‘It—’ Her voice cracked, and she shook her head. ‘It’s not important.’
His expression sobered. ‘Not important? Losing a horse can be a matter of life and death.’ He held out his hand. ‘Come along.’
‘I can’t ride with you!’
‘Why not?’
‘It will cause a scandal. It is not done.’ Zorahaida spoke firmly, though in truth she had no idea whether riding with her husband would cause a scandal or not. Outside the palace, she was well out of her depth. Life as a Nasrid princess hadn’t prepared her for the wider world. For all she knew, what her father found unacceptable might be commonplace elsewhere in his kingdom.
Jasim leaned towards her, his expression unreadable. ‘Zorahaida, I wouldn’t expect you to do anything you are not comfortable with. I am not asking you to remove your veil.’ He shrugged. ‘This saddle is large, and I noticed earlier that you are wearing a divided skirt.’
Tempted, she studied him. She liked Jasim, more than she had believed possible. The knowledge that he was upset with her was far too disturbing. Sensing her decision was important, she smoothed the fabric of her skirt. ‘This is too delicate for riding.’
‘Nonsense.’ He smiled. ‘Zorahaida, if you sit before me, I won’t let you fall. Trust me.’
I won’t let you fall. Trust me.
Zorahaida stared at him through her veil. Yes, there was more behind Jasim’s request than a desire for her company. This was both an olive branch and a challenge. If she denied him, scandalous though his suggestion appeared to her, his mind might set against her. This was a challenge she must accept.
Several prods in her ribs told her that Maura agreed with her.
‘Very well, sir knight,’ Zorahaida said. ‘If you swear not to drop me.’
He put his hand on his heart. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’
Chapter Ten
Zorahaida leaned cautiously towards Jasim and before she had time for second thoughts, he had plucked her from her seat and placed her before him. Maura smothered what sounded suspiciously like a giggle. Jasim’s horse whickered.
‘Easy, Blade,’ Jasim murmured as, with scant respect for propriety or Zorahaida’s dignity, he deftly manoeuvred her so she was riding astride. ‘You will be more comfortable like this.’
‘Thank you.’ Zorahaida gripped the front of the saddle and shot a guilty glance at the villagers gathered by the highway. The men were watching, some guardedly, others looked amused rather than shocked. Furthermore, not all the women were veiled, and the unveiled women were also smiling. She felt herself relax.
‘Jasim, look. Not all the women wear veils.’
Jasim eased her closer against him and a muscled arm went firmly about her. ‘You will find customs vary from village to village. Indeed, from household to household.’
She fell silent, struck by the extent of her ignorance.
What did she know of life outside the sheltered, imprisoning walls of the Alhambra? They weren’t going to leave Al-Andalus, and she had assumed similar conventions to the ones she had grown up with would operate elsewhere in her father’s kingdom. Perhaps they didn’t.
Zorahaida had scoured the palace library. Eager to learn as much as she could, she had read about wars and trade and border disputes. Unfortunately, none of the scrolls and parchments had shone any light on day-to-day living in her father’s emirate. The rules and restrictions familiar to her might not apply everywhere.
Beyond the palace walls, she was a fish out of water. Like it or not, that made her dependent on her husband. It was an unnerving thought.
Jasim raised his hand, heeled his horse in the ribs and their procession rolled into motion. They soon left the village behind.
‘Zorahaida?’ His breath stirred her veil. ‘Tell me about your horse, the one you lost.’
An image of Snowdrop, her beautiful grey pony, flashed through her mind, bringing with it a familiar tug of sadness and loss. Zorahaida rarely thought of Snowdrop. Since the day she’d learned her father the Sultan had sold her, it had been too painful.
Maura’s advice echoed through her mind.
Open your thoughts to him. Talk to him.
She cleared her throat and fixed her gaze on the road ahead of them. ‘Before my sisters and I were brought to the Alhambra, we lived at Castle Salobreña.’
‘How long were you there?’
