Claiming His Desert Princess

by Marguerite Kaye

  Tahira rarely cursed, but she did now, under her breath. What was the point harbouring such impossible thoughts. All she was doing was upsetting herself—and frightening herself too, for the strength of her antipathy was growing with every passing day. She had to find a way to reconcile herself to her fate, or she would be utterly miserable.

  Leaning back against the relative cool of the marble-clad wall, she closed her eyes, taking slow deep breaths in an effort to rid herself of her agitation, but to no avail. If only Christopher had disagreed with her. But Christopher—recalling his bleak expression, despite the heat she shivered.

  I never met her. He’d used similar words before. I never knew her. She died giving birth to me. Could his mother be the powerless young girl who was to be forced into an arranged marriage? It would explain why he hated his father, wouldn’t it? And the demons he’d mentioned last night.

  The amulet! If such a very valuable piece of jewellery was a gift from his father to his mother, and he hated his father, then she could understand why he was so determined to rid himself of it. But what on earth could his father have done to earn such enmity? Was Christopher’s quest some sort of mission of revenge then? Such a very valuable piece of jewellery! She had not the impression that his family were wealthy. Quite the opposite. Could the amulet be the proceeds of a crime?

  Her head was spinning with questions and fuzzy with the heat, but at least her anger had dissipated, now she had something far more intriguing to ponder than her own unsolvable problems. If only she could resolve the mystery of Christopher’s quest, but that would require her to have the courage to ask her questions, and the tenacity to keep asking them until he answered, which was unlikely! And in the meantime...

  A vision of last night floated into her head. Herself lying abandoned to passion, Christopher leaning over her. The solid weight of his body. The tantalising promise of his arousal. The thrill of her own, rising and rising and then exploding. His kisses. The way his eyes blazed fiercely when he looked at her, his own passion writ so clearly on his face. Finally, Tahira began to relax, her shoulders drooping, her limbs becoming heavy. She slid down on to the marble bench, letting the steam envelop her, and the sweet, delightful memory of Christopher’s touch wash over her.

  Chapter Seven

  Returning the stolen thoroughbreds had proved to be a somewhat hair-raising experience. Who could have predicted that one of the mares in the paddock would begin foaling just as he was making good his escape! Christopher had managed to slip away by the skin of his teeth just as what seemed like half the Bedouin encampment arrived on the scene.

  Two days later, he was preparing for an even more risky escapade. Thinking back to the aftermath of their horse ride made his body heat. He hadn’t intended, hadn’t planned, hadn’t expected—how could he have, when he’d never before engaged in such a one-sided experience! Except that the pleasure had not been one-sided. Which made it quite unique. Because Tahira was quite unique.

  Christopher paused in the act of adjusting his expensive new black cloak, specially purchased with today in mind. He couldn’t recall ever enjoying a woman’s company so much. When he was with her, the hours flew by. Was it the sense of sand moving too quickly through the hourglass which made their time together so intense? Or was he simply starved of company? Dammit, what the devil was wrong with admitting that he liked her?

  ‘Naught, if you are careful to make sure you don’t let your feelings run away with you,’ he told himself. ‘Nothing at all wrong with caring for her, provided you don’t care enough to do something bloody foolish.’

  Such as spirit her away on a flying carpet? He rolled his eyes at this. About as likely as anything else. ‘In other words, not in the least likely, and you’d better make sure to remember that. You can take her mind off her situation, but you can’t alter it. You might think yourself a man of action, but rescuing a damsel in distress is well outwith the scope of your mission here, so you’re just going to have to put up with feeling helpless.’

  Outside, dawn was breaking. Time to turn his mind to the matter in hand. Christopher pulled on the red keffiyeh, adjusting the black igal threaded with gold. Unable to furnish himself with the costume of a wealthy English aristocrat, he’d opted instead for the robes of a wealthy sheikh as the next best form of disguise.

