The Cobra & the Concubine (Khamsin Warriors of the Wind)

by Bonnie Vanak

  "Say it, my love. You can tell me anything. I trust you."

  Kenneth’s gaze darkened. "It must have been hell for Zaid. Imagine spending your whole life longing for recognition from a father who ignored you and thought you were a blot on his morality. It drove him to murder. Maybe if my grandfather had acknowledged he had an illegitimate child, and maybe if Zaid had finally received the attention he craved, he would have turned out differently. I don’t know."

  His knuckles brushed her cheek. "I do know this. You have a beautiful little girl, Badra. Her smile. Her sweetness. You can’t deny the resemblance. And if you deny Jasmine a relationship as her mother, you’re denying yourself as well. Doesn’t being her mother matter more than the fact that she’s illegitimate?"

  He added softly. "I don’t care who fathered her. I only care about you. She needs a mother, Badra. Not a sister. She needs you. She hasn’t had you for years. Shouldn’t you start making up for lost time?"

  Emotion clogged Badra’s throat. Jasmine did deserve truth and recognition as her daughter. She’d wanted to protect the child from the humiliation of being a bastard, but the greater crime was not acknowledging her.

  "Jasmine can weather being an outcast from society, being born out of wedlock," Badra mused softly.

  "She has her mother’s courage. And she won’t be an outcast. She’ll have you. And me. I’m going to legally adopt her as my daughter as soon as we return to England."

  Warmth rushed through her at his declaration of support. With his love shielding them from rigid English society, she and Jasmine would never be alone.

  But what of Khamsin society? Facing the tribe’s scrutiny, the tribe that had been her only family all these years, would be harder by far.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Two days later, Badra, Kenneth and Graham departed for the Khamsin camp in the eastern desert. Jabari and the others had gone ahead, giving Kenneth time to clear up his business at Dashur.

  The harsh yellow sun began to set as they approached the camp on their camels. Badra did not voice her fears. Would the tribe, knowing Jasmine was Fareeq’s daughter, deny her? She did not care. All that mattered was Jasmine. She would proudly acknowledge the child as her daughter.

  Graham let loose a low, shrill whistle as the outcropping of black tents appeared on the horizon. He grinned. "Now they’re certain to know who it is. I’m the only one so rude."

  A flurry of activity took place; small indigo figures rushed about like ants carpeting the sand. As they approached the camp’s edge, Badra saw a sight immediately warming her heart: Beneath the sprawling shade of a thorn tree, Jasmine stood between Elizabeth and Jabari, clutching their hands.

  Badra pulled her camel to a halt and forced the beast to its knees. Jumping off, she cautiously approached her daughter. Jasmine looked up at her. Recognition dawned on the girl’s elfin face. So many changes, so many new people. Yet her daughter displayed courage and fortitude facing each.

  "Jabari formally welcomed Jasmine into the tribe as the daughter of his heart. The people have accepted his edict and Jasmine as well," Elizabeth told her in English.

  The sheikh’s steady gaze met Badra’s. She smiled in thanks. His welcome put Jasmine under his protection and assured that no one would dare shun her when they discovered Fareeq was her father.

  Badra knelt down, her body trembling so hard she could barely wrap her arms around her daughter’s thin frame. She hugged the child with all the intensity of years lost and hope found. Slowly she pulled away, brushing a lock of silky black hair from the little girl’s eyes.

  "Jasmine, I have something to share with you," she whispered. "I am your mother. Not your sister."

  Those solemn brown eyes blinked, then a delighted smile touched the girl’s lips. It was like watching the sun burst from sheltering clouds. "You’re my mother? They said my mother died!"

  "They were wrong," Badra answered in a choked voice. "You were taken away from me when you were born. But that’s not important now. This is: I promise, I will never, ever, let you go again."

  A warm hand settled on Badra’s shoulder. She glanced up to see Kenneth. He squatted down, gently taking Jasmine’s small hands in his large ones. He gave a reassuring smile.

  "And we have more news for you, honey. I’m marrying your mother, so that means you’ll have a new father as well. Is that all right with you?"

  Jasmine studied him with large, solemn eyes. "I think so," she said seriously. "I do like you. You have lemon drops."

  He laughed and produced one from his pocket. She held it in her small palm and went into his arms for a hug, resting her cheek against his. Jasmine pulled away. With a grave, adultlike expression, she ran a hand over his face. "I like it here, but I think I’ll like living with you as my father more. The sheikh’s face is all scratchy when he hugs me."

  "Ah, I am rejected in favor of the less hairy Englishman," Jabari mocked as he fingered his close-cropped beard.

