Claiming His Desert Princess

‘Juwan, I promised my mother...’

‘Tahira, that is another lesson which you have signally failed to learn. Your allegiance is not to a woman fourteen years dead, but to your brother, and to myself as his consort. Our wish is to have you married as soon as possible, sparing us all the pain of your most childish behaviour in defying us. Ghutrif will have his way. The easiest thing for yourself and the sisters you claim to love is to accept the inevitable with good grace.’

‘I do not claim to love my sisters. I love them with all my heart. Ever since our mama died...’

‘Spare me.’ Juwan made no attempt to hide her animosity. ‘You think yourself a surrogate mother to those three, but you are serving them very ill. It is not only my husband who believes you are an unhealthy influence. I see it for myself, the effect you have on them—but Tahira says, but Tahira doesn’t think—so many times every single day I hear those words. I am the wife of the Crown Prince, this is my harem, those girls have a duty to obey me without question.’

‘I don’t teach them disobedience, but I will not deny that I do encourage them to question what does not seem right or fair. My mother raised me to—’

‘Your mother is long dead,’ Juwan spat. ‘Your mother, who put her daughters before her only son, who failed to give Ghutrif his rightful place as the King in waiting. Your mother is no shining example to follow.’

Tahira struggled, but no amount of deep breaths and clenched fists could hold back the tears which gathered on her lashes. It was far too late now for her to rein her emotions in. ‘Ghutrif was always jealous, especially of me. You must not believe the stories he tells, for you must know how he slants things, colours things...’

‘How dare you criticise my husband!’ Juwan heaved herself to her feet. ‘Ghutrif is right. The sooner you are gone from here, the better. We cannot risk those other three following your bad example. It is time they learned that it is in everyone’s interests, not least their own, to let you go. Time they learned how selfish they have been. Alimah and Durrah in particular are forever begging me to ask my husband not to make another match for you.’

‘They are young. Do not judge them too harshly. Ishraq is more reconciled to her fate.’

‘Perhaps, but where you lead they will all follow eventually, even Ishraq. Do you really want them to reject the excellent marriages your brother will make for them? Do you wish to deprive them of the joy of children of their own?’

‘No, of course I do not! Quite the opposite, in fact. I’m offering to give up any prospect of marriage in order to better prepare them for theirs.’

‘Have you asked them if that’s what they want, for their dearest sister to sacrifice so much for them?’

‘It’s no great sacrifice from my perspective.’

Juwan shook her head, smiling in that condescending way that made Tahira wish to knock her turban off. ‘You have been a mother to those three for many years, but they no longer require a mother. Ishraq is almost twenty years old, more than ready for marriage. You are spoiling her chances and, fiercely loyal as she is, you may believe me when I tell you that she is becoming frustrated with your intransigence. She wants to establish her own harem, to raise her own family. As for Alimah and Durrah, they may be young yet, but in three or four years’ time they too will wish to fly this nest. It is the natural order of things. Only you are behaving unnaturally. Fortunately, though you may not believe it, my husband and I know what is best for you. The Murimon alliance would have been an excellent one, but that ship has sailed,’ Juwan said brusquely. ‘What matters now is to find you a replacement husband as a matter of urgency. You are twenty-four years old, a full three years older than I, but not yet past marrying age. The match being arranged for you will not be so prestigious, but you had better make sure you accept it with alacrity.’

Panic made Tahira forget herself. She clutched at Juwan’s sleeve. ‘Has my brother—or goodness, don’t tell me that my father...?’

Juwan carefully removed her fingers. ‘As you know perfectly well, our beloved King Haydar is far too frail to take an active role in any matters of state, and entrusts my dear husband to act on his behalf. Ghutrif is expending a great deal of energy in order to secure a suitable husband for you and is making excellent progress. I hope you will be suitably grateful. This harem has become a place of turmoil when it should be an oasis of calm while I await the birth of my son. If you cannot act out of a sense of duty towards me or my husband, demonstrate your avowed love for your sisters by embracing the next offer made for your hand.’ Juwan glanced up at the row of high arched windows. ‘It grows dark, long past time for me to retire. I bid you goodnight.’

