but only temporarily.’
‘Escaped from what?’
‘My life. My home,’ she amended, not wishing to sound over-dramatic, even if it was the truth.
Christopher’s brows rose. ‘So you’re supposed to be tucked up in bed safe and sound, but you’ve escaped into the night in order to pursue your interest in Nessarah’s ancient heritage?’
‘Is that so hard to believe?’
‘Tahira.’ Christopher touched her arm lightly. ‘I’m not mocking you. I’m simply—I’m impressed. To take such a risk shows a true love of the past which certainly equals if not exceeds mine.’
‘Oh.’ She was absurdly pleased by the compliment. ‘I am only—it is something I do only for myself. No one else—well, they can’t know. Do you understand now why I would not betray you?’
‘You assume that I am not going to betray you either.’
She had done exactly that. Was she being utterly naïve? ‘Why would you, when you have just described me, in rather melodramatic terms, as a precious find? Unless of course that was a crude attempt at flattery. More tellingly, your presence here in the dead of night proves that, for whatever reason, you have no more desire to be discovered than I.’
‘You are, of course, quite correct,’ Christopher said, visibly relaxing. ‘But I was not flattering you. Your knowledge of Nessarah’s history could well prove to be of great assistance to me. If you are not in a hurry to melt back into the night, perhaps I can explain why I am here?’
This man was a foreigner as well as a complete stranger. She really ought to get on her camel and head home. But she knew she would regret it. An ancient mystery. A quest which was solemn but not noble. She had to know more. Besides, she had never before felt so drawn to a man. Hardly surprising, since her circumstances meant she met very few, but this man was different. He shared her fascination for the past. And, yes, he was handsome too, but it was his eyes which set him apart. And that smile, which seemed to connect directly with her insides, making her certain, despite her utter lack of experience, that the attraction was mutual.
‘I am in no great rush,’ Tahira said. ‘I do not promise that I can help you, but I would very much like to hear more.’
* * *
The masculine clothes this exotic female wore made Christopher acutely aware of the very feminine and extremely voluptuous body beneath. Following Tahira down the steep slope of the rock formation to where he could now see she had left her camel, he couldn’t drag his eyes away from the sensuous sway of her hips, the long, glossy sheath of hair that rippled down her back, the scarf which tied it fluttering like a pennant, urging him to follow. She moved with the careless grace of a dancer. That first glimpse of her perfect countenance had been like a punch in the stomach. No, he amended wryly, it was not his stomach which had reacted to those big almond-shaped eyes and that cherry-red mouth, and that heart-shaped face, and the sweet curves of the body beneath. He had never in his life met a woman so lovely and so innocently alluring. Who the devil was she? His curiosity was aroused, but what mattered even more was whether or not she could help him.
As they reached the softer sand, Tahira sat down gracefully and Christopher joined her, sitting cross-legged. ‘So tell me,’ he said, ‘do you think this is likely to prove an ancient site?’
She raised a delicately arched brow. ‘Is this a test of my expertise, before you confide in me?’ When he did not deny it, she gave a charming little shrug. ‘Understandable enough. I told you that I am by no means an expert. I am fortunate enough to have access to some manuscripts, histories, maps of Nessarah. Over the years, I have made a study of my kingdom’s ancient history and traced a number of the older mines—the diamonds and gold which we are famous for, but also some emerald, silver, of course, and semi-precious stones. My practical experience, however, is severely limited.’
‘Due to the fact that you have to confine any excavation to the hours of darkness, I presume?’
‘Yes. I know it sounds unlikely...’
‘Tahira, it’s so unlikely that I believe you. You would not make up such a preposterous lie.’
‘That is very true. In fact, it’s so preposterous that it is one of the reasons I think it unlikely my occasional absences will be discovered. Though of late...’ She sighed, averting her gaze momentarily, before giving herself a little shake. ‘There is no real method to my work. My process is not scientific, my notes and drawings rudimentary, as would be obvious to an experienced archaeologist like you.’
So he was not to ask what had been happening ‘of late’. Christopher accepted this grudgingly. Fascinating as she was, at this point in time, her knowledge mattered a great deal more to him than her circumstances. ‘I am actually a surveyor to trade, but my heart belongs to the ancient world.’
Which remark earned him a delightful smile. ‘It is so wonderful,’ Tahira said, ‘to meet someone who understands the thrill of standing in the remains of dwellings built thousands of years ago, of holding pots used for cooking, plates that food was eaten from, cups that wine was drunk from—it is the most thrilling—there is nothing quite like it, is there?’
Her eyes sparkled. Her lips were curved into a soft smile that made his groin tighten. ‘No,’ Christopher said, ‘there really is nothing like it.’
‘My sisters tease me when I say that I sense a—a connection of some sort with our ancestors. When I stand amid the ruins of an ancient mining village here in Arabia, one that existed deep in the mists of time, I feel the ghosts, the spirits of the people who lived there.’
‘How many sisters do you have?’
‘Three, all younger than I, and their only interest in ancient mines is the jewellery made from the precious stones unearthed there. Ish—my next sister says that our ancestors are unlikely to have been miners and she is probably right, but—oh, I don’t know. I like to think that there is something, some inherited fragment of memory, which connects me to the few settlements I have uncovered, the artefacts I have found there.’ Tahira looked away, embarrassed. ‘You probably think that’s fanciful.’
‘As a matter of fact,’ Christopher confessed, ‘I understand perfectly. I too, occasionally, feel a similar connection. A memory—though it can’t possibly be a memory. Or a ghost—though I’m not sure I believe in those either. But I do know what you mean.’
‘Really? I don’t know anyone else who thinks as I do.’
Her shy smile was dazzling. Dear heavens, but she had no business to be looking at him like that. Christopher tore his gaze away, focusing on the rocky outcrop over her shoulder. ‘I take it your sisters aid and abet you in your nocturnal excursions?’
‘Oh, goodness, no. They would be horrified if they ever found out, and frightened for me too. The stories I tell them—they think my only sources are books. I dare not show them any of my finds. Not that they would be interested, since none of them are valuable.’
‘So you keep all your work hidden away?’
‘It is not so very difficult, since my work is not so very extensive. One day perhaps hundreds of years from now, someone might find my little collection of papers and artefacts, and wonder how it came to exist. I would like to think of it as my own contribution to Nessarah’s history, but I doubt very much it’s
