Historical Romance: April Books 1 - 4. Marguerite Kaye
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‘My heart is racing. I can’t believe it. Could we start tonight?’
‘Do you really have so little time left before you are—is your betrothal so imminent?’
In the light of the lantern, she was reminded of their first meeting at the entrance to the mine. His hair had shimmered like gold. His eyes were such a striking blue. A dangerous man, she’d decided and she’d been right, but during the long nights working together, she had come to see that there was so much more to him than that. An honourable man. A troubled man. A man with demons. A thoughtful man. A man who would take ridiculous risks, go to any amount of trouble, to make a wish come perfectly true. A man she had come to care for far too much, despite the fact that he was also a man about whom she knew far too little. A man who, in a very short period of time, she would never see again.
‘Tahira?’ Christopher gently wiped the tear which tracked down her cheek with his thumb.
She caught his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. ‘My sister says I am very fortunate. He is not old or cruel, the man my brother has found for me. My sister says she would gladly marry him herself. He is a widower, with a small child. A boy. I would not even be expected to provide an heir. He even lives—he lives within travelling distance. I could not have asked for a more suitable and amenable match, Christopher, but still I cannot—I simply cannot bring myself to embrace it.’
He pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. She burrowed her face into his chest, breathing deep of the scent of lemon soap and whatever it was that was particularly Christopher.
She had heard Ghutrif boasting about the mine to Juwan yesterday, promising her a turquoise necklace made of the first ore, when their son was born. If she could find a way to steal a sample for Christopher, it would save him from taking yet another unnecessary risk by stealing a sample himself.
And yet, the more she helped him, the sooner his quest would be over and he would leave for ever. Another thought struck her forcibly. The more she helped him the more likely it was that he would turn up at the palace to hand back the amulet. Reducing the risk to him made the risk of his discovering her true identity terrifyingly likely, and if he then let slip their acquaintance...
Acquaintance! A word that fell a long way short of whatever it was that they had between them. She shuddered. It simply didn’t bear thinking about. If the worst came to the worst—or the best came to the best—or the worst came to the best, or whatever combination—she would think of something to prevent him storming the palace. She would have to.
‘Tahira?’
She forced herself to look up. Christopher pushed her hair back from her cheek, his expression set. ‘There is no chance that this betrothal will come to nothing, like the others?’
At least he had not guessed her true thoughts. Tahira smiled wanly. ‘Lightning will not be permitted to strike again. The last time, I was not—I made my indifference clear, and so too did my betrothed.’ She hesitated. Christopher was frowning, that frown he wore when he was trying to bite his tongue. ‘That previous match was arranged by his family,’ she elaborated, which was the truth, though not specific enough to betray her identity. ‘In the end, he chose to ignore their wishes.’
The one thing she could not do. The words hung between them, but they’d already said more than enough on the subject. ‘Should we make a start?’ Tahira asked, far more brightly than she felt.
* * *
The hours passed too quickly. After they had stopped excavating, they sat, as had become their habit, chatting and drinking water from Christopher’s goatskin flask. Tahira looked up at the sky and sighed. ‘I must leave a little sooner tonight. My friend is worried. Farah,’ she added. ‘My friend’s name is Farah.’
The first name she had spoken save her own and Sayeed’s. Christopher acknowledged this rare confidence with a quirk of his brow. ‘Would Farah happen to have access to a camel?’
‘You guessed!’
‘I reckoned you would not dare risk taking one from the family stables.’ He angled himself towards her. ‘So Farah knows that you escape at night? She must be a very good friend if you trust her with such a big secret.’
‘None better. Farah was once my maidservant, but she is so near in age to me that she has always been more of a friend. When Mama died, we became closer. Too close,’ she said, her smile fading. ‘My brother was jealous.’
‘It seems all roads in your life story lead to your brother,’ Christopher said, grimly. ‘What happened?’
‘It would have been better if we had kept our distance in front of him, but we were children, and my brother—oh, we thought him just a spiteful little boy. We never considered that there would be consequences to our excluding him from our games. But as the years passed and we became closer, and Farah—I fear that she took her lead from me and was too bold in her dislike of him, and I was naïve enough to show how much I cared for her. It shouldn’t have been a surprise when he contrived to have my father unfairly dismiss her, causing her character to be unjustly blackened.’ Tahira clenched her fists. ‘But it was.’
‘And so your friend takes pleasure in thwarting your brother by assisting you?’
‘She has always been happy to do so, but tonight—you see, until lately my absences have been well spaced. It is only recently that I’ve risked escaping so often. Farah is afraid that I will be caught. Which made me worry about what would happen to her if I was. It has been selfish of me not to think that by implicating her I was putting her at risk too.’
‘Does she know that you are to be married?’
‘She does now. She is pleased for me,’ Tahira said, with a bittersweet smile, for Farah had actually been delighted that she would escape from Ghutrif, even though it would mean they would never see each other again.
‘So you haven’t shared your own feelings on the subject with her, even though you trust her implicitly?’
‘No. Nor—Christopher, you must not worry that Farah knows about you.’
‘I hadn’t even considered it.’
‘No one knows of you, or our meetings. You are my secret, and mine alone.’ Flushing, startled by the tone of her voice, which gave her words far more meaning than she had intended, Tahira hurriedly pulled her headdress over her face. ‘I must go. I don’t want to upset Farah any further.’
Urging her sluggish camel into a trot, she wondered with a sinking feeling how many more times she would make this journey. If Farah had her way, it would be none. It would be the same number if common sense prevailed, but Tahira had never felt less sensible. She had never had so much to lose. She couldn’t stop now, not with the tomb to be opened, the turquoise to be matched, Christopher’s quest to be completed.
The dangers made her head spin, but the rewards made her heart soar. With Christopher she was alive. Why shouldn’t she admit that she cared for him, longed to be with him, relished every moment they were together? Their time was so precious, it intensified every feeling, but their time was finite, and so too, she was sure she would discover, were her feelings. It was as if she had leapt from the highest mountain. It was impossible to stop herself, impossible to climb back, so she could enjoy every moment of the wild careening