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.“Peace be with you.Please to come inside?” She gestured toward the back door, where several pairs of shabby shoes sat neatly, side by side.Rafe, whose boots were designed to have a valet pull them off, sighed at this local custom and bent to pull them off.Ali ran to help, tugging at them with gusto.Laila ushered them into the tiny house; two rooms, one with several low divans, the second room a tiny curtained-off alcove.Their poverty was obvious.“Coffee?” she said.“Thank you,” he responded.The bitter, burned taste of Baxter’s coffee was still in his mouth, but he’d learned that Egyptians were intensely hospitable, and he didn’t want to cause offense.He didn’t need this woman’s cooperation, but it would be easier on Alicia if he had it.Laila wasn’t going to make it easy on him, he could tell.Her actions were hospitable, but those dark eyes snapped with suspicion.She brought back a tray containing two tiny cups filled with an ominously dark brew and a plate of tiny round sticky balls.She presented them to Rafe and the interpreter, then knelt gracefully on folded knees and waited for them to drink.She did not drink herself, Rafe noted.Rafe braced himself and took a cautious sip of the thick, dark coffee.“This is good,” he said in surprise.He took another sip, then another.He could get used to this style of coffee.“You know why I’m here,” he said.There was no reason to beat about the bush.Laila cast a glance at Ali, sitting cross-legged by Rafe’s knees, and said something in Arabic.“Sending him outside to sweep the yard,” the interpreter explained.Ali started to go, with drooping shoulders and lagging feet, the very picture of a martyr.“Here, lad, look after my horse, will you? Give it some water,” Rafe told him.He’d watered his horse at Baxter’s, but it would keep the boy occupied and make sure nobody bothered his horse.Ali’s face lit up when he understood, and he ran out happily.“You can go, too,” Laila said in English to the interpreter, surprising them both.She added, “My English not good, but enough.”Rafe nodded to the interpreter, who, looking slightly annoyed, left.Laila explained.“This between you, me, and Ayisha.I not know her English name—Alissya Cli—?”“Alicia Cleeve,” Rafe explained.He ate one of the sticky dumplings.“This is delicious.”She gave a terse nod, uninterested in his compliments.“You come to take my Ayisha to England.”“Yes—”“But yesterday you go to Zamil’s slave market,” she said.“Why?” She fixed him with a clear look.It was a bold frontal attack, unexpected from a woman.Laila rose slightly in Rafe’s estimation.“To see if he had ever sold this girl.You will, I think, recognize her.” He pulled out the picture of Alicia Cleeve.“It was suggested to me that she might have been kidnapped and sold as a slave.And that Zamil might know.”“Such evil has happened before,” Laila admitted.She held out her hand for the picture.“Ahh,” she smiled at it.“So, this is how Ayisha look before she came to the streets.” She gazed at the portrait.“So young and sweet, so innocent.Finish your coffee?”“Yes, thank you, it was very good.”“Turn the cup.”Rafe frowned.“I beg your pardon?”“Turn the cup.Like this.” She demonstrated, upending her own cup on the saucer, letting the thick grounds at the bottom drain.Bemused, Rafe did so.It was a custom he hadn’t come across before.It seemed rather messy.Laila handed him back the picture of Ayisha.“You married?”“No,” he said, surprised at the abrupt change of subject.“Why not?”It was on the tip of his tongue to blast her impudence, but he said stiffly, “I’ve been a soldier and away at the war for the last eight years.”“You hurt bad?” She glanced at his crotch.His lips twitched.Nobody could accuse this woman of subtlety.“Nothing vital.”“How many years you have?”“Eight and twenty.” He folded his arms and sat back.She gave a brisk nod.“Time you get marry.”“You and my brother, two voices with but one tune,” he said blandly.She gave him a thoughtful look, picked up his coffee cup, and stared into it a long moment.Various expressions flitted across her face.She murmured something in Arabic, glanced at him, looked back into the cup, and nodded again.Slowly her body relaxed.She sighed and put the coffee cup down.There was a short silence, then Laila said, “You will take my Ayisha from me.Soon, I think?”Capitulation? So soon? But he wasn’t going to question it.“She will have a better life than anything you can give her.”Laila nodded.“I know, and it is good,” she said, surprising him.“But she not want to go.”Was she going to try to touch him for money? “She will go,” Rafe said in a grim voice, “whether she wants to or not.Whether you want her to or not.She does not know what is good for her.”“You force her to go to England?” Laila said.“Kicking and screaming if necessary,” he confirmed.“And neither you nor anyone else is going to stop me.”“Good.” She pressed her hands together.“You must make her go.She is stubborn, you understand [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]