Hot Arabian Nights

Azhar, having stowed her drawing supplies away in the saddle bags of his own camel, took both sets of reins from the camel driver and dismissed the man. In response to the strange clicking sound, Azhar’s mount dropped down and the horrible groaning, growling noise which all camels made when forced to kneel began to emanate from the beast.

‘Do you wish me to help you?’ he asked. ‘There is a knack to it.’

‘I know,’ Julia said grimly. Her palms sweating, she approached her own camel and attempted to imitate the clicking sound. What emerged reminded her embarrassingly of a slightly hysterical chicken. Screwing up her face for another attempt, she must have managed by some small miracle to produce something approximating the correct noise, since her camel, albeit reluctantly, dropped down with a loud groan of complaint. She knew from bitter experience that she had to get herself into the saddle quickly, before the camel changed its mind, so threw herself at the high box seat, scrambling on to it as the camel, true to the form of every camel of her experience, and regardless of Azhar’s restraining foot on its front leg, reared up alarmingly.

As the beast kicked its back legs out and Julia lunged forward, she was aware of Azhar yanking on the reins and calling out. She clung desperately to the pommel and managed to stay on board. Just. The invariable second attempt to dismount her had succeeded the last time, for she was not expecting it. This time however, when the camel immediately kicked its front legs out, instead of flying backwards in the saddle before tumbling over and landing on her behind, she leant quickly forward and clung on for dear life. Honour satisfied on both sides, the camel stood compliantly still and Julia, catching her breath, turned to Azhar with a triumphant smile, which quickly faded when she saw his grim expression.

‘I assumed you knew what you were doing.’

‘Well, in theory...’

He cursed under his breath. ‘In theory? In practice you might have been killed.’

‘Nonsense, I’ve fallen off several times before, and was only a little shaken up.’

Azhar cursed again. ‘You could have fallen and broken your neck. I thought—I assumed that since you had spent over a month in the desert—did that scoundrel of a dragoman teach you nothing? How on earth did you manage?’

‘I rode a mule,’ Julia confessed, ‘and before you feel the need to point out to me that by doing so, I contributed to my own downfall by displaying inexperience, I have already worked that out for myself.’

She looked down. It seemed a long way down, and the cobblestones, unlike the soft desert sand, did look rather lethal. Julia shuddered. ‘I’m sorry. I remember now, you said that the last thing you want on your hands is a dead Englishwoman,’ she said, in a poor attempt at a joke.

She was rewarded with a poor attempt at a smile. ‘Cornishwoman,’ Azhar reminded her. ‘But it is true, I would very much prefer if you managed not to kill yourself while you are under my protection. Can you manage to stay in the saddle if I lead your camel?’

Julia opened her mouth to demand the reins, and then thought better of it. ‘I believe so.’

‘If you think at any point that belief is unfounded, you will inform me of that fact,’ Azhar said curtly. In a matter of moments he had mounted his own camel and drawn alongside her, surprising her by reaching across to press her hand reassuringly. ‘My drawings look like tarantula tracks. It is not a weakness to admit to a lack of proficiency, Julia.’

* * *

The souks were already opening as they wended their way through the bustling streets of Al-Qaryma, the familiar scents of spices blending with the early morning freshness of the day. He could be in any city in the East, Azhar told himself, his keffiyeh fixed over his face, refusing to acknowledge the people who dropped to their knees as he passed, the little knot of children who ran after them. Yesterday, the Council had been shocked when he categorically refused to permit them to arrange the ceremonial audiences and formal celebrations which preceded any coronation. The people had been waiting three months already. Another month would make no material difference.

The Council had been even more taken aback by his refusal to take up his throne. But Kamal had been the custodian of Qaryma for more than a year as their father’s illness increasingly sapped his strength. Kamal was more than capable of continuing to deputise, was he not? Azhar had demanded. The response to this question had not been unequivocal. Though some of the newer members of Council had indeed been enthusiastic, Azhar noticed that the elders were more restrained in their support for his brother, and even more reserved in their response to Azhar. Traditionalists, men who had been loyal to his father for almost as long as he had reigned, Azhar could not decide whether they judged him harshly for having left, or for having returned.

He sighed impatiently. It mattered not. They had no option but to do his bidding. He needed neither their acceptance nor their approval. When he chose to inform them of the real state of affairs, they would understand his actions—not that he required their understanding either. What mattered now, was to make the most of the time he had bought for himself. And in doing so, to enjoy the company of the unusual and extraordinary woman who accompanied him.

As they left the city and the oasis behind, along with the discomfiting attentions of the people who thought him their Crown Prince, Azhar brought Julia’s camel alongside his. In her Eastern dress, she looked at the same time both exotic and yet unmistakably not of the East. The soft fabrics emphasised the slim lines and soft curves of her body. The bright colours highlighted the vivid green of her eyes, the burnished auburn of her hair. She had curled her legs around the pommel of the saddle. There was a tantalising glimpse of flesh above the top of her boot, below the gather of her pantaloons. Dragging his eyes away from it, he discovered she was watching him, trying to assess his mood. Behind his keffiyeh, he smiled. ‘Would you like to attempt taking the reins yourself?’

