his face. “Even the most reckless thief wouldn’t take on a senior member of the Almabayn.”
The dread organization whose mere mention had cowed the Customs Office? She frowned and tried to find another option.
“A British steamer leaves tomorrow morning for Athens.” Enthusiasm brightened Gareth’s voice. “You’d be safer onboard her than a train since she can’t be hijacked once at sea. I’ll take the trunk and—”
“No, you will not!”
His clenched jaw warned her that her explanation needed to be very good.
“It’s my responsibility and I won’t yield it to you or anyone else.”
He propped his fist on his hip and glared at her. “Do you have another choice?”
“What if you told your friends I was your cousin?” She tried to think of a convincing lie.
“They’re a very conservative Moslem family who generously let me stay among the unmarried men, in the selamlik. You’d have to reside in the harem where your luggage could be searched in an instant.”
“Surely they wouldn’t…”
“Maybe not. But this town lives on spies and corruption. Bribe a servant with a few pounds and they’d find that trunk fast enough.”
“Oh.” She beat on the high mantelpiece with her palms, ignoring the elegant plasterwork and etched mirror above it.
“Honey, the only place you’ll be safe is on the fastest train out of town.”
“No. St. Arles ruined my honor and I can’t let him destroy my friends’ honor, too, by saying they’re worthless.”
Gareth went very quiet behind her, a murderous look in his eyes.
“Isn’t there some way for a European man and woman to share quarters in a Moslem household?” She turned to face him, tired of fencing through a mirror. “That is, if you’d be willing to.”
“Share a suite to protect you? Yes, of course.”
Her heart thrilled at his emphatic willingness to look after her—until he went on.
“But it’s impossible here, especially at Kerem Ali Pasha’s house. Moslem sensibilities would never tolerate two unmarried people living together.”
Marriage, the focus of a thousand shattered dreams. She cast the images aside yet again with all their remembered pain.
“We could pretend—” she began.
“Impossible.” He grimaced. “He already knows I’m not wed, since it came up while I was carousing with his son. Plus, the spies would probably mention the lack of a local wedding.”
Marriage. What did she have to lose? She’d already been pilloried for her failures.
She might gain some memories of Gareth, to banish the nightmares of St. Arles with.
“Then why pretend?”
“What do you mean?” He shoved his hands onto his hips, forcing his jacket back from his broad shoulders, and glared at her.
“Will you marry me? Whether in a church or the embassy, I don’t care, so long as it’s legal and keeps me here in Constantinople.” Her mouth was drier than the Arizona desert and her heart was flinging itself into her throat like a frenzied jackrabbit.
“Are you insane?” His face went dark and he stormed away from her. “We’d have to share the same bed. Ottoman families prefer very small houses so they can see more of each other; we’d never pull off a platonic relationship.”
Her heartbeat kicked up its heels and cartwheeled through midair.
“Whatever you believe is necessary and are comfortable with,” she gasped. “Or will you offend your friend by showing up with a wife?”
“I doubt it, since he’s always asking me when I’ll find one. But I can send him a note, asking him to hold your luggage while we get married. If I know him, he’ll invite us to stay with him rather than rent a house.”
“Good.” Perhaps his manners were the only reason he’d been so disturbed. If so, why wasn’t her pulse settling down?
“I’m not St. Arles,” he stated clearly.
“Thank God.”
He looked at her then and his lips curved in what was almost a smile.
“I’ve never hurt a woman in my life, Portia. But I am only a man. You have to understand that if we’re alone frequently together, sometimes I may think and act solely for our immediate pleasure.”
“Oh.” She carefully considered the warning in light of what Aunt Viola had taught her about men, rather than her stepmother’s sayings. “Are you telling me that you’ll frequently take advantage of me?”
“You’re a beautiful woman and a charming one. Better men than I have been driven insane by lesser temptations.” He continued to keep his distance from her, his expression unreadable. “You should return to Paris.”
“No!” She could be intimate with Gareth, possibly often. It was everything she’d once dreamed of, no matter how much St. Arles had made her shudder