The Sheik Retold

by Victoria Vane

  "All the difference," he snapped. "There is no need for you to make yourself more attractive than you are already." He flicked his gaze to Arbuthnot, who shifted in discomfort.

  "Since when has it occurred to you that I am attractive?" I asked. "Perhaps you have a touch of the sun."

  "Don't quibble. You know perfectly well that you are good-looking—too good-looking to carry through this preposterous affair. Indeed, I've been doing some hard thinking today, Diana. Were you the boy I always wished you were, it would be a different matter, but you are not a boy, and the whole thing is impossible—utterly impossible. There is no avoiding the fact that you are a young and attractive woman, and there are certain things a young woman just cannot do."

  "He's right," Arbuthnot interjected. "You must see for yourself, now that you are face-to-face with the thing. How can you think to wander for the next month all alone in the desert?"

  His words made me seethe. "Et tu, Brute?"

  I pinned Jim with my iciest stare and then flung myself on a chaise longue. I lit a cigarette, my fingers trembling with suppressed rage. "If I had not lived with you all my life, Aubrey, I might be impressed with your sudden brotherly solicitude; I might even think you really meant it. But it is only your own inconvenience that troubles you and not real anxiety on my behalf."

  "Balderdash!" he exclaimed. "Diana, listen to reason! Though my legal guardianship has terminated, I still have some moral obligations towards you."

  "Really, Aubrey?” I pursed my mouth and blew smoke. "Then, why have you waited until tonight to voice these brotherly qualms?"

  "In Biskra it was impossible to argue with you. You went ahead with your arrangements against my wishes, so I left it. I came this far convinced that the impossibility of it all would be brought home to you once we arrived here and that you would see for yourself that this is entirely out of the question. Diana, give up this insane trip."

  "I will not."

  "I've a thundering good mind to make you."

  I gave an unladylike snort. "You can't," I said flatly. "You have no claim on me. I'm my own mistress. I will not go back to Biskra."

  "If you are afraid of being laughed at—"

  "I am not afraid of being laughed at! Only cowards are afraid of that, and I am not a coward. I have said my last word, Aubrey. It is only your own considerations and not mine that are at the bottom of your remonstrance. You do not deny it because it is true."

  I knew exactly the grievance he had been nursing. Maybe he finally suffered some small pricking of conscience, but I had no doubt that concern for his own comfort troubled him most. Though he traveled perpetually and often in remote and desolate places, Aubrey enjoyed his creature comforts and was accustomed to putting himself out for nothing—everything had always fallen on my shoulders. My certainty of this was not conducive to any kinder feeling toward him.

  Aubrey always had been, and always would be, supremely selfish.

  He was particularly eager for my company on his hunting trip to America because it was a wife and not big game this time that compelled him across the ocean. The inevitable and somewhat unpleasant necessity of producing an heir had been in his mind for some time. Although the idea of marriage was distasteful to him, a son to succeed him was imperative to the estate the family had held for hundreds of years. Women in general bored Aubrey, but of all he had ever met, Americans were less irritating to him—so it was to America that he turned for a wife. He had proposed to take a house in New York for a few months and later one in Newport, and for that my company was considered indispensable. I would save him endless trouble. This was why he was so exasperated.

  We stared each other down across the little table until his eyeglass fell with a sharp tinkle against his waistcoat button. I observed his angry flush of color with a wave of amusement. It was a true spectacle to rouse the lazy Aubrey to wrath.

  "You're a damned obstinate little devil!" Aubrey exclaimed.

  "I am what you have made me—as hard as yourself—so how can you quarrel with the result? It is illogical. This is your fault, not mine, but I don't want to wrangle with you anymore. My life is mine and I will deal with it exactly as I wish. I will do what I choose when and how I choose. I will never again obey any will but my own."

  Aubrey's mouth tightened and his gaze narrowed. "Then I hope to heaven that one day you will fall into the hands of a man who will make you obey."

  I rose with a scornful laugh, flinging over my shoulder as I stormed back to my tent, "Then heaven help him who tries!"

