by Penny Jordan
Though she knew he was not, he looked like a man of nobility and power and tradition, a man as forbidding and compelling as the desert itself; a man apart, whose mere presence sent the same shiver of intense reaction whispering over her skin as the awe-inspiring might of this land, which was named so eloquently. He was a man other men would instinctively respect, and whom other women would immediately desire.
As she did?
So much so that she was afraid even to admit to herself that she was aware of it, never mind accepting the strength of her feelings for him!
Proudly she stood as tall as she could, and looked back at him. 'If you're expecting me to walk mutely several paces behind you—' she began.
'I thought you said you'd studied the history of the desert tribes?' he stopped her immediately.
'I have,' Katrina agreed.
'Well, in that case you should know that Tuareg society is a matriarchal society.'
'But you aren't really Tuareg, are you?' was all she could manage to say as she walked reluctantly to his side.
As they walked a young boy suddenly ran up to Xander's side, and to Katrina's astonishment Xander immediately smiled down at him, putting his hand on the boy's head in a gesture that was almost tender, before saying something to him in a dialect Katrina could not understand.
'He's an orphan,' he explained to her as the boy darted away again. 'I pay him to keep an eye on my horse. The animal is used to company and the boy needs a warm bed.'
Emotions Katrina did not want to feel clogged her throat. For all the harshness he displayed, there was obviously a compassionate, caring side to him.
There was already a distinct chill to the evening air, although whether it was that or her own nervousness that was causing a rash of goose-bumps to break out on her flesh, Katrina didn't want to investigate too thoroughly.
The smell of roasting lamb from the campfires wafted towards them, making her feel slightly sick, her stomach rebelling at the thought of food. By the time they had reached the clearing where El Khalid held his nightly meetings, there was a small crowd waiting to watch the wedding. She could hear music playing, and women singing.
When she turned apprehensively to look over her shoulder towards them, Xander told her quietly, 'They will have heard about our marriage and will have come as is customary to witness it. The music is a traditional wedding song. There is no need for you to be afraid.'
He was offering her reassurance? Once again she had to swallow against an unwanted lump of emotion.
El Khalid was already seated on his makeshift divan, his henchmen surrounding him, the women of his family grouped behind him along with the musicians.
Katrina froze. She couldn't do it. She couldn't go through with it. Panic seized her, and she made a small, inarticulate noise of despair, her gaze darting frantically around the circle of onlookers surrounding them as she looked for a way to escape. She was quivering from head to foot with fear.
'Remember it isn't a real marriage! It doesn't mean anything!'
The cool, calming words fell against her raw nerve endings like a soothing balm on burning flesh.
Xander's hand clasped hers, holding it gently, almost as though he was trying to comfort and reassure her. Wide-eyed, she looked up at him.
The music had stopped. El Khalid was beckoning them forward. Xander's fingers entwined with her own. Shakily she started to move forward with him, not following behind him, but walking at his side.
They had reached the rebel leader. Xander released her hand and immediately she ached to have him holding it again and for the comfort of that physical contact with him.
Everything that had happened to her was so alien to her, and somehow he had become the only thing that made the brutal nightmare bearable. Without him… Without him she would have been subjected to Sulimen's unchecked demands, without him…
Instinctively she moved closer to him, somehow comforted just by being within the warmth given off by his body, as though it were some kind of magic circle that enfolded and protected her. Just as love was a magic circle that protected and enfolded those who shared it?
Frantically she dragged her thoughts away from such a dangerous road, concentrating instead on El Khalid.
'Give me your hand,' he instructed Katrina.
Reluctantly she did so. Unlike Xander's, his nails were dirty and unkempt, the cuticles bitten and ragged.
'And yours,' he told Xander.
Katrina quivered as Xander placed his lean brown hand over her own and it was clasped and held there by El Khalid.
'Is it the wish of both of you that you should be married?'
Katrina knew the ceremony meant nothing and that it was simply a means to an end, but somehow she discovered that she was affected by it—which was ridiculous. El Khalid was not a man of religion; he was a thief and heaven alone knew what else, and this was just a charade. Nothing more.
'Yes. That is our wish,' she heard Xander saying.
El Khalid was looking at her. Bowing her head, Katrina whispered shakily, 'Yes.'
'Very well, then! As is our custom, it is my right to give this woman to you in marriage, Tuareg.'
Katrina's eyes widened a little with apprehension. El Khalid sounded so solemn.
'Take the woman's hand, Tuareg,' the rebel leader commanded.
Her throat had gone dry and her heart was thudding heavily against her chest wall. Xander was reaching out for her hand, sliding cool, hard fingers between her own, locking her hand to his.
The intimacy of their entwined fingers made her catch her breath, aware of the emotional and sexual significance of their interlocked flesh. Some things needed no words. Palm to palm, flesh to flesh, naked body to naked body, his fingers lying between hers, possessing hers. No wonder an old-fashioned word for marriage was 'hand-fast'.
Her body shuddered and her head seethed with turbulent and frightening thoughts.
El Khalid uttered a sharp command, and a woman, heavily veiled with only her bright dark eyes visible, stepped forward holding a length of silk fabric, so fine that it fluttered in the soft breeze.
