‘It’s unthinkable.’
‘But it’s a possibility you can’t afford to ignore,’ she said earnestly. ‘I understand why it’s important to your people. You promised them a victory and you are a man who honours his promises. I understand that it’s important to you, to restore your father’s honour, and to win in Elmira’s honour too. But you believe it’s more than that, don’t you? You believe that winning the Sabr will somehow rid you of all this terrible guilt you bear for Elmira’s death and I am afraid...’
She caught herself on a sob. She must remain calm. ‘I am so afraid, Rafiq, that you are wrong, and I can’t bear to think of you suffering for another year, another, another, until you win—if you win. You have pinned all your hopes on this race, you are living your life in limbo until you win, but you don’t have to.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Nothing can change what happened in the past, Rafiq, but you can stop it ruling your life.’
‘I fail to see how,’ he said heavily, ‘but I’m willing to listen.’
Stephanie laced her fingers together, frowning down at them. ‘I admit, I was shocked by what you told me. There is no denying that you neglected Elmira, that you contributed to making her very unhappy, but what you haven’t taken account of is her role in this.’
‘Stephanie, you know I only married her for her dowry.’
‘You married her to make good on the pledge you made to your people, and to heal the rift your father had made. You put your kingdom first when you made that marriage, not yourself.’
‘And I put Elmira last, Stephanie.’
‘Why did she marry you?’
He looked confused. ‘It was her father’s wish.’
‘But if she hadn’t wanted to marry you, could she have refused?’
Frowning, he picked up a piece of straw and knotted it. ‘Salim has several daughters. If Elmira had been against the match, then I expect one of her sisters would have taken her place.’
‘So she wanted to marry you? And she knew what that entailed—the harem, the life that she would lead, it was not a shock to her?’
‘No, of course not. It was one of the few things we did discuss before the contract was signed. I know how the Bedouin are, I know how much they value their freedom, it was why I agreed that Elmira could take her horse out into the desert every day, provided she also took an escort.’ He stared down at the knotted straw, his frown deepening. ‘I had forgotten that.’
‘So Elmira knew the risk she was taking if she abused that freedom?’
‘But was she abusing it?’
‘If she had been completely innocent, don’t you think she would have said so, Rafiq? She had far too much to lose.’
‘She was lonely, and that was my fault.’
‘Elmira was a grown woman with a mind of her own. Did she tell you how lonely she was? Did she tell you she was unhappy?’
‘Stephanie, most women don’t have the courage to speak their minds as you do. Besides, that’s not the point. I was her husband. I was responsible for her. I should have been aware of her unhappiness.’
‘Yes, you should have, but she should have spoken to you. You take too much of the blame on yourself.’ Stephanie took a deep breath. ‘It is the same with her death.’
He flinched. ‘It’s true, I did not administer the sleeping draught, but...’
‘You assume that Elmira took her own life because she was lonely, because she was effectively a prisoner in the harem, because you made her unhappy, but you don’t actually know for sure, do you?’ Stephanie laced her hands more tightly together. She couldn’t risk crying. She couldn’t risk any emotion. Beside her, Rafiq was distractedly tying another knot in another piece of straw. ‘If you had had any idea how desperate she was...’
‘How could I? I never visited her.’
‘And she never asked for you. Did she speak to Aida?’
‘No.’ He cast the straw aside. ‘No. I couldn’t ask her directly without betraying Elmira but—no.’
‘It’s my impression too, that Aida thought her content. Whatever drove Elmira to take such extreme action, she was determined to keep it to herself. It is one of the most tragic aspects of her death that the act which she saw as putting an end to her suffering made you suffer so much.’
‘I deserve to suffer.’
Was she imagining it, or did he sound less convinced? ‘Do you think that Elmira wished you to feel so guilty?’ Stephanie asked. ‘She went to great pains to escape the harem that night, drugging Aida and the guard.’
‘She wanted to be with Sherifa.’
‘Of course, but do you think it’s possible that she also wanted to make someone other than you feel guilty?’
‘I don’t know what you—You mean Jasim?’ Rafiq looked as if he had taken another blow to the head. ‘Jasim?’
‘It is Jasim who stopped Elmira going to the stables. Jasim who accused her of interfering. Jasim who accused her of having an affair. Jasim who sacked the man who, if he was not her lover, was at very least her closest friend. You cannot know what was lies and what was malice, but Elmira knew. And Elmira chose to die in the stables.’
‘Stephanie, it is too much. I don’t—I can’t...’
‘Grant me a few more moments, please?’ She waited for his nod. ‘Elmira took her own life, Rafiq, and whatever her reasons, the act itself was hers, not yours. What you did do afterwards was protect her honour and that of her family as you had when she was indiscreet. No one knows that she died by her own hand. You have borne all the guilt of that, spared her family that scandal. And you spared them the shame of a divorce too.’
‘Because I wanted to keep the horses.’