  ***

  The next morning I was almost aggressively cheerful. At breakfast I ate heartily, as I had not supped the night before, but Aubrey was unusually silent, and Jim appeared equally morose. Nevertheless, I was determined not to let them dampen my spirits.

  "I don't think there's any use waiting any longer," I said. The camels had departed long ago with my equipment, and I was eager to depart. "You will want to be in Biskra in time for dinner."

  "Diana, it's still not too late to change your mind," Jim said. "For heaven's sake, please give up this folly. It's tempting Providence."

  "Don't be ridiculous," I snapped. "You can't expect me to change my mind at the eleventh hour. It's perfectly safe. Mustafa Ali will take care that everything goes smoothly. He has his reputation in Biskra to think of. He is not likely to throw that away. In any case, I can take care of myself. I don't mind owning to conceit about that. Even my brother admits I am a credit to his teaching." Determined to prove my skill, I whipped out my ivory-mounted revolver and aimed at a low, flat rock some distance away. I fired.

  And missed! There was not even a mark on the stone. I was dumbfounded. I looked to my revolver and then glared at the rock.

  Aubrey swore. "What a senseless piece of bravado that was!"

  "I don't understand it. It's as big as a house." I raised the weapon again, but Jim caught my wrist.

  "Pray do not," he insisted in a low voice, casting a sidelong glance at the group of watching Arabs. "It could be dangerous should you miss again. You do not wish to lower your prestige any further."

  With a mumbled curse, I jammed the little weapon back into its holster. "I don't understand it. It must be the light."

  "Diana, can you not now see the true danger?" Jim asked. "Is there nothing I can say to convince you to go back?"

  "I'm sorry, Jim. I know you mean well, but this is a lifelong dream of mine. I assure you, there is nothing that will alter my determination to go on this trip."

  The ten men who were to accompany me had already mounted. My servant brought my own horse, a gorgeous but excitable bay mare.

  "A skittish beast if ever I saw one," Jim mumbled.

  "You fret without cause." I laughed. "I am accustomed to spirited mounts."

  He gave me a leg up and then mounted his own horse. I wheeled alongside of Aubrey, who seemed unusually edgy pulling at his mustache as he exchanged some private words with the guide. Anxious to be on my way, I paid little heed.

  "Goodbye, Aubrey." I extended my hand to him. "You may expect me a month after you arrive. I will cable to you from Cherbourg." I added with a chuckle, "With any luck, I shall roll up in time to be best man."

  He regarded me with a strange look. "And if you don't return at all?"

  I returned a slow smile and replied flippantly, "Tant pis pour moi. Tant mieux pour toi. All the better for you, dear brother, as I have left you all that I have in the world. Could devotion go any further?"

  I gave a parting nod to Jim Arbuthnot, who returned a sad smile. I then signaled Mustafa Ali and turned my horse's head southward without a single backward glance.

  ***

  I rode in silence. Although I had parted on a smile, the quarrels with Aubrey and Jim had left a nasty taste in my mouth. I knew that what I was doing was unconventional, but I'd been brought up to be unconventional. At first I'd been amazed, and later amused, by the sensation I'd created, but now it just annoyed me—immensely.

  Why co
uldn't people occupy themselves with their own affairs and let me deal with mine? Jim's objections, I halfway understood, given his profession of the other night, but Aubrey's complete volte-face was beyond my comprehension. It angered me, and contempt was mingled with that anger. If Aubrey really thought there was danger in this expedition, he could have sacrificed himself for once in his life to come with me. This was the desert, my lifelong dream! It was the expedition I had longed for and planned for years. I could not and would not give it up. How could anything in the desert hurt me when it had been calling to me always?

  There was nothing strange about the scene that lay all around. On the contrary, my surroundings seemed oddly familiar—the burning sun in the cloudless sky, the shimmering haze rising from the hot, dry ground, the feathery outline of some clustering palm trees in a tiny distant oasis. They were all like remembrances of another time and place, filling me with a gladness that was deeper and more profound than anything I had ever known.

