Climax of Passion

by Emma Darcy

  She felt the ripple of new energy through his body, the stirring of purpose, control firming, but she did not believe he could retreat from her now. Physically yes, but not mentally, not emotionally, not spiritually. If he did, it would be a violation of something so precious it would be akin to homicide.

  ‘Amanda...’ There was both awe and pain in his voice.

  So strange, she mused. He had not even given her his name. She tried Jebel in her mind. It didn’t quite fit the deep dark strains of power in him...the elemental primitive man that called to all that was untamed in her.

  ‘You would come to me...of your own free will?’ he asked.

  The strained note in his voice told her he wanted to believe it, but his intelligence questioned it. She wanted him to let her go free. She wanted her father exonerated. The stakes were high.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, not knowing where this would end, no longer caring.

  However it had happened, an act of destiny or pure accident, Amanda was sure in her own mind that there would be no other man for her. Why it should be, she didn’t know. The perversity of fate was imponderable. A collision course had been set, and once effected, there was no going back.

  She felt the quickening of his pulse. He eased back from her, lifting his hands to cup her face, draw her gaze to his. He looked into her eyes and she didn’t mind him seeing the desire for him openly reflected there. She was sorry to see the torment of uncertainties in his.

  ‘I will put an end to this matter. You are tired after your long journey. Perhaps distraught. I should let you rest. I should not have pressed so hard. For all your inner strength...you remain a woman.’

  It was a strange, tortured mixture of concern and tenderness and self-criticism. It was as though, having hunted, he was struck by an empathy with his prey, and he could not bring himself to move in for the kill.

  ‘Was more too much?’ she asked with rueful irony.

  ‘No. You both humble and exalt me.’ His hands glided slowly, gently, down her throat to her shoulders. ‘I will leave you now. I will send you a serving woman who will see to your needs. I will not have you sleeping in the company of herdsmen and goat keepers. There is no reason for you not to accept the comforts I can provide. It is all for you.’

  He stepped back, picked up his burnoose. With a whirl of black cloth it settled around his shoulders and he strode away from her, heading for the door.

  ‘Where are you going?’ she called after him.

  He paused, looked back. ‘To contemplate the oddity of human foolishness. Including my own.’

  ‘Where will you sleep?’

  ‘Under the stars.’ His lips quirked into a self-mocking smile. ‘They have been my companions for a long time.’

  ‘What about tomorrow?’

  ‘It will come.’

  ‘Will you be here?’

  ‘Yes. Whatever happens...whatever is decided...you are now under my protection. We are linked...you and I. Though much can come between us, and probably will, the link is irreversible, is it not?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are we damned by that knowledge...or blessed with it?’ he mused.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she murmured, aching to go to him, yet accepting that he must work through his own quandary of spirit. ‘Are you Jebel Haffa?’ she asked, wanting to put a name to him.

  He seemed to consider the question far longer than was necessary. ‘Jebel Haffa is loyal beyond all price,’ he answered enigmatically. ‘His loyalty is legendary and goes beyond that of any figure who has lived through history.’

  He reflected for a moment and continued. ‘He is part of me. The part that is rational and far-seeing. The part that executes what needs to be done for the good of the people of Xabia. But there is another part of me that is not Jebel Haffa.’

  The part I touch, Amanda thought. The personal side.

  ‘It is the part of me that has journeyed through the long years alone, in a void of emptiness that was never filled no matter what I did or how much was achieved.’ His eyes glittered derisively at her. ‘Was it worth it?’

  ‘Of course,’ she protested.

  ‘When you have all the answers to the questions about your father, what will be the worth of it, Amanda? Will you end up holding an empty goblet in your hand, with nothing left in it to drink?’

  A chill ran down her spine. Was she chasing a rainbow that had no substance to it?

