by Allen, Jewel
In the mirror, she studied her reflection—as though she were a true sheika—and caught Samir taking a peek at her. He was already dressed how she pictured a sheik, with a long, flowing blue robe and a headscarf in whites and blues.
The ladies had also sold her on her own robe. So now they looked like a couple.
If only they were.
* * *
Reese had pictured the Sahara desert in her mind, but her imagination paled against reality. For miles and miles, deep orange dunes stretched in graceful peaks, unmarred by the human touch since the beginning of time.
On the sand, their camels made distinct shadows. Only the two of them, Reese and Samir, two guides and two bodyguards.
Six in all, a camel parade on the dunes in the setting sun. Each one was tethered to the other by a rope looped through points on their huge saddles. They weren’t like horse saddles, but rather there was an awkward little lump underneath a seat that steadied them over the uneven valley between the camel’s humps.
The dry heat constricted Reese’s throat. She was glad for the headscarf. It not only helped cool off her head, but it also kept the slightly swirling sand from entering her nose and mouth.
Samir rode on a camel behind hers. She glimpsed his expression, calm and blasé about this experience that made her want to go on a rooftop to shout, “I’m riding a camel, y’all!”
She’d had some pretty amazing experiences in her life—she went with a boyfriend to Cuba once, and another time, she climbed a perilous trail along a Chinese cliff with only a thin metal chain to hold on to. But this had to be up there. She felt like a heroine in her own romance, with her own mysterious sheikh she was secretly in love with.
Secret was the operative word. She’d grown up scrappy, learning early on that she couldn’t trust anyone. At one point, she thought that person could be Samir. But even he turned against her, just when she wanted to be a straight-shooter. She couldn’t let on that every cold word or act from him cut her to the quick. She didn’t need anyone. Under three months from now, if she couldn’t win him back, she was out of there.
They wound up and down the fine orange dunes shimmering in the heat of the sun. It’s true what they say about mirages. The heat played tricks on her eyes and made it seem like there was a sheet of water on the ground in the distance. It kept advancing as they did until it disappeared as they climbed another rise that overlooked a valley.
The camel ride went on for what seemed like hours.
Their guide, Arun, said they were going to a private camp. “One that will give Your Royal Highnesses your own spot of paradise.”
A sad yearning clawed at her chest. She didn’t dare look at Samir. He had made it abundantly clear that he no longer wanted her. Even in her attempt to make him jealous, she felt it unnatural and burdensome to act. She didn’t like always being on display or being tested.
At least riding ahead of him on this camel, she didn’t have to school her features or pretend she was having the time of her life and his indifference didn’t matter to her.
Another mirage came up. At least, that was what Reese thought initially. It turned out it was the top of a canvas tent camp, blindingly white. There was a row of six of them set up lower into a valley, protected by hills. Their group crested the mounds, which revealed more of the camp. The tents formed a circle, in the middle of which were colorful rugs carpeting the sand.
The sun started to dip down. The first part of their spectacular show had begun. The dunes turned even more orange, and their shadows lengthened to the right. The camels bobbed up and down, their expressions amusingly vacuous, and then the guide stopped. Right on top of a dune.
As though in unspoken agreement, the company made no noise. Reese could almost hear the sigh of the wind as it kissed the desolate sands. And yet, even in its quiet wildness, Reese felt at one with the earth. She even felt connected with the man behind her, the stranger who could have been her husband in more than name.
The guide’s camel knelt, and he got off. Reese was next. Her camel fell to its knees with a resounding and nerve-wracking thud, pitching Reese forward and almost catapulting her out of her seat.
The sand slipped through her sandals. She unstrapped them now and carried them in her hands, enjoying the warm sand under her feet.
Arun gestured to the tent camp and said, “Welcome. You may retire to the tent at any time, or you can explore the dunes.” He shielded his eyes from the sun and pointed at the tallest dune in the area. “That looks like a fine climb.”
“I’ll climb it,” she said to no one in particular, but Samir followed. Their bodyguards did too, at a discreet distance.
It was a punishing climb. The sand was soft and hard to grip with bare feet, silky. But being active cleared her head. Even with exercising at the palace, she felt less healthy than usual. More sedentary. It felt good to move.
Climbing behind her, Samir could have taken her over, with his longer legs. She took a peek at him. Against the backdrop of the vast Sahara, he looked strong and powerful, a master of this wild landscape. He evoked centuries’ old stories of a Scheherazade and her thousand and one Arabian nights.
Reese turned forward again to still her thoughts, continuing on with the climb. Once she reached the top, she plopped herself down onto the sand, readying herself for the spectacular sunset that would follow. Samir sat beside her, not quite touching, but she was very much aware of his presence. Of his handsome profile looking out nobly over this land that was his.
And could have been hers.
The pain came sharply even as the sunset deepened and began to swallow the sands whole. She had never seen such a beautiful sight, of the orange turning ochre and flaring like flames into its zenith.