‘Many years. Our mother the Queen had died, and I suspect Father found it too painful to have reminders of her nearby. Mamá’s Spanish duenna Inés came with us. She looked after us.’
Jasim’s thumb caressed her waist. ‘Did you see anything of your father back then?’
‘He didn’t appear often, though when he did, he was laden with gifts.’ She lifted her hand and gently shook her arm, so the bangles and bracelets jingled and sparkled. ‘Jewellery mostly. Sometimes he brought sweetmeats, sometimes silver and gold. We weren’t that interested; I suppose we were too young.’
‘Aye, coin and jewels, though pretty, are not for children. I suspect you would have liked to know your father better.’
She paused, startled by his insight. ‘That is true, back then, we longed for our father’s love.’ She felt her mouth twist. ‘We didn’t understand until later that he was a stranger to love. He wanted adoration; I think he has always confused it with love. Anyway, on one of his visits he brought the ponies.’ She twisted round and even though Jasim couldn’t possibly see her through the gauze of her veil, his amber eyes were fixed on her, intent. ‘We were given ponies not horses. Three perfectly matched greys with harnesses covered in silver bells. Mine was called Snowdrop, and she was the best of gifts. We were taught to ride and we adored it.’
He laughed. ‘I can just imagine the three of you riding accompanied by the tinkling of bells.’
‘In our youth, Father was less controlling. Those ponies gave us a taste of freedom. Even so we had an escort, we never rode out without one.’
She felt him nudge the back of her head. A kiss? She couldn’t tell. She rather thought he was inhaling her scent. He’d done that a number of times whilst they were in bed. Her cheeks burned, the idea of him doing it whilst out on the public highway was most distracting. And highly questionable. Weren’t gestures of affection frowned on, outside the bedchamber? Anyone might see.
He cleared his throat. ‘So you were permitted beyond the castle walls?’
‘Aye, with our escort. We were still quite young. Father thought of us as children.’
‘And then? What happened that Snowdrop is no longer with you?’
‘When we grew older, we angered our father.’ Her mouth tasted bitter. ‘It happened after he had brought us to live in the Alhambra. We assumed our rides would continue as before.’
‘Granada beckoned.’
‘Just so. We were eager to see the markets. We’d saved all those coins and we thought we’d be allowed to spend them. We couldn’t have been more wrong. The Sultan refused to let us out and when we made the mistake of challenging him, he was livid. He locked us up in the tower and sold the ponies. Which only proves that they were never really ours.’
‘I agree. A gift is no gift if it can be taken away.’ She felt it again, that light pressure on the back of her head. A kiss, it was surely a kiss.
‘Jasim, that isn’t the end, though I believe you know what happened after that.’
‘Your sisters left with their Spanish knights.’
Tears stung at the back of her eyes. Thankful Jasim couldn’t see, she bit her lip and nodded, and felt him sigh.
‘You are no longer alone, Zorahaida.’
‘Thank you.’
Her husband was a kind man. Most likely he regretted his decision to marry her. She’d never intended to, but she had become a burden. Thinking about her father and his rages was making her see that her escape with Jasim was bound to have u
npleasant repercussions for Jasim, his family and his district. From his point of view, their marriage had become a disaster.
‘Jasim?’
‘Mmm?’
‘Sultan Tariq is not one to forget a slight. He is bound to view our hasty departure as an insult.’
He huffed out a breath. ‘If you are correct about him having me poisoned, he wanted to see the back of me. You would think he would rejoice to see me gone.’
She laid her hand on his forearm. ‘Jasim, Sultan Tariq is the most controlling man on earth. Everything that happens is twisted to suit his purposes. By now, he will have forgotten about poisoning you. He will be brooding over the insult of you leaving without bidding him farewell. Further, he will blame you for spiriting me away. As far as he is concerned, I am his only daughter.’
‘A daughter he strikes at will,’ Jasim growled. ‘You are better off with me.’
