The Sheik Retold

by Victoria Vane

  All around me were the innumerable tiny noises of the desert, the hum of countless insect life, the rustling of the sand, and the occasional dry crackle of the camel thorns made by the slipping of a twig or the displacing of a branch as my horse nosed around. For a few minutes a sand spider attracted my attention, and I watched his hurried painstaking operations with wondering interest. It was all only a temporary distraction from my growing apprehension.

  I had been riding for close to twelve hours with not a human in sight. Shouldn't I have at least come across one of Ahmed's sentries by now? Although I had passed traces of caravans several times, I had seen no sign of Ahmed's camp or any other. I was no longer certain I had plotted the right course.

  I was no stranger to the dangers of the desert and was already feeling the effects of the intense heat. I had to press on, but I was already so very, very weary. I looked up into the sky to find a dark speck sailing overhead, the slow heavy flight of a vulture. I thought of the dead camel and shuddered at the thought that in a matter of hours, the bird could be picking my bones! I buried my head deeper in my arms, but the vision persisted. "I'm just nervous," I muttered, looking around with a little shiver. "But I shall go mad if I stay here much longer."

  The little oasis that I'd hailed so joyfully had become utterly repugnant, and I was suddenly impatient to get away from it. After offering my horse another bucket of water and refilling my army-issued canteen, I remounted.

  I rode for what seemed endless hours with no sense of direction. The sun was high in the sky, its heat brutally intense, with no shade in sight. I sipped the last of my water and thought of the tiny oasis I had so foolishly abandoned. Why had I not waited there just a few hours? My head throbbed unbearably, and my ears buzzed. It was so terribly, terribly hot, yet I had ceased even to perspire. Nausea set in, but I had eaten almost nothing due to the heat.

  My eyes burned. A wave of terrible loneliness came over me, a feeling of desolation, and a strange, incomprehensible yearning. I wanted desperately to cry, but I had no tears. I had reached the point of utter despair when The Dancer's nostrils flared and his ears pricked. I strained into the bleak distance with a desperate fixedness that made my eyeballs ache but saw nothing. Unable even to remain upright any longer, I fell forward onto my horse's neck and clung there.

  "Please, Dancer," I whispered through sun-burned and parched lips, "please take us home."

  The sun was fading and dusk setting in when I looked up again and discerned palm trees. I breathed a tremendous sigh of relief, praised my horse, and then I remembered nothing more.

  ***

  I awoke slowly, shaking off my drowsiness by degrees. Night had fallen. My desperate weariness lingered but was mixed with a vague feeling of comfort and security. I was wrapped warmly in my cloak, yet I was still moving with my head resting against a firm surface. I became gradually aware of strong arms surrounding me and the regular and steady thrum of a beating heart beneath my cheek, the soothing rush of the wind against my face, and the swift, easy gallop of a horse. I knew before I even opened my eyes that it was his arms around me and his breast my head rested on. With awareness came unspeakable elation. I was deliriously and insanely happy. Pure chance had thrown me back into my sheik's power.

  The night was suddenly brilliant. The stars blazed against the inky blackness of the sky, and the light of the moon was startlingly clear and white. The men rode in unusual silence with only the discordant chorus of a pack of jackals breaking the perfect stillness.

  I shifted my head to see his face showing clearly in the bright moonlight, and my breath quickened. He was peering intently ahead, his eyes flashing in the cold light, his brows drawn together, and his firm chin jutting more doggedly than usual. He glanced down and looked straight into my eyes. He didn't speak but drew me closer into the curve of his arm.

  It was very late when we reached the camp. Lights flashed up in the big tent and on all sides. We were suddenly surrounded by a crowd of excited tribesmen and servants. I was transferred to another's arms and looked up to find Yusef smiling down at me. He carried me inside the familiar tent, laid me on the black divan, and then vanished again into the throng of men and horses.