  Lord Armstrong had provided him with several sets of papers, giving him the option to switch between several identities. ‘Though only if there is no other option,’ the peer had stressed. ‘Strictly a last resort.’ Would the wily diplomat consider this such a case? The answer, Christopher thought blithely, was an unequivocal no. A life-and-death situation on the other hand—very possibly, if his subterfuge were discovered. How the real Sir Ferdinand St John Bremner would react should he find his name and his estate and his reputation had been sullied—happily, that was Lord Armstrong’s problem. By the time the local agent had informed London of his masquerade, Christopher would be back in Egypt. Hopefully, minus his amulet.

  Outside, the morning light was harsh as he saddled his camel and made his way towards the city. He’d have preferred not to have to draw attention to his presence here in Nessarah until he had a sample from the turquoise mine, but he couldn’t sit about twiddling his thumbs until then. The only way to gain entry to the diamond market was through Prince Ghutrif. Fortunately his Highness was avaricious, and the local agent Christopher had deployed, with his hints at further lucrative English business, persuasive. The wealthy Sir Ferdinand St John Bremner’s request to establish whether Nessarah could provide him with a jewel fit for his new wife’s tiara had been granted.

  The white walls of Nessarah’s huge bazaar shimmered in the sunlight. This time, Christopher strode confidently through the maze of corridors and stairwells to the closed screen which hid the entrance to the diamond market. He had, most reluctantly, left his trusty scimitar and dagger behind, though the knife strapped to his leg gave him some comfort. He did not believe that Lord Armstrong’s agent would betray him, but experience had taught him to be wary.

  And the stakes were very high. So high that he could not risk being caught in possession of his amulet. He did not need it to make the comparison, however. He knew the stones intimately, and would easily recognise their counterparts.

  The guard dressed in the royal livery of crimson and white was not the same man as before, but he was of the same gigantic proportions. This time, however, there was no restraining paw forbidding him entry, but a respectful bow upon receipt of Christopher’s written permission bearing the royal seal, before a curtain was pulled back to permit him to gain entrance.

  The trade in precious stones was carried out in a large room on the top floor of the bazaar. Light streamed through a huge window in the ceiling, dazzling the eyes at first. There were four booths, each furnished with a low table, a scatter of cushions, and a specialist in the various gems in which they traded. ‘Emerald,’ the assistant who met him at the door informed Christopher, ‘ruby, sapphire and other stones, and over here, diamonds.’

  Caution prevailed. He opted first for emeralds, drinking the obligatory glass of mint tea before inspecting the trays of stones which were so reverently placed in front of him. The emeralds were of excellent quality, very large, and of no interest to him whatsoever. He turned them over, held them up to the light, and discussed their various qualities at length, mustering his growing impatience. Finally, with what he hoped was the correct blend of condescension and regret, he informed the emerald vendor that his future wife had blue eyes and fair hair, colouring which would by no means complement these marvellous stones. Thinking that actually, diamonds were more perfectly suited to a woman with night-black hair, olive skin and big brown eyes, Christopher got to his feet and moved on.

  Sitting down, he accepted another glass of mint tea. As the merchant pulled out the first velvet-lined tray from the locked cabinet, Christopher’s heart began
to beat wildly, his stomach muscles clenched tight. There were just three stones on the tray, but they were sufficient for him to know, even without closer examination, deep down in his gut, that they were a perfect match.

  * * *

  ‘You did what?’ The blood drained from Tahira’s face. She stared at Christopher in horror. ‘It’s not possible. To get into the diamond market one requires permission from Prince Ghutrif himself.’

  ‘Which he very generously granted me. Or at least, granted my alter ego.’

  She swayed, clutching his sleeve. ‘If it is discovered that you impersonated this English man, Prince Ghutrif would...’

  ‘Prince Ghutrif is only interested in the prospect of more wealthy Englishmen buying Nessarah diamonds.’

  ‘You promised him that?’ Tahira’s voice was almost a wail. ‘You must leave Nessarah at once.’