* * *

Tahira watched her sister-in-law sway across the courtyard like a dhow in full sail before making swiftly for her own quarters, her thoughts already turning to the night ahead. She would have to be extremely careful. The merest hint of her sense of excited anticipation might arouse suspicion. Her sister-in-law saw a great deal more than she let on. They all did, here in the stifling atmosphere of the official harem, and no doubt it was the same over the wall, in the unofficial harem inhabited by her brother’s concubines. There was little else to do save to observe and to gossip, for those who had not the key to freedom.

But Tahira did. Her heart jumped. Butterflies fluttered in her tummy. Juwan’s little talk had left her feeling both furious and defiant. She did not want to accept the stark truth which had been laid out before her. She did not want to think of the fate which imminently awaited her, or the pain of separation it implied. She did not want to admit that there was any truth in anything Juwan said. All she wanted was to escape. The sensible thing would be to keep her head down, play the supplicant, act the penitent. But that was for tomorrow. Tonight, Christopher was awaiting her.

Christopher. The perfect antidote to her unpalatable reality. A man with no surname and precious little background. A man of mystery with a mystery of his own to resolve. He had most certainly not told her the full story behind that priceless amulet, a fifteen-hundred-year-old relic that might even prove to be part of her very own heritage. How she had managed to contain her astonishment when she realised it might actually have been passed down through the generations of her own family was anyone’s guess. One of her own ancestors might actually have worn it. When she touched it, she had sensed the connection, she was certain of it. Just thinking about it gave her goose bumps. It was not just serendipity. The fates had placed her there at the mine last night, they meant her to help Christopher solve the mystery of the amulet. She, who knew better than anyone in the whole of Nessarah the history of the kingdom’s mines. She, who might even be a direct descendant of the person for whom the amulet was fashioned. No wonder it seemed to speak to her heart. She laughed at herself for being so fanciful, but she believed it to be true all the same.

Christopher, however, felt no such attachment to the amulet. Her smile faded as she recalled his expression when he looked at it. Not a precious link to a distant past, but an unwelcome link to his own history that he wanted to sever. How quickly his mood had swung last night. He had looked at the beautiful piece of jewellery with such loathing. That devil-may-care façade she found so attractive hid a much darker, more tortured soul. Christopher was not a man she would care to cross.

But he was definitely a man she wanted to know better. Tahira wrapped her arms around herself. A man who saw her, a woman without a royal title or impeccable blue-blooded lineage, but like him, without a name and with precious little background. Christopher had made it very clear he liked what he saw. That a man so vital, so wildly attractive could be attracted to her—she couldn’t quite believe it. Last night, she had rather desperately wanted him to kiss her. The ultimate temptation and the ultimate deterrent, he had called her innocence. Was it wrong of her to wish that innocence away?

Yes, Tahira acknowledged with a wicked smile, very wrong but very appealing. Not that she would ever dare surrender what amounted to her most marketable asset, but there was no harm in travelling a very little way down the sinful path, when no one would ever know, was there? If one thing had become clear from her discussion with Juwan, it was that the days of her current life were severely numbered.

Talking of time! Tahira checked her watch, and gave a gasp of surprise. It was later than she realised. More than time for her to assume the garb of her alter ego and escape from the harem under cover of darkness, to keep her assignation with the mysterious and brooding foreigner. After all, it would be foolish not to take maximum advantage of what little time, and personal freedom, she had left.

Chapter Three (#uec5dc609-7773-581a-9bfe-5eb488360d72)

‘Do you think the early indications are encouraging?’

Christopher dropped down on to the sand beside Tahira. They were sitting at the base of the rocky outcrop, on the opposite side from the mine entrance. ‘It is too soon to make any judgement as yet, we have only examined a small section of the site so far.’

‘I understand that. It is only that I so desperately want this to be the turquoise mine you have been searching for.’

