Читать книгу The Sheikh's Collection - Оливия Гейтс - Страница 42
ОглавлениеDAWN BROKE OVER the dunes, turning the sand pink with pale sunlight. The storm had died down and the desert had reshaped itself into a new landscape of drifts and dunes. Leaving Elena sleeping in their rocky shelter, Khalil went to check on the horses and get his bearings.
And also to figure out just what he was going to say to her when she awoke.
That kiss had been completely unplanned. Incredibly sweet. And it had left Khalil in an extremely uncomfortable state of arousal for the rest of the night.
He hadn’t been able to sleep with Elena on his lap, her hair brushing his cheek, her soft body relaxed and pliant against his. His whole body, his whole self, had been in a state of unbearable awareness, exquisite agony.
Sleep had been the farthest thing from his mind.
But now, in the cold light of day, reality returned with an almighty thud. He could not act on his attraction to Elena. He could not nurture any softer feelings for her. He had a goal, a plan, and neither included the Queen of Thallia beyond keeping her captive and then letting her go.
Except, somehow he had forgotten that when he’d held her in his lap. When he’d shared dinner with her in his tent, and invited her to accompany him to visit the desert tribes. When he’d encouraged her to share about her life, and had told her a little bit about his. When he’d let her into his mind and even his heart. When he’d kissed her.
He’d told her things had changed, and he felt the change in himself. He was losing sight of his priorities and chasing rainbows instead. How could he be such a fool? How could he let his focus slip, even for a second?
It was time to get back on track, Khalil knew. To forget the fanciful feelings he’d been harbouring for Elena. What an idiot he was, to feel something soft even for a moment! To trust her. Care for her. It would only end badly...in so many ways. He knew that from hard experience. He wasn’t about to repeat the mistake of trusting someone, loving someone.
Not that he loved her, Khalil told himself quickly. He barely knew her. Things had become intense between them because they were in an intense situation, that was all.
He let out a long, low breath and headed for the horses. The animals had weathered last night’s storm well enough and were happy for Khalil to feed and water them. He’d just finished and was turning back to check on Elena when he saw her standing between the towering black rocks, looking tired and pale, yet also tall and straight...and so very beautiful.
His gut tightened. His groin ached. And as he stood and stared at her he was reminded of her nightmare, of the vulnerability she’d shown and the secrets she’d shared. He thought of her witnessing the death of her parents, the utter horror of the terrorist attack, and a howl of need to protect her rose up inside him. In that moment last night he’d almost told her his own terrible memories. Laid bare his own secrets.
Almost.
Now he pushed the memories away and gave her a measured smile. ‘Good morning. Are you rested?’
‘A bit.’ She took a step closer to him and he saw uncertainty in her eyes. Questions loomed there that he didn’t want her to ask. Had no intention of answering, not even in the seething silence of his own mind.
‘We can eat and then we should ride. The settlement we’ve been aiming for is only another hour or so from here, and I hope my men will be waiting for us there. We can explain to the tribe how we became separated in the storm.’
She nodded slowly, her gaze sweeping over him like a sorrowful searchlight. Khalil tried not to flinch under it; that guilt was coming back, along with a powerful desire to pull her into his arms and bury his face in her hair, to comfort her—and himself.
What a joke. He was the last person qualified to give or receive comfort. The last person to think of caring or being cared for. He half-regretted taking her on this godforsaken trip; he wished he’d left her to stew in her tent. But only half, because even now, when he knew better and had told himself so, he was still glad to see her. Was glad she was here with him.
‘Come,’ he said, and beckoned her back towards their rocky shelter. They ate the remaining flat bread and dried meat in silence, and then Khalil saddled the horses while Elena watched.
A moment later they were riding across the desert, the sky hard and blue above them, the air dry, and becoming hotter by the minute.
He watched her out of the corner of his eye, admired her long, straight back, the proud tilt of her head. She would never be bowed, he thought with a surge of almost possessive admiration. She would never allow herself the possibility of defeat. Looking at her now reminded him of how it had felt to hold her: the soft press of her breasts against his chest; the way her hair had brushed his cheek; the smell of her, like rosewater and sunshine.
