Taken by Storm (ROMANTIC REALMS COLLECTION)

by Schiller, M. J.

  Bagrat pulled the tent flap back and entered, glancing around the tent, anywhere, but into Tahj’s eyes. “I’ve come to…apologize.”

  Tahj looked up. This was interesting. “Apologize for what?”

  “For encouraging Ladarius to…to…” He gestured vaguely, moving his hands in wide circles.

  “To what?” Tahj asked, confused.

  “What are your intentions toward my little sister?” Bagrat blurted.

  “My intentions toward…” Tahj repeated slowly.

  “Your intentions toward my sister. What are your intentions toward my sister?” Bagrat repeated, irritated and seeming a bit uncomfortable with the conversation now.

  “I…” Tahj drew the word out thoughtfully, stalling for time. “I have no idea.”

  Bagrat laughed heartily. “Well, I guess that’s an honest enough answer.” He came and sat down next to Tahj on his bed, within the circle of the light from his lantern, which sat on an upended crate nearby. “But what are your feelings toward her? Surely you can describe those?”

  “I think she’s great. I think she’s wonderful. She’s beautiful…” Tahj saw Bagrat’s eyes narrow at that, and decided to move on to other territory. “She’s strong-hearted-I admire that.” The more he talked, the more Tahj warmed to his subject. “She cares deeply for others. She can make me crazy, though,” he said, almost without thinking. He looked up quickly.

  Again Bagrat laughed, long and low, slapping Tahj’s knee. “You are saying nothing that I do not already know. I have lived with her for many years.” He chuckled. “She’s a tough one, to be certain.” He paused, contemplating. “She makes you crazy,” he repeated. “I used to say the same thing about my Dara. Still do, in fact.” He winked at Tahj and rose to leave. He stopped in the doorway. “You won’t hurt her?”

  “I’ll do my best not to,” Tahj answered quickly.

  “Good, good,” Bagrat answered, his face more relaxed than Tahj had ever seen it. “Because if you did—”

  “You and Jahmeel would have to kill me.”

  “Exactly.” He paused. “You know what? I like you,” he added. “And, even though it made me as mad as a jackal, walking around for an hour and a half in the midday sun searching for lost lambs which weren’t lost at all, I thought that was funny, what you did today.”

  Tahj grinned. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t do it again.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Good then, good night.”

  “Good night, Bagrat. Bashea is lucky to have a brother like you.”

  “Hmph.” He grunted. “I doubt that is true after all she has been through.” And with that he ducked under the flap of the tent and left Tahj to his own thoughts.

  Tahj lay back in his bed, resting his head on folded arms, feeling better than before. So it would seem Bagrat put that fellow up to what he did. Although Tahj was certain Bagrat would not approve of his exact actions. That meant Bashea, perhaps, hadn’t encouraged it.

  He closed his eyes, thinking about the magical way Bashea’s hips moved as she stood in front of him, her eyes aglow. He could almost hear the beat of the music again, like a charm, seducing each sensuous movement she made out of her, wrapping around each lovely curve of her body and swaying with her compellingly. He was pretty sure Bagrat wouldn’t approve of the thoughts he was having now, but Bagrat wasn’t there anymore.

  * * *

  Sometime later, Tahj awoke in the dark. The flapping of his tent door created a loud noise, and a stiff breeze had blown his lantern out. As he lay trying to fall back to sleep, he was disturbed by the sound of the sides of the tent, whose violent vibrations were created by the wind’s gusts. As nasty as a sand storm could be in the desert, a storm in the mountains could be murderous as well. He heard a crash somewhere in camp and recognized the sound of glass breaking. He decided to get up and see if anyone needed help.

  As he stepped out into the night, Tahj realized the storm was a lot worse than he’d imagined from the relative protection of his bed. This was more than your common desert storm. Anything that hadn’t been battened down was being tossed about and thrown against rocks and the sides of tents, or anything else hindering its progress. The rain was being held at bay at present, but Tahj imagined when it was released it would drive into the hillside like hurled spears.

