Since Bashea had climbed into bed, wet clothes and all, he decided to do the same. He moved over to the doorway and spread his blankets out on the ground. He noticed Bashea had turned on her side, away from him, so, with a nearly silent sigh, he got between the covers, lying on his side facing her. The lantern still glowed in the night; neither one had thought to extinguish it.
Maybe twenty minutes had passed when Bashea abruptly flipped over. Tahj was lying on his back with his arms folded beneath his head, watching the shifting shadows on the tent’s ceiling. Her movement caught his attention and he turned toward her. He could see now she was also wide awake.
She seemed to have made a decision. She lifted her covers.
“It’s cold,” she said simply.
Was she cold? Or did she think he was, Tahj wondered. He froze, uncertain of what she was asking. It seemed pretty clear, but he hardly dared to believe it to be true.
“I trust you, Tahj.” Her face was solemn in the lantern light.
Tahj nodded his head without speaking and stood, bringing his blankets with him as he crossed the room mechanically. He paused by her bed for a minute, but she didn’t speak, seemingly struck mute. He spread his blankets over her small figure with care and waited. She lifted the blankets again, and he sat down with his back to her, then leaned over and slowly stretched out beside her, not facing her, waiting to follow her lead. Expecting at any moment to feel her hands slide around him, his skin prickled, but she made no move to touch him. He let his breath out, still amazed she’d invited him into her bed, and wondered if she were expecting something from him.
Tahj debated his next course of action. Should he speak to her now about his feelings? Or would that make her feel uncomfortable? Had she simply asked him to join her because of the cold, with no other intentions behind her invitation? Or was it possible she, too, had feelings for him?
He could feel her smoldering heat, and in his mind could trace each curve of the body creating that heat as she flowed silently behind him, and these thoughts derailed all other thought for a time. He had never shared his bed with a woman, and the comfort of having another so close swamped his senses. He could smell the perfumed scent of her hair on the pillow. The rain had slowed to a pleasant pitter-patter, and he could hear the rhythmic sound of her breathing over the drips on the canvas and in the mud outside. It was all so comforting, he couldn’t bring himself to even move for fear it would break him out of the cozy cocoon he shared with her. He drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Tahj woke hours later with one terrifying thought. If Jahmeel or Bagrat found him in Bashea’s tent, they would rip him to shreds with their bare hands.
He hastily climbed out of bed, but paused before leaving. Sometime during the night, Bashea had turned over in her sleep and now had her back to him. He crept around the bed to gaze on her face, framed on the pillow like artwork. He stood for a long time, frozen, while birds began to sing outside and a few early risers shuffled about. Bashea’s face was kissed with a faint rose blush, lips slightly parted. Hands were folded together near her face, the soft tendrils of her hair tumbling recklessly across the sheets and down her shoulders. As if by force, Tahj fell to his knees in the dirt, his chest filled with a zinging ache.
“Good morning, friend,” he heard outside, close enough to startle him.
He rose and made his way to the area of the tent that had ripped the night before. He pulled the edge back and saw he was facing a neighboring tent. Sliding his eyes to the right, he saw a heavyset woman bent over a fledgling fire. Footsteps faded away in the distance, and he judged this was as good a time as any to make his escape. He tiptoed out of the tent, his eyes on the woman at the fire as he backed away. He turned around and barreled straight into Jahmeel’s chest, stealing his breath away, though it left the big man unscathed.
“Oh!” he exclaimed, clearing his throat. “Good morning.”
“Is it?” Jahmeel responded pointedly.
“No,” Tahj was quick to answer. “Not at all. Horrible, actually. Didn’t get a wink of sleep. ” Seeing Jahmeel’s eyebrow raise he tried to backtrack. “Not because of…anything improper…the storm…. The storm was loud,” he ended dumbly.
“Uh-huh.”
“And the lightening…” He whistled. “I think I’ll go back to my tent now and try to lie down.”
Jahmeel stepped in his path and eyed him for a nerve-racking minute. Then, seeming to believe he had made his point, Jahmeel backed away, bowing and sweeping his hand in a sarcastic invitation to pass. Tahj moved by him, scrutinizing him warily, and scurried to his tent.