  I closed my eyes, filled with the most wonderful and perfect peace. I was home again. We were oil and water, but it seemed that fate had determined my sheik and I belonged together.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Once I returned to my senses, I found myself in the familiar tent that I had grown to think of as home, but as my gaze roved over the furnishings and accoutrements, they seemed somehow different and disorienting to me. As I had flit in and out of consciousness, for what could have been days or only hours, I was subliminally aware of his continued presence—Ahmed the Protector ever hovering in the background. Now he stood in the entryway but not with the welcoming smile I'd hoped for. On the contrary, his expression was hard. Even grim.

  "I gave you your freedom, ma belle, and not two weeks later you are returned? Where is that incompetent son of an English jackal that I delivered you to? He was to have taken you away from this place." He once more spoke in French. I also noticed the return of beard growth. This was the Ahmed I knew…the enemy I had grown to love.

  "Jim? We parted ways in Algiers. He washed his hands of me once he learned I planned to return to you."

  "At the head of a regiment, my dove?" His gaze narrowed in accusation. "You would repay my largesse with such treachery?"

  "You don't understand!" I cried. "I wasn't with the Legion by choice. The governor-general forced me. He thought I would lead them to you and identify you, but they have a kinsman of Ibraheim Omair as their guide. They intend to kill you, Ahmed. I escaped as soon as I could to warn you of their coming."

  He glowered at me. "Is that why you were riding alone, you little fool?"

  "Yes. I thought I could find you."

  "But you did not."

  "No," I whispered. "I did not. I can't understand. I was certain I plotted the right course, but I could not find the camp."

  "The Dancer did," he said. "But it was the old place. I have moved the camp."

  "You moved?"

  "Of course, my dove." He smirked. "I knew of their coming long before they left Algiers."

  "But how could you know?"

  "There is little I do not know," he said. "I have many friends. Many spies."

  "Then you must also be aware that they outnumber you five to one. What will you do? How will you fight them?" I asked with mounting angst.

  "Fight? I will not fight. I won't waste valuable lives because they try to force my hand. No, the time is not yet ripe for action. But since they have come looking for me," his smile broadened, "I will lead them on a wild goose chase deeper into the desert until they expire from exhaustion and exposure. Alors, there will be no bloodshed. They will drop like flies. You risked your life for nothing, ma chère."

  I sat up abruptly and clutched my throbbing head between my hands. "It wasn't for nothing," I whispered. "It was for you."

  "The black-hearted bastard you despise." A spasm crossed his face, but his mouth set firmer. "Only two weeks ago you threatened to take your own life at the thought of staying with me. Merciful Allah! You make no sense!"

  "I didn't want to be your prisoner, Ahmed."

  "And what are you now?" he demanded.

  "I came of my own free will this time."

  "Allah!" He laughed. "You think that makes a difference? As before, you shall remain or depart at my pleasure—and my pleasure is to see you gone."

  My heart sank. Was it all such a wasted sacrifice?

  He lit a cigarette and paced the carpet. "As soon as you are strong enough to travel again, Gaston will see you to Oran and onto the first steamer."

  "But I don't want to go."

  "You will do as I wish."

  "But—"

  "Do not fight me again," he growled. "You will not win!"

  "I don't wish to fight! I would rather make love with you than
war, Ahmed."

  His eyes lingered a moment on me, and then he swore softly under his breath. He went back to the entrance and tore open the tent flap, gazing out onto his camp. "How many times, Diana?" he demanded. "How many times did that English dog have you?"

  I stared uncomprehendingly at his back. "What are you talking about?"

  "You refused Gaston's escort to be alone with him."

  "Is that what you think?" I laughed outright. "You have no call to be jealous. Jim is nothing more than a friend."

  "He is a man, one who lusted for you. I was there in the garden when he professed his desire. I saw him in Bou Saâda. He wanted you still."

  "That means nothing."

  "Don't lie to me!"

  "Please stop this!" I cried. "I am done with your senseless cruelty."

  "You think that I am being cruel?" He swung around swiftly with his old mocking laugh. "When have I ever been anything else?"

