`I only get bruised when I fight you.'
He fondled the slender arm on which the slave bracelet gleamed. 'You are so soft-skinned that I have only to breathe on you. Such soft skin, but an ice-crystal for a heart.'
`Would you want it otherwise?' She gazed at him through her lashes and her heart beat warm and fast with love of him.
He laughed, deep and purringly. Then he lifted her in his arms and carried her through the bead curtain to her couch. 'You must get some sleep, Lorna. We leave for Sidi Kebir early in the morning.'
She was wildly glad to be going with him, and yet at the same time apprehensive. At the palace she would have to meet his family. His father the Emir, and his sister Turqeya. What would they think of the English girl he took there as his guest?
He stroked the hair back from her eyes, soft as a child's, with the lamplight in its fairness. 'Say now, Lorna, if you would rather not come with me to the Emir's palace.'
`Have I a choice, Kasim?' She felt the caress in his fingertips and hoped wildly that he would say she had no choice; that she was his to take with him, come what may.
`If I say that you are free to choose, then of course you will ask for a guide to take you to Yraa. But have you thought, petite, that your sudden reappearance will cause comment and speculation? No matter what
excuses you make, what explanation you dream up for having vanished into the desert for weeks, people are bound to guess that you have been with a man.' He smiled but she saw a question in his eyes. 'You may wish of course to tell them I forced you to stay with me.
`People will have to think what they like.' She spoke bravely, but the thought of being parted from him, of being alone and at the mercy of gossip was almost more than she could secretly bear.
`If on the other hand,' he said deliberately, 'you come to the palace of the Emir Mansour, then the mere mention of his powerful name will silence all the tongues that will wag in Yraa when you reappear looking so suntanned and lovely. As the guest of the Emir you will be beyond reproach:
`As the guest of Prince Kasim . . . ?' She smiled as her heart grew light again. 'I suppose as your guest I would be extremely suspect?'
`I am a young man. It would be assumed that I had been—your lover!'
She couldn't look at him when he said lover in such a low and deliberate voice. She couldn't trust her own reaction to his sun-bronzed face so near to her, his dark tousled hair, his tawny eyes that the lamplight seemed to soften.
`We know the truth about that,' she said. 'It made me mad to be denied my freedom, Kasim, but I wouldn't let anyone call you a rake.'
`You used to say that I was hateful,' he murmured with a smile.
`You saved my life yesterday, so I can't very well go on hating you. That would be most ungrateful of me.'
`Will you let me save your reputation by taking you to Sidi Kebir?'
`I must admit,' she lowered her lashes in case there was a betraying sparkle in her eyes, 'that I'd hate to be gossiped about by a lot of idle tourists.'
`That cool British pride, eh?' He bent his head and his light kiss was smoky against her temple. 'We start at dawn, ma fille, so get a good night's sleep and don't worry about meeting the Emir. He likes pretty women and he will be charming ... always supposing that he is well enough to meet you.'
Kasim rose to his feet with a sigh. 'Goodnight, cherie
`Goodnight, Prince Kasim.'
The bead curtain rattled and he was gone. The room seemed empty, but her heart was full. Tears brimmed in her eyes. A sweeter prince was Kasim than many people might suspect.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE square white residence overlooking Sidi Kebir gave no outward sign of a hidden sumptuousness. A great arched door swept open and they entered an immense courtyard set round with palm trees and fronting the two wings of the palace.
It was in front of the left-hand wing that they dismounted from their tired horses, who were at once led away to the stables while the Shaikh ushered Lorna up a flight of steps and in through another arched door. His retinue of men went in another direction. This part, Lorna guessed, was private to the son of the Emir.
As soon as they entered the reception hall, servants appeared with cool drinks. Kasim spoke to them in crisp Arabic and they went hurrying away to attend to his orders. Then, lighting a cigarette, he turned his attention to Lorna, who had sat down on a divan and was gazing around the hall with wide eyes.
The rich strangeness of her surroundings made her feel tongue-tied. There were cloistered archways and a fountain in the centre of the hall set with blue tiles. Cedarwood screens carved into lace-like patterns, tinted hanging lamps, a mosaic floor and walls covered with silken tapestries. Over all hung the scent of sandalwood and a delightful hush.
