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‘Juwan, I promised my mother...’
‘Tahira, that is another lesson which you have signally failed to learn. Your allegiance is not to a woman fourteen years dead, but to your brother, and to myself as his consort. Our wish is to have you married as soon as possible, sparing us all the pain of your most childish behaviour in defying us. Ghutrif will have his way. The easiest thing for yourself and the sisters you claim to love is to accept the inevitable with good grace.’
‘I do not claim to love my sisters. I love them with all my heart. Ever since our mama died...’
‘Spare me.’ Juwan made no attempt to hide her animosity. ‘You think yourself a surrogate mother to those three, but you are serving them very ill. It is not only my husband who believes you are an unhealthy influence. I see it for myself, the effect you have on them—but Tahira says, but Tahira doesn’t think—so many times every single day I hear those words. I am the wife of the Crown Prince, this is my harem, those girls have a duty to obey me without question.’
‘I don’t teach them disobedience, but I will not deny that I do encourage them to question what does not seem right or fair. My mother raised me to—’
‘Your mother is long dead,’ Juwan spat. ‘Your mother, who put her daughters before her only son, who failed to give Ghutrif his rightful place as the King in waiting. Your mother is no shining example to follow.’
Tahira struggled, but no amount of deep breaths and clenched fists could hold back the tears which gathered on her lashes. It was far too late now for her to rein her emotions in. ‘Ghutrif was always jealous, especially of me. You must not believe the stories he tells, for you must know how he slants things, colours things...’
‘How dare you criticise my husband!’ Juwan heaved herself to her feet. ‘Ghutrif is right. The sooner you are gone from here, the better. We cannot risk those other three following your bad example. It is time they learned that it is in everyone’s interests, not least their own, to let you go. Time they learned how selfish they have been. Alimah and Durrah in particular are forever begging me to ask my husband not to make another match for you.’
‘They are young. Do not judge them too harshly. Ishraq is more reconciled to her fate.’
‘Perhaps, but where you lead they will all follow eventually, even Ishraq. Do you really want them to reject the excellent marriages your brother will make for them? Do you wish to deprive them of the joy of children of their own?’
‘No, of course I do not! Quite the opposite, in fact. I’m offering to give up any prospect of marriage in order to better prepare them for theirs.’
‘Have you asked them if that’s what they want, for their dearest sister to sacrifice so much for them?’
‘It’s no great sacrifice from my perspective.’
Juwan shook her head, smiling in that condescending way that made Tahira wish to knock her turban off. ‘You have been a mother to those three for many years, but they no longer require a mother. Ishraq is almost twenty years old, more than ready for marriage. You are spoiling her chances and, fiercely loyal as she is, you may believe me when I tell you that she is becoming frustrated with your intransigence. She wants to establish her own harem, to raise her own family. As for Alimah and Durrah, they may be young yet, but in three or four years’ time they too will wish to fly this nest. It is the natural order of things. Only you are behaving unnaturally. Fortunately, though you may not believe it, my husband and I know what is best for you. The Murimon alliance would have been an excellent one, but that ship has sailed,’ Juwan said brusquely. ‘What matters now is to find you a replacement husband as a matter of urgency. You are twenty-four years old, a full three years older than I, but not yet past marrying age. The match being arranged for you will not be so prestigious, but you had better make sure you accept it with alacrity.’
Panic made Tahira forget herself. She clutched at Juwan’s sleeve. ‘Has my brother—or goodness, don’t tell me that my father...?’
Juwan carefully removed her fingers. ‘As you know perfectly well, our beloved King Haydar is far too frail to take an active role in any matters of state, and entrusts my dear husband to act on his behalf. Ghutrif is expending a great deal of energy in order to secure a suitable husband for you and is making excellent progress. I hope you will be suitably grateful. This harem has become a place of turmoil when it should be an oasis of calm while I await the birth of my son. If you cannot act out of a sense of duty towards me or my husband, demonstrate your avowed love for your sisters by embracing the next offer made for your hand.’ Juwan glanced up at the row of high arched windows. ‘It grows dark, long past time for me to retire. I bid you goodnight.’
