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mingled with hay and manure.
    “No,” Sacha said shortly. “All is not well. I feel like a Judas.”
    “There’s no reason for you to feel a traitor.” Galen carefully wrapped a warm, damp cloth around his stallion’s delicate left front ankle. “The poison is drawing well. He should be ready to travel in a day or so.”
    “Why don’t you let Said do that?”
    “Because Selik belongs to me, and I take care of my own.” He lifted his head and met Sacha’s gaze, saying with soft emphasis, “Everything I own.”
    Sacha knew this was true, and it was the only fact that made this situation tolerable. “She’s little more than a child, dammit.”
    “Old enough. I’ve waited a long time.”
    “I know, but—”
    “I won’t use force.”
    But he would still have his way. Sacha had learned during these last six years how strong Galen’s will could be. “I like the imp. I’ve always liked her. She doesn’t deserve to be used.”
    “Unless she
chooses
to let herself be used.” Galen rose to his feet and patted the black’s nose. “And we’re all pawns in the scheme of things.”
    Sacha stared broodingly at him. “What wouldyou do if I asked you not to carry on with your scheme?”
    Galen’s stroking hand on the horse’s muzzle stopped in midmotion. “I’d consider it. You’re my friend, and the woman is your cousin.”
    “Consider, but not comply.”
    “You know how important she is to me. You’ve been to Sedikhan.” Galen continued to stroke the horse.
    Yes, Sacha knew the importance of Tess in Galen’s plan; it only added to his sense of being torn between loyalties. He smiled lopsidedly. “I’ve often wondered if that was why you persuaded me to go to Sedikhan. Am I a pawn, too, Galen?”
    Galen smiled. “Of course that’s why I wanted you in my homeland. Do you expect me to deny it? But it’s not a pawn you’ve been to me all these years.” He said gently, “I have no greater friend in the world.”
    Yes, they were friends, companions at arms, closer often than brothers. Sacha slowly shook his head. “Hell, I don’t know what to do.”
    “Do nothing.” Galen’s hand fell from the horse. He turned and picked up his black coat. “It will be her choice.” He shrugged into the coat, and then started toward the door. “Suppose I go and see what she says.”
    “Now?”
    “I thought I’d wait until after we’d supped, but I think I’ll have to put you out of your misery. You’ll be happier once the decision is made.” He grimaced. “And since I stink of horse and herbalsalve, you’ll know that I’m not trying to sway her with anything but reason.” He started for the door. “When that cloth cools, dip it into the bucket of hot water and apply it again. I’ll rejoin you after I’ve talked to Tess.”
    The chamber wasn’t overluxurious, but at least it was clean. Tess bounced experimentally on the bed and made a face. Hard as the pallet in her cell in the convent. Well, it did not matter. She refused to let anything spoil her last few days of liberty.
    She smiled in satisfaction as she untied the ribbons on her bonnet, took it off and sent it sailing across the room onto the cushioned chair by the door. That was better. She had always hated hats, but Pauline had insisted on providing her with dozens of the dratted things as they assembled a wardrobe for her before leaving Paris.
    She stripped off her long white gloves and ruffled her hair, sending pins and clips flying before she crossed to the washstand and poured water from the flowered pitcher into the basin.
    A knock sounded on the door.
    “Entrez,”
she called as she splashed water on her face. “You’ve been long enough, Sacha. It will be dark soon, and I’m hungry.” She reached for the towel and turned to face him. “And I do want to go back to the waterfront—” Her eyes widened in shock.
    Galen Ben Raschid stood in the doorway. “May I come in?”
    He didn’t wait for an answer as he took a few steps