An hour later, when the sun had fully risen and begun its upward climb, Tahj left his tent, his encounter with Jahmeel leaving him so rattled he felt no more refreshed than when he had first opened his eyes in Bashea’s tent. Tahj made his way over to the fire and was pleased to see Bashea there, dishing out some sort of hot mash from a pot on the fire to a group of men who were gathered, grumpily eating their breakfast, on logs around the central fire. Kamran sat, flanked by two older men nearly his age, on the largest of the logs. Jameel and Bagrat sat together, chewing in synchrony, and Radeem sat beside the two of them, looking like he wasn’t fully awake yet, clutching a cup of some steaming liquid. The brothers looked at Tahj curiously as he approached, but he had eyes only for Bashea.
“Good morning, Bashea,” he murmured, his lips involuntarily parting in a smile.
“Is it?” Bashea responded sweetly, but Tahj detected a slight edge. Tahj blinked, confused.
Bagrat and Jameel, who heard the exchange, sat up a little straighter, continuing to ladle the gruel into their faces, but paying closer attention to the pair in front of them. Radeem, too, lifted his head and followed the proceedings with interest.
Tahj glanced in their direction and lowered his voice, though it still carried to the threesome. “Did you sleep well?” he asked, boldly hinting at their secret, shared intimacy of the night before. Her eyes flew to his, and he could feel the heat they contained searing his skin.
“Did you?” she countered, her voice razor sharp.
Bagrat and Jahmeel’s spoons clattered into their bowls simultaneously, and their eyes shifted to his. Tahj stood flabbergasted, jaw dropped open. He slid his eyes to them in desperation.
“What’s going on?” Radeem whispered under his breath to the brothers. The pair shrugged. Tahj’s eyes begged them for help, and they looked like they would have almost felt sorry for him if they were not so entertained by their sister’s reaction to everything he said. They mouthed Tahj encouragement, telling him to not give up, to continue to prod Bashea and find out what was upsetting her. Tahj believed they were half fearing for him, half hoping for some sort of volcanic eruption.
Tahj cleared his throat, glancing at Bashea’s back. She had turned away from him, flinging her spoon into the pot, which was suspended from a big, iron hook she now swung over the fire. Uncertain, Tahj looked back at his friends, who nodded and gestured in Bashea’s direction. “Umm…did I…do something wrong?”
She spun back to him. “‘Did I…did I…’” she repeated, the incredulity pitching her voice high. “No, Your Highness,” she hissed icily. “You didn’t…” Her voice cracked and she looked around, becoming aware they had an audience. Her face clearly displayed her struggle to rein in her emotions. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said more calmly, but when she looked back at Tahj, her eyes began to fill again. “You didn’t do anything…at all,” she finished just loud enough for Tahj to hear. She scanned the circle of men, all now staring at her, and then turned and marched off without another word. Tahj gulped, watching her leave, knowing he had done something to hurt her, but not understanding what it was.
Bagrat peered at Jahmeel and Radeem, who shrugged, and then he stood up with a sigh. He crossed to clasp a hand on Tahj’s shoulder and said with forced joviality, “Did you know Bashea means ‘lips of the gods?’”
Tahj didn’t want anyone to see how upset he was by Bashea’s reaction to him, so he faked a half laugh. “Are you sure you don’t mean tongue of the devil?” All the men chuckled to themselves, each recalling a time when their spouses had been unhappy with them. But Tahj continued to watch Bashea’s retreating figure until she lifted the flap on her tent and disappeared inside.
* * *
Bashea sat in her tent stewing. She had never felt so utterly confused before. What was wrong with her? She was so angry she could hardly think straight, which wasn’t helping matters. So Tahj had acted the gentleman last night. So he wasn’t interested in her, so what? The last thing she’d ever wanted in life was a man. Who needed someone else to look after? Not her. She had her brothers and sisters and her dad…she didn’t need a man, and she certainly didn’t need Prince Tahj of Avistad.