* * *
Tahira watched her sister-in-law sway across the courtyard like a dhow in full sail before making swiftly for her own quarters, her thoughts already turning to the night ahead. She would have to be extremely careful. The merest hint of her sense of excited anticipation might arouse suspicion. Her sister-in-law saw a great deal more than she let on. They all did, here in the stifling atmosphere of the official harem, and no doubt it was the same over the wall, in the unofficial harem inhabited by her brother’s concubines. There was little else to do save to observe and to gossip, for those who had not the key to freedom.
But Tahira did. Her heart jumped. Butterflies fluttered in her tummy. Juwan’s little talk had left her feeling both furious and defiant. She did not want to accept the stark truth which had been laid out before her. She did not want to think of the fate which imminently awaited her, or the pain of separation it implied. She did not want to admit that there was any truth in anything Juwan said. All she wanted was to escape. The sensible thing would be to keep her head down, play the supplicant, act the penitent. But that was for tomorrow. Tonight, Christopher was awaiting her.
Christopher. The perfect antidote to her unpalatable reality. A man with no surname and precious little background. A man of mystery with a mystery of his own to resolve. He had most certainly not told her the full story behind that priceless amulet, a fifteen-hundred-year-old relic that might even prove to be part of her very own heritage. How she had managed to contain her astonishment when she realised it might actually have been passed down through the generations of her own family was anyone’s guess. One of her own ancestors might actually have worn it. When she touched it, she had sensed the connection, she was certain of it. Just thinking about it gave her goose bumps. It was not just serendipity. The fates had placed her there at the mine last night, they meant her to help Christopher solve the mystery of the amulet. She, who knew better than anyone in the whole of Nessarah the history of the kingdom’s mines. She, who might even be a direct descendant of the person for whom the amulet was fashioned. No wonder it seemed to speak to her heart. She laughed at herself for being so fanciful, but she believed it to be true all the same.
Christopher, however, felt no such attachment to the amulet. Her smile faded as she recalled his expression when he looked at it. Not a precious link to a distant past, but an unwelcome link to his own history that he wanted to sever. How quickly his mood had swung last night. He had looked at the beautiful piece of jewellery with such loathing. That devil-may-care façade she found so attractive hid a much darker, more tortured soul. Christopher was not a man she would care to cross.
But he was definitely a man she wanted to know better. Tahira wrapped her arms around herself. A man who saw her, a woman without a royal title or impeccable blue-blooded lineage, but like him, without a name and with precious little background. Christopher had made it very clear he liked what he saw. That a man so vital, so wildly attractive could be attracted to her—she couldn’t quite believe it. Last night, she had rather desperately wanted him to kiss her. The ultimate temptation and the ultimate deterrent, he had called her innocence. Was it wrong of her to wish that innocence away?
Yes, Tahira acknowledged with a wicked smile, very wrong but very appealing. Not that she would ever dare surrender what amounted to her most marketable asset, but there was no harm in travelling a very little way down the sinful path, when no one would ever know, was there? If one thing had become clear from her discussion with Juwan, it was that the days of her current life were severely numbered.
Talking of time! Tahira checked her watch, and gave a gasp of surprise. It was later than she realised. More than time for her to assume the garb of her alter ego and escape from the harem under cover of darkness, to keep her assignation with the mysterious and brooding foreigner. After all, it would be foolish not to take maximum advantage of what little time, and personal freedom, she had left.
Chapter Three (#uec5dc609-7773-581a-9bfe-5eb488360d72)
‘Do you think the early indications are encouraging?’
Christopher dropped down on to the sand beside Tahira. They were sitting at the base of the rocky outcrop, on the opposite side from the mine entrance. ‘It is too soon to make any judgement as yet, we have only examined a small section of the site so far.’
‘I understand that. It is only that I so desperately want this to be the turquoise mine you have been searching for.’
‘No one could wish that more than I.’ They had not uncovered a shred of evidence of mining activity in ancient times in the course of the night. Could his instincts be wrong? Christopher wondered. No, he would not contemplate that possibility. Instead, he contemplated the woman seated opposite him. While they worked together, her knowledge and enthusiasm had made it easy to become absorbed in seeking evidence of the past, but now, seated within inches of her graceful, sensuous body, her glossy fall of hair, he was once again acutely aware of her allure.