  Tahj leaned into the wind and fought his way forward, noting piles of broken crates leaning against his neighbor’s tent and firewood yards from where the fire had been set up. Luckily the tribesmen always made certain the fire was totally out before going to bed, in the event something like this should happen. The wind was sharp and stung his face, and muscles screamed as he struggled ahead, already fatigued from the day’s work.

  Over the howling of the wind, he heard a couple of men shouting orders to each other as they tried to secure the sides of a larger tent near the center of camp. He heard the sound of a baby crying and saw a colorful blanket take flight ahead of him. Moving as quickly as he could against the force of the gale, Tahj was able to snatch the blanket from where it got hung up on the top of a tent stake before it took off again. He recognized one of the blankets they’d bought for Bashea in Shiraz.

  Shielding his eyes against the bits of debris being hurtled about, he searched out and located her tent, pushing to reach it. One of her tent’s ropes snapped about like a writhing serpent and bit into his arm as he tried to catch it to tether it down. He tossed the blanket inside the opening so he could have his hands free to battle the tent. Even so, just as he secured it, two more popped out of the ground like toddlers playing a game, and a large section of the tent came loose, flailing so he had to jump to reach it. Tahj grabbed a hold of the canvas and fought it downward, finding himself on the inside of the tent, lying on top of it to keep it from flying away again.

  Tahj rolled over on his back, panting from both exertion and the sheer power of the wind to take his breath. Weary, he rolled his head to one side, searching for something to use to hold the canvas down other than his body. Just feet from him a couple of crates stood. Were they filled with something heavy enough to hold the canvas down? Carefully, he rolled, making certain enough of his weight was distributed to keep the cloth down, and reached for the crates. The side of the tent began to thump and loft, quivering, but not pulling entirely away. He rocked the crates in his direction, jig-jawing them by walking one corner at a time toward him. They were plenty heavy.

  By the power of utter determination, he was able to replace his weight with the crates’ and spread them far enough apart to counteract the pull of the wind. Realizing it was just a matter of time before more stakes were jerked up, he decided to be proactive and worked his way around the tent, weighting down the edges. Like his own, the tent was large, and mostly empty. Tents this size were generally used for families, but it would seem there were some perks allowed you when you’re the chief’s daughter.

  He was just standing back to admire his handiwork when a lantern blazed to life. He whipped around in surprise to find Bashea squinting at him through sleepy eyes, sitting up on one elbow, holding the lantern aloft in the other hand to try to illuminate the room, her midnight-black hair wild, but, he thought, incredibly sexy. She lay on a wide mattress covered in vibrantly colored, silken layers of cloth and mounded with pillows. A background as sumptuous as its occupant.

  “What…are you doing?” she asked quizzically, a hint of amusement creeping into her tone.

  “I…uh…” Tahj found himself at a loss for words. “The wind was blowing and…this part of your tent came loose and I, well…fixed it.” As if to support his stance, the wind howled around the tent, circling it like a wild animal searching for a way in.

  Bashea swung the lantern around and took in the books and boxes and rocks and other paraphernalia haphazardly placed around the periphery of the tent to hold it in place.

  “I see.” She sat up in her bed a little. “And how are you going to get out?” she asked teasingly, lifting an eyebrow.
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br />   Tahj looked around. “Uhh…I didn’t…exactly…think about that,” he said slowly, as if in a daze. After an awkward pause in which Tahj stood feeling both uncomfortable and foolish, he again found his voice. “I can move away a small section, and you can move it back after I’m out.” The wind roared again, this time sounding like a momma panther whose babies were being threatened.

  “As you wish,” Bashea replied, scrambling hastily to her feet as if to escape the wrath of the wind outside. The bed projected into the room, but the canvas near her head was the only barrier between her and the thrashing night. The light of the lantern she returned to the top of a crate beside her bed cast an enigmatic glow about her which seemed to shimmer and grow with her movements. She was wearing a sheer, white gown with billowing, translucent sleeves, pleated from the bodice down and tied high on her waist, making her look so light and airy he almost expected her to take flight. She reached for a matching, sheer robe at the foot of the bed, which tied with a satiny ribbon trailing almost to the ground.