To think, she’d actually cried over him. Actually shed tears. And then she got up and washed the tears from her face. She did not need anyone. Who did Tahj think he was, anyway, waltzing into her tent in the middle of the night and…what? Why had he come there in the first place? She was about to go over everything again, from the beginning, to try to make sense out of it, when Bibi stuck her head in the tent.
“Father wants to see you.”
“See me?” Bashea asked in surprise.
Bibi nodded. “Right away.”
Bashea hurried out of her tent. When she got to Kamran’s, she found him pacing.
“Father, you called me?”
“Yes, yes. Bashea, have a seat.” He gestured to a sitting area and pulled a chair up so close to her their knees were almost touching.
“Bashea, I’m just going to come right out and say it. I overheard your argument with Prince Tahj this morning.”
Bashea blinked, her cheeks suddenly hot. “You heard…”
“And let me just say, I think it is fine if you like the Prince—”
“Like him?” she practically shrieked.
“Yes, but I have some advice for you—”
“Father, I do not like Prince Tahj.”
“You don’t?” For a minute, Kamran seemed genuinely confused, but then, reading his daughter’s face, he seemed to understand.
“You seem to be under the illusion I need a man, Father,” Bashea blustered, jumping up and pacing back and forth as she talked. “First, Ladarius, now Tahj—”
“Bashea, do you think loving this man makes you less strong?”
Was she really so easy to read? Exasperated, she collapsed into her chair again. “Loving…?”
“You are wrong. Loving someone makes you stronger, better, less selfish. Bashea…azizam,” he said tenderly. He took a deep breath. “I was wrong to not let you see me cry when you were little. I know it terrified you when I was grieving for your mother.” Bashea dropped her eyes, and Kamran lifted her chin. “But do you think I would give up one moment with her, even one moment, to have never felt that kind of pain?”
Bashea could tell it would do her no good to deny her feelings anymore; Kamran could see right into her heart.
“Oh, what should I do, Father?” she breathed.
“What? What’s troubling you?”
It was enough he knew she liked Tahj; he didn’t need to know all her insecurities, too. “It’s just…I don’t know…” But when she peered into her father’s wise and kind eyes she had a change of heart and told him anyway. “I don’t know how to act when he’s around.”
“Oh.” Kamran chuckled. “Is that all?”
“Father, don’t laugh at me!” Bashea barked, jumping up from her chair again.
Kamran stood and put a hand on Bashea’s arm to keep her from running out. “No, no, daughter. I’m not laughing at you.” He led her over to a loveseat where they could sit together. “It’s just, I remember those times.” Again he chuckled, reminiscing. “I wasn’t sure if your mother liked me or not. After all, she was so pretty and I’m…well, I’m not exactly a looker.”
“Father!” Bashea cried out, frowning at him.
Kamran raised a hand. “No, no, my girl, facts are facts. But your mother had a way of seeing right through all that, right into your heart. Did I ever tell you she had another suitor when I asked for her hand?”
Bashea shook her head. As her father spoke, she could see the years melt away from his face, and he became for her the young Kamran, helplessly in love with her mother.
“Yes. His name was Rostam.” He said the name with such distaste Bashea nearly laughed. “And he was tall and fair and rich beyond your wildest dreams. But your mother knew I loved her with all my heart—still do, in fact—and she chose me.” He clapped his hands on his knees with fresh satisfaction over the idea.
Bashea stood thoughtfully and went to the door of the tent, pulling it back a little and peeking outside. The new morning light warmed her face as she gazed off into the distance. “But,” she said quietly, “I’m not even sure if he likes me.”
“Bashea!” he scolded, coming over to stand next to her, looking down at her with a scowl. He again touched her face gently. “You are beautiful, both inside and out, and if he doesn’t see that, he’s a fool.”
“Oh, Baba!” she interjected dismissively, her face coloring.
“I speak the truth,” Kamran assured her, placing his hand over his heart. “But…” Kamran took her hand and led her over to the loveseat again. He sighed. “Bashea, I have raised you to be too independent. I leaned on you after your mother passed, and you had to grow up too fast. It is my fault.” He held her hand without speaking for several seconds.
“Father, what are you saying?”
“Prince Tahj is a man used to getting his way. He orders soldiers and servants. He asks, and things are given to him.”