Reese hugged her knees to her chest, mulling her great fortune, despite all she’d lost and stood to lose. Despite her resolution to keep her distance from this man who had not only broken her heart but spit upon it, she couldn’t help but be drawn to him.
Her gaze wandered back to him, meeting his eyes. They held an inscrutable expression. They went from desire one moment to wariness the next. At any rate, it was getting dark. She couldn’t discern his expression easily.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” she murmured.
“You’re welcome. Thank you for coming.”
Lying back on the sand, she raised her arms and placed them behind her head. She could sense him staring at her, but she simply looked heavenward. In the deepening blue of the sky, stars emerged from their hiding place.
“I haven’t seen the stars in so long.”
“You can’t see them in New York?” he asked.
“The night sky there is always so muddy.”
He leaned back, too, and followed her gaze. “We are lucky here.”
“Yes, you are.”
She closed her eyes and let the warmth of the sand seep into her bones. Despite this odd marriage situation, she was still a lucky girl. She smiled and opened her eyes, catching Samir on his side now. His hand supported his head as he stared at her.
A twinge of victory surged through her.
A horn sounded from the camp.
“Dinner,” Samir murmured. But neither one of them moved.
“I’m starving,” she confessed.
“Me, too.” His eyes dropped to her lips.
Another kind of hunger engulfed her.
Only a foot separated them. Her heart thudded in slow, painful strokes as he leaned forward.
Closer, closer, his face hovered over hers.
She wanted nothing more than to have Samir kiss her under the stars.
But she needed to stay true to her course. She had to make him want her.
Just as he was only an inch away from kissing her, she turned her face to the side and sat up.
30
Samir brooded after dinner. He sat deep in a chair and watched Reese flirt with all the males in the camp. She made no distinction—the guides, the locals who were fixing them dinner
, the bodyguards. They were all falling under her spell. Even Axel seemed less wary of her; he actually smiled at her jokes. She was trying very hard to put everyone at ease, but it only served to aggravate Samir.
Setting down his goblet with a scowl, he cast a dark glance at his staff. They mumbled some excuse and moved away from the table. Good. They were smart men.
Arun and the other guide also moved away, only to take up instruments set up near the center of the rug courtyard.
“May we sing to you some traditional Bedouin songs?” Arun asked. In the darkness, the whites of his eyes shone bright, and his blue robe looked near black.
“Of course,” Reese said. “Please.”
Arun’s face glistened in the lamplight. His expression was intense and focused on the drums, just as Samir was riveted by Reese’s rapt attention. Her lips were parted, her smile curved up, and her eyes shone.
She blinked and then turned to him, catching him gazing at her. He couldn’t, for the life of him, look away. For a moment, he simply let his feelings rise to the surface and expose themselves to her. He still loved her, but he didn’t know what to do about it.
Casting his eyes down, he broke contact.
In the periphery of his vision, Reese stood. For one panicked, glorious moment, Samir thought she was going to head his way, but she walked to Arun. He had apparently beckoned for her to come over and try the drums. She sat on the stool with the drum in front of her. Arun’s arms were around her to teach her the intricacies of the music. A simple act which riled Samir.
He stood and stalked out of the courtyard, past the tents, and up the hill to the next rise. Sitting and pulling at his headscarf, he mussed his hair and rubbed his nape.
He froze as he heard someone approaching him from behind.
“Hey,” Reese said.
“Hi,” he said over his shoulder, terse and unwelcoming.
She hesitated. “Arun said we should be seeing the moon. I can go somewhere else if you’d like.”
“Don’t be silly,” he said. “There’s plenty of room here on the dunes.”
To answer, she sat beside him.
He smelled her perfume that had haunted his dreams since the night he’d learned of her betrayal. His heart thudded as the moon showed a sliver of itself over the sand. The sliver turned into a bigger piece of the moon, and then more, until the moon revealed itself in its full glory.
He turned to Reese, and she met his gaze head-on. Her eyes shone, and he understood that joy she must feel over all this beauty. He ached to hold her and to kiss her lips…
…the ones that lied to him early on.
With effort, he steeled his heart once again to her. He turned back and stared at the moon as though his life depended on it.
31
Reese sighed inwardly. Her plan was working, and yet she felt slightly sorry for him.
Silly man.
It was obvious he was fighting off something stronger than the pull of the moon.
“Tell me about your childhood,” she said.
“My childhood?”
“What was it like growing up in the royal household of Morocco?”
He hesitated. He’d never really opened up to her about his past. She thought they would have a lifetime to get to know each other.
“I remember it to be a time of…learning,” he mused. “I had many teachers who tried to fill me like some receptacle. I learned six languages easily. French became especially useful when I started dating.”
She pictured him as a young man, taking his beautiful date around in a sports car. “What did you drive on dates?” she asked.
“The limo took me and my date around. For security purposes.”
“Did you wish you could drive?”
“Sometimes. But it was easier not to, so I tolerated it.”