  I was radiantly happy—joyful in the sense of my youth and strength, my perfect physical fitness, blissful in my capacity to enjoy it. I was delighted with the touch of the keen, nervous horse between my knees and exhilarated beyond description with my newfound freedom. My reality was proving infinitely greater than anticipation—and for a whole month this perfection of pleasure was mine.

  I considered my promise to Aubrey with impatience and regret. I thought of the weeks in New York with dread. Newport would be a little less bad, for there were alleviations, but my hope was that Aubrey would find the wife he was looking for quickly and release me from such a tedious obligation. I wondered what the future Lady Mayo would be like but did not expend much pity on her. American girls, as a rule, were well able to care for themselves.

  My thoughts drifted back to the present. Aubrey and his wife-hunt seemed singularly uninteresting compared to the caravan that approached. It had been visible for a long time in the distance but now drew near. I reined in to watch the long line of slow, lurching camels. The great beasts, with their disdainful tread and long, swaying necks, never failed to hold my interest. The bales on their backs looked heavy. There were also merchants and a motley crowd of followers—some on lean little donkeys and others on foot. Following them was an armed guard of mounted men and at the end of this parade were huddled figures that I knew must be women—swathed and shapeless, with a multitude of coverings. The contrast between them and me was almost ridiculous.

  I was stifled even to look at them.

  I wondered what their lives were like, if they ever rebelled against the drudgery and restrictions that were imposed upon them, if they ever longed for the freedom that I had always taken for granted—that I even now reveled in. The very notion of binding myself to the will and pleasure of a man, one who had the unquestionable right to demand obedience and the strength to enforce it, revolted me. I considered the lives they led with a shiver of revulsion. That women would willingly submit themselves bodily to the degrading intimacy and tolerate the fettered existence of married life filled me with horror and disgust. Marriage was bad enough for a Western woman, but this lot—unconsidered, disregarded, and reduced to the level of animals—were no better than slaves.

  I spurred my horse in a fierce desire to get away, to forget such lives existed.

  Mustafa Ali had dismounted and was deep in conversation with the chief of the armed guard. I did not halt but called out to him as I cantered past. I rode on, unmindful of my escort, who had also stopped to speak with the traders. My horse was fleet, and it was some time, probably several miles, before they caught up with me.

  My mount was truly an exceptional beast, which had weighed heavily in the guide's favor when he had brought it for my inspection. He had been enthusiastic with his praise, but as volubly vague about the animal’s history, which made me suspect it had been stolen. Then again, the creature's antecedents were no business of mine. After all the jades I had seen, I was only too delighted to have use of a decent horse.

  "Mademoiselle is not interested in the caravan?" Mustafa Ali asked with a look of annoyance when he caught up with me.

  "No. Not in the least," I answered frankly. I then asked him for some details connected with my expedition. After giving the required information, he volunteered some anecdotes relating to various well-known people whom he had guided in the desert. As we rode on, I made occasional queries about the country through which we passed.

  I studied him intently as he spoke to me in easy and fluid French. He appeared middle aged, though it was difficult to judge. The thick, peaked beard hid both his mouth and chin and probably made him look older than he really was. I noticed that his eyes often wavered from mine, and it occurred to me that they had not seemed nearly so shifty in Biskra when I had engaged him. The thought was a bit unsettling, but I denied my instinct and attached no great importance to it—or to the man himself. In my experience, men were more easily judged by their mouths than their eyes anyway.

  Having quickly grown bored with the guide's company, I was only too relieved when we arrived at an oasis for a midday halt. A bit of shade and respite would be delightful after hours in the burning sun. I swung to the ground, took off my heavy helmet, and tossed it to the man behind me, along with my horse's reins. I then knelt beside the pool and stuck my head in the cool water. When I came up I gave myself a shake, allowing the water to drip down my face and neck while the faint breeze helped to cool my hot head.

