Desert Jewels & Rising Stars

by Sharon Kendrick

  She read the document aloud in Gulf Arabic in a dazed voice. Eyes glazed with shock stared into his. ‘The marriage is void? But how…Alim, I told you—my family…?’

  ‘I found Mukhtar,’ he replied grimly. ‘He was persuaded to give me a written confession to his lies, and the deception he practised on your father and the imam. He’d forged your signature on a betrothal agreement, so they’d believe the marriage was legal.’ He held out a second piece of paper, Mukhtar’s confession. He didn’t tell her about Latif’s heartfelt apologies. He didn’t want any ghosts between them.

  When she finished reading the second paper, her hand lifted unsteadily to her forehead. ‘Alim…I’m free?’

  Her other hand reached out to him. He took it in his, again feeling the inexplicable sense of homecoming. ‘You’re free, Sahar Thurayya. Free to do whatever you wish.’

  Her eyes darkened; she shook her head. ‘But…my family? Do they know?’

  ‘They know,’ he said grimly. ‘They’re waiting to see you. You’re coming to Abbas al-Din with me—’ he checked his watch ‘—in five hours.’

  Her hand gripped his, her eyes dazed. ‘What? I—I didn’t hear you…’ She swayed.

  Alim cursed himself, and scooped her into his arms. ‘Too many shocks in a few minutes.’ He opened the door and, without looking to see if the assemblage of people inside his house watched them, he carried her into a spare room, laying her down on the bed. He removed the veil that was her shield, her protection against the world, and caressed her cheek. ‘I took your strength for granted, my star. Rest here until it’s time to go.’

  Eyes huge with uncertainty stared up at him. ‘What did you say before?’

  She really hadn’t heard him. He sat on a chair by the bed, taking her hand in his. ‘I got all the information within hours—Mukhtar’s escape plan failed when you left, and he ended up in prison. He was persuaded to tell the truth in exchange for a transfer to a lower-security facility.’ He didn’t mention the hours of haggling negotiation with Mukhtar’s lawyer as Mukhtar tried to gain freedom in exchange for his confession. Instead he moved to the point he knew really interested her. ‘I talked to your father last night, Hana. They’re in Abbas al-Din now, visiting your sister. They know you told them the truth. Any more is their story to tell—but they want to see you. We fly out in five hours.’

  A shiver raced through her. She looked anything but happy. Slowly she shook her head. ‘No.’ The word quivered, but sounded final.

  ‘No to what?’ he asked, frowning. His mind was sieving through mud right now after a sleepless night arranging for Hana’s freedom.

  ‘No to everything.’ She turned her face from him. ‘I need to go.’

  ‘No, damn it, you don’t. You’re not running away again, Hana. I won’t let you play the coward,’ Alim snarled, losing it without warning—and she stared up at him, her eyes huge, and filled with the strangest mixture of uncertainty, stubbornness…and intrigue.

  Exultation shot through him. She wanted to say yes, he could feel it—and she was responding to his fury with interest instead of in mockery. Hana would never accept orders—unless she trusted him, wanted and loved him enough to hope there could be a future for them…

  But one thing was painfully obvious to him: if she was thinking of a life together, she wasn’t ready to admit it. He’d known that last night even as she’d said I love you. She might want a future with him, but she didn’t believe in it. But if she came to Abbas al-Din with him, he was hoping to show her that, again, her deepest fear was over. It existed only now in her mind, like the monster in her childhood cupboard.

  ‘You’ve faced and passed the hardest tests on earth the past five years—so why are you being such a coward now?’ He purposely kept his voice hard. ‘You’re free of Mukhtar, free of the chains holding you. Your family made the wrong decision, and yes, they hurt you—but you love them. It’s time to stop running from them. It’s time you forgave them.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ she muttered, a frown between her brows.

  ‘You say that to me?’ He laughed in her face, pushing her away to bring her closer. ‘Do you have any idea how hard it was to face Harun, knowing what I’ve put him through in the past three years? Yet he paid my ransom without thinking twice, and came to meet me the hour I was released.’ He lifted her chin. ‘At least your family deserved your distrust. I deserved for him to let me die at Sh’ellah’s hand.’