Bashea thought this was not the Tahj she knew, but she listened anyway.
“You need to be more submissive,” Kamran stated bluntly.
“Submissive?”
“Yes, submissive. You must bow to his will in all things if you wish to make him yours.”
Bashea hung her head. She knew it was true. She spoke her mind without thought about whether she was contradicting Tahj or not. She lashed out at him in anger, letting her hurt feelings get the best of her. But could she learn to tame her tongue? Somehow, she doubted it. But she still had to try. If only it wasn’t too late.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Tahj sat on the edge of his cot, thinking about everything he’d said and done with Bashea the night before. He had done this a lot lately, sitting and thinking about Bashea. What could have caused her to become so angry with him?
A few minutes later, when Bashea whipped open the front flap and strode into his tent, he looked up in surprise. It was unheard of for an unmarried woman to enter a man’s tent, unless summoned there by him. Tahj was expecting another tongue lashing, but instead she hesitated.
“May I come in?” she asked awkwardly.
Tahj just stared. Wasn’t she already in?
Tentatively she slid over to where he sat, never taking her eyes off him. To his surprise, when she got within a foot of him she knelt on the dirt floor. Tahj licked his lips, trying to think over the intolerable pounding of his heart. Before he could come up with an opening sentence, Bashea placed both hands on his thighs and began to rub them. Startled, Tahj flew to his feet, almost knocking her over.
“Wh-what are you doing?” he squeaked.
Bashea was taken aback. “M-making myself submit to you.”
Tahj took a step back, pushing his bed with him. “Why?”
Bashea’s face flashed red. She rose to her feet and began pacing.
“You know, Prince Tahj,” she spat¸ “usually when a woman makes herself submissive to a master, he doesn’t ask her why she is doing it.”
“B-but you’re not just any woman, Bashea,” he stammered.
Bashea’s brow furrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?” Before he could answer, she interjected, “Isn’t that what you want?”
“No!”
Tahj shouted emphatically.
Bashea’s face fell. “I see,” she murmured. “I’ll just go, then.”
She turned to flee, but Tahj grabbed her arm. “Bashea, no. Please, wait!” She stopped, but kept her face turned from him. His frustration got the better of him. “You are the most difficult woman I have ever known!” he lamented involuntarily. “I just don’t understand you.”
She whirled around, and Tahj could see there were tears in her eyes even as they flickered over his face. Unconsciously his hands slid down to hold hers loosely. Bashea found her voice. “That is strange, because sometimes I feel as if you are the only one who can.”
Prince Tahj’s eyes searched hers. “I want to,” he murmured earnestly. “Please, can you just sit down and talk with me for a while?” he pleaded.
Bashea nodded with a sigh, dropping her gaze self-consciously as he led her over to his bed, where they sat down next to each other. An awkward silence settled over the tent while Tahj contemplated what he wanted to say.
“Can you tell me why you are so angry with me?”
Bashea bit her lip. “Do you not find me beautiful?” she finally blurted out.
“Of course I find you beautiful! What man wouldn’t?” Tahj responded, flabbergasted by her question.
She seemed confused by this. “Then…you are simply not attracted to me then?”
“What?”
“You are not attracted to me,” she repeated, mustering some resolve. “That is fine. I can understand—”
He jumped to his feet. “As if you didn’t know I was insanely attracted to you, that my heart skips a beat whenever you are near—” Tahj’s mouth froze. Had he really just said that?
Bashea stood as well, her eyes clouded with bewilderment. “Then why did you not touch me last night when you were in my bed?”
A light went on in Tahj’s head. Now he understood. How could he have been so thickheaded? Bashea felt like he was rejecting her. He reached out and touched her hair, letting it slip through his fingers, a gesture filled with longing. “Bashea, I respect you. And…” He hesitated. “I know what those other men did.” She shook her head adamantly as if trying to ward off the thought. “But I don’t want to hurt you.” His face was earnest, and then his voice became husky with emotion, though he spoke distinctly. “And I don’t want you to think I am like them.”
Taken by Storm (ROMANTIC REALMS COLLECTION) Page 14