His horse veered suddenly to avoid a rock, startling Khalil, and he swore under his breath. Already he was losing his concentration again, forgetting his focus. All because of Elena.
Not that he could blame her for his own lack of control. No, he blamed himself, and this sudden need that opened up inside him like a great, yawning chasm of emptiness longing to be filled. He wasn’t used to feeling such a thing; for thirty years he’d basically been on his own. The only person he’d let close in all that time was Dimah, and that relationship had had its own problems and pitfalls.
No, he wasn’t used to this at all. And he didn’t like it. At all.
Liar.
Two hours after starting off, they finally rode into a small Bedouin settlement on the edge of an oasis. There had been no sight of his men, and uneasily Khalil wondered how it would look to the Sheikh for him to ride in alone with Elena. He pushed the thought from his mind. There was nothing he could do about it now.
He’d been here once before on one of his tours of duty through the desert, getting to know the people he was meant to rule, rallying support. Much to his amazement, they had welcomed him.
Such a response still surprised him after all these years: that anyone could accept him. Want him.
Yet he still didn’t trust it, because he knew all too well how the people you loved, the people you thought loved you back, could turn on you. Utterly.
Several men came up as he swung off the horse, offering their greetings and taking the horses away before leading Khalil to the Sheikh’s tent. He glanced back at Elena who was looking pale but composed as several women hustled her off to another tent.
Deciding she could handle herself for the moment, Khalil went to greet the tribe’s Sheikh and explain why he was here. It would be better, he knew, to leave Elena alone for a while.
For ever.
* * *
Several clucking women surrounded Elena and she was carried along with them to a tent, bemused by their interest, and more than a little hurt by the stony look she’d seen on Khalil’s face as he’d turned away.
So he regretted their kiss last night. Clearly. And she should regret it too; of course she should. Kissing Khalil was a very bad idea. Caring about him was even worse.
The trouble was, she couldn’t regret it. She ached with longing for another kiss—and more. For him.
She’d come to this desert tribe because she’d wanted to, because she wanted to see the people who cared about Khalil.
As she cared about him.
More, it seemed, than he wanted her to.
Once in the tent, the women fluttered around her like colourful, chattering birds, touching her hair, her cheek, the clothes she wore that were now grimed with dust and dirt. Elena didn’t understand anything they said, and it appeared none of them spoke either English or Greek, the two languages in which she was fluent. They all seemed wonderfully friendly, though, and she let herself be carried along by the wave of their enthusiasm as they fetched her fresh clothing and led her down to the oasis where the women of the village bathed.
After a moment’s hesitation at the water’s edge, she took off her clothes as the other women were doing and immersed herself in the warm, silky water. After a night in the desert and hours of hard riding it felt wonderful to wash the dirt from her body, scrub the sand from her scalp. She enjoyed the camaraderie of the women too, watching as they chattered, laughed and splashed, utterly at ease with one another. She was gratified by their willingness to include her even though she was a stranger who didn’t even speak their language.
After she had bathed she slipped on the unfamiliar garments the women gave her: a cotton chemise and then a loose, woven dress with wide sleeves embroidered with red and yellow. She left her hair down to dry in the sun and accompanied the women back up to the camp where a meal had been laid out.
She looked for Khalil, and tried to ignore the flicker of disappointment she felt when she could not find him.
In the camp the women ushered her into their circle and plied her with a delicious stew of lentils, flat bread and cardamom-flavoured coffee similar to what she had drunk with Khalil. As they ate and chatted, they mimed questions which Elena did her best to answer in a similar fashion.
Within an hour or two she felt herself start to fade, the exhaustion from the night spent outside and the endless hours on horseback making her eyelids begin to droop. The women noticed and, laughing, brought her to a makeshift bed piled high with woven blankets. Grateful for their concern, Elena lay down in it, and her last thought before sleep claimed her was of Khalil.