“What is your favorite memory?”
His expression softened. “Picking figs in an orchard my family owns and stuffing myself sick.”
She smiled. “Figs sound good about now.”
“If they don’t have any at camp, I’ll get you some.”
“Thanks.” His kindness surprised her. He owed her nothing. “In Port Eggai, I got some figs from the bazaar. They were so good.”
His gaze fell on her and then skittered away. “That would be fun, to be able to wander around, unnoticed, in the bazaar.”
“Let’s go sometime,” she said impulsively. “One night, when you could cover up a little, and in the dark, you could be anonymous with me.”
“I hardly think that anyone would ignore you. You’re—”
When he didn’t finish, she smiled to herself. “I could cover up my blonde hair. That would make me stick out less like a sore thumb.”
“That’s not what I meant, you know.”
She said quietly, “I know what you mean.”
He gazed at her intently. She meant her words and hoped her serious expression conveyed her understanding. An acknowledgment of her effect on others.
Except for this man who stood as a citadel, trying to repel her efforts.
She lowered herself so she slid more into the incline and lay down on her back, gazing at the moon. She was aware of him looking down at her. Suddenly tired, she closed her eyes, not just because of exhaustion, but because if she looked at him, her eyes would betray her feelings.
“What was your childhood like?” he asked.
She opened her eyes and studied the moon. “Probably about the opposite of yours.” She hadn’t meant to, but her voice sounded forlorn. She needed to cut out all this doom and gloom. Be more cheerful.
She didn’t want to think of her childhood. At least not of the bad times.
If their marriage had been normal, if they both truly wanted to make this work, she could have told him everything. But she couldn’t now.
“Oh?” he said. “How so?”
“We had no car, just took the bus everywhere. Or walked. Went to bed hungry and woke up hungry. At least we had school lunch. Something like that.”
He was quiet. “I can’t even imagine.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“Sorry.”
“For what? It’s not your fault.”
“It could have been just as well that I would have been born in your circumstances,” he said.
“It could have been. But frankly, I don’t think I’d have wanted your childhood. I would have rebelled against it. Fought it.”
“You learn to adapt,” he said. “You learn to work within a set of rules.”
“How fun is that?”
“I didn’t say I was perfect,” he said. “There are ways around them. I got good at not getting caught. When you have money and a title, some people are willing to look the other way.”
I got good at not getting caught.
Me too.
Reese sighed.
“What?” he asked.
“I miss my brother.”
“What was he like, growing up?”
“The very devil. He had a skewed moral compass. Nothing horrible. It’s not like he joined the Mafia or something. But he did what he could for ill-gains.” She paused, her voice softening. “But at the end of the day, he cared for me. He was the only one who truly cared about me.”
The way she thought Samir could too.
She sat up, shaking the sand from her shoulders. In doing so, her headscarf loosened, falling around her. He reached out and straightened it on her shoulder, his hand stilling in the middle of the act.
Reese held her breath. He was staring intently at her mouth. Through the fabric on her shoulder, his fingers clutched at her.
Like the tug of the moon, she leaned close to him, helpless to stem the inevitable.
His lips caressed hers in excruciating gentleness, and she nearly swooned, realizing she had been hungering for this all day despite all that she told herself otherwise.
He pulled away and stared at her.
Her throat was parched, not from the desert heat, th
ough the air around them swirled and sizzled.
His mouth captured hers again, and this time, her arms went around his neck as she clung to him. His arms circled her waist.
His kiss marched on like a thousand Arabian nights. It unleashed the magic of the moon, the agelessness of the dunes. It fulfilled her dreams as a child on those hungry nights when she longed for a better life alongside someone who could cherish and take care of her. Until reality stripped away her grand illusions.
But tonight, she would believe that dreams could come true.
In the cover of the night, their pretensions fell away. She was simply a woman in love, succumbing to the moon’s spell.
He let her go abruptly. “Pardon me,” he said. His eyes were as tortured as she felt. She didn’t know what to say to him, how to assure him that he had nothing to be sorry about.
But the moment was over. It was just as a mirage in the desert: enticing, fraudulent, and only left her wanting in the end.
32
Despite the kiss that launched a thousand and one Arabian nights, nothing came of it. He took a different tent that night, and in the morning, he was back to being a polite stranger.
Back in the palace, their so-called honeymoon was over.
It was almost painful to endure the felicitations and warm greetings from the staff as they returned, Samir to his life and Reese to her isolation.
Two days passed after they’d returned, and Reese had hardly seen him except for meals, and even then, either his mother was there or the vizier. There weren’t opportunities where they could simply talk. Which was just as well, although Reese felt invisible. He rarely looked her way, and when she surprised a glance from him, his expression was dark and forbidding.
Reese took to walking about by herself on the grounds. She felt safe. Royal guards milled about in the periphery, along the paths, sitting in teams. They were members of the Moroccan army assigned to protect the palace.
