her to the quick, for they were the stark, brutal truth. It terrified her to see how close she had come to the precipice he depicted. ‘You are right,’ Tahira whispered, shamed. Her future husband was not her choice, but everything she had heard implied he was a good man. He did not deserve a marriage based on lies, a wife who deceived him about the one commodity she brought to the alliance. Yet she still could not bring herself to regret a moment spent with Christopher. ‘You are quite right,’ she repeated, in an effort to persuade herself it was so.
‘Thankfully, it is not a choice you will have to make.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘Tonight I proved that I can be every bit as selfish, as vile, as the man whose blood runs in my veins—because that’s the point, you see. I did not ultimately lose control, but I wanted to. The moral high ground I have claimed is no longer mine.’
‘Nor mine.’
‘I won’t have you say that. You are sacrificing your freedom to do your duty.’
‘And am therefore granted the moral leeway you will not grant yourself?’ Tahira exclaimed bitterly. ‘You deride my brother for imposing his will on me, but aren’t you doing the same, by denying me the right to claim some responsibility for my own actions?’ Too late, she realised how inflammatory her words were. Too late she remembered that they were amongst her last words to Christopher. But they were said now, and part of her could not regret them.
‘I am, as you have pointed out, quite powerless to dictate the course of my life,’ Tahira continued, thinking fatalistically that she might as well finish what she started. ‘When I’m with you, you allow me to be myself. Can’t you see that’s the most important thing to me in all of this? You have given me a taste of true freedom, and I used that freedom to choose, tonight, to make love to you. A foolish—far beyond foolish—choice, but my choice all the same. You did not coerce me. And as to the consequences—they are my responsibility as much as yours.’
He did not speak for some moments, but she could see from the way his throat worked that he was struggling with some strong emotion. Anger?
But when he did speak, he sounded shaken. ‘Forgive me, I have been thinking only of myself.’
‘Christopher, it has been—what you have told me tonight—I cannot imagine what you must have suffered, these last nine months. I am honoured that you have chosen to confide in me, that you trusted me.’ Guilt swooped down on her, reminding her that she had not reciprocated that trust. But it was too late for that too.
‘I doubt I would, had not we—but enough of my guilty conscience.’ Christopher held out his arms, and she stepped gratefully into the comfort of them. ‘We have a little time left,’ he said, looking anxiously up at the stars. ‘Let us sit here together, on our magic carpet, and waste no more time fighting to prove which of us is more culpable.’
Tahira reached up to smooth his hair back from his furrowed brow. ‘We are equal,’ she said. ‘Equally right, equally wrong, equally reckless, and I hope, during the time we have been together, equally happy.’
His fingers warm and gentle on the back of her neck. ‘I hope that you will find happiness in the future. You deserve to.’
She put her finger over his mouth. ‘No past, no future. Just the present. That’s all I’m interested in. Here and now. You and I. Just us.’
With a groan, he kissed her, and with a soft sigh, she melted into his kiss. Lips clinging, hands smoothing and stroking, they sank on to the carpet together. There was an aching sweetness in this kiss that had not been there before, a tenderness in their touch, as if they were made of glass and might shatter.
When it ended they did not break apart but curled into each other, lying on their backs, gazing up at the stars spread across the night sky just for them. More kisses, equally tender, but as the sky turned from indigo to violet and the stars began to fade, their lips and hands became desperate. Passion not spent, but forever suspended, the sense of an ending finally forced them apart.
In silence, Tahira pulled on her cloak and fixed her headdress. Her throat was clogged, her heart heavy, but she was beyond tears. One final kiss before she clicked her tongue for her camel to drop to his knees. Tearing herself from Christopher’s embrace was the hardest thing she had ever had to do. ‘I will think of you tomorrow, flying back to Egypt on our carpet,’ she said.
‘Tahira...’ His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. ‘Thank you. For everything.’
‘And you, Christopher. For everything.’ She could not bear it any longer. Throwing herself on to the saddle, she kicked the camel into motion. For once the beast heeded her, turning and charging into a fast trot in a jerky movement that almost threw her on to the sands. By the time she had control again, she was so far from Christopher’s camp that there was no point in looking back, but she did all the same. He was still there, standing quite motionless.
‘Goodbye, my love,’ Tahira whispered, unable to deny her heart any longer. ‘Goodbye, my own true love.’
She loved him. Now that she would never see him again, she was forced to admit it. She loved him, and it was quite hopeless. Sand flew into her eyes as she made her way back to the palace. She had forgotten to fasten her headdress over her face, but Tahira relished the sting of it on her skin, for it gave credence to her pain. She was in love with Christopher, whatever his name was, and tomorrow her beloved would leave Arabia for Egypt, and two days after that, she would be betrothed to a complete stranger.
As she crossed the desert away from him, every single step her camel took made her heart ache more. Tahira slumped in the saddle, trusting to the animal’s instinct for home to guide them back to the stables. Oblivious of the beauty of the fading stars, the changing palette of the sky on this, her last night of freedom, she saw only Christopher. The reckless adventurer she had first encountered. Those eyes, ardent and passionate, tortured and haunted, laughing, serious, furious, sated. Christopher in his shabby desert garb armed to the teeth. Christopher naked. Christopher laughing. Christopher’s kisses. Christopher’s arms around her, holding her so tightly she could feel his heart beating, delude herself that he would never let her go.
And tonight he had, for the very last time. Misery made her slump further in the saddle. She would have given everything, anything, to be able to turn back, to spend one more night with him.
But there were no more nights, no more hours, not even another minute. It was over, and instead of wishing for more, she should be thanking the stars that it ended before they surrendered to the ultimate temptation. No wonder making love felt so right. No wonder her conscience had not intervened.
The outskirts of Nessarah were coming into view. What was he doing? Was he asleep? Was he thinking of her? He wanted her to be happy, he had said. His self-control had ensured that her marriage would not be predicated on a lie. She could not imagine being happy with any man other than Christopher, but there had never been any question of her having any sort of life with Christopher. Did he care for her? She knew in her bones that he did. Did he love her? No. And even if he did, what difference would it make?
But she loved him and she could not regret it. As she neared Farah’s stables and the camel slowed to a walk, Tahira smiled tenderly to herself. ‘I love you, Christopher,’ she whispered. Her last night of freedom was not yet over. Alone in her divan, she would hold her secret safe, devote herself to thinking only of her love. Time enough tomorrow to try to come to terms with what the future would hold.
Indecisive