‘Do you think Elmira would have been happier, returned to her family a divorced woman, than she was confined to your harem?’ Stephanie touched his arm gently. ‘I know, an impossible question, but you must think about it. Much more importantly, what you need to think about is how much this tragedy has changed you. The man I know, the honourable, caring, thoughtful man sitting beside me, is not the man who married Elmira. When you marry again—’ She broke off, blinking furiously. She couldn’t fall at this last hurdle. ‘When you marry again, you will be a very different husband. You may even encourage your wife to be honest with you, for you will need someone to do so when I am gone.’
‘Stephanie, you are unique.’
‘No. I am simply the first of my kind you have encountered. Given a little encouragement, you will find that most women will speak their minds as I do.’
He took her hands, unlacing her fingers carefully before kissing her fingertips. ‘Speaking your mind, as you have done, takes a great deal of courage.’
‘I want you to be happy, Rafiq. You deserve to be happy.’
He kissed her hand again. ‘I will settle for making my peace.’
‘Don’t settle for that,’ Stephanie said fiercely. ‘You deserve more than that.’
He sighed. ‘You have given me a great deal to think about. I need time—I have no idea—I need time.’
‘Of course you do. But please, Rafiq, you will reflect on what I have said?’
He got to his feet, pulling her with him. ‘I promise.’ He kissed her softly. ‘Thank you.’
Two weeks later
The training paddock was north of the palace, a large natural arena in the valley created by a huge red rock in the shape of a horseshoe. The hard-packed sand was an ideal surface for the racehorses, although the Sabr team were also taken out to train on the course, in order to acclimatise them to the different terrains. When Stephanie had pointed out that this must give the home team an advantage, Fadil had been insulted, informing her that any team from any kingdom was welcome to use the course.
At the far end of the grounds, in the shelter of the rock at the
top of the horseshoe, were the stable buildings and temporary accommodation. She dismounted near the entrance to the arena, tethering Sherifa in the shade and fetching her a bucket of water. This was the mare’s first outing since her sickness, and though it was a short ride, Stephanie was taking no chances.
Rafiq had invited her to come today to watch the training. She had seen very little of him since his confession. Though she was desperate to know whether her heartfelt arguments had changed his thinking, she was determined to give him the time he had asked for.
There was no sign of him. Two horses were being schooled over high hurdles in the centre of the arena. Three yearlings were being put through their paces on the course over at the far end. There were five or six more in a pen nearby, with a mule companion.
Out on the course, four horses were being brought out. Each had a rope bridle and reins but no saddle. Three mares and one stallion, and all were very frisky, their handlers struggling to hold them. Rafiq emerged from the stable building, and Stephanie’s heart leapt. He was dressed in his usual riding clothes: leather breeches, long boots, white shirt. He scanned the arena, and when he spotted Stephanie with Sherifa, he smiled and waved, and her heart leapt again.
There followed an intense discussion between the men which she could not hear, presumably over the order in which Rafiq would ride. She knew from Fadil that this was one of the trickiest decisions on the day, particularly if the race was close. It was not uncommon for a horse to bolt without his rider, or for a horse to refuse to stop for the change. Riding bareback without stirrups made it even more of a challenge for the jockey to control a runaway or a rearing horse. Fadil had recounted many instances of what sounded to Stephanie terrible injuries, with some relish. Seeing her horror, he had been hasty to reassure her that the horses were rarely hurt. It didn’t occur to him that she would be far more concerned about Rafiq than his thoroughbreds. But that was most likely because it didn’t seem to occur to a single one of Bharym’s people that their Prince could do anything other than triumph.
The order was decided. Rafiq leapt on to the back of the first horse, an impressive feat in itself, for the black mare was refusing to stand still. Stephanie watched, her heart in her mouth, as he set off around the circuit of the track. The yearlings had been returned to their pen. A storm of dust and sand blew up as Rafiq galloped at full tilt, sitting forward and straight on the mare, his body swaying easily with the horse. He made it look effortless. Stephanie knew, because she had tried it only the other day, that it was incredibly difficult.
He was approaching the change now. The other three horses were fidgety. The change horse was being led out. The handler for the current horse was crouched, ready to dash forward. A thundering of hooves. Surely Rafiq would slow down. He did, but only yards before the change. Stephanie watched through her fingers as he leaned forward on to the neck of the horse, pulling on the reins to slow her, then throwing one leg over, hovering half on, half off, as the change horse was brought up, then sliding to the ground, running without breaking stride, and leaping on to the fresh horse as if he had springs on his heels, then he was off again at a gallop.
It all happened so fast. The other three horses, one panting, two fresh, were straining at their halters. The next change went more slowly, Rafiq’s fresh horse rearing up before thundering into a gallop. At the third change, his foot slipped on the sand, but by a miracle or superb muscle control, he managed to regain his balance.
The fourth change was to the stallion. Stephanie’s jaw was clenched as she watched him bucking and tossing his head. He was much bigger and considerably more powerful than the mares. A higher leap would be needed to mount him, more strength to control him, and he had a vicious temper too, by the looks of it. But the change was safely made. The last circuit was complete. Rafiq was reining in when the stallion took umbrage and reared. Stephanie held her breath as man and horse fought for supremacy. She exhaled as the stallion was brought under control. And she screamed when he bucked, hurtling Rafiq on to the ground.
By the time she reached him, he had picked himself up and was dusting himself down. ‘Are you hurt?’
