the darkness. An enchantress. That’s what she was.
Eager to make camp, he tucked in his water bag and rode on without saying anything to her. She caught up to him again and stayed at his side. From time to time he gave her covert glances. To his continual amazement she looked around with an air of suppressed excitement. She seemed too happy. Nothing had ever twisted his insides like this before.
“We’re almost there. After we ride this long dune to the top, we will have arrived.”
“I can’t wait—” she cried, then raced up the slope ahead of him. She rode hard. The sight of her cloak flying behind her was like poetry in motion. Poor Zia had to be in shock.
None of his bodyguards had sounded an alarm. Clearly there were was no one out here tonight except the two of them. On a burst of exhilaration because he had another twelve hours alone with her, Rashad charged after her, bursting the bonds that had held him back.
Just once she looked behind her. When she saw him gaining on her, she laughed and urged Zia on. He overtook her before she reached the top. Feeling like a schoolboy, he leaped from the saddle.
While he waited for her to appear, he drew two parts of one of his tent poles from the camping gear and connected them. Once he’d buried the end of it in the sand, he tethered his horse’s reins to it.
In another minute she came riding up the crest. He walked toward her and reached for Zia’s bit to slow her down.
“That was wonderful!”
She dismounted without his help, sounding winded and carefree. If he hadn’t held her sobbing body in his arms several times, he wouldn’t know this laughing, happy woman was the same person. “What can I do to help?”
Rashad smiled as he led Zia to the pole to attach her reins. “We’ll unload the horses and put up our tent first.”
He’d purposely said our tent, not surprised he didn’t meet with any modest protest. They worked in harmony to get it erected. She exclaimed over the beautiful rug he’d brought to put on the floor of their small tent. More sounds of excitement poured out of her as he layered the rug with silk duvets and pillows.
“Those are going to feel good. You were right. It’s already getting chilly.” While they were watering the horses she said, “Are we going to make a fire?”
“No. It would spoil the effect.”
“What effect?”
“Moonlight. The essential ingredient to bring the garden to life. Didn’t Mustafa tell you?”
“No,” came her subdued response.
But someone else had.
“In the beginning, our tribe worshipped the moon god because they were a pastoral people who kept watch over their flocks at night. This garden you’re going to see represents the moon god’s abode. It’s a sacred place and ancient as time itself. The nearby oasis is the moon god’s gift to the tribe to make sure there’s an abundance of water to keep it green year-round. The palace was built there for that reason.”
“What a fascinating story. Thank you for enlightening me.”
For a long time she’d been playing her game with the expertise of a master, but once she saw the garden, he would bring it to an end. In a lithe movement he pulled a little pouch out of his saddlebag and handed it to her. “Here. Have some qandi.”
“What is that?”
“Candy. You Americans borrowed the word.”
He felt her smile as she dipped her hand inside and withdraw some sugar-coated almonds. “Um. These are delicious.” She took a few and gave him back the bag. He tossed several in his mouth before putting it inside the opening of the tent.
Rashad glanced up at the eastern sky. While they’d been busy, the moon had been making her ascent. It was time. “Walk with me up to the curl of the dune.” He reached for her hand. As their fingers entwined, he felt that same quickening in his blood, but it was much stronger than on the day of the sandstorm.
With each step of their short trek, he realized he’d been tempting fate all along. It was far too late to turn back now. He didn’t want to. In fact no power could make him. That was the terrifying part.
Lauren’s grandmother had told her that the sheikh had taken her to the Garden of the Moon, but she’d only talked to her about Malik and what had happened with him, not about the garden itself.
When they reached the edge and Lauren looked down, she could never have conceived of the sight that met her eyes. The man at her side squeezed her hand tighter, conveying emotion she thought she understood, but still waters ran deep inside him.
A drastic change had occurred in the landscape. The dune served as an escarpment. Below she saw fantastic formations laid out so perfectly, she let out a cry of astonishment. They looked like huge, fat topiary trees, the kind you see in the parterre gardens of the Orangerie at Versailles in France. Only they were made of sand sculpted by strange wind currents favoring this particular area of the dunes.
She was so staggered, it took her a long time to take it all in. Finally she exhaled a breath. “This is the most extraordinary, beautiful, out-of-this-world sight I’ll ever see in my lifetime. No wonder your tribe has always held this spot sacred. So do I,” she whispered.
It explained the half moon on the medallion King Malik had given her grandmother. Everything made sense. Her hand went automatically to her throat to feel it, forgetting it was no longer there. The same wind that had torn it off her had carved this monument. There were forces here she didn’t understand. Hairs lifted on her arms that had nothing to do with the chill of the night.
“Cold?” he inquired in a quiet voice, never letting go of her hand.
She was running hot and cold at the same time. “Yes.”
“It’s late. You go back to the tent. I’ll join you in a minute.”
Her pulse quickened as she started back. Already the wind, dancing about, had erased the footprints they’d made coming up. It is written in the wind was a phrase she’d heard many times. Now she understood what it meant.
The wind had changed her life. She wasn’t the same woman who’d flown to El-Joktor on a quest to know more about her grandfather. That woman had been buried in the sand. After her body had been transported to Al-Shafeeq, a new woman had been brought back to life by forces greater than she knew, by a man greater than any other.
Taking advantage of being alone, she lifted the tent flap and tossed her cloak inside, then went around the back. When she’d refreshed herself, she moved to the front and sat down inside the doorway to pull off her boots. After she’d held them over the sand and tipped them upside down, she emptied her socks and stashed everything in a corner with her cloak.
The wind blew enough that she lowered the flap to keep out the sand. It was pitch-dark inside, but she loved it. Still in her jeans and cotton top, she picked her side and climbed under one of the puffy quilts. Tucking the nearest pillow beneath her head, she lay there and waited while he did whatever needed doing to make their camp secure.
Soon she saw a small glow and