  ‘You’re being ridiculous.’ Christopher gave her a little shake. ‘I haven’t met Prince Ghutrif, he has no idea what I look like, where I am camped, and what’s more he doesn’t care.’

  ‘But then how did you...?’

  ‘I have a local man, a contact, who acted as my intermediary. I passed myself off as a wealthy English aristocrat. Rather successfully, I might add.’

  Tahira’s alarmed expression turned to one of puzzlement. ‘A contact? You have used that word before. What kind of contact?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Christopher said impatiently, ‘what matters is...’

  ‘That you have put not only yourself but this contact in mortal danger by dint of your deception.’

  ‘Tahira, I don’t know why you’re getting so...’

  ‘Angry? Frightened? No, actually I’m terrified. No matter how important this amulet to you is, it cannot be more important than your life.’

  ‘You’re quite wrong. Until I am rid of it, I have no life worth living.’

  Her jaw dropped. ‘You can’t mean that.’

  He could. He did. But he was not inclined to explain himself. ‘You’re missing the point,’ Christopher said. ‘I succeeded in gaining entry to the diamond market. I managed to compare...’

  ‘Are you a spy?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Are you here on English government business?’

  ‘No.’ But the denial was unconvincing, even to himself. He didn’t want to lie to her. ‘There is a man in the English government who has supplied me with papers and contacts.’

  ‘By the stars, you are a spy. Do you—what are you—have you been spying on me?’ She was quite pale, her eyes huge.

  ‘Why on earth would I do that?’

  She licked her lips, but did not speak.

  ‘I’ve thought of it,’ Christopher admitted. ‘I’ve thought of following you home. It would be simple enough, to find out who you are, who your family are. It is not lack of curiosity which has prevented me from doing so but respect for you. You have chosen to keep your identity a secret. So be it. I promise you, Tahira, spying is not my business, surveying is. The truth is, I needed the papers to facilitate my quest, to help me move around freely, gain entry to places such as the diamond market, and even to get me out of hot water if necessary, so I persuaded a man at the Foreign Office to procure them for me.’

  ‘Persuaded.’ Tahira’s colour had returned. ‘What did he want in return? Because such men always have a price. We have a saying. “You shake my olive tree and I will shake yours.”’

  He couldn’t help but laugh, though he also couldn’t help but wonder how she came by her knowledge. What men did she know? He’d assumed her family were at least moderately wealthy, but clearly they also had some influence. More questions he couldn’t ask. ‘You’re quite right. He wanted information. Nothing sinister, I assure you. Trade opportunities, which kingdoms would be open to it, what they would trade in, that kind of thing. Information that would be of mutual benefit to Britain and whichever Arabian kingdom engaged with them.’

  ‘And beneficial to the man at your Foreign Office who facilitated bringing the two parties together.’

  ‘Indeed. You are most astute.’

  Tahira shrugged. ‘I know of such men. Who is he, this man at the Foreign Office, how do you come to know him?’

  ‘Let us say that our meeting was an accident, and leave it at that. My report will give him what he wants, what we agreed, but it will fall a long way sort of all the information I have garnered,’ Christopher said. ‘Arabia is an untapped treasure trove of minerals and ores. That most valuable information I’ll be keeping to myself.’

  ‘You know you could make your fortune by selling it?’

  ‘And you know I won’t. You still haven’t asked me the outcome of my act of derring-do.’

  He was relieved to see her smile again, her suspicions and fears giving way to excitement. ‘Well?’

  ‘The diamonds are an exact match!’

  ‘Oh, Christopher!’ Tahira threw her arms around his neck, her expression, in the light of the nascent moon, finally every bit as elated as he felt. ‘That is wonderful news. Though I still can’t believe you took such a risk—but you came to no harm. Tell me you will not do anything so foolhardy again.’

  He refrained from making a promise he was more than likely to break, if the situation required it, putting his arms around her waist. Immediately his body stirred to life, remembering all too well the shape of her curves, the taste of her kisses. ‘We must not get too far ahead of ourselves. The turquoise is still key, the final piece of the puzzle.’