  ‘I’ve been there before you,’ he said quietly, sadly. ‘One strives for the goal, but when it is reached, the satisfaction never lasts. It is so brief. Ephemeral. And afterwards, one looks back...and counts the cost. It is all too easy not to think about the cost...until afterwards.’

  ‘You’re saying that my quest is futile and I should give it up now?’

  He shook his head. ‘I know it is futile but until you are aware of it, you will not give it up. Cannot. Therefore I must set my course accordingly.’

  He lifted the black cowl over his head and turned to leave.

  ‘Wait!’ she cried. ‘I don’t want you to pay a price for me. I take back what I asked of you. It wasn’t fair. I had no right.’

  His head swung back towards her. His black eyes burned like live coals in the shadow of the cowl. ‘Don’t you know, Amanda?’ he said softly. ‘There is always a price to pay for everything. There is a price you and I will both pay. It is written in the stars. It is inescapable.’

  He left her with that remorseless thought.

  The scent of the Xabian jasmine drifted back into her nostrils, reminding her of all the needs of a woman. She didn’t know why tears came to her eyes, why they kept welling up and trickling down her cheeks. Human foolishness.

  She had won something, hadn’t she?

  Yet there was no sense of triumph. Not even satisfaction.

  She was alone. And cold. And the memory of her father had somehow lost the power to spark the fire in her belly. Another man did that. The man, almost certainly, used by Xa Shiraq to shame, damage and humiliate her father.

  CHAPTER NINE

  HE WAS outside the tent when Amanda emerged the next morning. He was alone. Clearly no one else was allowed within the vicinity.

  His face was rendered indistinguishable by the cowl of his burnoose, but now Amanda would have known him anywhere. In any clothing.

  She felt his eyes snap over her in quick appraisal. Amazingly she had slept well. Perhaps the jasmine scent also had soporific qualities. The early morning air was crisp, engendering a sense of vitality, but he added dynamism to it. Amanda waited for him to speak, aware that her fate lay in his hands.

  ‘You are ready to depart now?’ he asked without preamble.

  It was the authoritative part of him that spoke. No desire. No intimacy. Cool, decisive, distant. His night under the stars seemed to have brushed aside the part of him he had revealed the previous evening. Perhaps disloyalty to Xa Shiraq sat uncomfortably on his shoulders. Perhaps much depended on her attitude this morning.

  Was he waiting to discover which way she would turn? Was he watching like a cat to see how the mouse would try to avoid the danger and traps which abounded?

  Amanda had decided last night he was not Jebel Haffa. The roundabout way he had answered her question about his identity inclined her to believe he was a far more complex man than the faithful follower Jebel Haffa was purported to be, probably someone higher in authority who worked behind the scenes. That fitted the anonymity he was intent on keeping. It also fitted what had happened at the hotel in Fisa.

  ‘I’m ready for any new challenges,’ she answered calmly. In her mind she added, Mr Complimentary Upgrade.

  ‘You will instruct Mocca to lead your convoy on to the location marked on your father’s map.’

  Amanda could not hide her surprise. ‘You know about that?’ For years she had considered the maps her secret weapon.

  ‘Your father was hardly discreet. You are not the first to come looking for Patrick Buchanan’s great discovery,’ he said dryly.
‘It is as well to have another failure, particularly by his daughter’s expedition.’

  He was so confident it would fail. Had her father been mistaken? Amanda couldn’t believe it. Even in the delirium preceding his death by pneumonia, her father had still been lucid about the crystal caves. They had to exist.

  ‘You’re allowing me to continue?’ she asked, wary of misunderstanding his intentions.

  ‘Your convoy will follow your exact instructions in everything. They will go, they will search, they will not find what you are looking for.’

  ‘Where will I be in the meantime?’

  ‘With me.’

  It was a flat statement of fact, not allowing her any choice in the matter. It gave her no indication of what they would be doing together.

  He nodded towards the camp where Mocca and his extended family were bustling around, packing up, ready to depart. There seemed to be far more efficient organisation in their activities this morning. ‘Go and give your orders. Then you will return here to me.’