Her eyes became wary. ‘Azhar, I am a more-than-competent horsewoman, but I suspect I will never master the art of riding a camel. Nor will ever have cause to, since they are in rather short supply in England.’

‘No doubt English camels, if they existed, would be twice the size of our scrawny desert ones.’

‘Now you are mocking me.’

‘Not mocking, merely gently teasing you,’ Azhar said, bringing the camels to a halt. ‘But I dislike the fact that you mock yourself by berating your inability to control a camel.’

‘It is a stupid thing, not to be able to ride the ship of the desert when one has spent the last month travelling in that desert.’

‘You are very harsh on yourself. Had your dragoman made an effort to teach you, I have no doubt you’d have mastered the art long before now.’

‘I doubt Daniel would share your confidence.’

Azhar’s hands tightened on the reins. ‘Daniel is not here to disapprove.’ The man was a fool. He evidently took every opportunity to point out his wife’s inadequacies. But there was no point in castigating her for listening to such arrant nonsense. What she needed was encouragement. ‘Would you like to take the reins, just for a short while, Julia?’

‘What if it bolts?’

‘It takes a great deal of effort to make a camel bolt. It takes a great deal of effort to get a camel to do anything, if truth be told. Its reputation for stubbornness is well earned.’ Still, she looked unconvinced, eyeing the distance between the saddle and the sand dubiously. ‘Julia, even if you do fall on your most delightful rear, the sand here is very soft. The courtyard was a different matter entirely.’

Above her veil, her eyes widened. ‘You think my—my rear is delightful?’

Azhar laughed. ‘Very.’

‘How odd. No one has ever referred to it as delightful before.’ Julia frowned. ‘Actually, I don’t think anyone has ever referred to it in any manner at all before.’

‘Perhaps the men of your acquaintance are singularly unobservant,’ Azhar responded. ‘To say nothing of unappreciative.’

‘Perhaps it is these clothes.’

‘I was not admiring the clothes but the woman they adorn.’

She was close enough for him to see the flush on her cheeks beneath her filmy veil. Close enough for him to give in to the urge to run his fingers down the length of her silky plait of hair. Close enough for him to hear her sharp intake of breath as he did so. Close enough for his leg to brush against hers. For him to slide his fingers up her arm, over the soft billowing folds of her tunic, to rest on her shoulder. So close he saw the flame of desire he was feeling reflected in her eyes. So tantalisingly close he could almost touch his lips to hers.

But even as he shifted to close the final infinitesimal gap his camel bleated, and Julia’s balance on the box seat wavered, and Azhar caught at the reins he had almost dropped. ‘There is an old saying, that in the desert a camel is more useful than a kingdom,’ he said ruefully, ‘but as a location for lovemaking, it leaves a lot to be desired.’

* * *

Clutching the pommel of the saddle, Julia could think of nothing to say in response to this scandalous remark. How had they shifted from the subject of learning to ride a camel, to her rear—her delightful rear—to a kiss in the space of one conversation? How was it even possible that they had combined such disparate subjects? Her head whirled and her body thrummed. For once, she had no difficulty in reading Azhar’s expression, for it exactly reflected her own feelings.

‘Azhar...’ Realising that she still hadn’t a clue what she was going to say, she shrugged. ‘I’d like to try taking the reins, please, provided you keep a close eye on my progress.’

‘A most prudent suggestion,’ he said, giving her a slightly crooked smile.

Julia laughed. ‘I’m not sure that prudent is the word I’d use to describe what I’m about to do.’

‘Perhaps not, but it is a great deal less dangerous than what I was in the process of attempting. And I am not referring to physical danger. I hope I did not offend you.’

‘You must be perfectly well aware that you did not. If you must know,’ Julia said daringly, ‘I’ve been wanting to kiss you.’

Once again, she surprised him into a laugh. ‘I believe that is what they call serendipity,’ he replied, ‘because that is exactly what I too have been wishing to do. Though I could have chosen a more propitious moment.’

The way he was looking at her was making her feel not only daring, but decidedly decadent. ‘Then I hope you choose better the next time,’ Julia said, taking up the reins, and urging the camel into action.

It would have been a most dramatic gesture if it had worked. Sadly, the camel stayed firmly rooted to the spot. Julia tugged the reins tighter. The camel turned its long neck around and nonchalantly attempted to bite her. In her surprise, she loosened her hold on the reins, and to her astonishment the beast set off at a slow plod.

‘I thought you said you understood the theory,’ Azhar said, catching up with her on his own mount.

‘Obviously I was wrong. What do I do to change direction?’

‘If you will permit me to ride a little in front, your camel will naturally follow mine.’