‘In theory?’
‘Papa is the son of a Scottish farmer, Rafiq. The officers of the Seventh like to think they are more blue-blooded than their horses—and they pride themselves on their horses’ lineage. They dare not shun Papa outright, but none would ever invite him to spend his leave on their family estates. Not that my father would accept such an invitation, unless it was to spend time in their stables. Papa has never been the least bit interested in pedigree, human or equine.’
If only he had been, if only he had taught his daughter to make the distinction, she might not have made such a catastrophic mistake. ‘What do the Princes of Bharym witness from this viewing gallery then,’ Stephanie asked, in a determined effort to lighten the mood, ‘if not ritual punishment?’
Rafiq duly obliged. ‘The Dash of the Camels,’ he said with a grin.
She was so surprised she burst out laughing. ‘The Dash of the Camels. It sounds like an Arabian version of a Scottish Reel. I take it that it’s not a dance?’
He shook his head, smiling. ‘It is a race, three times around the circumference of the piazza, riding camels bareback. They have a similar event, I am told, in Sienna, Italy, known as the Palio. Though they take it much more seriously, and they race horses.’
She gazed down on the square which was not actually a square, but an out-of-shape rectangle, with what looked like some hair-raisingly tight corners, and said so.
‘You are right,’ Rafiq said. ‘We lay down wet sand, but it is still very, very tricky. Though of course that is part of the challenge for the riders.’
‘And a source of amusement for the spectators, presumably? Where do the crowds stand?’
‘In the middle of the piazza of course.’
‘There are certainly advantages to being a prince. You have a prime view, and you’re not likely to be stampeded.’
‘It is true, a number of the camels do finish riderless, but we put up barriers to prevent them from endangering the crowds. It is a fun event, a spectacle for the populace,’ Rafiq said. ‘Every village enters their best jockey and camel, they parade it around the piazza ahead of the race, and there are prizes for the best-looking one, and the ugliest.’
‘Do you refer to the jockey or the camel?’ Stephanie said, laughing. ‘I would imagine the ugliest camel prize to be hotly contested. To my eye they seem to have been constructed from a jumble of disparate parts selected from a number of different animals. And as to their smell...’ She made a face. ‘Whether it is produced from the front end or the rear, both are noxious. When is this Dash? I would love to witness it.’
‘I’m afraid you’ve missed it. It took place six months ago. I don’t put any of the royal camels forward since the Dash is a race belonging to the people. Besides, though it seems to have escaped your notice, my camels are white thoroughbreds and extremely rare, though I admit that a pedigree does not preclude the particular camel perfumes you allude to,’ Rafiq said, with a smile. ‘I took the liberty of ordering refreshments for us, I hope you don’t mind.’
Stephanie, thinking that she would be unlikely to mind any liberty Rafiq chose to take, followed him to the back of the room, where a set of screens concealed an alcove containing a table laden with covered dishes, and a mountain of multi-coloured cushions.
‘Everywhere we go, sumptuous banquets appear as if by magic. I do not mean to sound ungrateful—it is simply that your world and mine, they are so very different.’
‘I was thinking only this morning, that very same thing,’ Rafiq said, waiting until she had settled at the table before seating himself with his usual fluid grace. ‘I have never met anyone like you before. And now you are blushing. Are you truly so unaccustomed to receiving compliments? I find that very difficult to believe.’
‘I am perfectly happy to be complimented on my skills as a veterinarian.’
‘Being a veterinarian, Stephanie, no matter what you may think to the contrary, does not preclude you from being an attractive woman.’
He smiled that smile again, and it did exactly what it did every time. Every particle of her was alerted to his presence. Every bit of her focused entirely and only on him. On his mouth. On his eyes. On the hard muscled body seated tantalisingly close to her. Her mouth went dry. ‘We agreed we could not afford to be distracted.’
‘Last night, this morning, caring for Batal together, proved where our priorities lie, don’t you think?’
