The Sheikh’s Reward

by Lucy Gordon

  He glanced at her, his lips twitching. ‘You’re not taking notes,’ he complained. ‘Of course, this isn’t as interesting as the tales of the wicked sheikh who makes love to fifty women a night.’

  ‘Only fifty? I’d heard a hundred.’

  ‘No, no, I’m only human.’

  She burst out laughing and he joined her.

  At last they reached the edge of the oasis, where there was a village of tents, bounded by palm trees, and, beyond them, the desert. Darkness had fallen, but the village was lit by flaming torches held high by a hundred arms, illuminating a path as the Sheikh and his favourite rode side by side in majesty.

  When they reached her tent he lifted her down himself, holding her high for a moment before lowering her slowly against his chest. Then he kissed her before all the world, and all the world cheered.

  Her tent was a mini palace, thickly carpeted, hung with silken drapes and lavishly provided with huge cushions. Partitions divided it into rooms, one for eating, one for sleeping, one for washing away the hot dust. Her maids were already there, having been sent on ahead to prepare.

  When she had bathed and Leena had anointed her with sweet-smelling oils, there was the serious process of deciding what to wear for the evening. Leena displayed several garments, but gently nudged her towards one of white and saffron, against which her skin glowed warmly.

  Ali’s eyes, too, glowed, when he saw her. He had come to fetch her for the feast that was to be given in her honour.

  ‘Tonight we eat under the stars,’ he said. ‘And because this is an informal place there is no need for your veil. Many tribesmen are here. They are my friends, and they have come for miles across the desert for a glimpse of you.’

  ‘But we only planned this trip last night. How did they know to make the journey?’

  ‘For a woman who prides herself on being modern, you ask some remarkably silly questions. Even tribesmen have mobile phones these days.’

  He took her hand and led her out of the tent. Fran’s first thought was that the place had caught fire. Men stood as far as the eye could see, each carrying a torch. She put her head up and smiled.

  Ali led her to two huge cushions, and they sat together, cross-legged, and presided over the feast. All the finest foods were spread before them, in such profusion that Fran felt giddy.

  This was followed by the entertainment. A large space was cleared and suddenly the air was filled with whoops and yells. A troop of horsemen burst onto the scene, galloping around and around in a circle, performing amazing acrobatics. Ali explained that they were tribesmen who still lived in the desert and treasured the skills handed down from their ancestors.

  There had never been such riders, doing handstands on the backs of fast galloping horses, leaping from horse to horse, landing perfectly every time. With each landing there were yells and yodels of triumph, until the air was filled with their cries.

  Finally there came one horseman on his own. He was better dressed than the others and his face was covered, except for his eyes. He was the least skilled, but the crowd roared and cheered as if he was a star, and Fran understood why when he landed at her feet and revealed himself to be Yasir.

  ‘What are you doing here, playing the fool?’ Ali demanded cheerfully.

  ‘I came to pay my respects,’ Yasir said, sweeping an extravagant bow to Fran. She smiled and applauded, and he vanished into the crowd.

  A young man appeared with a lyre, and began to sing. Fran didn’t understand the words, but the music, with its poignant sound of happiness that was half sadness, seemed to take possession of her. Ali leaned close and whispered, ‘It is an Arabic poem, hundreds of years old. It means, “My heart rides with the wild wind, my steed is fast, my love rides by my side…”’

  ‘That’s beautiful,’ Fran said.

  “‘The wind is eternal,”’ Ali continued. “‘The sand is eternal. Our love is eternal.”’

  The singer’s voice grew melancholy.

  “‘She is gone from me. But, in my heart, we shall ride in the moonlight, for ever,”’ Ali translated. ‘Come, my love, let us walk together.’

  He took her hand, and the crowds melted away. He led her to the gardens where they could walk under the palm trees, watched through the leaves by parrots, and listen to the soft plashing of the fountains.

  ‘This is such a perfect place,’ she murmured.