  "I have also known your tenderness," I said. My eyes rested on his hands, showing brown and muscular under the folds of his white robes. I knew the power of the long, lean fingers that could, when he liked, be gentle.

  "You will go," he said.

  "I don't want to go," I whispered faintly. "Have you made me this vile thing for your pleasure, only to throw me away?"

  He strode across the tent toward me, his eyes blazing. "God! Do you think it is easy for me? Do you think I haven't suffered? That I'm not suffering now? Do you think I haven't realized what a damned brute I've been? You will go," he repeated with cold resolution. "I would rather you think me a brute now than live to curse the day you ever saw me."

  I was speechless. My heart throbbed wildly. He looked down long and deeply into my eyes, and the light in his—the light I had longed for—made me tremble. Yet I knew his obstinate determination.

  "I want to stay," I whispered more urgently.

  His brows drew together in the dreaded scowl. "You are still out of your senses and don't know what you are saying."

  "I am not. I know exactly what I am saying…what I am doing. I never lived until you taught me what life was, here in the desert. I can't go back to the old life again. It means nothing to me anymore. It is as dead to me as is the old Diana. Please. If you care for me at all…" I reached out my hand to him, but he made no move.

  "If I care for you?" he roared. "Don't you know that it tore my heart out by the roots to send you away? I didn't love you when I took you. I still thought I didn't care until the night Ibraheim Omair took you, and then I knew that if I lost you, the light of my life would be extinguished. My only thought was to kill Ibraheim before I killed myself."

  "Then don't send me away! If you loved me, you would not," I insisted.

  "If I loved you?" he echoed with a hard laugh. "If I loved you! It is because I love you that I am able to do it. If I loved you a little less, I would let you stay and take your chances."

  "It is my life. Shouldn't it be my choice?"

  "By Allah, you still do not comprehend! It would be no life for you here. You would have to live always in the desert. I cannot leave my people, and I am too much of an Arab to let you travel alone."

  "I am not afraid of the lonely life of the desert. I have found contentment here that was once foreign to me. It has become home…I want to make my life with you, Ahmed."

  "Ma chère, you know that I am not fit to live with. You know what sort of a damnable life I have led. You know my devilish temper—it has not spared you in the past and it might not spare you in the future. You might think you love me, though God knows how after all I have done to you, but a time will come when your love for me will not compensate for your sacrifice. Do you think that I could bear to see you year after year growing to hate me more? You think that I am cruel, but I am only doing what is best for you."

  I rose on unsteady legs. "Nothing you say can put me off. You cannot shock or intimidate me, for I have already seen your worst. I watched you choke the life out of a man before my very eyes, but I have also experienced your compassion. I am not afraid of you."

  He came to me then, cupping my face between hands that were now as gentle as his words had been cruel. He stared intently into my eyes. "I cannot change who or what I am for you, Diana. I do not want a mindless slave or a dog at my feet but, my word is, and always will be, law. Within this tent you may speak your mind…within reason…but outside of these walls, I can brook no disobedience, no disrespect."

  I knew this implicit obedience would always be a trial for me, but he would accept nothing less. I understood he would require my absolute surrender to his wishes, his moods, and his temper. While part of me still balked against this, I remembered the utter bliss I had known when he'd shown me the kindness and love that he had not been able to confess. Now that he had, I longed so desperately to reclaim that happiness.

  "I understand and I will do my best," I said. "Can you now comprehend that I don't want anything but you?"

  He was the only man I could ever love. If he could love me as unreservedly and exclusively as I loved him, I was prepared to endure whatever he might put upon me. Nothing he could say could alter that resolution, and nothing could make me forsake my love. Yes, I loved him so passionately, so utterly, that I was willing to give up everything else.

  He shut his eyes with a low exclamation. "I cannot fight this anymore." He raked a hand through his hair and emitted a soft but bitter laugh. “Merciful Allah! You have been a formidable foe, and I have wearied of the battle."