Taking it from her, El Khalid started to bind it around both their wrists, muttering some words in Zuranese as he did so. Nervously Katrina risked looking up into Xander's face and then wished she had not done so as she witnessed the grimness of his closed, severe expression.
Her heart was beating slowly and heavily. It felt as though the life force of Xander's blood pulsing through his veins was actually driving her blood through her body as her own pulse matched and echoed the fierce beat of his. The intimate, intense symbolism of what was happening was way, way too much for her to cope with, Katrina recognised emotionally as she felt tears sting the backs of her eyes and her heart lurch against her ribs.
Xander had said that their 'marriage' meant nothing, and maybe it didn't to him, but for her the symbolism of what was happening was a very big 'something' indeed!
Whilst she was still grappling with her feelings, El Khalid spoke some more words over the binding, and then El Khalid turned to Xander and told him, 'You have taken this woman to you as your wife, Tuareg. From now on where you go, she goes. May you be blessed with a long and happy marriage and many children!'
The woman was removing the scarf. Slowly Xander released her hand. Katrina could feel the unsteady, frantic thud of the blood in her veins. The musicians had started to play again. Helplessly she looked into the glinting gold of Xander's eyes. Far from being meaningless, as she had expected, the ceremony had made her feel that they were now joined together in a way that was primitive and eternal. That knowledge filled her with something akin to shocked awe. No matter how many miles might He between them in the future, nothing ever could or ever would erase what had just happened. How could Xander be so calm about something that to her felt so irreversible?
Logically Katrina knew that other people might think she was overreacting—after all, there was no legal tie between them—but she couldn't help the way she fel
t about the ceremony they had just undergone. Her hand, her flesh, her very self would bear the imprint of him and their marriage for ever! Shockingly, she felt as though they had shared an intimacy as great as though he had possessed her physically!
The crowd had parted to make a pathway for them. Numbly Katrina let Xander lead her down it whilst the watching men sang and cheered. 'If you're going to faint, at least wait until we get back to the tent,' she heard him say warningly.
CHAPTER FIVE
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'Why didn't you tell me…warn me about…what was going to happen?' Katrina demanded huskily as soon as she knew they could not be overheard.
At her side she felt Xander shrug. 'The binding of our wrists? For the simple reason that I didn't realise that it was going to happen,' he answered her dismissively. 'It's a very old custom, and seldom used any more.'
'Why did they do it that way, then?' she persisted.
'El Khalid's word is law here, not mine,' he pointed out dryly as he started to unwind his headdress. 'Besides. It was hardly important…'
Xander kept his back to her as he spoke, not wanting her to guess that he too had been strongly affected by the ceremony. By being bound together as they had been, they were now tied to one another in a way that had its roots deep in the tradition of his tribe. He started to frown, not wanting to dwell on the surge of primitive male possessiveness that had filled him.
He could not afford to dwell on such feelings and he certainly could not afford to allow them—or Katrina herself—to become important to him. Immediately he frowned. 'It is a Berber custom, that is all. Don't make too much of it.'
He could see how shocked and distressed she was, and the truth was that he felt equally affected by what had happened himself, but of course he could not afford to let her see that.
'There is no need for us to discuss the subject any further,' he told her, feigning a dismissiveness he was far from feeling, before looking thoughtfully towards the exit. It could well be that Nazir might decide to visit El Khalid tonight, and if he did, then Xander needed to be aware of it.
'I suggest that you retire to the sleeping quarters,' he told Katrina, peremptorily.
Her eyes widened as she listened to him. They hadn't been married more than a handful of minutes and already he was behaving as though she were his to order about as he wished. As though… A hotly dangerous trickle of sensual awareness spread through her. This was her wedding night and if Xander chose…to lay claim to his rights as her husband physically, she would not be able to stop him. The only weapon she had was words.
'This is not a real marriage,' she reminded him. 'You can't tell me what to do.'
'Not as a husband,' he agreed grimly. 'But you appear to be forgetting that I am your captor as well as your husband; you are in my power and you are my possession—to do with as I choose! You will go to the sleeping quarters and you will remain there!'
For what purpose, Katrina wondered feverishly as he stood, arms folded, in front of her, silently waiting for her to obey him.
To be used as though she were a concubine? Her imagination was proving to be her worst enemy, she acknowledged as he turned away from her. But Katrina wasn't ready for their conversation to end.
It was in her nature to want to think the best of everyone, she tried to reassure herself. And that was the reason she wanted Xander to prove to her that he had some redeeming qualities. For his sake or for her own? Because of her inability to deny the attraction she felt towards him, the desire she felt for him? She must not allow such thoughts to take root, she warned herself. And besides, any attraction she might think she felt for Xander now would soon disappear once she was free and living her normal life. Even so, somehow she could not prevent herself from asking him.
'Why did you marry me? Was it because of the ransom money you hope to get for me or was it really because you wanted to protect me? To save me from Sulimen?'