  ‘I hoped you would think so. I believe the Enchanted Gardens must be like this.’

  ‘The Enchanted Gardens?’ she echoed. ‘Where are they?’

  ‘Anywhere you like. They are where lovers meet when the storms and stress of life are over. Or they exist in your heart. My father built this garden as a gift for my mother. We all have our own Enchanted Gardens. Mine are with you.’

  He kissed her tenderly, and led her away down winding paths to where the desert began, and the brilliant moon threw black shadows among the dunes.

  ‘Here it is,’ he said, ‘the desert you dreamed of. And tomorrow I shall show it to you. We shall leave very early in the morning, while it is cool and pleasant, and return when the sun climbs. At midday you will sleep, and in the evening we shall venture out again. Perhaps we shall ride on for ever, and never be seen again by human eyes. And the desert, which is so full of mysterious legends, will have another one.’

  ‘When you talk such beautiful nonsense I could almost wish it to happen,’ she whispered.

  ‘It’s a crime to accuse the prince of talking nonsense,’ he told her with a smile.

  ‘Beautiful nonsense,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Then I forgive you. There is much beauty for me to show you, but the greatest beauty of all is in you.’

  She had never known him speak so simply and gently before, and her heart responded with joy. He drew her close and she went gladly into his arms. His kiss was like his speech, loving, almost reverent, not demanding but coaxing, and it was irresistible.

  ‘Ali,’ she whispered, melting against him.

  ‘Say my name again,’ he begged. ‘I love to hear it on your lips.’

  She said it again, and then again. It had a wonderful sound, until he silenced it by covering her mouth with his own. His lips were warm, firm yet tender. They spoke to her not only of passion, but of love, and something inside her flowered. If only he could always be like this.

  She felt him lift her high in his arms and begin to walk back the way they had come. She clung to him, her eyes closed, for she wanted no images to intrude on the fever of longing that possessed her.

  He laid her down. They were in darkness except for one small lamp. Fran reached up for him, caressing his face, eager for his love. If he wanted her now, she knew she had no will to refuse him.

  But this was a clever man, as subtle as the serpent in the Garden of Eden. Instead of lying down beside her, he kissed her gently and rose again, leaving her longing.

  ‘I shall be here for you before dawn,’ he said. ‘Be ready for me, for I shall bring a flying carpet to transport you to a magic land.’

  Then he was gone, and she was alone, wondering what kind of man this was who always surprised her.

  He was as good as his word, arriving in the cool early light, dressed for riding. She too was in riding breeches, which Leena had brought with her.

  They mounted the waiting horses and headed out in the cool morning air to a world that belonged to them alone. The desert lay almost in darkness, but there was just enough light to see by, and soon the oasis was far behind them.

  The sun climbed fast and the light grew every moment, flooding the land with colour. Ali spurred his horse and it streaked away over the sand. A light touch, and Safiya did the same, carrying her along like the wind until she almost caught up with him. But he went faster and faster, always keeping her at a little distance, until at last he pulled rein and wheeled to face her.

  ‘Do you know where we are?’ he asked, smiling.

  She looked around and saw that in every direction the sand stretched as f
ar as her eyes could see.

  ‘We’re lost,’ she cried, bewildered.

  ‘Of course we’re not. We rode away from the sun, and we can return by riding towards it. But just for a little while we are alone in the world. And it can be ours, with only the two of us, and nobody else to tell us yea or nay. If we were on the moon together, I think it would be like this.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said, looking about her in wonder.

  Beneath their feet the sand rippled away in dunes of varying shades of yellow. Above them the blue, cloudless sky plunged down to meet it. She felt drunk with the vivid intensity of the colours.

  He slipped an arm about her shoulders, drawing her sideways on Safiya’s back so that she leaned against him, and looked searchingly into her face.

  ‘Let us go on for ever,’ he said, ‘and seek our Enchanted Garden, where there will be no problems or fighting, and we can love each other as fate meant us to.’