‘I—I suppose it did, although we still—afterwards, we did kiss.’ Her heart was pounding. Her voice sounded odd.
‘A tender and heartfelt thank you, born of relief. Am I wrong to suggest that we might indulge ourselves, now that we have proved we won’t compromise our relationship as prince and veterinarian?’
She wasn’t sure what he was proposing, but she was curious to know. She bit her lip, laughed shakily. ‘I was thinking the other day how liberating it is to realise that one can only lose one’s reputation once, but the situation—our situation—it is not the same, but...’
‘Will you tell me what happened,’ he asked gently, ‘help me to understand why it is so difficult for you to trust me?’
She grimaced. ‘I do trust you. I’m simply not sure that I can trust myself. It is a sordid tale, which does not cast me in a good light. I fear your good opinion of me will be destroyed if I tell it.’
‘My good opinion of you is based on my knowledge of you as I have come to know you, Stephanie. Your past cannot change that.’
‘Do you really believe that? My past has shaped me. I thought I had left it behind, but it followed me here. I want to be rid of it, but my mistakes continue to haunt me. The best I can do is ensure I don’t repeat them.’
* * *
Her words made Rafiq shiver. They could have been his. Would he be similarly haunted for ever by his past? It was unthinkable. He was sure that the mule’s survival was a portent. The fates were no longer colluding against him. Stephanie had turned them in his favour.
He turned on the cushions to face her. ‘I think you are quite mistaken,’ he said firmly. ‘The door can be closed on the past. When we have atoned for our mistakes, then their shadow no longer stalks us.’
‘You think so?’
‘I am certain of it,’ he said in a tone that brooked no argument. ‘Now, tell me about the ghost that haunts you.’
She took a deep breath, clearly bracing herself. ‘His name was—is Captain Rupert Thornhill of the Seventh Hussars. My father’s regiment.’ Stephanie rolled her eyes. ‘My first error of judgement. He joined the Seventh two years ago. The Thornhills are a very old, established English aristocratic family. Rupert was—is rich, very well connected. My second error of judgement. He is also very dashing and charming, hugely popular, and exceedingly good looking.’ Stephanie’s smile was twisted. ‘My worst error of judgement was to believe that such a man would choose me. I was dazzled and I was very flattered. I allowed my heart to rule my head—something I never do. I believed myself in love.’
Rafiq fought his rising anger. He could imagine the man, paying well-practised court to her, wooing her. And Stephanie, naïve despite her years following the drum, falling for it. With difficulty, he kept silent.
She continued, her tone making it clear that she blamed herself, making him even more furious. ‘I know I’m not a catch. I have no pedigree, I have no dowry, and I am not a beauty, so when Rupert said he loved me, I believed him. I thought that he—he loved me, because there could be no other reason. I was such a gullible little fool.’
She pushed her hair back from her brow, tucking it behind her ear. ‘He told me we would be married, that there would be no harm in anticipating our vows.’
‘He seduced you.’
Stephanie hesitated. ‘I wish I could say that was so, but the truth is he did not. I thought I was in love. I wanted to please the man I thought I was t
o marry, but I also wanted—’ She broke off, shrugging awkwardly. ‘I wanted what no respectable woman should want. But it seems I am not at all respectable, because you make me feel exactly that way.’
‘Stephanie, there is nothing shameful in desire.’
‘Oh, Rafiq, perhaps not for men. Or hussies. I knew it was wrong, but that didn’t stop me. If only I had known—I thought it would be magical,’ she said sardonically. ‘Rupert did not seem at all disappointed, but I was. Fortunately it was over very quickly. Or so I thought.’
She took a long drink of pomegranate juice, steeling herself. Rafiq had a horrible premonition of what was to come. No wonder Stephanie found it difficult to trust him. She set the glass down. ‘I knew Rupert had a reputation for never refusing a challenge, that he must always succeed where others failed. I never thought he would see me as a prize, but it seems I was. By simple dint of my having failed to respond to any overtures from any officer in the past, by refusing to accept the improper proposals made to every single female who followed the drum as a matter of course, by protecting my reputation, I was challenging their manhood,’ she said disgustedly. ‘Rupert succeeded because he didn’t make me an improper proposal. Rupert pretended to fall in love with me.’