She woke the next morning to bright sunlight filtering through the flaps of the tent that was now empty save for herself. Today, she acknowledged with a heaviness she knew she shouldn’t feel, was the last day of her imprisonment. Aziz’s six weeks were up. He would have married someone else or forfeited his title. Either way, she wasn’t needed, and Khalil could let her go.
A thought that mere days ago would have brought relief and even joy, not this sick plunging in her stomach. She didn’t want to leave Khalil, and she didn’t want to face her country and Council alone. How would she explain what had happened? She supposed she’d go with what Khalil had originally suggested: ‘a necessary detainment’. Perhaps she would tell the Council she’d changed her mind about the marriage when she realised Aziz’s claim to the throne wasn’t legitimate.
She spared a second’s thought then for the man she’d intended to marry, a moment’s regret. He’d been kind to her. Looking back, she saw how his easy charm had hidden a deeper part of himself, something dark, perhaps painful. What had his experience of Khalil’s banishment, his sudden arrival at the palace, felt like? How had it affected him? She supposed she would never know.
Just as she would never truly know Khalil. She’d had glimpses of a man who was both tender and strong, who had the ruthless determination to kidnap a monarch but the gentleness to cradle her and wipe away her tears. A man she knew she now cared about, whom she might never see again after today.
Sighing, Elena swung her legs onto the floor and combed her hands through her tangled hair, wondering where everyone was and just what this day would bring.
When she was as presentable as she could make herself, she stepped outside the tent, blinking in the bright sunlight. People bustled around the camp, busy with various tasks and chores; she could not see Khalil.
A woman from the night before approached her with a smile and gestured for her to come forward. Elena followed her, stopping suddenly as she caught sight of Khalil talking with a group of men. The woman followed Elena’s transfixed gaze and giggled, saying something Elena didn’t understand, but she had an uncomfortable feeling she’d got the gist of.
This was confirmed a few moments later when Khalil broke apart from the men to join her by a fire where she’d been eating some bread and tahini for breakfast.
‘Good morning.’
She nodded back her own greeting, her mouth full of bread and her cheeks starting to heat. It was ridiculous, to have this kind of reaction to him, but it was also undeniable. All she could picture was the look of both tenderness and hunger on his face right before he’d kissed her. All she could remember was how wonderful it had felt—and how much more she had wanted.
Still did.
‘You slept well?’
She swallowed her mouthful of bread and nodded once more. ‘Yes, I was exhausted.’
‘Understandable.’
His expression was unreadable, his tawny eyes veiled, and Elena had a terrible feeling he was going to leave it at that. Something that had become almost easy between them now felt stilted and awkward. Which was, she acknowledged, perhaps as it should be, and yet...
She felt the loss.
‘What happens now?’ she asked, more just to keep the conversation going than any real desire to know, although she should want to know, considering this was her future. Her life. She forced herself to say the words that had been throbbing through her since she’d woken that morning. ‘The six weeks are up.’
‘I know.’
She gazed up at him, tried to read his expression, but he looked utterly impassive. ‘Are you going to let me go?’
‘I promised I would.’
She nodded jerkily, feeling bereft and unable to keep herself from it.
‘We should stay here for another night, if you are amenable. There is a wedding in the tribe and a big celebration is planned this evening.’ He hesitated, and it almost looked as if he were blushing. ‘We are the guests of honour.’
‘We are? I could understand why you might be, but—’
‘The members of the tribe are under the impression that we are newly married,’ he interjected in a low voice. ‘I have not corrected it.’
‘What?’ Elena bolted upright, gaping at him before she could think to close her mouth. So that was why the woman had looked at Khalil and giggled. ‘But why are they under that impression?’ she asked, her voice coming out in something close to a squeak. ‘And why haven’t you corrected it?’
‘They are under it because it is the only reason they know of why a man and woman would be travelling alone together. If the storm hadn’t arisen, we would have entered the camp with my men—’
‘But couldn’t you have explained about the storm?’
