John went to her door and opened it quietly. But Crissy was still curled on her side, her head resting on one hand. He walked into the room slowly and stood beside the bed gazing down at her as he had done so many times this evening.
She hadn't lost any weight and looked healthy, though dirty. She wore a skirt and blouse in the style of the desert people. But it was made of fine green velvet with spangled lace adorning the edges. She looked like an Arab princess.
She had said in her letter that she wanted for nothing. The man must have taken good care of her. And that just made it more puzzling, because John wondered how any man, once having her, could let her go. Christina had such unusual beauty. Something about her was different—stunning and yet indescribable—something that set her apart from all other women who were called beautiful.
Suddenly Christina opened her eyes and blinked a few times, obviously wondering where she was.
"It's all right, Crissy," John said.' He sat down on the side of the bed. "You are home now."
She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears, and the next moment she was clinging to Mm as if her lif e depended on it.
"John! Oh, Johnny—hold me. Tell me it was just a dream —that it never happened," she sobbed.
"I'm sorry, Crissy, but I can't tell you that—I wish I could," he said, holding her tightly against him. "But it will be all right—you'll see."
He let her cry herself out without saying more. When she was finished, he held her away from him and pushed back her hair from her wet cheeks.
"Feel better now?"
"Not really." She smiled weakly.
"Why don't you wash your face while I get you something to eat, and then we can talk."
"What I'd really like is to soak in a hot bath for hours. I've had nothing but cold baths for the last four months."
"That will have to wait until later. We've got to talk first."
"Oh, John, I don't want to talk about it—I just want to forget."
"I understand that, Crissy. But there are things I have to know. It would be better if we talked now, and then we can both forget it."
"Very well, I suppose you're right." She got off the bed and looked about the room. "Give me a minute to—"
She stopped abruptly when she saw the crumpled piece of paper that John had thrown on the table earlier.
"How did that get here?" Her voice held a note of anger.
"What's the matter with you, Crissy? I took it out of your hand before putting you to bed."
"But I thought I had thrown—" She turned quickly to face him, frowning. "Did you read it?"
"No. Why are you so upset?"
"It's my dismissal, you might say," she said lightly, only her eyes were stormy. "But it doesn't matter. How about that food?"
After supper, John poured two glasses of sherry and brought one to Christina in the dining room. He sat across from her with his legs sprawled beneath the table, and studied her face.
"Do you still love him?" John asked.
"No—I hate him nowl" she said quickly, staring down at the glass she held before her.
"But only a month ago—"
She looked up at him, her eyes flashing dangerously. "That was before I found out what a cruel and selfish man he is."
"Is that why you left him?"
"Left him? He sent me awayl He left me that note saying that he no longer desired me and he wanted me gone before he returned. He couldn't even tell me in person."
"Is that why you hate him now—because he sent you away?"
"Yes! He cared nothing for me or for my feelings. I thought I loved him, and hoped he would come to love me. But now I know how foolish I was. He didn't even care that I might be carrying his child!"
"Oh, God, Crissy—then he raped you!"
"Raped? No—he never actually raped me. I was sure I made it clear to you, John, in the letter I sent you. I thought you would understand that I gave myself to him. That's why I asked your forgiveness."
"I guess I haven't been able to accept it. I didn't want to believe it. But Crissy, if he didn't rape you—you can't mean that you gave in to him from the beginning?"
"I fought him!" she cried indignantly, trying to defend herself. "I fought him with all the strength I had."
"Then he did rape you?"
Christina hung her head in shame. "No, John, he never had to rape me. He had patience—he took his time and slowly brought my body to life. Please understand this, John—I hated him, but at the same time I wanted him. He stirred fires in me that I never knew existed. He made me a woman."
She started crying again. John felt miserable for blaming her for something that she couldn't help. But why did she defend the bastard?
John leaned across the table and lifted her face to look into her soft blue eyes.
"It's all right. It wasn't your fault. It was the same thing as if he'd raped you."
"I fought him, but it was the same way every time. I tried to escape, but he threatened to find me and beat me if I did it again. I was deathly afraid of him at first, but as time passed, I feared htm less. I even stabbed him once, and yet he did nothing. And then another tribe stole me, and he almost died getting me back. I realized then that I was in love with him. I didn't fight him after that, John. I couldn't fight the man I loved. If you can't forgive me for that, I'm sorry."
"I forgive you, Crissy. There are no rules in love. But you said you hate him now. Why do you keep defending him?"
"I'm not defending him!"
"Then tell me his name so I can track him down. He deserves punishment for what he did to you."
"His people called him Abu."
"And his last name?"
"Oh, John—it doesn't matter. I don't want to see him punished."
"Damn it, Crissy!" John yelled, slamming his fist down on the table. "He used you and then sent you back to me for the reward."
"Reward?"
"Yes. The man who brought you here asked for the money, so I gave it to him."
Christina slumped back in her chair, a slight grin on her lips.
"I might have known Rashid would do that. He takes money wherever he can find it. Abu will probably never know Rashid took the reward. And that's not why Phi— why Abu sent me back. He is sheik of his tribe, he has no need of money. He even turned down a sack full of jewels once."
"You started to call him something else," John said, raising one eyebrow.
"Well—he has another name, but it's not important" She stood up and finished the last of her sherry. "Can we forget about it now, John? I want to put him from my mind forever."
"Can you do that, Crissy?" He looked at her skeptically. "You still love him, don't you?"
"Nol" she wailed, but then she bit her lip and the tears welled in her eyes again. "Oh, God—yes! I can't help it Why did he have to do this to me, John? I love him so— I want to die!"
John held her close, feeling her pain. He couldn't stand to see her hurting like this—tearing her heart out over a man who didn't deserve her love.
"It will take time, Crissy, but you will forget him. You'll find a new love—someone who will give you the kind of life you deserve."
Chapter Twenty-two
TWO months had passed since Philip sent her away. Christina tried desperately to put him out of her mind. But she thought about him constantly. She prayed each day that he would change his mind and come for her. But he didn't come. She couldn't sleep. She lay awake every night wanting him, craving bis hands on her, missing his body next to hers in bed.
Christina had seen no one since returning, except Kareen. She liked Kareen instantly the first time that John brought her to their small rooms. Kareen asked no questions of her, and soon they became good friends. Christina knew Kareen was in love with John, and she was glad John loved her in return. They spent many days together, and finally Christina confided everything to Kareen—everything except Philip's real name.