  ‘You make it sound so tempting,’ she sighed. ‘But we can’t run away from the world.’

  ‘Lady Almas Faiza, why must you be so serious?’

  ‘Because things can never be as easy for me as for you.’

  ‘Easy? Do you think it’s easy for me to be with you day after day, and feel the distance you put between us?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not I. The distance is there. I only wish-’ She checked herself.

  ‘What do you wish?’ he asked eagerly.

  She touched his face with tender fingers, but shook her head.

  He kissed her once more. ‘The sun is high, and we must return. Tonight we will make this journey again as the moon rises. I want you to see my desert in all its moods, for you will understand them better than any other.’

  She had thought nothing could be more beautiful than the desert at sunrise, but that night she discovered that she was wrong.

  As they strolled to where the horses were waiting, Ali said, ‘I used to come here as a child, with my parents. I was too young to understand about love, but I knew even then that the bond between them was very rare.

  ‘I remember one night seeing them ride out together, to be alone, leaving me behind. I was jealous because they shared something that excluded me. And I promised myself that one day I too would ride out with my lady under the moon.’

  She looked at him quickly, but he laid gentle fingers over her mouth, as if words would spoil this moment.

  The full moon was shining brilliant and silver, draining the world of colour, and making the dunes mysterious and unearthly. They rode for a while and when they stopped Fran looked around, listening, wondering if there had ever been a silence like this one.

  ‘Was it like this in your dreams?’ Ali asked.

  ‘Yes. The wizard always conjured his spells under the moon, and the desert was always blue-black. But I never dreamed the reality could be so wonderful.’

  He said nothing and she turned her head. In the unearthly light she couldn’t see his face, only feel his presence, and his hand holding hers. She was conscious of a wonderful contentment. Whatever else happened to her in the future, she would always have this glorious moment with Ali, when he had brought her only beauty and peace.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said at last.

  He understood her. He turned without a word, and they retraced their steps to the oasis.

  Leena was waiting for her with a cool bath. Afterwards Fran walked dreamily towards the bed, lost in some inner dream.

  ‘Tonight I have new oils to make you beautiful for my lord,’ Leena said.

  She lay down and let the maid draw the soft towel away from her, revealing her nakedness. A delicious aroma began to pervade the air, like nothing she had ever known before. It was full of secrets and spells and it whispered to her of love and desire, of the most delicate eroticism, and unfulfilled yearning.

  She thought of Ali, and how she ached for him. It had always been hard to refuse what she wanted as much as he, and now, after their magic moment of communion in the desert, she felt close to him as never before. She lay on her front, her chin on her arms, longing for him.

  She felt hands on her shoulders, rubbing the oil softly into her skin with smooth, practised movements. Gradually Fran relaxed and gave herself up to the enjoyment, refusing to spoil it by looking too far ahead. She gave a long, contented sigh.

  ‘I’m glad to know that I’m pleasing you,’ said a soft voice.

  ‘Ali!’ She half rose and tried to turn, but his hands on her shoulders pressed her gently down again. ‘How did you come to be here?’

  ‘I slipped in a moment ago and sent your maid away.’

  He was naked to the waist, wearing only riding breeches. But she herself was completely naked, she realised. This was another of his tricks to take shameless advantage of her, and she knew she should be indignant. But it was hard to summon up the proper emotions when his skilled hands were driving away every feeling but pleasure.

  ‘You had no right to do that,’ she murmured.

  ‘I know. I’m a terrible fellow. Can you forgive me?’

  ‘Only if you go away at once,’ she said, smiling to herself.

  ‘If that is your wish.’

  ‘You mean-you will?’ she asked, unable to keep a hint of dismay out of her voice.

  ‘Of course. Just as soon as I have finished. Now lie still while I finish my work.’

  She had no inclination to argue further. It was bliss to lie there while his fingers kneaded the back of her neck, her shoulder blades, then her spine. She drew a long, shuddering breath as he softly traced a line down the length of her back and over the curve of her behind.