‘That would not have been a good enough reason. The desert tribes are traditional. I didn’t explain because to do so would have brought disapproval and shame upon both of us.’ His mouth and eyes both hardened. ‘Something I should have considered more carefully. I acted foolishly in asking you to accompany me.’
Elena blinked, trying to hide the hurt his recrimination made her feel. He regretted her company, along with that kiss. She drew a breath, forced herself to think about the practicalities. ‘And what happens when they discover we’re not married?’
‘Ideally, they won’t. At least, not while we’re here.’
‘Eventually, though...’
‘Eventually, yes. But by that time I will be installed as Sheikh and I will be able to make any apologies or explanations that are necessary. To do so right now would invite even more instability.’ He sighed, shifting his weight restlessly. ‘I admit, I don’t like lying, not even by silence—but this is a critical time, not just for myself, but for Kadar. The less unrest there is, the better.’
‘So I am meant to pretend to be your wife?’ Elena asked, her voice a hushed and disbelieving whisper.
Khalil’s gaze seemed to burn into hers. ‘Only for one day and night. Will that be so hard, Elena?’
She felt her body flood with warmth, her face flush. No, it wouldn’t be hard at all—that was the problem. She looked away, willing her blush to recede. ‘I don’t like lying,’ she muttered.
‘Nor do I. But there is no choice. Although I would have hoped that such a pretence would not be quite so abhorrent to you.’ His eyes glowed with both knowledge and memory, reminding her of their kiss. It felt as if he were taunting her that he knew she wanted him, that such a fantasy would not be unpleasant at all but far, far too desirable.
Elena broke their locked gaze first, looking away from all the knowledge in Khalil’s eyes. ‘And after tonight?’ she asked when she trusted her voice to sound as level as his had been. ‘Then you’ll let me go?’
‘Yes. I’ll take you to Siyad myself. Now that Aziz will be forced to call a referendum, there is no need for me to remain in the desert.’
She swallowed, her mind spinning with all this new information. ‘What will happen to Aziz?’
Khalil shrugged. ‘He will return to Europe, I imagine. He has a house in Paris. He can live the playboy life he so enjoys.’
‘That’s not fair,’ Elena protested. ‘He might be a playboy, but he has his own business, and he’s done a lot of good—’
Khalil flung up a hand. ‘Please. Do not defend Aziz to me.’ She fell silent and he gazed at her, his mouth thinning. ‘Are you so disappointed,’ he asked after a moment, ‘not to marry Aziz?’
‘Only because of what it means for my country. My rule.’
‘You are a strong woman, Elena. I think you could stand up to your Council without a husband propping you up.’
She let out a short laugh, not knowing whether to feel offended or flattered. ‘Thank you for that vote of confidence, I suppose.’
‘I didn’t mean it as a criticism. You’ve shown me with your actions how strong and courageous you are. I think you could face your Council on your own, convince this Markos not to depose you. The vote has to be unanimous, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes.’ She eyed him shrewdly even as she fought a lonely sweep of desolation. ‘Are you trying to make me feel better, or ease your own guilt at having wrecked my marriage plans?’
He looked surprised by the question, or perhaps his own answer. ‘Both, I suppose. Although a few days ago I wouldn’t have given your plans a single thought.’ He shook his head wonderingly, and then his expression hardened once more and he rose from her side. ‘I will be busy meeting with various leaders of the local tribes today, but I will see you at the wedding festivities tonight.’
She nodded, still smarting from their conversation, and all Khalil hadn’t said. That he didn’t feel.
She spent the rest of the day with the women, preparing for the wedding that evening. She helped make bread and stew meat, then when the food was finished and the sun was high in the sky the women headed back down to the oasis to prepare themselves for the festivities.
The bride was a lovely young girl with thick, dark hair, liquid eyes and a nervous smile. Elena watched as the women prepared her for her wedding: a dress of bright blue with rich embroidery on the sleeves and hem, hennaed hands and feet and a veil made of dozens of small copper coins.