She saw the liquid flash of his darkly intent gaze as he turned his head to look at her. She felt as though it were burning into her, seeking out all those things she most wanted to keep secret. For a man who earned his living in such a shameful manner he possessed a proud arrogance that should have been risible, but which instead suited him perfectly, she acknowledged unwillingly.
It was very, very rare for anything or anyone to catch him off guard, but Katrina had done exactly that, Xander admitted grimly. It was almost as though she was actually looking for a reason to think better of him, he recognised incredulously.
An austere look darkened his face. Had she somehow seen through his camouflage and the subterfuge he had been forced to adopt, to the person he really was? Could she sense his vulnerability where she was concerned? Could she feel it in the tense air between them? The hard heat of his desire for her, and the struggle he was having in fighting against it? The fierce longing he felt to take her in his arms and make the vows they had just exchanged a reality?
He had actually taken steps towards her before he managed to remind himself of the real situation. She was a modern young woman who was no doubt used to using her sexuality to get what she wanted, if she chose to do so.
'What are you hoping I will say? That I married you to save you? Are you hoping that I might be vulnerable to you myself and that you could use that against me in some way? Perhaps seduce me into giving you your freedom?' he taunted her silkily, whilst Katrina's face burned a dark, hot red.
'I might have known you would think something like that!' she retorted bitterly. 'That Machiavellian mind of yours wouldn't allow you to think anything else, would it?'
'What else is there to think?' Xander retaliated grimly.
'For your information, I was hoping that I might have found something in you that I could respect!' Katrina told him shakily. 'Some saving grace that would mean—'
'That you could manipulate me at will,' Xander stopped her curtly.
She was touching a place in his emotions he didn't want to have touched by anyone, but least of all by her. Her words came far too close to his own private thoughts on the subject of love and marriage. According to his half-brother, his mother and father had loved one another very deeply. Certainly enough for them both to step outside the familiar boundaries of their own cultures in order to be together. Such a love cast a very long shadow and he knew that he wanted a union as strong as that. But his pride was fiercely strong. He could never, ever love a woman he did not respect. And growing up in his father's culture had ensured that he could not respect a woman who was sexually or indeed emotionally promiscuous.
For any woman, but even more a woman such as Katrina, to dare to accuse him of not being worthy of her respect irked and infuriated him. For such an insult she would have to be punished!
'I'm not your foolish, weak, easy-to-seduce English lover,' he said contemptuously. 'He might be easily bedazzled by the fake glitter of the tawdry goods you have on sale and unable to see that they and you have no true worth, but I am not so easily pleased or deceived.'
Katrina's mouth had gone very dry. Her whole body was feeling the impact of the insult he had just delivered and its thinly veiled implications regarding her sexual morals.
'You have no right to say such things to me,' was all she could manage to say as she somehow managed to choke out the words above the brittle fragility of her emotional defences.
He knew how to hurt, and how to wound and maim. Katrina couldn't imagine that any woman would want to be forced to listen to a man speaking about her in such a way.
'And in case you've forgotten, Richard was not my lover!' she told him fiercely.
Xander gave a dismissive shrug. 'I have no interest in who has or has not shared your bed and your favours.'
He was lying and he knew it, but what else could he do? He had to finish this conversation and find out if Nazir had arrived, for his half-brother's sake.
'I have to go out,' he announced tersely. 'And don't wait for me so that you can try and persuade me again. My advice t
o you is not to bother wasting your time.'
He gave her a look that stripped her pride to the bone and left it and her mercilessly exposed.
There were so many angry words she wanted to hurl at him, but it was already too late. His hand was already lifting the heavy curtain, and he was stepping through it, leaving her alone to confront the unpalatable reality behind her angry reaction to their conversation.
No matter how hard she fought to ignore it, the word 'seduce' hung dangerously in her thoughts. He might have been wrong about there being any intention on her part to seduce him, but that word on his lips had caused her stomach to clench and her heart to flip over whilst her legs had turned weak and the slow ache of longing pulsing deep inside her had flared into a hungry, driving beat.
No, she did not want to seduce him, but shamingly she acknowledged that she could not say the same in reverse. What on earth was the matter with her? He was a criminal, callous, arrogant and dishonest. There was not one single redeeming thing about him. And she was a fool for trying to find something in him she could respect, some excuse for him she could use to justify her feelings for him.
It was not even as though he had done or said anything to make her think he shared her confusing and disturbing feelings in any kind of way—quite the opposite. Her whole body burned with indignation as she remembered the contemptuous way in which he had spoken to her. He was not just unprincipled and untrustworthy, he was bigoted as well! It would have given her a great deal of pleasure to have thrown his words back at him and told him that she had not in fact had any lovers, never mind the scores he had chosen to imply, but of course that was something she could and would not do. Her virginity was a lifestyle choice she had made because of her own profound and private beliefs and not so that she could demean herself by claiming it in front of someone like Xander.
He simply wasn't worthy of the foolish feelings she was silly enough to have for him, and for her own sake she had to root them out of her heart immediately. If only it were that easy. She gave a small shiver. There was something dark and dangerous about him, something raw and untamed that the female core of her responded to wantonly and rebelliously, and there was nothing she could do about it, she admitted despairingly.