He grinned. ‘No more than usual. You brought Sherifa. She is the dam of Lameh, the beast who threw me. He is the fastest horse in the team, but he does not like to be mastered. I am glad you came.’
‘I am glad you asked me.’
He ushered her over to the shade, where they sat down together behind a rock, not wholly hidden from the arena, but sufficiently out of view to afford them some privacy. ‘Four weeks until the Sabr, and my changeovers are still not slick enough. I started training too late.’
‘Fadil has been telling me all sorts of horror stories about the race. I had no idea it was so dangerous.’
‘It’s only dangerous if you don’t know your horses. Ours are in excellent fettle. I think we have a good chance of winning.’
‘Only a good chance?’
He smiled. ‘An excellent chance, but as you have pointed out, there are no guarantees. It is a long race. So much can go wrong. All it takes is one lame horse. You see, I do listen, Stephanie.’ He leaned back on his hands, stretching his legs out in front of him. ‘I hadn’t allowed myself to consider the possibility of losing. I was so set on winning, so focused on that one goal that I wasn’t thinking rationally at all. Unlike my Royal Horse Surgeon.’
Stephanie blushed. Rafiq smiled at her again. ‘You see, I have also learned how to pay you the kind of compliments you like. You want to know if your rational thinking has had any effect.’
Stephanie nodded. He seemed different, but that didn’t mean...
Rafiq leaned over to kiss her cheek. ‘It has. It has taken me a great deal of time and effort—two years’ worth of guilt is a lot to come to terms with, but I think I finally have.’
He sat up, crossing his legs. ‘When Elmira died, I came very close to giving up. I wouldn’t have taken such dramatic action as my father did, but I would have sold the horses, closed the stud. But then it would have been futile—my marriage, her death—and so I vowed to win the Sabr for Elmira. I still want to race in her honour, but I see now, thanks to you, that winning would not assuage my guilt. It is all I can do to atone, but it won’t actually make me feel any better about what I did. It took you, and your very impressive brain to point that out. Clever Stephanie.’
‘It is merely that I have had some experience myself, at coming to terms with my mistakes, Rafiq.’
‘And now I’m benefitting from what you have learned. I am very fortunate.’ He kissed her again, this time on the lips. ‘I will never know what drove Elmira to such a terrible act. I wish with all my heart that she had not, but I do see now that it was her act, not mine. I cannot in all honesty say that I don’t feel guilty, because guilt defies logic, but I believe it will fade. And in your own words, much more importantly, I have changed. Not only because of that dark time, but more recently because of you.’
She was blushing again. ‘You mean you know now that there are some things a woman can do every bit as well as a man, such as tend to horses.’
‘You have made me realise that my thinking has been very traditional, but that’s not what I meant. Your refusal to grant me the deference I deserve,’ he said wryly, ‘has made me see how much I have taken for granted. Your description of my palace, a place for everyone, and a guard to keep everyone in their place, it shocked me, but what shocked me even more was the discovery that I do the same with my life.’
Their lips met and lingered. Her eyes drifted closed, as his tongue traced the line of her lower lip. When they broke apart, when she opened her eyes, sunspots dazzled her. ‘Rafiq, I...’
‘I want you too,’ he said, misunderstanding her meaning, saving her from a most ill-judged declaration. ‘I want you so much, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to remain here for the next four weeks, until the Sabr. It is vitally importa
nt that I dedicate the little time I have to doing all I can to obtain that victory. So I’m going to be living out here with my team until the race. You understand?’
‘Of course I do.’ Afraid that her feelings would show, Stephanie got up, shaking out her tunic, picking up her headdress. ‘I will see you at the starting post on the day of the race.’
Chapter Twelve
Four weeks later
The race, as tradition dictated, started as dawn broke. In this centenary year, a record twenty-five teams had entered. By the time Stephanie arrived at the starting post, the crowd was enormous and in high spirits. Children screamed and shouted, men called to one another, women gossiped behind their hands. Each rider wore their traditional colours, and the spectators showed their allegiance by sporting that colour too. Bharym’s flag was emerald-green with a white band. Stephanie’s tunic and headdress were emerald-green, her cloak and the scarf which tied her keffiyeh were white. The same colours worn by the vast majority of the spectators. The whole kingdom of Bharym seemed to have turned out to watch.
Fadil ushered her through to the enclosure, where the starting horses were held. The air here was thick with dust from pawing hooves, redolent of horse and sweat, the atmosphere tense. Rafiq was consulting with his team of handlers, but when he saw Stephanie he fought through the crowd to join her, and Fadil discreetly left them alone, joining the Bharym team.
‘I’m glad to see you have made your allegiance clear. Nailed your colours to the mast, so to speak,’ he said with a smile.
Like hers, his tunic and headdress were green, the keffiyeh band white, though he wore his usual riding breeches. She was on edge, seeing him for the first time in four weeks. He had lost weight and developed muscle. He was even more ridiculously handsome than ever. ‘I didn’t know there would be so many competitors,’ she said inanely. ‘I didn’t know it would be so—there can’t be a soul left in the city.’
The Harlot and the Sheikh Page 20