  Her lashes fluttered down, reminding him of the hour they’d met—it was the only time she’d hidden her real self from him. Secrets, yes, but never had she hidden the person she was. ‘I’m not ready for this.’

  ‘You think I was ready to face Harun? Yet I was the one at fault, needing his forgiveness,’ he demanded, his caressing finger beneath her chin at odds with his uncompromising tone. ‘So tell me, Hana—when will you be ready to forgive them? Would you like to pick a day when you’ll finally feel brave enough to do the right thing?’

  ‘When would you have been ready, if the circumstances hadn’t forced you into it?’ Her cheeks blazed with colour; her lashes lifted to reveal eyes as aroused as they were furious.

  She was consumed with desire, because of a simple movement of his finger, and a plan flashed into his mind.

  Acting on it, he laughed in her face. ‘What circumstances? You mean that I chose to save your life and risk my own for you? Or do you mean that I announced my name and offered a ransom so you could get away safely? Are they the circumstances that forced me?’

  Her mouth set in a stubborn line.

  He shrugged. ‘I’m calling your bluff, Hana. Come back with me, or I tell your family how you’ve been risking your life for five years rather than face them—and then I’ll send them to you. You know I can,’ he growled as she stared up at him in mingled desire, fury and resentment. ‘This is going to happen, so accept it and move on.’ Before she could argue he bent and kissed her, deep and hard, gathering her close. He wasn’t above using any means possible to convince her to come with him. She needed reconciliation with her family as much as he’d needed to face Harun and apologise for the nightmare he’d created of his brother’s life by disappearing.

  Half expecting a rebuff, or for her to lie stiff and cold beneath him, he felt jubilation soar when she moaned and wound her arms around his neck, meeting his passion with blazing flame. She arched against his body, moving in delicious friction, her hands in his hair, caressing him with ardent eagerness. Oh, how she wanted him! All her slumbering fire belonged to him—and he’d do almost anything to keep it that way for the rest of their lives.

  For now, though, he had no promises he could make her; he didn’t know yet what his future held, or what place she’d take in it. But there’d be nothing, no future for them if he couldn’t even make her come to Abbas al-Din with him.

  It felt as if he ripped his heart from his chest as he pulled away. ‘We leave in five hours,’ he snarled, but his fingers trailed slowly down her throat, across her shoulder, and he saw her quiver again. He wanted to shout in joy for the heady knowledge of how badly she desired him. ‘Sleep for an hour or two; you’ll need it. When you wake, we’ll walk on the beach and talk.’

  Heavy-lidded eyes lifted to his, aching with as much painful wanting as anger, and he knew he’d won the battle—she’d come to Abbas al-Din, and face her family—but on the issue of marrying him, the war was far from over.

  It was another incredible sunset, softer than the rich, rioting colours in western-facing Perth, but the soft rose tipped the foaming waves, and the palm trees lining the beach caught the rustling-soft breeze. A star winked at them from low in the sky, the first of the night.

  ‘It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?’ Hana murmured, awed, forgetting her fury with him for a moment. ‘Africa’s a place of such amazing contrasts. There’s so much beauty and faith, as well as the war and suffering.’

  ‘It’s the same as anywhere else, with the same people, good and bad,’ Alim replied. ‘Oil i
n Nigeria, gold and diamonds in South Africa, Mali and Mozambique bring the greed. But the beauty—’ He took her hand in his—she revelled in the simple connection to him, had been wondering why he hadn’t touched her during the half-hour they’d been walking—and said, softly, ‘The unique beauty of Africa is why I keep coming back. It—gives me rest.’

  You give me rest.

  The thought flew out of nowhere—or maybe it came from everywhere, everything he’d been to her. She’d never had a friend who could laugh with her and let her be herself; a man who listened to her and wasn’t too arrogant to learn from a woman; a man whose smallest smile made her day, whose touch, who cared enough to give her a compelling honesty that brought her out of emotional hiding, and face her cowardice. He’d looked inside her turbulent soul and calmed the storms; he brought her from a state of darkest cynicism to trust, tenderness and, unbelievably, forgiveness.