`It's like the Arabian Nights,' Lorna murmured, and it flooded over her that she was in his father's palace and that her position was a rather invidious one.
`You feel strange?' He glanced around him. 'I am inclined to feel that way myself when I come from the encampment and find myself beneath a roof once more. I miss the blue sky over the wide free desert.'
Lorna raised her eyes to his face in a rather uncertain way. She felt such a stranger, and was even unsure of the man who had brought her here. He looked stern, distant, a slight savagery to his pacing in front of her.
`I must go and see my father,' he said. 'I will leave you in the hands of Kasha, whom one of the servants will fetch to you. Kasha is the keeper of my apartments, the kiaya as we say in Arabic. She was, by the way, my mother's personal maid.'
This piece of information made Lorna feel a little easier. She even managed a slight smile as she rose to her feet. 'I hope you find your father much improved,' she said. 'When do you think ' She broke off, biting her lip, for it unnerved her that she must meet the Emir.
`I cannot say.' Kasim took her hand and she saw him frown when he found it chilled by nerves. 'He won't eat you, mon enfant. Like most fathers he likes to take an interest in his son, and having heard rumours about my pearl of the desert '
`Don't—please !' She wrenched her hand from his just as a woman appeared in the hall. She was tiny and elderly, with a haik drawn over her head and halfway
across her face. She gave the Prince a bow, and then she looked at Lorna with deep-set eyes that were so dark they seemed to hold many secrets.
`Please take the lella to her rooms and see that she has all she needs.' He bent to a table to stub his cigarette, and he spoke in French to let Lorna know that she could converse with Kasha without effort. He glanced at the old woman, his eyes anxious. 'How does my father seem?' he asked.
Kasha spread her hands. 'The doctors say he has come through the heart attack without too much damage. The rest is with Allah.'
`He can speak?' There was a deep note of concern in the deep voice. 'He is not too helpless after being so strong?'
`No, he has not lost his powers of speech.' A smile glimmered in Kasha's eyes as she surveyed the tall and dominating man she must at one time have dandled on her knee. 'He has things to say to his son, who makes the desert his home for months at a time.'
`I meant to return earlier.' His eyes flicked Lorna' s slim figure. 'The desert holds an enchantment I find hard to resist. A man never knows what he will find there.'
With a brief bow and a smile, he swung on his heel and strode across the hall to an arched door, which framed him a moment and then was empty. Lorna met the eyes of the old and trusted servant who had been here when Kasim's mother came as a bride. She tried to look composed. 'I hope we will be friends, Kasha,' she said, forcing herself to smile
The dark eyes flicked her riding breeches, and the
shesh that still covered her hair. There was curiosity in Kasha's glance, but she did not look unkind. 'If you will come with me, lella, I will show you where you can bathe and relax after your long ride.'
They mounted a flight of winding stairs and walked along a fretwork gallery, and plainly across the Eastern rooftops came
the wail of a muezzin calling the devoted to prayer. It was a sound that made Lorna feel a little melancholy, reminding her that she was no longer in the desert but in the city of Sidi Kebir.
They arrived at the arched doorway of the apartment set aside for Lorna, with a surround of indented leaves and flowers. There was an Arabic inscription in white and gold above the doorway and Lorna paused to study it. 'What do the words say?' she asked Kasha.
Kasha gave her a considering look. 'Love, say the words, is the gateway to the pomegranate garden. Who plucks the pomegranate shall know sweetness.'
Lorna flushed slightly, for it seemed to her that Kasha spoke the words meaningly.
`Will my lady enter the haremlik?' the old woman murmured.
There were three rooms, each one separated by a screened doorway of carved wood. In the main room there were divans on raised steps and arabesqued lamps suspended on chains from the painted ceiling The rugs glowed like jewels upon the floor, and the narrow windows were covered with a lacing of ironwork.