  It was clear she was to appear to be a free agent, although she wasn’t. If she deviated in any way from his instructions, Amanda had the sinking sensation that her fall into disgrace and oblivion was virtually certain. She resigned herself to doing what was requested and set off to speak to Mocca, determined that both her manner and words be above criticism.

  She had no idea if Upgrade’s reference to being partly Jebel Haffa was significant or merely symbolic. Whatever and whoever he was, he was still acting under orders from Xa Shiraq. It seemed highly unlikely that these arrangements were his own. Although he probably had some latitude in carrying out the sheikh’s will.

  She hoped his manner would be different once they were alone. If they were to be alone. How she had got herself into this situation, and how she was going to get herself out of it, Amanda did not precisely know.

  She might be about to be whisked off to Alcabab to face justice according to Xa Shiraq. She might be accused of treason against the State.

  On the other hand, if she were to rejoin Mocca at the site to be explored, and that exploration did prove to be an exercise in futility, the sheikh could consider her failure as the definitive means to bury the question of Patrick Buchanan’s discovery once and for all. In which case, why wasn’t she being allowed to go to the site and confirm the failure?

  If he wanted her expedition to fail in a blaze of publicity she would be accompanying it. As neither of these situations seemed feasible, it meant one thing with certainty. There was a deeper purpose behind what was happening.

  Excitement tripped her heart into a faster beat. If Upgrade had wanted her simply for his pleasure, he could have had her last night. He had chosen differently. Perhaps his words revealed not so much desire and wanting and vul-nerability, but instead constituted an excuse to withdraw.

  Amanda had the disturbing feeling that she was nothing but a pawn. If that was the case, Amanda knew enough about chess to know that pawns could become queens. She hoped to show Upgrade how it was done.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Buchanan,’ Mocca greeted her in singsong triumph. His grin was very wide. ‘You see? There was no...o...o problem. Your bodyguard would have been an insult to your great patron.’

  ‘Who is my great patron, Mocca? What is his name?’

  Mocca shrugged. ‘Many words are whispered, but none can tell. Some things it is better not to know.’

  ‘Well, my great patron has invited me to stay with him while you get on with my business, Mocca. I guess it wouldn’t be wise of me to make a daring escape.’

  Mocca shuddered. ‘Forbid the thought. To so blatantly refuse hospitality could cost us all our lives.’ He rolled his eyes for emphasis. ‘You are highly honoured, Miss Buchanan.’

  The honour was highly questionable as far as Amanda was concerned.

  Mocca pondered a moment. ‘The camping equipment I bought for you was not good enough.’ He gestured towards the tent. ‘My eyes have been opened. I did not foresee the will of Xa Shiraq to the proper degree.’ He smiled infec-tiously. ‘Trust me, Miss Buchanan. I am the brains of the family. Next time I do better. My third cousin twice removed is an importer of camping equipment.’

  ‘I’m sure he is,’ Amanda said dryly. ‘Now this is what I want you to do...’

  Mocca listened attentively to her instructions. He repeated them back to her word for word. He volubly assured her that all would be ready for her, when she was ready.

  In the meantime they would do a preliminary search for the caves, although they were not to enter them without her.

  Maybe he would collect more supplies. He would purchase a special tent for her. For someone who held a cachet blanc from the Sheikh of Xabia, nothing was too much trouble.

  Amanda thought of her list of crimes as outlined by Upgrade. She firmly instructed Mocca to spend nothing more. He was simply to do what he had been told.

  She handed the map to the Berber who was to accompany Mocca. He was the spokesman of yesterday. She suspected he would keep Mocca’s natural bent towards excesses under direct and strict control.

  The far more important map remained in her bag. She had not been asked for it and she wasn’t about to hand it over. Other people might have scouted the general area where her father had made his discovery. Amanda refused to believe they could have had a duplicate of the precious map that marked the exact location of the caves. She might yet be able to turn the tables on Xa Shiraq. All she needed was the opportunity. Then seize it.