‘All I am saying is that when we get to Madinat Runda, you would be wise to take precautions. My father never forgets a slight.’
‘Never fear, precautions will be taken.’
‘Jasim, I am so sorry. I am no great bargain. I know you hoped our marriage would unite the districts; it may have the opposite effect. Marrying me will bring trouble your way.’ She fiddled with Blade’s mane and let out a deep sigh. ‘And I think it’s worse than you may imagine.’
‘Worse? I have stolen the Sultan’s daughter, what could possibly be worse than that?’
Astonishingly, his voice was filled with laughter. Releasing Blade’s mane, Zorahaida twisted round to stare at him.
‘I’m serious. Jasim, you don’t understand how ignorant I am. About everything. I’ve been hedged about all my life.’
He smiled. ‘You aren’t that ignorant, you got out to visit the hospital.’
‘Thanks to my friends, yes. I learned Father’s rules and found my way around them.’
‘Zorahaida, when you find your feet in your new home, you will regain confidence.’
She touched his forearm. ‘I need you to understand that I have little practical knowledge about conventions and day-to-day living away from my father’s influence. When we get to Madinat Runda, I am bound to make mistakes.’
‘No matter, it will be my honour to help you. Zorahaida, you have a good heart and that will serve you well. You will make new friends.’
She searched his face and saw no trace of anger or disappointment. Only earnestness. With a jerky nod, she faced forward and continued her ride into the unknown. Every now and then she would glance over her shoulder at the road behind them. Whilst sympathetic, Jasim didn’t seem to be taking her fears about her father seriously. Were they being followed?
Her father wouldn’t let this rest. He would make trouble. And if he realised how much she was coming to admire her husband; he might even come after her. Sultan Tariq had a twisted soul, the very idea of others’ happiness enraged him. Much as she might wish it otherwise, she feared that her father was beyond redemption.
Briefly closing her eyes, she relaxed against her husband’s body and allowed herself to enjoy the feel of his strong arm wrapped securely about her.
* * *
Apart from the first night, they processed with great pomp through the Emirate, and if Zorahaida hadn’t been so concerned that Sultan Tariq’s troops might ambush them without warning she might have enjoyed it.
Father won’t attack our procession, she kept telling herself. Not before so many witnesses. Unfortunately, no matter how many times she repeated it, she couldn’t stop worrying. The knights she’d brought with her had sworn loyalty to her. Would they hold fast if Sultan Tariq’s household knights appeared on the horizon? Her gamble, that her father wouldn’t attack the wedding party when they had made such a show, might not pay off.
On the first night Jasim appeared to be fully recovered, for when their entourage stopped at an inn to eat, he was well enough to shake his head when she suggested that they spend the night there.
‘Jasim, shall we sleep here tonight?’
‘I wouldn’t recommend it.’ He pushed a colourful pottery serving dish to one side and leaned towards her. ‘It won’t do, not for the Sultan’s daughter.’
Zorahaida glanced about. True, it was a little cramped with their knights and servants crowded round the tables, but the atmosphere was friendly.
‘I rather like it; they are very welcoming. Jasim, they will be glad of our custom.’ She kept her voice down, so as not to upset the innkeeper. ‘This is a tiny village; I don’t think there is anywhere else.’
He gave a swift headshake. ‘There isn’t room for all of us inside and I won’t have our party split up. You must be properly guarded, the horses and baggage too, and to that end, we’ll camp in the open.’ He gestured for the innkeeper and took out his purse. He paid generously, if the innkeeper’s effusive thanks were anything to go by.
As they made their way back to the horses, she touched his arm. ‘Jasim, I apologise if today’s sleeping arrangements don’t please you.’
He shot her a startled look. ‘Zorahaida, you’ve no need to apologise. I am not your father.’
‘Of course not. However, I wanted you to know that for the rest of the journey, our lodgings should meet with your full approval.’
‘Oh?’
