"I am told it is even more of a fortress."
She stared into Michael's eyes and found him watching her as if he expected something of her. "I will marry you tonight," she agreed, knowing she would rather have only one night with him than a lifetime with any other man.
Mallory had been bathed and perfumed. Her hair was braided and entwined with jasmine blossoms. Princess Yasmin, who spoke English haltingly, supervised the servants, lending her help and advice whenever needed.
The princess motioned Mallory to the bed, where many veils and gowns were spread out for her choice.
Yasmin looked at the English woman and found her beautiful, if a little too pale. Her eyes were as blue as lapis lazuli, and the flame in her hair was wondrous to behold. "You are truly worthy to be the wife of the lord Akhdar 'em Akraba," Yasmin said in admiration.
"You call him by that name also?" Mallory asked in confusion. "I thought it was only his enemies who addressed him so."
Princess Yasmin smiled. "The name was given to him by those who witnessed his brave deeds. He is a very noble man, a warrior of great courage. He is feared by our enemies and loved by my people. It is because of him that we shall defeat Sidi in his own fortress."
Seeing that Mallory looked troubled by talk of the impending battle, Yasmin picked up one of the gossamer robes and held it out to her.
"I was married in the crimson, noble lady. But if you do not prefer crimson, perhaps you would like the gold?"
Mallory reached for a white robe and held it in front of her. "It is customary in my country to marry in white."
"But the white is so ordinary," Princess Yasmin protested, picking up a white veil and draping it about Mallory's head. Suddenly, she nodded in approval. "Your beauty is such that you do not need adornment. But allow me to give you something that I treasure, so you will always remember this day."
She reached up and unhooked the necklace she wore and handed it to Mallory. "This was given to me by my father on my twelfth birthday."
Mallory looked at the delicate chain that was adorned with tiny golden hearts. "I cannot take this from you. You must treasure it greatly."
"If you give away something you treasure, you give true friendship. It is my deepest wish that you accept this from me, as a remembrance of my friendship for you."
"But we hardly know one another."
"The great lord is my husband's truest friend. I would like to be considered your friend."
Mallory looked into gentle brown eyes and saw sincerity glowing in their depths. She removed the pearl ring that adorned her finger. "Only if you will accept this from me. It was my grandmother's, and I have treasured it."
Yasmin smiled brightly as she slipped on the ring. "This will never leave my finger. We are friends now, are we not?"
Mallory took Yasmin's hand and squeezed it. "We shall certainly be friends, Your Highness. Will you fasten the necklace about my neck? I will wear it at my wedding."
The princess was delighted. "You will be happy with the green-eyed one and bear him many sons."
Tears filled Mallory's eyes. "Not if he dies trying to rescue his father."
Yasmin's kind heart ached that she had been the cause of such distress to her new friend. "It is said the great lord is invincible and cannot be slain by his enemies," she said reassuringly.
Mallory felt overwhelming fear for Michael. "That is a misconception. Michael will bleed and die like any other man. I myself treated his wound when he was stabbed by Sidi's men."
"I do not know about such things. I only know what the people believe. They see him as one who will deliver them from the evil Sidi."
"Why is Sidi so feared?"
"He enslaves the tribes to make them follow him. If he is not stopped, his numbers will grow until he controls all the desert tribes."
Mallory frowned. "I fear for your people, and I fear for Lord Michael. I believe he will be in the most danger."
"Allah will protect him because his cause is noble," Yasmin said confidently.
Mallory saw no reason to remind the princess that many men with noble causes had died in battle.
Chapter 21
Michael stood before the Moslem imam in private chamber of the royal family. The only other person in attendance was Prince Khaldun, who stood to his right.
A guard opened the door and Michael turned to watch Mallory move toward him, her eyes on his face. Beside her walked Princess Yasmin.
Michael caught his breath at the lovely vision in white that seemed to float toward him. As Mallory walked, the veil flowed about her, and when she reached his side, he smiled down at her and took her hand.
The imam spoke Arabic, so Mallory did not understand the words. Once Michael whispered that she should repeat the words, "aiwa, na'am," which she did with difficulty. Then a little later Michael repeated the same words.
Mallory felt Michael's grip tighten on her hand, and she had the feeling God had guided her footsteps to Egypt so she could become his wife.
The ceremony continued, and Mallory stared at the holy man, wishing she could understand his words. On he spoke, requiring little response from Michael or her.
Michael understood the Arabic words very well, and he wondered what Mallory's reaction would be if she knew what she was promising.
"This woman will obey her husband in all things," the imam said as he placed his hand on Mallory's veiled head. Mallory, not understanding, just smiled sweetly at Michael.
"The man will be master of his house," the holy man continued, "and the woman will make no decision without his guidance."
Michael returned Mallory's smile.
The imam then asked Michael, "Have you a ring to give this woman, since it is required in your Christian nuptials?"
Michael removed his signet ring and handed it to the imam, who said a prayer over the ring and handed it back to Michael.
Michael slipped the ring on Mallory's finger, but it was so big she had to keep it in place.
"I will give you a ring that is more appropriate when we reach England," he whispered.