Rafiq was too angry to speak. Stephanie was too engrossed in her sorry tale to notice. ‘You see now, just how much of a fool I was?’ she continued, her voice bitter. ‘Such a man would never marry me, and I was the only person in the regiment to think he would. When he boasted openly of his conquest, the gulf which separated our families made it easy for them all to conclude that I was a woman of easy virtue.’
Her eyes were bright, not with tears but with anger and with defiance. Her fists were clenched. ‘It is so unfair. My reputation was ruined, while Rupert was slapped on the back. I was a fallen woman, whereas he was...’
‘...an accomplished seducer without honour or scruples,’ Rafiq exclaimed, unable to hold his tongue any longer.
‘That makes it worse! I pride myself on my logic, my powers of deduction, the soundness of my judgement, yet I abandoned all three.’
‘The man lied and cheated to steal your innocence. He deserves to be whipped. There can be no excuses for what he did, Stephanie. You are not at fault.’ Rafiq cursed under his breath. ‘Your parents must have—Your father...’
‘Papa was...’ Her anger fled. Her lip trembled. Her eyes filled with tears. ‘What it did to Papa...that was the worst of it.’
‘Stephanie...’
She held up her hand, shaking her head. ‘Please.’ She took a shaky breath, dabbed at her eyes, and continued, her voice tremulous, her words tumbling over each other, for she was anxious to be done. ‘Afterwards, when I asked Rupert when we were to be married, he laughed in my face. Surely I could not possibly have believed that a blue-blooded Thornhill would wed a farrier’s daughter? Well, I had, though I see now that it was preposterous. As a prince, you would probably agree with Rupert on that score.’
Rafiq could not deny it, so ingrained was the notion of bloodlines, of pure ancestry to him, though the knowledge made him deeply uncomfortable. ‘Nevertheless,’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘he made you false promises, and in doing so he dishonoured the very heritage he claims to have been trying to protect.’
Stephanie pushed her hair away from her brow once again. There were no traces of tears in her eyes now. ‘When I threatened to tell the truth regarding his bogus marriage proposal, in order to protect what little was left of my soiled reputation, he warned me that if I dared to do so, he would see to it that my father lost his position. Rupert was not Papa’s direct superior officer, but he wielded significant influence within the regiment. Like many of his ilk and, unlike Papa, he had purchased his commission, achieved his rank through a combination of wealth and privilege. They all attended school together, their families socialised together, they were all related to each other in some way—what chance would Papa have, Rafiq, no matter how brilliant he is, if they closed ranks against him?’
Stephanie scrunched her eyes closed, bunched her fists tighter. ‘Papa’s life has been serving the army. He is so proud of his position, I could not risk him losing everything he has worked for.’
‘So instead, you exiled yourself from the life that had been yours too, and from your family? That is why you have spent the last year at a stud farm?’
‘I had to. The shame, the scandal, the dishonour, it was mine, not theirs. I had no choice but to leave. Papa was not easily persuaded, he was so very angry, but Mama—oh, Mama could see clearly enough that any attempt to avenge me would simply result in more scandal, more gossip, that it was best for all of us that I get as far away from the scene of my crime as possible. And so eventually, Papa agreed.’
‘You committed no crime, Stephanie.’
‘Oh, but I did. My lack of judgement was a heinous crime. If it were only myself who bore the shame, it would not be quite so bad, but my parents—when I think of what they have suffered on my account—that is what has kept me awake at night this last year. That, and a determination to find a way to stop them from worrying about me.’
‘Independence,’ Rafiq said, smiling, for finally he understood it.
‘Precisely,’ Stephanie said, smiling tentatively back. ‘You see now, how valuable a gift you have given me with this appointment? It is my way of making good the harm I have done. My own form of reparation.’
