Alimah, the youngest of the sisters, stared at Ishraq wide-eyed. ‘Anything at all?’
‘Jewels. Silks.’
‘A horse?’
Ishraq laughed. ‘Even a horse.’
‘Then I hope that Ghutrif finds me a husband soon, for I would love to have a horse,’ Alimah said. ‘You would love a horse too, Tahira, I have often heard you say so. Why don’t you get married so you can have anything your heart desires?’
‘Yes, I would like to know the answer to that question too.’ Ishraq’s big brown eyes were challenging. ‘Do you realise that until you do, the rest of us are forced to bide our time here, doing Juwan’s bidding when we could have our own harems...’
‘But we’d not have each other,’ Durrah exclaimed. ‘Ishraq, you can’t want Tahira to leave.’
‘I want her to get married, so that I can get married,’ Ishraq said. ‘I’m tired of waiting for her to make up her mind. I want to be queen of my own harem, like Juwan.’ She turned to Tahira, her gaze challenging. ‘They have three candidates lined up, were you aware of that? Ghutrif’s Head of Council is holding preliminary discussions. Juwan wishes the matter decided before she has her son. It is to be hoped, for all our sakes, that this time you manage to hold on to the man in question.’
Though she sensed Juwan’s hand behind her sister’s words, Tahira knew it would be unfair to blame her wholly. Ishraq was twenty years old, and only demanding what she had been raised to expect. She did not mean to be so hurtful, she was simply—rightly—frustrated. Tahira must not think that Ishraq loved her less because of it. ‘That is really what you want, to be married and rule your own harem?’
The response made her heart sink. ‘It is all I have ever wanted.’
The Bedouin Sheikh corralled his horses in a fenced compound adjacent to his encampment. With the legendary Sabr long-distance endurance race due to to be held in a few weeks, the place was a hive of activity, but as dusk approached, all was quiet, save for the soft whinnying of the thoroughbreds as they settled in for the night. There was no guard on the gate. The Sheikh was a very powerful man, with a well-deserved reputation for being ruthless with transgressors. If any man should be so foolish as to steal one of his precious, pure-bred Arabians—branded so as to be easily recognisable—he would not be long for this world. That was all the security the Sheikh required.
Though Christopher knew, from his previous two nights reconnoitring the enclosure that he was the only human soul present, he checked meticulously before climbing over the fence at the furthest point from the gate. Now all he had to do was make his selection, and make damned sure that he had them back before dawn.
Smiling softly to himself, he turned his attention to the horseflesh. Not even at the horse fair had he seen such a magnificent collection. Best to avoid those he’d noted were being trained for the Sabr, one of the Sheikh’s grooms would be sure to notice any sluggishness in their performance tomorrow. No point in arousing suspicion, even after the fact. He was keeping a low profile here in Nessarah, but Christopher knew perfectly well that his presence would have been noted. A stranger. A foreigner.
He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. It was ridiculously risky. Completely unnecessary. He had made no promise to Tahira, who was blissfully ignorant of his plan to ‘appropriate’ a couple of horses. But his blood was fizzing with excitement. And really, was it such a great risk, provided he returned them before anyone noticed they had gone?
The damned amulet, all the dark history it represented, had occupied his mind both day and night, since the moment he’d discovered it. It was such a relief to be able to set that burden aside for a short while. A relief to have something else to think about, to plan, to daringly execute. A whim, yes, but what was wrong with that? He had no need to do this, save to give Tahira pleasure, but that was reason enough. If anyone deserved to be pleased it was Tahira.
Now, where was that fine-looking filly he had spotted a minute ago?
* * *
An hour later, back at the mine, Christopher waited anxiously for Tahira to arrive. He had completed his daily check on progress underground before stealing the horses, risking a visit before dark, as soon as the last miner departed. There was no sign of any turquoise seams as yet, though Prince Ghutrif’s men were making very short work of shoring up the tunnel. Soon, very soon, he would know for certain whether the stones in his amulet were a match. In the meantime, he had unexpectedly uncovered another very interesting piece of evidence some distance from the site of their own excavation which he was looking forward to sharing.
Extinguishing his lantern, he began to make his way back down the outcrop to look out for Tahira. She was late. Perhaps she’d had second thoughts or had been unable to get away. But a cloud of dust in the distance made him raise his spyglass, and Christopher smiled with relief.
Though her keffiyeh covered her face as she neared, he could see her smile reflected in those big almond-shaped eyes. He helped her down, and she pushed her headdress back, and his belly contracted. It felt impossible to release her, so he pulled her close, and then it was impossible not to kiss her. She opened her lips to him with one of those sweet sighs that set his blood roaring. She put her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. He slid his hand to the delightful slope of her bottom, pulling her tighter, and he let his kiss say the words that he would not even allow himself to think, that he was more than glad to see her. She tasted exactly as he remembered, of spices and heat, exotic and sultry, the distilled essence of Tahira.
When their kiss ended they gazed at each other, quite dazed, and then she reached up to push his hair back from his brow, before pressing a final fluttering kiss to his lips and stepping back.
‘Close your eyes and hold out your hand,’ Christopher said.
‘What is it?’ Tahira asked, doing as he bid.
He reached into his pocket and placed his find into her outstretched hand. ‘Take a look.’
‘Oh!’ Her eyes lit up as she gazed at the gold bangle, her fingers tracing the design, which was of a coiled serpent, the scales etched in green enamel. ‘Where did you get this?’ Her eyes widened. ‘Here?’
He took her by the shoulders, turning her around to face the mine. ‘You see that fissure between the two main outcrops of rock? It’s been bothering me, I’m not sure why—a hunch, I suppose. It’s too far from where we’ve been excavating to be part of the village.’
‘It’s unlikely that two such highly valuable artefacts could have been accidentally left behind by passing travellers, isn’t it?’ Tahira clasped the serpent bangle to her breast, her eyes closed, her expression rapt. ‘What do you think it signifies?’
‘Something very important,’ Christopher said, finally giving way to his own excitement. ‘Look. The gold is of comparable quality to my amulet, the enamel work similar, and as far as one can be certain about these things, it looks to be about the same era.’
‘Christopher! That is wonderful.’
‘It’s not conclusive...’
‘But it’s a big step forward! Though it’s strange, isn’t it?’ Tahira turned the bangle over in