The Arabian furniture in the bedroom was set with mother-of-pearl. Curtains of fine lace were looped about the gilded bed, and on the pearl-inlaid dressing-
table there was an assortment of cosmetics and several scent bottles.
The bathroom was a joy to behold! It was dominated by a sunken bath of jade green tiles, encircled by a cool arcade in which masses of golden acacia bloomed in huge copper bowls. There were closets ornamented with scrolls, and inside one of them there were enough bath essences and toiletries to serve a dozen girls.
Lorna shut her mind to that thought. This was the haremlik of the Sidi Kasim ben Hussayn. It was natural that it would be stocked with scents and silks and oriental slippers.
The great sunken bath was filled from a tap, and Kasha scattered rose essence into the warm, lucent water. Lorna slipped out of her dusty riding clothes and was soon in the bath. She frolicked about in the water, while Kasha looked through a closet and selected wisps of under things for her new mistress, and a lovely silk robe of jasmine-blue, the border of each hanging sleeve rich with silver embroidery.
Lorna loved the robe from the moment she slipped into it. With her fair shining hair and her deep-blue eyes she looked as lovely as a medieval girl. The silk was so luscious that she couldn't keep from stroking it.
`There is coffee for my lady in the adjoining room,' said Kasha, and Lorna found again that the dark eyes were studying her with a curiosity tinged with a certain compassion. It was a look that made Lorna want to ask a certain question. One that had been clamouring in her ever since she had arrived at the palace of the
Emir Hussayn.
`Yes, lella?' Kasha looked enquiring as Lorna stood hesitant before the arched doorway that led into the other room.
`The Prince Kasim told me that you were his mother's maid.' A pink flush came and went in Lorna' s cheeks. 'What was she like, Kasha? I should love to know.'
`My lady Elena was very beautiful.'
`I mean ... what was she like to know?' Lorna sat down and poured herself a cup of coffee. 'Was she ... happy?'
A mask of reserve seemed to cover Kasha's face. `She was the Emir's favourite wife, lella.'
`He had more than one wife, Kasha?' Lorna gazed stunned over the rim of her coffee cup.
But of course.' Kasha spread her hands in the oriental way and her eyes were faintly amused. 'Did you not know that my lord Hussayn had two wives? The sister of the Sidi Kasim was not born to my lady Elena. After the sides birth she could bear no more children, so the Emir married again. It is the custom. It does not mean that a man loses his love for his first wife.'
Lorna sat very still and slim in her blue silk, and it came home forcibly to her that she was among strangers in a far land, whose customs were strange and exotic. Here the men could take more than one wife if they wished ... here the men did not give their love to one woman alone !
She gave a little shiver beneath the jewelled light of the lamps overhead. She sipped her coffee and tried to find some warmth in it as Kasha quietly withdrew, leaving her alone.
She was not alone for long. Suddenly and silently a girl appeared in the room. She stood between a pair of columns and her darkly fringed eyes were fixed upon Lorna, spice-brown, almond shaped eyes set in a small, golden-skinned face. Her soft smile showed her flawless teeth. There was a dark beauty spot on her cheekbone, and she wore a silken melhaffa, draped perfectly on her slender figure.
`So,' she gave a soft, enchanting laugh, 'you are the little falcon my brother brings home on his wrist?' She spoke in French with a charming accent. 'We had word that your hair was the colour of wild honey.'
`You are Turqeya!' Lorna stared in her turn at this exotic young creature whose brows were painted to meet across her shapely nose, and whose fingernails were lightly hennaed. A young enchantress!
`Please come and join me,' she invited. 'The coffee is hot and delicious.'
Turqeya came at once and curled down on a sofa facing Lorna. 'I am so pleased to meet you,' she said. `I was curious about you, but now I can see that you are nice.'
Lorna smiled, for her relief at finding Turqeya so friendly went deep. She handed her a cup of coffee and gestured at the mixture of cakes on the low table. `I am happy to meet you, Turqeya,' she replied.
`Is it true that you rode all over the desert with Kasim on one of his Arab horses? The desert is so vast—did it not frighten you to be in it?'