  If she’d brought him back to life, he’d given her life. She could be what she’d always wanted to be: a normal woman, wearing rolled-up trousers and shirt, barefoot and holding hands with the man she—she—

  Couldn’t resist, couldn’t turn from, could barely say no to.

  And that was why she was going to Abbas al-Din. He’d literally kissed her into capitulation. Far more than merely desiring him, or liking him, she needed him. She loved him, had to be where he was. It was as simple as that—and as impossible.

  Impossible was never more obvious than today, with so many reminders all around him, the armed guards keeping a discreet distance. His current location might be secret, but it wouldn’t take the media long to find out—and they’d want to know who she was. How long would it take them to find out? A day, a week? Drug runner’s ex-wife is our sheikh’s saviour…

  Tonight, here on the beach, in the jet, would be their last hours alone together—and she intended to cherish them, even if they were surrounded by armed minders all the way.

  They might as well flash a neon sign; Go home, low life, you can never have him.

  ‘I can see why you love Mombasa,’ she finally replied, her fatalism and her love tearing her heart in two. Run. Run as far and fast as you can…don’t leave him, now or ever…

  ‘I’m keeping the house,’ he said quietly. ‘The family of my housekeeper will look after the house while I’m gone, and I’ve given them the cottage out back to live in permanently.’ He led her around a late surfer who’d just flopped on his towel. ‘You’ve taught me to look outside myself, Hana. I thought being here, helping, was enough to justify my existence, and I could keep my life, myself, separate. I know now I can’t, and I don’t want to.’

  Wonderful words, yet they sounded like a farewell, even before they boarded the jet. Yet he was smiling…Her gaze riveted to his mouth, her lips tingling and her body aching, she managed to say, ‘I didn’t do anything.’

  Still with that tender smile curving his mouth he stopped, turned her around. Her heart pounded like the waves against the sand as he bent to her. The kiss was soft, sweet, perfect…and too soon over. ‘You’re like that,’ he murmured, pointing at that low-slung star, ‘like the story of those men who were led to the Christian Messiah. I was lost in the darkness of self-hate, and you showed me the way to redemption, to joy in living, without even knowing you did it.’

  She couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop herself from lifting up on her toes, kissing him again—and then again. ‘You did the same for me,’ she whispered. ‘You saved me.’

  ‘We saved each other.’ He rested his forehead against hers, and she adored the intimacy of it while still aching for more. ‘Face the truth: we’re souls entwined, Sahar Thurayya. We need each other.’

  Yes, their souls were entwined, and as far as she was concerned they always would be; but how could she believe this was anything but a lovely fantasy, a romantic idyll she’d treasure when she left him? When they reached Abbas al-Din, everything would change. She’d have family responsibilities again, and Alim would discover he was a sheikh, his country needed him—and he’d need a woman who could be a helpmate, a queen in every sense. And when that happened she’d let him go with a smile, doing her best not to show her life was over.

  But for now he was Alim, the man whose soul was inextricably part of hers, who’d quietly reached inside her and taken her heart before she’d known it was gone. So she smiled back and murmured, ‘Yes,’ not wanting the dream to end. Not yet.

  He moved his cheek against hers. ‘One day you’ll believe in us, my star,’ he murmured in her ear, making her shiver. ‘Maybe when we’re married ten years and have seven children.’

  Uncomfortable with his perception, how finely tuned he was to her emotions, she laughed. ‘Hey, you want seven kids, you can give birth to them. I sure won’t be going past four.’

  He chuckled, and kissed her cheek. ‘Four it is, then…so long as at least one of them is a cheeky girl who shows the boys how to not take themselves so seriously.’ When she didn’t answer—her throat had seized up with longing and useless dreams—he checked his watch, and made a smothered exclamation. ‘We need to head to the airstrip.’ Turning quickly, still holding her hand, he led her back towards the house.

  When they arrived everything was already packed and in the sleek limousine—and the beautifully attired driver winced when Alim opened the door for her. ‘I’m too messy,’ she protested, reluctant to enter this gorgeous vehicle in rolled-up trousers and vest top, with bare, sandy feet and mussed hair. ‘Is there a garden hose here? I can wash it off, and not dirty the car.’