Mallory looked at Michael in a daze. This was not what she had envisioned as her wedding. She had not understood one word the holy man had uttered.
The imam continued. "This man and this woman will walk through life with hearts and hands entwined. She will bear his children, and he will provide for her." He bestowed a smile on each of them.
"We- 'alekum es-salam warahmet Allah wabarakatuh. And peace and God's blessing be upon you."
Michael smiled down at her. "It's done, Mallory. I am your husband."
"Yes," she whispered, still in a daze, because she didn't feel married. "It's done."
Prince Khaldun clasped Michael's hand while he smiled at Mallory. "You can see that love blooms here in Kamar Ginena. There is an old legend that says, if lovers kiss beneath our moon on their wedding night, they will be united in their hearts forever."
Michael raised Mallory's hand to his lips, his eyes dancing with mirth. "Shall we believe the legend?"
"My lord," Mallory said in a slight show of humor, "it would seem too many legends are born in this country."
Yasmin pressed her cheek to Mallory's and whispered, "May you be as happy as I am."
Michael linked Mallory's arm through his. "You will excuse me if I take my bride away. We have only tonight before I leave."
Khaldun put his arm around Yasmin, and they watched Michael lead his new wife from the room. "There is something troubling those two, but I believe they will find true happiness if they but look for it."
He glanced down into his wife's eyes that were shining with love. "Allah has given me a woman with a true heart, and I find I am a most fortunate man."
"My happiness lies in seeing you happy," she said, pressing her face against his chest.
"I think I shall never love another. My heart is too full of you."
Yasmin knew something that Khaldun thought he had kept hidden. "But you have special feelings for the flamin
g-haired wife of your friend."
He held Yasmin to him. "You see too much with those beautiful eyes of yours. I will admit to you that I once thought myself infatuated with Lady Mallory. I now honor her as my friend's wife and nothing more." He saw doubts in her expression and he laughed. "There is no reason for you to be jealous of any woman. I pledge to you this night that I shall never take another wife."
Yasmin stared at him in wonder. "Do you speak the truth, my husband?"
"Like my father, I want only one woman in my life. You are that woman."
Yasmin's heart was soaring with happiness. She had never expected to win Khaldun's heart, and she had certainly never expected that she would be his only wife. Now she would not have to share him with other women. She would not have to lie awake at night aching because he was making love to another.
"I will make you the best wife a man can have," she vowed.
"In the short time we have been married, you have filled my life with your sweetness. I am a most fortunate man."
Yasmin thought her heart would burst with happiness. The man she had loved for so many years loved her in return. A tear trailed down her cheek, and he gently wiped it away.
"This is a night for reflecting, Yasmin, for we do not know what the future holds."
"You speak of the war?"
"I do. You know, Yasmin, that death is a black camel who comes to everyone's door."
She placed her fingers to his lips to silence him. "Then let me make you forget about tomorrow, if only for a few hours."
He lifted her in his arms and carried her to their chamber. "I can think of nothing but you, Yasmin, when you are in my bed," he said, unfastening the golden pin that held her gown in place.
* * *
Michael and Mallory had been given the bride's quarters that were on the ground floor. It was spacious and decorated all in white. There was a wide door that led into a private garden, where fragrant flowers filled the night air with their glorious scent.
Michael led his wife into the garden, and they were both aware of the beauty that surrounded them.
"My friend would have me believe that every marriage in Kamar Ginena is enchanted, Mallory. Shall we believe him about that?"
"It makes a lovely story."
"Ah, a skeptic. You don't believe that if we kiss beneath the moon, our lives will be entwined for eternity?"
She wanted to tell him that her heart already belonged to him, but she dared not. She glanced up at the heavens, thinking she'd never seen the night sky so black, yet so full of shimmering stars. When she looked back at him, the stars seemed to be reflected in his eyes.
Michael pulled her into an embrace. "Perhaps we should test the enchantment theory on the chance that it might have some merit."
She realized he was toying with her emotions, but it didn't matter, all that mattered was that they were together tonight. Tomorrow he would be gone. Perhaps she would never see him again!
He bent his dark head and touched her trembling lips ever so softly. She sighed, drawing closer to his hard body. His hand moved up to cup her face, and he turned it toward the moon. "I believe I'm enchanted already. You are beautiful, Lady Mallory DeWinter."
"Mallory DeWinter," she said in wonder. She closed her eyes, feeling the essence of him moving throughout her mind. Yes, she loved him, she must have loved him since their first meeting on the Iberia.
Michael smiled. "You make quite a vision dressed as an Arab woman. But you look more like an angel with that flaming hair—" He seemed to freeze for a moment, then he wrapped her hair around his hand, staring at it as if transfixed.
"Michael, is something wrong?"
He was remembering the old Gypsy's words. What had she said about a woman with flame in her hair? He couldn't recall her exact words—had she said he would love a woman with hair like flame?
"Michael?" she repeated as he stared at her in bewilderment. "What is wrong?"
He smiled. "Nothing, I was just remembering something someone once said to me." He pressed her scented hair to his face. "Yes, you are my angel."