`I loved the desert.' Lorna sipped her second cup of coffee. 'I was with your brother, so I wasn't afraid. A few days ago we were together in a sandstorm and it was exhilarating—after the danger was over.'
`Men like my brother don't usually make riding companions of women.' Turqeya swept her eyes over Lorna, who looked very feminine and even a little fragile in her blue silk robe. 'I think you have cast a spell over him. He has always had a fondness for blue jasmine and your eyes are exactly the same colour— deep blue with a hint of violet.'
`You're kind to say so.' Lorna was feeling more relaxed now, in this jewel of a room and in the company of Kasim's delightful young sister.
`Is Kasim kind to you?'
`When he's in the mood.' Lorna's lashes shaded her eyes as she set down her cup. 'How big the palace is! I am longing to explore, especially the gardens which I am sure are full of exotic blooms and wonderful old fountains.'
`It has grown too dark for you to see the blue jasmine, but you can smell it. Come !' Turqeya uncurled herself and caught at Lorna's hand. She drew her to the glass doors that led out to a balcony, which was enclosed in a gold-painted grid.
Scent of the jasmine that starred the walls and pergolas below arose on the evening air, delicate and pervasive, and Lorna found herself gripping the iron grid and breathing deeply of the intoxicating scent. Somewhere among the rose and almond trees a bird sang, while overhead a new moon was emerging. Etched by its light were the minarets and domes of Sidi Kebir ... a silver city, tranced by moonlight.
Lorna's pleasure was a little blue and yearning. It secretly thrilled her that Kasim should think her eyes like his favourite flower, but at the same time she could not help but realize that like the flowers she could not linger here for ever.
`I hope your father recovers soon from his illness,' she said to Turqeya.
The girl gave a sigh. 'I am sad for him, but I am troubled also for Kasim. He has always been a desert hawk, and now his wings must be clipped. It is feared, you see, that our father will not recover his full powers, and Kasim is the only son, the one who must take the scarlet cloak.'
Lorna turned puzzled eyes to the girl.
The scarlet cloak signifies the chief leader of an Arabian tribe,' Turqeya explained. 'The people of the beni Saadi adore Kasim because he is handsome, fearless, and virile. He bows down to only the Emir, and even with him he is not afraid to express what is in his heart.'
`Is your father very formidable?' Lorna asked nervously.
Not in the way he used to be. When I was little he used to ala
rm me when he came to visit my mother. I would run and hide from him in one of my mother's marriage chests. Sometimes when he was in a gentle mood he would come searching for me, and he would pop sweets between my lips. I think it pleased him that I was quite pretty, but he always wanted another son. If there had been a brother for Kasim, he might now be free to lead his own life.
`As it is—' Turqeya shrugged eloquently, and her anklets tinkled as she went back into the room of the divans. Lorna followed, feeling suddenly chilled. She went to the brasero to warm her hands.
`Do you like your apartment?' Turqeya asked, and once again she curled down among the big embroidered cushions of the sofa and took a honey tart from the table. She was like a small golden cat, and already Lorna felt fond of her. She was a delectable little half-sister for the splendid, active Kasim who must give up the desert life he loved beyond anything else.
Lorna glanced around at the inlaid furniture, the tiling overlaid by a crusting of arabesques, and the lamps with their jewel colours.
Did Kasim's mother live here?' she asked, for somehow the atmosphere seemed a little sad despite the splendour, and again she was assailed by the belief that the lady Elena had not been completely happy. As a European woman she must have found the enclosed life—expected then of a Moslem's wife—not entirely to her liking. From what Turqeya had said about her father, he must once have been a very autocratic man.
`Yes, Kasim's mother had this apartment.' Turqeya wiped honey from her lips. 'My mother was Turkish. It would seem that the men of our family like the women of foreign lands.'
Lorna met the brown and teasing eyes, and she said a trifle pensively : 'You realize that I am but the guest of your brother?'
Turqeya gazed at Lorna in some perplexity. 'You are so lovely and yet you have been but a companion with whom he has taken rides across the desert? Are
British girls less susceptible to the good looks and fascination of a Man such as Kasim? Many women in your place would have tried to win his heart.'
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