What would her own wedding have looked like? she wondered as she watched the women laugh and joke with the young bride. A solemn, private ceremony in one of the reception rooms of the Kadaran palace, no doubt, witnessed by a few of Aziz’s staff. Nothing fancy, nothing joyful or exciting.
And the wedding night? She shivered suddenly to think how she would have been giving her body to Aziz, a man she barely knew. Would she have felt for him even an ounce of the desire she felt for Khalil?
Inexorably her mind moved onto the man who always seemed to be in her thoughts. The man everyone here thought was her husband. Wouldn’t it be wonderful, she thought suddenly, longingly, to pretend just for one day, for one night, that he was? That she was young and giddy with love, just as this pretty bride was?
What was the harm in that—in a single day of pretending?
Tomorrow she would return to reality. Soon she would be back in Thallia, facing a disapproving Council, forced to tell them her marriage plans had been cancelled. Perhaps facing the end of a monarchy that had lasted for nearly a thousand years—all because she hadn’t been strong or smart enough to hold onto her crown.
Yes, one day of pretending sounded wonderful.
And so Elena let herself be carried along once more by the women; she didn’t protest when they dressed her in a gown of silvery blue, lined her eyes with kohl, placed copper bangles on both arms and a veil of coins over her face. She understood they wanted to celebrate her recent marriage, just as the young bride was celebrating hers, and she didn’t resist.
She wanted to celebrate it too.
* * *
The sky was deep indigo and studded with millions of stars when the ceremony began. The entire tribe had assembled and Elena watched, enchanted, as the ceremony played out amidst a riot of colour, music and dance. The women and men sat separately, and although she looked for him she could not find Khalil amidst the men gathered under a tent. She wondered if he would even recognise her in the Bedouin dress, headscarf and veil, wondered what he would think of her like this.
After the ceremony people circulated freely to enjoy food, music and dance. Several giggling women pushed Elena towards a group of men and then she saw him standing there, dressed in a traditional white cotton thobe richly embroidered with red and gold.
Khalil seemed to stare right through her and Elena knew he didn’t recognise her. Emboldened by the women who had pushed her forward, or perhaps simply by the desires of her own heart, she walked towards him.
‘Greetings, husband,’ she said softly. She’d meant to sound teasing but her voice came out earnest instead. Khalil glanced down at her, clearly startled, and then heat filled his eyes and his whole body tensed.
‘Elena.’
‘What do you think?’ She twirled around and her dress flared out, the coins covering the lower part of her face jingling as she moved.
‘I think you look lovely.’ He placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her in mid-twirl, and drew her closer to him. ‘Very lovely indeed. Sometimes something hidden is more alluring than something seen.’
Suddenly she was breathless, dazed by the look of undisguised admiration in his eyes. ‘Do you really think so?’ she whispered.
‘Yes. And now I think the people of the tribe are expecting us to dance.’
‘Dance?’
‘I know the steps. Follow my lead.’ And with one hand on her waist, the other clasped with hers, he led her to the circle of dancers.
The next hour passed in a blur of music and dance, every second one of heightened, almost painful awareness. Khalil’s hand in hers, his body next to hers, his gaze fastened to hers, everything in her pulsing with longing. She’d never felt so beautiful or desirable, so heady with a kind of power she’d never, ever experienced before.
When she moved, Khalil’s gaze followed her. When she spoke, he leaned forward to listen. She felt as if she were, at this moment, the centre of his universe. And it was the most wonderful feeling in the world.
She never wanted it to end.
But of course it did; the bridal couple was seen off and people began to trail back to their dwellings. Elena turned to Khalil, uncertainty and hope warring within her. He gazed down at her, his expression inscrutable.
‘They have arranged for us to share a tent tonight. I hope you don’t mind.’
Mind? No, she didn’t mind at all. ‘That’s...that’s all right,’ she managed.
Smiling faintly, Khalil threaded his fingers through hers and drew her away from the others...towards the tent they would share.