‘It is a beautiful night,’ Tahira said, looking wistfully up at the sky. ‘How I would love to sleep under the stars. To wake in the cool, fresh dawn, to see the desert come alive at the beginning of a new day, to have nothing around me save the sky and the sand.’
‘What’s stopping you?’ he asked, distracted by the image of her newly woken, rumpled from sleep.
‘I cannot risk returning in daylight,’ she answered, and he castigated himself for his thoughtless question, when he saw her sad little smile. ‘Though to be honest,’ she added, ‘if I were caught, I can’t see how the punishment could be any worse than the fate they have already planned for me.’
‘Fate? What fate? What do you mean, punishment? Tahira, do they suspect—?’
‘Nothing,’ she interrupted hastily. ‘I only meant...’ She looked away, shielding her eyes with her lids, and gave a heartfelt sigh. ‘My brother’s wife had one of her little talks with me earlier. They have become a tediously regular thing, and she put me quite out of temper for her words were obviously his, but he does not deign to speak to me himself. I have always known that my freedom would come to an end eventually, now I know it will be sooner, rather than later. This could well be my last opportunity to explore our ancient heritage. I hope for my sake as well as yours that it proves fruitful.’
Her smile was forced, her voice forlorn. Christopher covered her hand with both of his. ‘Why so? If no one knows that you escape...’
‘I cannot escape marriage, and that is my fate. One I have been raised to, after all, and so one I should be able to accept with good grace.’
He should not have been surprised. What was more surprising was that such a beautiful woman was not already married. Christopher dropped her hand. ‘You are betrothed?’
Tahira shook her head. ‘I was. Have been. Twice. And both times, it has come to nothing.’ Another sigh, and a little shrug. ‘What I deem to be two fortunate escapes, my sister-in-law tells me have placed a shameful stain upon my character. A stain so obvious that I am surprised you have not commented on it.’
‘Good Lord,’ Christopher exclaimed, resorting to English. His travels had taught him to be wary of criticising the customs of the many kingdoms he had traversed, but his own recently discovered history meant this was one thing guaranteed to make him reach instinctively for his scimitar. He did so now. ‘Are they forcing you to marry against your will?’
‘No!’ She covered the hand resting on his sword hilt with her own. ‘No, it is not like that.’
‘You do not have to do as they bid you, Tahira.’
She sighed, shaking her head. ‘If I do not do as they wish, it is not only I who would suffer the consequences, but my sisters. The reason my sister-in-law’s little chat has put me so out of sorts is that I can’t dispute the facts, much as I’d like to. It is my duty to marry, my brother’s duty to provide me with a suitable husband.’
‘Your brother! I thought you said your father was still alive.’
‘He is, but he is very frail. It is my brother who reigns, in all but name.’
‘Holds the reins, you mean?’
‘Oh! Yes, that’s what I meant, of course.’
The situation could not but revolt him, could not but remind him of another young woman destined to play the dynastic pawn, powerless to resist the will of her family, no matter what her own wishes might have been. Had she lived, would she have braced herself, as Tahira was doing, to bend her will to theirs? Or would she have resisted, and by doing so reshaped both their lives?
He would never know, and it was pointless speculating, Christopher told himself sternly. Thirty years ago, it was ancient history now. He should be wary of making comparisons, wary of allowing his judgement to be clouded by doing so. ‘Your brother,’ he said gruffly, ‘he will surely take your wishes into account? If you did not like the man...’
‘My brother would probably mark that a point in his favour,’ Tahira interjected bitterly.
‘You can’t mean that!’
‘Do you have any brothers, Christopher?’
I have five daughters, sir. That hated voice. ‘No,’ he said, ‘no brothers.’
‘You are fortunate. My brother is two years younger than me, but he has always demanded deference from everyone, and when he does not receive it, he is adept at finding ways to punish any miscreants. When I was little, it took the form of childish vindictiveness. Spoiling my games with my sisters, breaking our playthings, pinching, kicking, biting. It is no wonder that my sisters and I despise him. But now that he is in charge of our household, he can happily play the despot, pay us back for all those years when we would not love him, or pay homage to him.’
‘You exaggerate, surely? A grown man would not act so pettily.’