‘No one could wish that more than I.’ They had not uncovered a shred of evidence of mining activity in ancient times in the course of the night. Could his instincts be wrong? Christopher wondered. No, he would not contemplate that possibility. Instead, he contemplated the woman seated opposite him. While they worked together, her knowledge and enthusiasm had made it easy to become absorbed in seeking evidence of the past, but now, seated within inches of her graceful, sensuous body, her glossy fall of hair, he was once again acutely aware of her allure.

‘It is a beautiful night,’ Tahira said, looking wistfully up at the sky. ‘How I would love to sleep under the stars. To wake in the cool, fresh dawn, to see the desert come alive at the beginning of a new day, to have nothing around me save the sky and the sand.’

‘What’s stopping you?’ he asked, distracted by the image of her newly woken, rumpled from sleep.

‘I cannot risk returning in daylight,’ she answered, and he castigated himself for his thoughtless question, when he saw her sad little smile. ‘Though to be honest,’ she added, ‘if I were caught, I can’t see how the punishment could be any worse than the fate they have already planned for me.’

‘Fate? What fate? What do you mean, punishment? Tahira, do they suspect—?’

‘Nothing,’ she interrupted hastily. ‘I only meant...’ She looked away, shielding her eyes with her lids, and gave a heartfelt sigh. ‘My brother’s wife had one of her little talks with me earlier. They have become a tediously regular thing, and she put me quite out of temper for her words were obviously his, but he does not deign to speak to me himself. I have always known that my freedom would come to an end eventually, now I know it will be sooner, rather than later. This could well be my last opportunity to explore our ancient heritage. I hope for my sake as well as yours that it proves fruitful.’

Her smile was forced, her voice forlorn. Christopher covered her hand with both of his. ‘Why so? If no one knows that you escape...’

‘I cannot escape marriage, and that is my fate. One I have been raised to, after all, and so one I should be able to accept with good grace.’

He should not have been surprised. What was more surprising was that such a beautiful woman was not already married. Christopher dropped her hand. ‘You are betrothed?’

Tahira shook her head. ‘I was. Have been. Twice. And both times, it has come to nothing.’ Another sigh, and a little shrug. ‘What I deem to be two fortunate escapes, my sister-in-law tells me have placed a shameful stain upon my character. A stain so obvious that I am surprised you have not commented on it.’

‘Good Lord,’ Christopher exclaimed, resorting to English. His travels had taught him to be wary of criticising the customs of the many kingdoms he had traversed, but his own recently discovered history meant this was one thing guaranteed to make him reach instinctively for his scimitar. He did so now. ‘Are they forcing you to marry against your will?’

‘No!’ She covered the hand resting on his sword hilt with her own. ‘No, it is not like that.’

‘You do not have to do as they bid you, Tahira.’

She sighed, shaking her head. ‘If I do not do as they wish, it is not only I who would suffer the consequences, but my sisters. The reason my sister-in-law’s little chat has put me so out of sorts is that I can’t dispute the facts, much as I’d like to. It is my duty to marry, my brother’s duty to provide me with a suitable husband.’

‘Your brother! I thought you said your father was still alive.’

‘He is, but he is very frail. It is my brother who reigns, in all but name.’

‘Holds the reins, you mean?’

‘Oh! Yes, that’s what I meant, of course.’

The situation could not but revolt him, could not but remind him of another young woman destined to play the dynastic pawn, powerless to resist the will of her family, no matter what her own wishes might have been. Had she lived, would she have braced herself, as Tahira was doing, to bend her will to theirs? Or would she have resisted, and by doing so reshaped both their lives?

He would never know, and it was pointless speculating, Christopher told himself sternly. Thirty years ago, it was ancient history now. He should be wary of making comparisons, wary of allowing his judgement to be clouded by doing so. ‘Your brother,’ he said gruffly, ‘he will surely take your wishes into account? If you did not like the man...’

‘My brother would probably mark that a point in his favour,’ Tahira interjected bitterly.

‘You can’t mean that!’