  Tahj was transfixed as she moved toward him, but then, without warning, everything changed. With a mighty rush the wind gusted, forcing its way into the room like a jealous lover, come to catch his spouse in the act. One side of the tent gave way, several sections he had secured going together as stacks of books and crates flew simultaneously into the room. As Tahj took his eyes from her to look in their direction and assess the damage, he saw one of the support posts behind Bashea teeter. Like in a dream, his eyes returned to her, checking to see if she was in the line of fire, but even as he did, the post gave way and was swept forward.

  His scream mingled with the sound of the wood crashing into Bashea, sending her sprawling. It bounced off her body like a rubber ball and flew with equal force into his shins, knocking his feet out from under him, and then everything went dark and oddly quiet beneath the folds of the collapsed canvas.

  Dazed, Tahj pushed to his hands and knees, praying the lantern was truly out and not about to start a fire. He pushed through the heavy layers of the tent, calling out Bashea’s name, though knowing the muffling nature of the canvas and the still-raging winds outside would surely prevent her from hearing him. He strained his own ears for any sound of her presence—a cry, a movement—but he heard none. He felt around at his feet for the post and managed to move it in front of him to use it like a spear, pushing the canvas outward and upward and struggling to rise to his feet. He raised the post, straining against the weight of the canvas, and opened up the room before him as he pushed forward, aiming for the place he thought the post had been. As the tent rose, he saw Bashea lying on the floor, unmoving.

  “Oh, Bashea!” he cried out. He stopped, longing to drop the post and rush to her side, but he knew they would be smothered again, so he diligently worked to get his post in place, trying to hold it steady and sink it into the hole in the ground it had shot out of.

  He heard a moan and swiveled his head to see Bashea stirring. Feeling a small amount of relief, he turned back to his task, finding it difficult to both keep the pole straight and aim it for the small opening in the ground while still fighting the wind. All of a sudden, he felt weight taken off the post as Bashea joined him, leaning her body forward to push the pole upright. With her clasping the pole up higher, Tahj lowered himself, guiding the end of the post with his hands into the hole. It clunked into place, but they found their work was not done.

  About halfway from the corner they had just secured, down the right side of the tent a long, jagged rip in the canvas had the side of the tent whipping back and forth madly as rain now began to blow inside in torrents. Lightning flashed, a silver zigzag outlining the growling storm clouds in the night sky, and was followed shortly by the mighty crash of thunder. The air smelt burnt, wet, and heavy. Bashea and Tahj yelled over the storm.

  “What should we do?” Bashea asked, holding one side of the tear as Tahj jumped to grab hold of the corner of the canvas on his side of the rip. Her hair and gown now stuck to her, as the rain drove at her face, stinging her eyes. She blinked away the water uselessly.

  He played with the idea of binding the ends together somehow with rope, but finally discarded the idea as impractical. “We’ll just have to secure each end as best as we can, as close together as possible,” Tahj shouted in reply. With the next flash of lightning he noticed, with some alarm, a rivulet of blood trickling down the right side of Bashea’s forehead. He paused in his struggle. “You’re hurt!”

  “What?” she screamed back, unable to hear above the chaos.

  “Are you in pain?” Tahj gestured with his head to her forehead.

  Bashea reached up and felt the cut, bringing her hand down to inspect it. “Fine. Fine,” she answered dismissively.

  Whether it was the angle of the wind or sheer luck, the end Bashea held seemed less affected by the wind. Sliding down, she managed to tuck the flap under her knees as she half turned to scan the room behind her. Seeing nothing within reach, she took a look in the opposite direction. Several feet away, Bashea caught sight of the crate beside her bed that had held the lantern which wasnow on the floor. The crate was knocked a little askew, but still roughly in the same place as it had been, able to resist the pull of the heavy canvas. She had to release her end, letting the storm again get its foot in the door, and move down the line of the tent, walking on her knees back toward the bed. When she was close enough, Bashea reached out and tugged the crate toward her, moving it little by little up the line.