‘My brother’s actions are—they cannot be questioned,’ Tahira said, her lip curling. ‘Now he has decided that I am a bad influence on my sisters, he is determined to separate us.’ She blinked furiously. ‘That is why I find it so hard to reconcile myself to doing my duty. I have another duty, to the dead. I promised Mama, you see, that I would look after my sisters.’
‘You clearly love them very much.’
‘Yes.’ She clasped her arms tightly around herself. ‘More than anything. When Mama died, I was ten years old, four years older than my next sister. I have kept my promise to look after them all these years. The youngest two don’t know another mother.’ She bit her lip, clearly making a huge effort not to cry. ‘When my brother finds a husband for me I will be forced to break my promise and leave them. My sister-in-law said only tonight that I am making everyone unhappy, that I am being selfish, spoiling my next sister’s chances. She says that they no longer need me. I know she wants nothing more than to have me gone, but I can’t help wondering if some of what she says might be true.’
A single tear ran down her cheek. She brushed it hastily away, and his hand too, when he reached instinctively to comfort her. ‘No, don’t say you feel sorry for me. In my heart I have always known this day would come, but I simply hoped—however, I can no longer hope. You see now why it means so much to me, to explore this site, to help you with your quest?’
What could he say? Certainly not what was on his mind, which was to suggest that she told her brother to go and drown himself in an oasis. So he clutched weakly at a straw. ‘Your brother has not yet found another suitable candidate for your hand?’
‘Not yet, but he is actively seeking one.’ Tahira had control of herself now. She unfolded her arms, pushing her long plait of hair back over her shoulder. ‘My sister-in-law was right about one thing. I have been making everyone’s lives miserable, myself included, but most especially my sisters. I had not quite appreciated—but now I do. I must resign myself to my fate and try to reconcile them to my leaving.’
Christopher clutched at another straw. ‘It won’t be for ever,’ he said. ‘I’m presuming your husband will be a local Nessarah man. You will be allowed to visit your sisters regularly, I’m sure.’
She flinched, opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Gazing down at her hands once more, her brows drew together in a frown. What was she thinking? The frown cleared. When she looked up, her smile was forced. Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to share it with him. ‘There,’ Tahira said, ‘now you know my all-too-common fate, let us talk no more of it. You are fortunate, being free to go wherever you choose, whenever you choose. Unlike me, you are in charge of your own destiny.’
‘Not yet, but I will be.’ It was no good, he couldn’t let it go, no matter how much she wanted him to. ‘Your situation, however, is intolerable.’
‘No. In many ways I am very fortunate. There are many women who would give a great deal to be in my shoes. I should remember that.’
‘But...’
‘I must accept the inevitable because there is nothing I can do to change it. I am trying very hard to do so, Christopher, please don’t make it even harder for me.’
He swore under his breath. ‘I’m sorry. We are from very different worlds, but it seems there are some things—I was informed recently that I was fortunate to be born a man. Though it goes against the grain with me to accept any words spoken by that particular man, it seems he was in this instance right. Is there truly nothing you can do?’
‘Only what I have already decided, which is to make the most of my time, helping you here. Unless you can spirit me away on a flying carpet, of course.’
This time, he accepted her change of subject. Further discussion was futile. ‘I’ll check if there is a magic carpet stall at the bazaar,’ Christopher replied. ‘Where would you like to fly to if there is?’
* * *
Relieved, Tahira smiled. ‘Somewhere far away from here. Somewhere which doesn’t exist, or a place that is hidden by the mists of time, visible only to me. A ruined city, or even better, my own little oasis, a place where I can pitch a tent and keep goats and grow fruit.’
Christopher laughed. ‘You wish for the life of a peasant. Why not wish for a sumptuous palace, a posse of servants to gratify your every whim?’
‘The very last thing I’d want,’ Tahira replied with an inward shudder. He did not understand. How could he, when he had no idea of her true station? Was it wrong of her to keep him in the dark? But if she told him, it would change everything. She would no longer be simply herself. He would look at her and see all the trappings she left behind at the palace—if he looked at her at all, for wasn’t it more likely that he would put an immediate end to their time together? And rightly so, for if they were discovered together, everyone would assume the worst, and even though his nationality might earn him some protection, at the very least he would be thrown into prison.