  I gave him a slow, seductive smile. "I told you already that I am far happier to make love with you than war."

  "Is that so?" His pupils flared big and black, and his verge stirred against me, proof that he was not immune to my lure of lust. He stooped, swept me up into his arms, and carried me to the bedchamber where he laid me down and came over me. His arms became like a vice as he rained kisses on my hair and whispered endearments and words of love I had never thought to hear from his lips.

  "Mon amour, ma bien-aimee. Je t'aime, je t'adore."

  "So you won't send me away, after all?"

  "Never," he murmured fiercely against my trembling lips. "I have been mad all my life, I think—up till now. If you knew what it cost me the first time. My God! If you knew how I wanted you. But I'm as selfish and stubborn as I am black hearted. I will never let you go again."

  I sought his gaze one more time. "Do you promise me there will be no others?"

  "Never, ma mie. No others. Only you. Seulement toi. Tourjours toi." Passionate professions of devotion continued to pour out of him, melting my insides and bringing tears to my eyes. "Ne pleures pas, ma chasseresse, je t'en prie. Tu resteras pres de moi, toujours avec moi."

  His lips brushed my temples, my cheeks, kissing and soothing until my shuddering and gasping sobs died away. His voice became almost humble. "I just pray God I can keep you happy—you will have a devil for a husband."

  While I had experienced Ahmed's fierce passion, I had never known his love, the depths of which astounded me. He made love to me for hours—slow, languorous, and almost worshipful. He teased and tormented with long, lingering kisses, interspersed with murmured endearments and breathless panting, as he filled me over and over again—with his body and words of love.

  That evening my joy was complete when we stood together looking out at a magnificent sky. The sun had almost set, going down in a ball of molten fire with the heavens on either side, a riot of gold, crimson, and palest green, shading off into vivid blue that grew blacker and blacker as the glory of the sunset died away. The scattered palm trees and the far-off hills stood out in strong relief. It was a country of marvelous beauty, and my heart was bursting in the knowledge that the man who commanded it all as far as the eye could see was all mine.

  EPILOGUE

  I awakened to the smell of Gaston's coffee and a sudden nausea churning in my stomach.

  "It is late ma, belle. Do you wish to laze in bed all the day?" I opened my eyes to Ahmed's warm gaze as his
soft lips brushed mine.

  I caught his lower lip between my teeth and released it slowly. "Only if you will join me, my love." I gave him a sleepy, seductive smile.

  He hesitated, as if considering the offer, and then slowly, reluctantly, shook his head. "You do not make it easy to refuse, my temptress, but I've important matters to arrange. We depart soon for Oran."

  Since the night after he carried me back into his camp and the great confrontation that followed, Ahmed had utterly changed toward me. Gone was the black scowl, the cool reserve, and cruel mockery I had come to expect. His habitual scorn was replaced by a warmth I never could have imagined from him. His eyes and his smile radiated not only his desire, but a genuine affection I would not have believed him capable of had I not already glimpsed it when he was with Raoul. Ahmed seemed almost another man altogether, so kind and attentive had he become toward me—beyond anything that I could have imagined.

  When alone together, Ahmed treated me very much as his equal. He took me into his confidence, bestowing his trust. The old taciturnity had gone as he spoke his thoughts to me, often drifting almost insensibly into plans and aspirations for the future. I was his intimate in every way, his confidante, the one with whom he shared his innermost thoughts.

  He smiled and laughed more frequently, sharing with me the happier moments of his boyhood. He taught me Arabic and explained with boundless patience the complexities of governing his extensive and nomadic tribe. I treasured the times when he talked of his men and his horses and all the incidents of his visits to the outlying camps.

  And while all of this made me deliriously happy, I was painfully aware that he had made no further mention of the status of our relationship, a status I was coming secretly to resent. I might once have contented myself to remain his mistress, had he not thrown out the fleeting mention of something more. His manner toward me had become almost that of a husband to a cherished wife. Now I wished above all things to become that wife in truth.