  "She has good taste," Kenneth said smugly.

  The girl unwrapped the candy, popped it into her mouth and snuggled against him. Judging from his assured way with her daughter, Kenneth would make a good father, Badra thought with pride.

  Hands thrust awkwardly into the pockets of his new English trousers, Graham greeted Jabari and Elizabeth and conversed briefly with them. Then the sheikh and his wife walked back to the camp, arms around each other. Kenneth released Jasmine and introduced Graham as her soon-to-be-uncle.

  Immediately her daughter looked up with shining eyes.

  "I have a family now," she said happily.

  Badra swallowed a lump clogging her throat. Kenneth winked as he rested a protective hand on Jasmine’s shoulder. "And your mother and I will have to see about getting you a brother or sister to play with, honey."

  Jasmine looked hopeful. "How soon? Tomorrow?"

  Graham grinned. Kenneth cleared his throat.

  "Ah, no, I think it will take a little longer than that."

  A charming frown knit the little girl’s brow. "Why is it going to take so long? Can’t you do it any faster?"

  "I promise, I’ll try to do it as fast as I can." Kenneth bit back a laugh as Badra blushed.

  His expression turned serious when he turned to Graham. "I do want to return to England as soon as Badra and I are married, though."

  Graham fingered the tan broadcloth of his trousers. "These feel very restrictive. Must I always wear English clothing?"

  "You’ll get used to it," Kenneth assured him. "We’ll just make sure the tailor measures you properly and you’ll be fine."

  He glanced at Badra. "There are many adjustments ahead, for all of us. I can’t promise it will be trouble free."

  "I’m not afraid," she told him.

  And she wasn’t. The veil of terror had been lifted from her eyes. She could face English society, gossip and stares. She stood at the beginning of her life, ready to make the journey with Kenneth, wherever it might lead. Her gaze fell to Graham, who stood silently beside her. A new beginning, for all of them. She clasped Graham’s hand, then Kenneth’s, drawing close to her the two most important men in her life.

  Linked together, like the family they were, they stood absorbed in the enchanting brushstrokes of color sweeping the sky—deep rose, violet and peach. The brilliant orb of a full pale moon hung low in the darkening sky, having chased the sun from its lofty perch.

  "Look," Kenneth said softly. "The full moon. This is your time, Badra. The moon reveals her shy face, flooding the night with her soft light." He glanced at Graham, who studied the moonrise with a face rapt with fresh hope.

  "Sometimes, there are secrets too painful to reveal in the harshness of the sun. Only under the moon’s gentle, coaxing beams can they come to light, and finally vanquish the darkness," Graham mused.

  Kenneth silently mouthed "thank you" to Badra. Her chest tightened with the tremendous joy flooding her. Graham faced many difficult struggles ahead, but he did not face them alone. He was free at last
of the terrible secret burdening him. Free to embrace the brother he thought he had lost, and the life he was destined for, just as Kenneth’s love had set her free from her cruel past.

  Freedom called to them all in the hush of desert wind sweeping across the dusky sands. They walked back toward the Khamsin camp, listening to the promise in its sweet song.

  Author’s Note

  If you’ve enjoyed this story, please check out the other books in the Khamsin Warriors of the Wind series. They are in order:

  The Falcon and the Dove

  The Tiger and the Tomb

  The Cobra and the Concubine

  The Panther and the Pyramid

  The Sword and the Sheath

  The Scorpion and the Seducer

  The Lady and the Libertine

  For more information, visit my website, www.BonnieVanak.com or my Facebook page, http://www.facebook.com/bonnievanakauthor

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

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  Book Notes

  The necklaces of Princess Meret, along with other fantastic finds of jewelry, were actually discovered at the pyramid of Senusret III by Jacques de Morgan during the 1894–1895 digging season in Egypt. I used artistic license to weave a legend about the two necklaces and their power to enslave.

  Unfortunately, the basis for Badra’s slavery is all too real. Slavery still exists in the modern world. In the Sudan, women and children are frequently sold into slavery. I became personally acquainted with the horrors of slavery while traveling in Haiti and meeting former restaveks. Restaveks are Haitian children who become enslaved when they are given by an impoverished parent to a family who promises to care for the child with food, clothing and schooling, in exchange for domestic labor. Few of those promises are fulfilled and frequently the restavek child works long hours and is subject to beatings and sometimes sexual abuse.

  Human trafficking even exists today in the United States. A 2004 report by the U.S. Department of Justice said more than 17,000 people are brought illegally to the United States annually to work in sweatshops, in domestic servitude or as prostitutes.