He took her hand and led her into the bedroom, where he pulled her into his arms once more. "I wonder if heaven allows flaming-haired women to be angels?"
When she didn't answer, he continued. "No," he said, running his eyes over her hair and giving her a heartrending smile. "The temper that goes with the red hair would probably prohibit you from obtaining wings."
"We both know that I am not an angel."
He touched her cheek. "I would not want an angel in my bed. Rather I would have a hot-tempered beauty with fire in her veins." He touched his lips to her brow. "Do you have fire in your veins, Mallory?"
His question required no answer. He stepped back a pace and removed his outer garment. "We have so little time together, Mallory, I cannot woo you as you deserve."
With trembling fingers, she removed her veil and placed it over a chair. But now feeling uncertain, she could only look to him for direction. He smiled and came to her, his hand unfastening the tie that held her robe. In a whoosh of silk, it fluttered about her feet.
Lately, he had begun to envision how she would look standing before him in all her naked glory, but nothing prepared him for her flawless beauty. Seeing the shyness in her eyes, he blew out the candles one by one, slowly bathing the room in ebony softness.
He sat down on the bed and took her cold hand in his. Pulling her forward, he pressed a kiss on her breasts, first one and then the other.
When he heard her sigh with pent-up emotions, he lifted her onto the bed and lay down beside her. "The pity is that we may only have this one night, Mallory."
Her voice quivered. "Yes."
By now their eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, and he reached up and ran his fingers through her hair, unbraiding the silken strands, causing the jasmine blossoms to fall about them in a rain of fragrant petals.
Mallory's eyes held a look of uncertainty, and he ran his finger across her mouth. "There is nothing for you to fear, Mallory. The joining of our bodies is but another commitment of the marriage ceremony." His lips toyed with the tips of her eyelashes, and his voice came out in a deep tone. "I will make it pleasurable for you."
Slowly he drew her body against his, and he felt her stiffen. "You aren't frightened of me, are you, Mallory?"
She buried her face against his shoulder. "No, I'm not frightened, not of you."
He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her silken body. He felt compelled to rush, to plant his seed in her, but this was her first time, and he curbed his impatience. If only they had more time, he could be certain that he would send her to Ravenworth carrying his child.
Mallory was vulnerable to Michael because she had only recently realized she loved him, and she wanted to pour out all that was in her heart. She was well aware that the love was all on her side, for he spoke only of enchantment, and feelings, but not love.
Mallory felt the same desperation in him that she had sensed when he'd first asked her to marry him.
He ran his hand over her body, drawing her ever tighter against him.
The sadness of their situation filled her eyes with tears. If this was to be their only night together, she wanted desperately to have his child. In a bold move that took him by surprise, she took his face between her hands, bringing his lips down to hers.
Her voice was unwavering as she spoke. "If this is all we will have, Michael, then let me imprint myself on you so you will remember."
Shaken by the intensity of the desire that raged through his body, Michael roughly turned her over, pinning her to the bed with his body, sliding her legs apart.
"You go to my head like wine," he murmured, nipping at her ear and sending delightful shivers through her body.
Her silken arms slid around his neck, and he lowered his head, kissing her softly, as the heat smoldering in his body intensified. His mouth ground punishingly against hers. All he could think about was the bliss that was only moments a
way. His body would know Mallory's, and he would attempt to empty life into her.
His fingers slid over her breasts, until he saw her eyes shine with passion. His lips drifted over her face with tantalizing kisses. At last she turned her head, offering her trembling lips, which he willingly took.
With each sigh that escaped her lips, the blood ran hotter in his veins, and he was having difficulty controlling his primitive, unbridled urges.
Slowly he eased into her, feeling her tight hot flesh close around him. He shut his eyes, willing himself not to rush. Michael trembled with the control he was exercising over himself. He realized that her virgin body was not ready to receive the full force of his passion.
Mallory held him to her as he filled her and made her heart sing. The desert breeze brought with it the sweet scent of the garden, and among the jasmine blossoms that had fallen from her hair, their bodies joined.
When his body trembled and erupted, she clung to him, wishing she could hold him like this forever.
He kissed her lips and found that her face was wet with tears. "Have I hurt you?" he asked, stroking her gently.
"No, not hurt. It was . . . just that I was so much a part of you. I never knew you could be so close to another person."
He stared at her, wondering why he felt this tenderness, this fullness in his heart. Why was there a thick lump in his throat making it impossible for him to answer her?
He held her tightly against him, knowing they might soon be parted for all eternity. What was this emotion she aroused in him? He did not care to examine these new feelings, because he had to let her go before morning.
Mallory curled up in his arms, and he saw mischief dancing in her eyes. "So that is what it feels like to have a legend make love to you." She smiled. "Well, Akhdar 'em Akraba, I now believe the legend is more reality than fable."
Michael shook with laughter as he crushed her in his arms. "I see that you are going to be a most disrespectful wife. Will you not show me the respect deserving of a legend?"
Her eyes suddenly flickered, and she touched her lips to his. "Oh, yes, I will show you respect. What is it that the green-eyed scorpion desires?"
Desert Song (DeWinter's Song 3) Page 17