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Rashid nodded. "All his family."
"But he has a French name."
Rashid glanced at the tall man, Mufti, and grimaced. "There are things of which I must
not speak. Suffice it to say that Monsieur Sabon has the best interests of our country at heart. He is a
brave and good man." ' , -
"He is a kidnapper," she said firmly.
He shrugged. "Things are not what they seem, mademoiselle. We live in perilous times that may see
us undone, but we will do what we must to survive. In allah," he added, which was Arabic for
something like "God willing." He paused, then continued. "We are constantly under threat of invasion
by our enemy, who envies us even the small reserves of oil we have only just discovered."
Brianne listened. She'd never questioned where raw materials came from before, or how
they were obtained.
Miss Martin,'' Rashid told her, the Western nations are dependent on petroleum. We have the largest
supply in the region. In other times, the West sought to control and exploit the spice production of the
Indies, the rubber production of Africa, the tea production of the Far East. Even now, the rain forests
are dwindling because the West wants its lumber, and fast food chains want to clear it for lands on
which to enlarge the production of beef."
She sat wide-eyed, staring at them with complete shock. These men had seemed like ruffians, thugs.
But they knew more about the political reality of the world than she'd ever learned.
"You are very young," Mufti told her. "And you know very little of the ugliness of commerce or the
evilness of man."
"I know some," she argued. She stared at them curiously. "You both seem to be intelligent men. Why
do you work for Philippe Sabon?"
"I have four children," Rashid said. "One of them has a form of cancer that is killing him. Monsieur
Sabon pays for him to have expensive treatment in France."
"And I lost my family and my home when bombs fell while my wife prepared me meal for our two
little ones." Mufti's voice broke. He got a firmer grip on the weapon. "Monsieur Sabon heard of my
loss from one of my cousins in the village on the mainland. Only recently, he came to find me and
offered me work." Mufti shifted, as if something about his situation bothered him. Odd, he seemed
rather old to have small children. His hair was graying. In fact, he looked much the age Brianne's
father would have been, had he lived.
"Rashid, we talk too much." Mufti gestured with his weapon toward the door. "We should go."
Brianne felt less threatened than ever before as she looked at the lean, dark faces and saw the harsh
lines in them. Her life had been relatively carefree; at least she hadn't had to learn to use a gun and
fight in wars. The lives these men had led showed in their faces, older than they should have seemed.
She thought of Mufti's wife and children dying in a hail of bombs. She had to remember that there
were two sides to every story, and she felt sorry for the man.
"I'm sorry. About your family, I mean," Brianne told Mufti.
He looked sheepish and uncomfortable. "As if you had anything to do with it, Miss Martin," he said
kindly?. "It is a sad world in which we live. People are driven by circumstances and misfortune and
necessity to do many indecent things. I regret your capture. But it was a necessity." He hesitated at the
door. "Monsieur Sabon will not harm you," he added surprisingly. It was not for any immoral
purpose that you were brought here."
They nodded politely and left, locking the door behind them. Now, whatever in the world did that
mean? She wondered about it long after darkness fell.
There were voices outside the door. She heard a familiar one and caught her breath as she recognized
it. Sabon!
She got off the mattress and went to sit in the chair, stiff-backed and unyielding. She was still there
when the door was unlocked and Philippe Sabon walked in. He tossed a harsh command to his two
men and closed the door.
Brianne stared at his lean, scarred dark face and narrow black eyes with real fear.
He waved a hand impatiently. "No, no," he said quickly, "I have not come for that It was
convenient to let everyone think that I intended you for a depraved appetite, then not too many
eyebrows would be raised when you vanished. It would be assumed that I took you for... nefarious
purposes."
"I b-beg your pardon?" she stammered.
He sat down on the mattress and crossed his long, elegant legs while he lit one of the small Turkish
cigars he liked.
"I'm not such a monster that I enjoy ravishing innocents," he told her calmly. "Although I do find you
attractive, and if you were willing, and I were still whole, I might be tempted."
Her eyes asked the question her lips couldn't form. He laughed coldly. "You have no idea, have you?"
He leaned forward. "Since you will not leave this place for some time to come, I can answer the
question you fear to ask me. I stood on a land mine in Palestine on a business trip; a leftover horror
from one of many conflicts in this great region. The wounds were so terrible that I ceased to be a
man/' he added harshly.
"Hence the fiction that I have perverse appetites." He made a distasteful gesture. "It was kinder than the
gossip I would have attracted had the truth been known."
"I'm sorry," she said, and she was, in spite of her overwhelming relief that she didn't have to worry
about her own seduction now and his curious statement that she would never leave the island. It must
be... terrible for you.''
Terrible.'' He savored the word as he stared blankly at the tip of his small cigar. "Yes. It
was...terrible." His eyes lifted to her face and remained for a time, as if he were searching for
mockery or sarcasm or amusement. He found none of these in that quiet, gentle face. He grimaced. "A
woman like you can make a man ashamed of his baser instincts. If I had met someone like you before
this, I might have been very different. As it is, the well-being of my people is all I have to substitute
for any other pleasures I might lack in my life."
"What are you going to do with Mr. Hutton's bodyguard and me?"
He shrugged. "Those decisions will have to be made later. Hutton will surely come looking for you,
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