  Having always been possessed of a robust appetite, I was famished and took great interest in laying out our lunch from the large and daintily packed tiffin basket Stephens had prepared. Stephens was an artist with a picnic basket and his offerings were as sumptuous to the palate as to the eye. My mouth watered at the saffron and raisin couscous adorned with fresh mint that I accompanied with a glass of burgundy. I followed the main course with fresh, sweet dates. Yes, I sighed after finishing my meal. I would miss Stephens.

  After satisfying my stomach, I propped against a palm tree and lit a cigarette while a lizard stared at me from his perch on a nearby rock. With my arms clasped around my knees, I settled back contentedly to overlook the desert, at perfect peace in the noontime hush. Not a breath of wind stirred the tops of the palms. The men were lying asleep with cloaks drawn over their heads, but I had no desire to sleep. I refused to lose a minute of my enjoyment in rest that I didn't require. I'd always lived this way, right up to the minute, extracting from each one the last ounce of pleasure.

  I threw my cigarette butt at the lizard and laughed at its precipitant flight. It never occurred to me then, that my happiness was all due to my wealth, that my money alone enabled me to indulge my every whim, and that without it, I would have no means to gratify my cravings. No, I took it all completely for granted, paying no more heed to my riches than I did to my looks.

  Although a vast fortune had recently come into my possession, I begrudged every second I had to waste in the library to get it, when I longed to be elsewhere. The entire business connected with my coming-of-age was a wearisome but necessary evil that I'd desired to get through as expeditiously as possible and with as little pomp as the old family lawyer would allow. The formal and pedantic congratulations with which the lawyer concluded seemed very stupid and uninteresting to me. I didn't care about money. It was nothing to me but a means to a long-awaited end—that of my independence.

  Yes, independence.

  I had shed my shackles to Aubrey and could finally exercise my own free will to go and do precisely as I chose. I fixed my gaze on the dusty tips of my riding boots and dug my heels into the soft ground with a little wriggle of contentment. Here in the desert I was free from anything that could mar my perfect enjoyment of life. Here there was nothing to disturb the perfect harmony of my mind.

  A shadow came over me that made me raise my eyes. I blinked and then shaded them from the beating sun. Mustafa Ali salaamed obsequiously. "It is time to start, mademoiselle."

  I was surprised to see the men already m
ounted and readying for departure, yet I had not given the command to do so. It rankled me. Maybe Mustafa Ali was the guide, but I was the head of this expedition. I glanced at my watch. "There is plenty of time yet."

  "But it is a long ride to reach the oasis where we camp tonight."

  I crossed one boot over the other and fixed my attention on the shining particles glistening in the sun as my fingers raked the warm sand. "Then we will simply ride faster—once I am ready to depart." I scooped up a handful and then let it trickle much like an hour glass through my fingers. Yes, he must be made to understand who was in charge.

  Mustafa Ali made an impatient noise. "Mademoiselle would do well to start." A peremptory tone that I didn't care for had crept into his voice.

  I countered his dogged persistence with a more direct approach. "We will start when I choose, Mustafa Ali. You may give orders to your men, but you will take your orders from me. I will tell you when I am ready. You may go now."

  Still he hesitated, swaying backward and forward on his heels.

  My temper flared. I snapped my fingers over my shoulder, aping the manner of the French officers I had seen in Biskra. "I said go!"

  After that I took no further notice of any of them, acting as if they were invisible to me. Perhaps it was growing late, perhaps the camp was a longer ride than I'd thought, but Mustafa Ali must learn his lesson—even if we had to ride until midnight to reach the oasis.

  I loved the desert nights above anything. I had enjoyed two moonlit riding picnics out of Biskra, but the glamour and perfect stillness of the desert had been spoiled by the chattering crowd. I secretly hoped night would fall before we reached our destination, but then again, I would not have Stephens to set up tonight and would have to order everything myself, which was far easier in daylight. But surely one hour would not make that much difference. The horses were watered and well rested and could be pushed along a bit faster with no harm coming to them. So I waited.