Free Silver Angel by Johanna Lindsey Page A

smile. Her puffy eyes gave evidence of her misery. Captives weren’t to be pitied. They were merchandise, nothing more, though this one was much more valuable than most. And yet he did pity her. She was such a contradiction with her eyes spitting defiance at him while her mouth quivered with a touching vulnerability.
    Hakeem had unfortunately fallen a little bit in love with her, though he didn’t know it. But there was nothing he could do about the strange feelings she stirred in him. There was nothing he could do for her either. He wouldn’t even be the one to take her ashore, and once she left the ship, he would never see her again.
    What she needed was courage so that she wouldn’t get into trouble from her sharp tongue, which seemed to be her natural response to fear, and it was a dangerous response. A Muslim admired courage, but not insults; spirit, but not insolence. And Hamid Sharif, to whom she would be taken tonight, was not a man known for his understanding or patience.
    “Did you not tell me you were gently bred?” Hakeem asked her, setting the tray of food down on a little stool, which thusly turned the tray into an adequate low table. “An heiress? The daughter of an English nobleman?”
    “Bravo,” Chantelle retorted. “Your memory does you proud.”
    “I cannot say the same about your shrewishness, lalla .” He heard her affronted gasp but went on relentlessly. “If you had not told me these things about yourself, I would think you were a peasant. Peasants have no more sense than to bite at the hand that holds their life. A noble is wiser, having the sense to know when to give up the fight without losing one’s pride.”
    “Don’t you dare tell me how to act when you can’t possibly know how I feel!”
    “No, I cannot know,” he agreed. “I can only tell you that you have value, and so will be treated well and with care. But when a slave loses value, it is nothing to have him beaten, sold, or killed. That is never likely to happen to you, because your value is not in a strong back or a special skill, but in your comeliness. Yet undesirable traits will not be tolerated, and there are many punishments that can be inflicted without marring your value.”
    “Why do you tell me this?” she asked resentfully.
    “So that you do not make the mistake of appearing less than you are, and therefore lower your value. You are a lady, one with pride and intelligence. It is your right to expect to be treated as such, and so you will be, if this is how you act. A certain amount of fear is only natural. But how you deal with that fear is the question. Do you show it, holding yourself up to ridicule and abuse, or do you conceal it behind a bearing suitable to your previous class and station?”
    “I still don’t see—”
    “ Think , woman!” he snapped impatiently. “How you are perceived is how you will be treated. A village wench, no matter how comely, is known to be accustomed to hardship, and so need not be treated with the greatest care. Why subject yourself to that needlessly?”
    “Why would I? I am who I say I am.”
    “Anyone can say they are a lady and yet belie the point with their behavior. I know that when you insult me, you do not do it to hurt me, but to hide your own fear. But I have known you long enough to have discovered this truth. Hamid Sharif will not know you long enough to draw this same conclusion. Now do you understand, lalla? ”
    Subdued, Chantelle nodded, and even managed a small smile for Hakeem for caring enough to give her this warning, however unnecessary it was. She had grown used to the little Turk. She felt free to take her anxieties out on him, knowing that he wouldn’t hurt her. She would not be as voluble with a stranger. Or would she? She didn’t exactly think clearly in the grips of a panic, or react as she would want. She had learned that the hard way. A good dose of courage was indeed needed, only it still wasn’t immediately forthcoming.
    “ How do I