  ‘You are beautiful, Diamond,’ he murmured into her ear. ‘As beautiful as I dreamed of you, with a skin of satin, and a shape that is perfection.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be looking at my shape,’ she chided him half-heartedly.

  ‘How can I not look, when you display it as shamelessly as a nymph?’

  He brushed aside her hair and kissed the back of her neck. She hadn’t known she was so sensitive in that one particular spot, but her sudden gasp told him everything. He began to trail kisses down the length of her spine to the small of her back, then up again. The pleasure was light and delicate, and she felt herself melting into it, ready for anything that might happen next, but also ready to wait, as long as this delightful feeling continued.

  His hands were gentle, turning her onto her back so that he could continue his work. There was witchcraft in his lips and tongue as they trailed lazily across her breasts, with a flickering movement now and then, heightening the sensation just enough to tantalise her.

  ‘I’ve longed to see you naked,’ he whispered against her fevered skin. ‘I’ve dreamed that you would throw away your weapons, wanting me as I want you.’

  She didn’t dare to tell him just how much she wanted him. Whatever he thought, the battle wasn’t over, and soon she must take up her weapons again. But tonight she would yield to her desire. She could fight him, but not her own mounting passion.

  She might regret it tomorrow, but at this moment tomorrow was a day that would never come. The gambler, the risk-taker, rose in her, and said that if she never made love with him she would regret it a thousand times more.

  He threw off the last of his clothes, and she saw the magnificence of his body, bronze in the lamplight. He was broad of shoulder and long of back, with a straight spine, lean hips and a firm, muscular behind. There was power in his loins. She could sense it in his strong, graceful movements, and it heightened the desire growing in her.

  Then his nakedness was pressed against hers. She revelled in his magnificence, the muscular breadth of his shoulders, the long, straight spine, lean, hard hips and powerful thighs.

  She could see now how much he wanted her, but he reached for her gently, loving her to desire by slow degrees until he was certain that her passion matched his.

  For this he had many skills at his command. He was a subtle lover who knew how the lightest touch could c
ause a volcano of sensation, and the softest breath send excitement scurrying across her sensitised skin. He knew how to kiss her slowly, lingeringly, giving her time. There was genius in the kisses he bestowed all over her body, so that she was soon in a fever of sensation.

  This was love carried to a point of high art. She felt invaded and possessed by him, although he had not yet claimed her, and was still revelling in the enjoyment of her beauty, as though everything he discovered enchanted him.

  She could hold off no longer. ‘Tell me that you want me,’ she implored.

  He told her with lips that brushed against her skin. And then he told her with actions that almost made her heart stop with joy. He told her with his hands, caressing her soft, rounded breasts. He told her with his arms which enfolded her against his chest. Finally he told her with his loins, and then she knew it was true.

  Like him she’d dreamed of this, but no dream could be as beautiful as the reality. As soon as their bodies were united she knew that it was right. She clasped him in her arms and held him close, sharing his rhythm as the pleasure mounted.

  His face was close to hers, smiling, holding her eyes with his. She could hear him murmuring soft words. They were in Arabic, but she didn’t have to understand them to know their meaning. They were the words of a man absorbed in a woman, for whom nothing existed but her. They held passion, adoration, perhaps even true and lasting love.

  She tried to answer, but no words would come, only a sigh. Why had she waited so long to be in his arms, when it was where she belonged? She felt her defences falling away. She didn’t want to fight him any more, only to be one with him.

  Now it was happening, and her brain was telling her to beware the beauty of that oneness, while her heart was telling her that it was what she had been born for.

  When she parted from him she wanted to weep, but the moment passed in the gentle pleasure of sleeping in his arms.

  In the cool dawn Fran awoke to an unearthly silence. Ali lay naked beside her, on his front, one arm resting lightly across her, his face buried against her shoulder. He was breathing gently in a peaceful, contented sleep, like a man for whom everything in the world was good.