‘When we set out, I sent outriders ahead. They have instructions to solicit lodgings with the governors and village leaders whose towns and villages lie on our route. I couldn’t do that for tonight because I wasn’t sure exactly when we would arrive. In return for any hospitality, I plan to leave gifts which can be used for the benefit of the townsfolk.’
He blinked at her, and she would swear she had surprised him. Then a slow smile dawned. ‘How very organised you are.’
She gave a crisp nod. ‘Thank you, I like to think so.’
* * *
Initially, Zorahaida had no complaints about the arrangements Jasim made for her night in the open. Beneath a crescent moon, he chose a secluded spot just off the highway and arranged the watch, ensuring that all their men would have rest. A temporary roped paddock was set up for the horses, and the carts and carriages were grouped together.
She slept in the Nasrid carriage with Jasim alongside her. He fell asleep quickly, after a brief, all-too-cursory kiss.
Unreasonable though it was, Zorahaida felt abandoned. She craved her husband’s touch and she’d been hoping he would make love to her, not simply because he took pains to ensure her pleasure but because it would prove he had forgiven her for giving him that sleeping draught.
A small lantern was dangling from a hook on the carriage frame and the light turned his hair to flame. Guards had been posted within calling distance and through the thin canvas, she could hear them coughing and shuffling. They must be able to hear everything that went on inside the carriage. Was the presence of the guards holding him back?
She didn’t think so. The presence of the guards might dampen Jasim’s ardour, but there was more to it than that. Despite Jasim’s continuing kindness, she had angered him by giving him that potion. He understood she had given it with the best of intentions, but he had yet to forgive her. His new aloof manner tore at her heart.
Listening to his steady breathing, she prayed he would forgive her very soon. Above all, she prayed that her father the Sultan would forget all about her and allow her to at least try to make a success of her marriage.
Outside, leaves were rustling. She could hear other noises too, soft night noises, like the ones she used to listen to from her bedchamber high in the tower. Eventually, they lulled her to sleep.
* * *
The next day, despite the carriages and baggage carts, they made excellent progress.
Jasim insisted Zorahaida rode before him. He was no longer certain what he felt about her, but he liked to have her close.
Had Sultan Tariq sent men a
fter them? At regular intervals, Jasim glanced over his shoulder to survey the highway behind them. He saw nothing unusual. Unfortunately, every time he faced forward again, that tantalising scent was waiting for him. Warm and womanly, it tempted him every step of the way. His wife’s body called to his.
Immediately after their marriage, Jasim had been sure of one thing. He desired Zorahaida more than he had believed possible. And when it appeared that she enjoyed him equally, he’d told himself it was a great blessing. Mutual attraction had been enough. He’d not thought further than that and he should have done.
Zorahaida hadn’t been ready for him, not in her soul.
The Sultan’s violence against her had horrified him. Jasim had wanted to believe that her spirit hadn’t been damaged. He’d taken the ways she’d found to overcome the restrictions imposed upon her as proof of that. She’d gone into the city to help the sick.
And now...
Without warning, just as he’d begun to believe their marriage held promise, she’d drugged him.
Telling himself that she’d gone on to arrange for them to leave the palace in one of the boldest schemes he could imagine didn’t help. Nor did the knowledge that she had mustered enough support for them to have a fine escort.
The woman was certainly resourceful. A strategist. It was oddly arousing. Which was probably just as well because despite his disappointment in her tactics, she was certainly interesting. What would she do next?
While he waited to find out what that might be, he wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. One thing was certain, she had him in knots. They’d only known each other a matter of days, so it was a mystery why he wanted more than her body. But so he did. It was enough to trouble a man’s sleep. And it didn’t stop there. He found himself wondering if Zorahaida would ever want him for more than the carnal pleasure he could give her. He wanted her affection. In short, he hoped for a meeting of minds.
God help him. He’d made a mistake back in that tower. He’d bedded her too soon.
The Warrior's Princess Prize Page 14