  Suddenly Tahj was behind her. “Here, let me get that.” With a heave and a grunt, he shifted the heavy crate, which also served for storage of her belongings, and Bashea sidestepped back a few feet. With effort, Tahj hefted the crate on top of the fold of the canvas next to Bashea. He turned to look around for another heavy object, and she rose to her feet, returning to her former position and grasping the side of the ripped canvas in her hands. The storm abated slightly, the thunder and lightning a degree less intense, although the rain still came down viciously. As Bashea peered toward the corner during the next lightning strike, she saw Tahj had managed to get his part of the canvas all neatly tucked in with weights at evenly spaced intervals down the line of the tent.

  “Here.” Though his voice was gentle, Bashea jumped, surprised he was so close. He held a stack of books in his hands. Bashea backed out of his way, and he arranged them onto the corner of the canvas, bringing the room relatively to order. Exhausted, he fell back onto his backside with a loud sigh. “There.” He turned to smile at Bashea, and she, too, sank to the ground beside him, breathing heavily, her back to their enemy, the tent. Without warning, Tahj reached out and stroked her face below her cut, the skin cool and damp. Her eyes grew wide. “Are you sure you are unharmed?”

  She stared into his eyes as if stunned for a second and then reached up again, absentmindedly, to feel the cut. “Yes, it’s not bad,” she responded finally, pulling away from him.

  Tahj watched coolly as she rose to her feet, trying to tug the wet robe around her more tightly and then crossing her arms, half-turned from him. He studied what he could see of her face, some light still coming in from the crack they could not altogether mend. She looked sad and frightened and…impenetrable. He found himself suddenly irritable in her presence, like every neuron was setting him on edge. He spun, mirroring her image by crossing his arms.

  “You can trust me, you know, Bashea,” he bit off, but then the anger simply drained away. He closed his eyes with a sigh. After a few seconds passed in silence, he turned back to her, his voice almost pleading. “You can trust me. I won’t hurt you.”

  She turned around slowly, not reaching out to him again, just standing still and assessing him in silence. “I know,” she responded, her voice small and shaky. She glanced away for a second, folding and unfolding her hands. She returned her eyes to his face, “I’m sorry, Tahj,” she said without explanation. “I really am.”

  “I know,” he murmured, not daring to reach out for her, though every inc
h of his body screamed to wrap her up in a huge embrace.

  Bashea’s gaze flitted everywhere as she tried to find her next words. “I guess y-you’ll have to stay here,” she said after a while.

  “We could lift up a corner, and I could sneak out—”

  She spun around. “But what if things come loose, or a pole comes down again?”

  He crossed to her, noting how Bashea was watching his every move, and placed hands on her shoulders. “Relax, Bashea. I’ll stay if you want me to. I’ll sleep on the ground.”

  She nodded slightly, still looking a little bewildered, and he wondered just how hard the beam had hit her. “What time do you think it is?”

  “Still several hours before dawn, I would guess.”

  She paused. “I’ll get you some blankets.” Bashea moved over to her bed, searching for dry blankets. Meanwhile, Tahj found the lantern, which was, miraculously, still lit, though it was on its side, the candle wax dripping onto the glass shade making its illumination hazy. He turned around, and Bashea stood behind him with a pair of blankets folded over her arms.

  “Thank you, Tahj,” she said sincerely and then she reached out and did something he hadn’t expected, placing her hand on his arm.

  “It was nothing,” he returned with a gulp, her proximity unnerving him.

  Her eyes searched his in the lamplight and she asked in a near whisper, “How did you know to come?”

  He was mesmerized. At the moment all he could think was, The gods led me, but he recovered. “The storm woke me. I left my tent to see if anyone needed help, and I saw one of your stakes had come loose.”

  Bashea dropped her hand. “Oh.” She seemed a little disappointed in the logical answer. “Thank you for coming. I would have never been able to manage that alone.”

  Tahj took the blankets she handed him, continuing to scrutinize her even as she turned away. She was a mystery, this woman. She seemed to pull him in and push him away like a cat playing with its prey, but he sensed it was totally unintentional.