  ‘Soon, though. In a matter of days, they will have mined the first samples.’ Tahira must have sensed his sudden stillness. ‘Or so I have heard,’ she said, looking away, over his shoulder. ‘There is much talk of it in Nessarah. The miners are being paid extra to make haste.’

  He had heard such rumours, though he had not heard anything about samples. Was her brother involved in the mine in some capacity? That would certainly explain how she came to be here that first night. He hesitated, torn between curiosity and a reluctance to set her on edge again with questions, and she forestalled him with a change of subject.

  ‘I too have news, though mine is dismal. My brother has found a candidate for my hand. If the negotiations go well, my betrothal could be announced within seven or ten days.’

  His heart sank. ‘So soon?’

  There were tears misting her eyes, but she was biting her lip, determined not to let them fall. ‘I want—I so very much want to know—to be with you, when you successfully complete your quest, but there is a chance that might not be possible.’

  Every instinct urged him to pull her close, to hold her tight, to tell her that he would find a way to prevent that happening, but that would be pointless and meaningless. And wrong. Instead, he kissed her forehead, forced himself to let her go. ‘We might be closer to a resolution than you think. Last night I worked on after you left, and I made a potentially exciting discovery. Come and see what I’ve found.’

  * * *

  Tahira did not need Christopher’s assistance to ascend to the gap between the main outcrops of rock, but she liked the feel of her fingers twined with his, the way their legs brushed through their clothing, the way he looked down every few moments, as if he was afraid she had disappeared.

  Juwan had made her announcement this afternoon, seeking out the sisters in the Courtyard of the Healers. ‘Negotiations are at an advanced stage,’ her sister-in-law had declared with a triumphant little smile. ‘My husband is very pleased with progress. A man of substance, family and influence. You are most fortunate, Tahira.’

  Tahira could not bring herself to speak. It was Ishraq who asked the questions, Tahira shutting her ears to the answers, as if ignorance would make a mere mirage of her suitor. But later, as Ishraq enviously recited his many reputed virtues, it was impossible not to hear. A paragon, an Adonis
, worshipped by his people, a man any woman would be immensely proud to call husband, Ishraq had said. The irrefutable facts relating to the stranger who would own her were lodged in Tahira’s mind, ready to surface as soon as she returned to the palace and lay alone in her bed, but for now, she refused to grant them entry. Not while she had so little precious time left here with Christopher.

  She held tightly on to his hand as they passed the sites of their previous excavations, up to the gap between the two outcrops, where he picked up a lantern and lit it, holding it high. ‘What have you found?’ Tahira asked, frowning when they came to a halt. ‘It is far too small to be any sort of dwelling.’

  ‘Come further in and see,’ he replied, leading the way, lowering the lamp in order to guide her steps.

  ‘What is it? I can tell from your voice that it is—Christopher, don’t keep me in suspense, it’s cruel.’

  He laughed. ‘Only a moment longer.’ He came to a halt at his small excavation and handed her the lantern. ‘Go on, take a closer look and tell me what you think.’

  She stooped down to examine the ground he had so painstakingly cleared. ‘This is where you found the gold bangle, isn’t it?’ She took her time, her fingers tracing delicately over the area he had exposed, before she stood up, stepped back, paced around, frowning. ‘There is nothing. No evidence of foundations, and I presume you haven’t found any other artefacts?’

  ‘As a matter of fact I have, but I’d rather wait to show you it. Look more closely.’

  ‘What for? Is it another entrance to the mine?’ Tahira peered down at the dirt and rocks, shaking her head. ‘What am I missing?’

  And then she saw it, the tiny gap at the base of the rock which his digging had exposed. Dropping to her knees, she examined it more closely, running her hands over the rock’s striations, then standing up, running her hands up further. ‘I thought it was a fissure, but it’s not, is it?’