laughter echoed, mingling with the brays of mules and camels, the whinnies of horses. There were horses everywhere, some tethered by the tents, but the majority on long ropes attached to huge poles in the clearing in front of the tented village.
‘Those are the horses to be sold at the fair,’ Rafiq told her, edging them both to one side, away from the crowd.
‘An auction?’
‘It’s a little more complicated than that. Fortunately, I will have time to explain. The Bedouin have very strict rules of etiquette. If I were acting as host today, I would be required to attend a number of audiences, which must be held in strict order of importance, with the various Sheikhs—bearing gifts, naturally. But we are outside Bharym’s boundaries here, we crossed into the kingdom of Nessarah an hour ago, and my time is my own.’
‘I had no idea that there would be so many tents.’
‘There will be several tribes here today. The horse fair happens only twice a year in this part of Arabia, rarely in the same location. We are fortunate that it is so close to home this year.’
‘Are we likely to meet...?’ Stephanie hesitated. She did not want to spoil the mood, but it was an obvious question, wasn’t it? ‘Princess Elmira’s family...will they be here?’
‘I believe not.’
Did that mean he had checked? Because he wanted to meet them, or because he wanted to avoid them? His tone was carefully neutral. His expression was the one she thought of as princely, his lids languidly heavy, not a trace of emotion to be detected, not because it was lacking, but because Rafiq was being careful to disguise it.
‘What about the tribe who raised you as a boy?’
‘They travelled very far north from here some years ago, though I have heard word of them through the other tribes many times over the years. They did not raise me, Stephanie. I lived with them for periods of time in order to learn the ways of the desert.’
‘Oh, I thought when you said—I thought it was all of the time.’
‘You misunderstood. It was no different from the practice of the English aristocracy, to hand the care of their children to a governess or tutor who is expert in certain subjects, or to send their sons to school.’
‘If I had a child, I would not wish to hand him into anyone else’s care. Not that the occasion will ever arise.’
‘You have no desire for children?’
She could tell him it was none of his business, but his determination to disguise his own emotions riled her. She would not pretend. ‘I have always wanted children, lots of them, but now that is not to be. I wish I had had brothers and sisters. Though there were always lots of other children in the camp to play with, it wasn’t the same.’
‘I am sorry, I did not mean to upset you. I should not have asked.’
‘Rafiq, of course I find the subject upsetting, but I am not like you. I don’t want you to change the subject.’
‘Then what do you want?’
‘I want to know if you would like children. I want to know if you would have liked to have sisters and brothers.’ She was in danger of spoiling the day, and she had looked forward to it so much, but she couldn’t stop herself. ‘I’m tired of all the taboos you place on our conversation, Rafiq.’
‘What, by all the stars, are you talking about? I thought we had a very clear understanding between us.’
He was right. As far as he was concerned, he was sticking to the rules. It was unfair of her to expect him to comply when she tried to bend them a little. And it was wrong of her to try, because it was those very rules which protected them both. ‘We do,’ Stephanie said dejectedly. ‘I just wish occasionally you would trust me enough to let me glimpse behind the impenetrable cloak you use to shield your emotions. I would like to understand and, I suppose, be understood. But I am being illogical. Please let us forget it, and enjoy the day.’
‘You are contrary, often contradictory but never illogical.’
She was forced to laugh. ‘Thank you.’
‘Only you would take such a remark as a compliment. You are quite unique, Stephanie, and that is what makes you so special.’
‘Oh.’ The tears rose too suddenly for her to catch the first one as it trickled down her cheek.
‘Are you upset because I did not mention your skills as a veterinarian?’
His smile made her feel like the sun had come out, which was preposterous, because the sun was ever present here in Arabia. ‘I’m crying because that is the nicest thing that anyone has ever said to me.’
‘I wish very much that I could kiss those tears away.’
‘I very much wish that you could, Rafiq, but we are in the full gaze of half of Arabia.’
‘Then later tonight,’ he said.
‘It will be more like morning, by the time we ride back after the fair.’
‘The sentiment, not the hour, is what matters,’ Rafiq said. ‘Now, let us join the fair. It would be sensible to keep your face covered, as it will be very dusty. Also, although English visitors are not unknown here, for the quality of the bloodstock attracts buyers from across the world, you will attract a good deal less attention if you are veiled.’
Some of the women were veiled, many were not. Stephanie was at first quite overwhelmed by the crush of jostling bodies and the constant noise. Everyone seemed to speak at a shout and to walk at a snail’s pace save for children and dogs who raced about madly, screaming wildly with excitement, dashing between the tall poles to which the horses were tethered. Men and women bearing trays of hot food and cold drinks called out to advertise their wares as they wandered aimlessly, meandering back and forward through the crowds. The air was heady with the scent of food and animals and people.
Content simply to absorb the atmosphere, unwilling to draw attention to herself, Stephanie kept in Rafiq’s shadow. Despite the fact that he was not here in any official capacity, he was recognised by everyone, and the question on everyone’s lips was the Sabr. Knowing how much it set him on edge, she watched with trepidation, and was consequently surprised to hear him not only joining in the speculation, but relishing it.
‘This will undoubtedly be Bharym’s year,’ he said. ‘This will be the year the Sabr returns to its rightful home.’ With each assertion, his eyes met Stephanie’s. His fingers gripped hers for a fleeting moment, under cover of the folds of her abba. ‘For the first time, I truly do believe it,’ he whispered.
They joined the milling crowds examining the horses. ‘Though the trick is, as you will see if you observe closely, to pretend not to examine the best ones,’ Rafiq explained to Stephanie. ‘This is not an auction, but operates as a private bartering system. If a great deal of fuss is made over a horse then it attracts the attention of other buyers, thus raising the price. So a buyer feigns great interest in the horses he doesn’t want, while offering a lower price for the ones he does,
