weeks walking through the dusty streets and asking people if they knew of Yasir Alhamar. Finally he had realized that he was getting nowhere. His father was a desert man, so Philip had hired a guide to take him into the desert. With two camels laden with supplies, they had set off into the scorching sand.

In the grueling months that followed, Philip had become acquainted with the hardships of living in the desert. The burning sun had beaten down on him during the day; the freezing cold had forced him to curl up next to his camel for warmth at night.

They had ridden for days without seeing another human being. When they had come upon Bedouins, either they hadn't known Yasir or they had had no idea where he could be found.

And then, when Philip was ready to give up the search, he had ridden into his father's camp. He would never forget that day and the look on his father's face when he had said who he was.

Philip had been happy in Egypt, but couldn't stand it anymore. He could not forget Christina as long as he stayed. Since there seemed to be no hope of finding Rashid, he had finally decided to leave.

He would go back to England, inform Paul of their father's death, then sell his estate. He might go to America. He wanted to go somewhere far away from Christina Wakefield.