  ‘No need for that.’ Alim frowned at the driver, who immediately apologised gravely for any embarrassment he’d caused her, and offered to fetch her a towel, which made her feel worse. She whispered, almost squirming, ‘He shouldn’t have to clean up after me. It’s not right. It isn’t as if I’m anyone important.’ With a lowered gaze she walked to Alim’s front garden and turned on the tap, washing off the sand.

  ‘See what I mean?’ Alim’s laughing, rueful voice sounded right behind her, and she started, turning to him. ‘You teach me by example to not be so arrogant.’ He shoved his feet beneath the water, rinsing off and turning the tap off.

  ‘It’s your car, you can do as you want,’ she mumbled, feeling her blush grow.

  ‘Yes, I can, and I would have, but for you.’ He lifted her hand to his cheek, cradling it, and she forgot all about the watching chauffeur, his minders, the state of her hair or anything else. ‘You consider everyone. It’s something I’ve never had to do. Our parents trained us to treat all people as equals, and our position means we serve the people, but some lessons need a brush-up.’ He kissed her palm.

  Even as her eyes grew heavy and her body swayed towards him everything they’d been through suddenly overwhelmed her, and she needed—needed him. ‘Alim,’ she whispered.

  He saw it; his eyes darkened. ‘I’m all yours once we’re in the car, Sahar Thurayya.’

  Without thinking she turned and bolted for the limousine, and hopped in without waiting for the driver to hand her in. When Alim joined her, she barely waited for the door to close before she threw herself into his arms. ‘Hold me,’ she whispered.

  The limousine took off smoothly, and the passion in his eyes gentled as he drew her closer, up into his lap. He held her close for a long time. ‘It’s been a hard time for you.’

  She nodded into his shoulder. ‘I thought you were going to die when they took you—and then you come to me, but covered in bruises. They hurt you for my sake, Abbas al-Din loses millions to save me because you sacrificed yourself for me…and then, then you give me back my family, my freedom…’ She hiccupped.

  ‘Give me a chance; I’ll be everything you ever want or need, my star,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘I can even give you a happily ever after—but not with a prince. A simple sheikh will have to do for you.’

  Simple? In a top-of-the-line limousine, about to board a first-class jet? She choked back a giggle. ‘Just call me Cinderella? I’m more like the lit
tle matchstick girl.’

  Alim tipped up her face, his eyes full of tenderness at her deliberate roughening of her voice. ‘Do you see your ending as tragic as hers was? Need it be?’

  All her smart cracks withered under the tender fire of his questions. He saw too much. ‘Maybe not tragic,’ she conceded, ‘I just don’t see the whole palace-and-prince/sheikh thing. It was never part of my dreams.’

  He stilled, and she felt the question without his asking. ‘I dreamed of a man who came home to me at night, played chess or Scrabble or backgammon, and held me as we watched the news, and played with the kids and occasionally brought home dinner when I was tired,’ she said quietly. ‘All I ever wanted was an average guy who could accept me as I am.’

  ‘You can have all that,’ he replied, just as quiet, caressing her shoulder. ‘I’ve never tried to change you, Hana, only circumstances around you, for your sake.’ He lifted her chin, and kissed her lips. ‘I’d move mountains if it would make you happy.’

  ‘You already have,’ she whispered. That was what made it so hard. How could she have all her dreams come true in a man whose life gave her nightmares? ‘But average? It’s something you can never be.’ In any way, she thought, sadness piercing her.

  ‘I can. I have been for the past three years, Hana.’ He caressed her hair, and love swamped her. ‘If Harun is happy to continue as the sheikh, we can return here and—’ He frowned as she shook her head. ‘I realise that now the world knows where I’ve been it’ll be harder, but we could find another area that needs our combined skills.’

  ‘It’s useless,’ she said sadly. ‘You know it, Alim. People will know you…and they’ll sell your whereabouts for money. I can’t blame them for that—but your life would become a circus. Face it, you had one shot at disappearing, and you did it well—but it’ll never work again.’

  ‘Then we start our own aid programme, and run it as ourselves. I’m a multimillionaire in my own right, from my racing days. We can live comfortably enough even if I gave ninety per cent of it away.’ Then, as she sighed and shook her head again, he said, ‘Don’t tell me you don’t love me, Hana. I know you do.’