  She had promised her father on his deathbed she would do her best to remedy the injury he had sustained. She had not considered the possibility that there could be good reason not to. Did that invalidate a deathbed promise?

  Amanda felt less certain than she had for years. Her sense of purpose was being eroded. She was deeply troubled as she walked back to where Upgrade was waiting for her. He had said yesterday there was much that could come between them. It was probably already in place. He would have put it there.

  Horses had been brought into the clearing. He stood beside his white Arabian stallion. Next to it was a beautiful black mare. Her luggage, which had been brought into the tent by the serving woman, was now loaded onto a packhorse. The mounted troops formed a guard of honour by the road back to the village.

  Her serving woman was standing by, a black burnoose draped over her arm and a pair of riding boots in her hands. Amanda had no trouble in deducing she was going on a journey which would begin on horseback. She exchanged her Reeboks for the boots without a murmur of disagreement.

  ‘How did you know I could ride?’ she asked, turning to the man who had the power to change her life.

  ‘It was a recreation you partook in at the Fisa hotel,’ he replied, moving to help her mount the black mare.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘To do my will.’

  That was the very information she needed. Not Xa Shiraq’s will. His will! It didn’t precisely tell her where they were going but she now definitely knew whose will was taking her there.

  ‘I don’t like not being consulted,’ she said, trying out a small challenge.

  ‘You will see for yourself that it was far better that you were not consulted,’ he replied with frustrating equanimity.

  She shot him a brooding look. ‘I don’t like you one bit when you get into this all-knowing mood.’

  He ignored the contentious comment.

  Amanda wondered if there was anything he didn’t know about her. She knew nothing of him. His life was a complete mystery to her. What of his family? Where had he come from? When had he first become allied to Xa Shiraq? What was their connection to each other? Surely this journey must provide her with some answers.

  Once she was in the saddle, he set about adjusting her stirrups so she would ride more comfortably. It seemed wrong to her, this leader of men, carrying out such a task while his troops watched and waited.

  ‘Should you be doing this?’ she asked, acutely aware of the interest and att
ention being directed at them.

  He paused and looked up, the black eyes burning from the shadow of his cowl. ‘That which is precious must be pampered. I would not allow any other man to touch you.’

  Heat raced through Amanda’s veins. It was virtually a claim of possession in this country. His woman. Was that why he had sat between her and Mocca in the truck yesterday, isolated her in the tent last night? As sternly as he was standing back from her this morning, she was most certainly under his personal protection.

  He took the black burnoose from the serving woman and handed it up to Amanda. ‘Put this on,’ he commanded, ‘so that idle eyes will not note our progress once we leave.’

  He didn’t explain why idle eyes could be a problem. Amanda wondered if it was to hide her from other men’s vision. On second thoughts, she realised the burnoose was purely practical if Mr Complimentary Upgrade was going against Xa Shiraq’s will.

  Amanda watched him swing himself into the saddle on the white stallion. He was so lithe, supple, strong, graceful. A little quiver of anticipation fluttered through her stomach. He was a man worth having. It might be incredibly primitive, but she secretly revelled in the idea of being claimed by him. Claimed and possessed.

  He nudged his horse forward with his knees. Amanda’s black mare needed no urging. The moment the white stallion moved, the mare followed, ready to fall into place beside it.

  That was natural, Amanda thought. It had always been so.

  The Berber horsemen formed a cavalcade, some riding ahead of them, most behind, both groups far enough away to allow private conversation between herself and the man beside her.

  They did not stay on the road to the village. They struck out on a trail through the cedar forest, bypassing the village altogether. She heard the drone of the convoy’s engines fall further and further behind them. At a signal from her companion, the Berber troops departed. The white stallion was reined in to a prancing halt. The black mare simply stopped.