Her words struck a chord. Though she could never know, though he would never explain—yes, he and this strange, exotic Englishwoman had a great deal in common. ‘I do understand, Stephanie. After such an experience, it is little wonder that you are reluctant to trust anyone, least of all someone in my position.’
‘Oh, thank you.’ Her hand fluttered to her breast. ‘I know there is no comparison between you and Rupert. I know you are a man of honour, that you would never lie to me, and that you truly do value me for what I am, that you mean it when you say that you respect me. You don’t flatter me by telling me I’m pretty...’
‘Pretty is much too insipid a word to describe you. Clever, unusual, brave, bold, witty, sultry, seductive, captivating, enticing, entrancing—you are all of those and much more. You are quite extraordinary. It makes me very angry to hear that you gave your innocence to a man so undeserving of you.’
‘I don’t want you to be angry, I want you to understand. The fact that there can never be anything between us, Rafiq, is one of the things about this situation I find reassuring,’ Stephanie said. ‘It draws, if you will forgive the pun, a very clear line in the sand. You are a prince, I am a farrier’s daughter, and in six months’ time—less if I find a cure for the sickness sooner—I return to England.’
‘Once again, your way of looking at a situation is—unique,’ Rafiq said, laughing. ‘Does that mean I should not have suggested...?’
‘No, it means that I am glad you did,’ she said, blushing. ‘I know it’s a very shocking thing to admit, but...’
‘Stephanie, it’s not shocking. It is a very natural thing, and it can be a very pleasurable thing.’
‘Really?’
‘Really. Passion is not only the province of fallen women. Even respectable women experience desire.’
‘I’m not sure that I want to be respectable. If you’re right, and we proved last night that our overriding priority will always be curing the sickness, then I would like to—what exactly are you suggesting, Rafiq?’
‘That we indulge our passion in whatever way we choose,’ he said, taking her hand and kissing the tip of her little finger. ‘When we can safely do so without fear of compromising our other duties.’ He kissed the next finger. ‘That you can choose just how much or how little you wish to give.’ Another kiss, on her middle finger. ‘That you can put an end to it at any time, without fear of the consequences.’ He sucked on the tip of her index finger. ‘And above all that we
take pleasure in what we do. Whatever we do.’ He drew her thumb into his mouth, smiling wickedly. ‘Is that a proposal you can agree to, do you think?’
She shivered. ‘Yes.’
‘Are you sure?’ he asked seriously.
‘Yes,’ she said, smiling again. ‘Now that I have agreed Rafiq, do you think we should...?’
‘Yes.’ He pulled her into his arms. ‘I think we should begin immediately.’
Chapter Six
Stephanie was nervous, he could sense it in the slightly brittle tone of her voice. ‘One word from you and we will go no further,’ Rafiq said.
‘I know.’
He thought fleetingly, vengefully, of the bungling, selfish, dishonourable man who had betrayed her, before dismissing him as beneath contempt. He would make sure this experience was as different from her last in every possible way. He pushed back her hair to kiss the fluttering pulse at her temple. ‘Try to stop that impressively large brain of yours from thinking and concentrate on your body instead.’
She chuckled weakly. ‘I am not sure if I can.’
‘Then let me assist you.’ He kissed her carefully, soothing kisses, focusing his attention completely on her, wanting only her pleasure. He kissed her eyes, her temples, her mouth, fluttering kisses that sought nothing in return, and gradually she relaxed, her lids closing, her mouth softening under his, then returning the pressure, her tongue touching his, her body melting.
He laid her down on the cushions, easing his body away from hers, reining in his own sudden jolt of passion. Her eyes flickered open. ‘Nothing,’ he said, reading the question contained there, ‘you need do nothing.’
‘But I want to. Don’t you want me to...?’
‘Yes.’ His body rather graphically agreed, but he ignored it. ‘I do want you to, very much, but not yet. Before we discover each other, you must first discover yourself.’
The Harlot and the Sheikh Page 10