It was wrong of her. While Christopher could admire the courage of an ordinary female for escaping her home, pursuing her dreams, rebelling against the fate her family planned for her, he would be shocked that a princess of royal blood could behave so indecorously. Her breeding, her position, would form an impenetrable wall between them.
Yet the chances of them being caught together were so very slim. And even if they were discovered, she had never been seen in public without her cloak and veil. No one would recognise her. No, it was too unlikely to worry about. If she were to be caught at all, it would be entering or leaving the palace, and since that had not happened yet, despite a few close shaves—she was worrying over nothing.
Besides, she desperately wanted to help Christopher to solve the mystery of the amulet. She wanted time to prove that the ancients had mined turquoise here. The conclusion of his quest would bring their time together to a natural end soon enough. Surely it wasn’t too much to expect, to make the most of however many days or weeks it turned out to be? Too much to expect, yes, but surely not too much to ask. She needed to store up memories to sustain her for the rest of her life.
A quirked eyebrow told Tahira that she’d been silent for too long. ‘I was dreaming of my life as a goatherd.’
‘You don’t mean it, do you? That’s what you’d have, if you could have any wish?’
‘No, I am not so silly as to think I could really survive in such a way.’
‘What would you wish for then?’
‘Right now? Oh, silly things. I’d like to take a swim in an oasis. Race a horse across the desert. Climb to the top of a huge sand dune and slide down it. Awake in the desert dawn. But I’ve already mentioned that one.’
‘But these are things anyone could do.’
‘I can’t,’ Tahira said simply. ‘I am not free to spend the night in the desert. Even if I could find an oasis big enough to swim in, I would not dare do so for fear of drowning alone. I have no horse, and as for the dune—I can imagine the feeling, but the practicalities elude me—how does one slide down sand? You see, they are modest dreams, but no more achievable for me than flying on a magic carpet.’
‘And that is it, the sum total of your desires?’
She recalled her earlier thoughts. Dare she? He was so close, she could feel the heat from his body. He smelled of warm skin, lemon soap, something else distinctively masculine. Her heart was pounding. What if he refused? But if she did not ask...
‘I wish that you would kiss me, Christopher.’
He inhaled sharply. ‘Tahira...’
‘That was unfair of me. Ignore me.’
‘Tahira, you are impossible to ignore.’ He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. ‘Your wish is my command.’
* * *
He kissed her. He could not resist kissing her. She did not taste of ripe peaches. She tasted of spices and of heat, exotic and sultry, exactly as she looked, and she set him on fire. Christopher struggled to keep the kiss gentle, struggled not to crush her delectable body to him. He flattened his palm over the sweep of her spine, the swathe of her hair silky against his calloused skin.
She sighed, the sweetest sound, and nestled closer to him. She was all sensuous curves, scented with jasmine. He licked his way along her bottom lip, then kissed her again as her mouth opened in response. Her fingers curled into his hair. Her breasts brushed against his chest. She angled her mouth, and she kissed him back, and he felt his groin tighten, felt the blood rush, and Tahira let out that soft sigh again, an invitation to pleasure he could not refuse. He kissed her again, his mouth shaping hers, but only for moments before she responded and he pulled her tight against him into a kiss he could easily have drowned in.
Which realisation made him tear himself away. She stared at him wide-eyed, lips parted in an innocently seductive smile that made him want to pull her back into his arms again for more. ‘Tahira...’
She shook her head vehemently. ‘I beg you do not apologise. I wanted you to do that.’
‘The desire,’ Christopher replied with a short laugh, ‘was entirely mutual.’
‘Really? Though that was my first kiss, I could tell it was not yours.’
Her words were an apt reminder—not that he needed one. ‘Which is precisely why I should not have kissed you.’ He could do nothing about his tainted heritage, but he had no intentions of allowing history to repeat itself. He was no seducer, nor ever would be! ‘Your innocence is entirely safe with me, I promise you. To take such a liberty, I of all people—’ He broke off, shaking his head to dispel the memory her words had unwittingly stirred.
‘But you did not. My instincts told me last night that you are an honourable man.’
‘It is not simply a matter of honour, Tahira.’
‘It was just a kiss,’ she said, clearly perplexed by his vehemence. ‘I don’t understand why—oh!’ She covered her mouth, looking horrified. ‘Do you mean that you have taken such a liberty in the past?’
