‘Too much of one.’
His voice cracked. Horrified Stephanie fumbled for his hand. ‘Rafiq, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m so sorry.’
He shook himself free and got to his feet. ‘I recall telling you, here on this very terrace, that I do not care to talk about the past.’
Stephanie scrambled up, tripping over the drying sheet. ‘I’ve talked about my past with you. It was painful, and I was terrified that you would judge me harshly, but—but you helped me see it in a different light. You helped me put it behind me. So don’t you think...?’
‘No.’ Unlike Stephanie, Rafiq seemed to have the night vision of a predator. He steadied her with his hands on her shoulders. ‘There is only one thing which will allow me to put my past behind me.’
‘The Sabr,’ she said, not because she understood, but because it seemed to be the answer to everything.
‘The Sabr,’ Rafiq said heavily. ‘My only route to atonement.’ His grip on her tightened. His lips were cool on her forehead and then he was gone, his shadow merging with the night.
Stephanie shivered. Inside the library, the lanterns still burned. She dressed hurriedly in the changing room, and brought one of the lanterns back out to the terrace. Was there a group of servants responsible solely for the palace lighting? There must be a great many of them. It must be a very tedious occupation.
She sat down on Rafiq’s cushion, shaking her head to clear it. Rafiq wanted to win the Sabr for his people. He wanted to win it to restore his family name. She understood both of those things, but what had he meant when he said it would allow him to put his past behind him, to atone? It made no sense.
She furrowed her brow, trying to recall exactly what had been said before this strange declaration. Elmira. He had once again been refusing to talk about Elmira, but what could Elmira have to do with the Sabr? Poor Elmira, who had died in her sleep two years ago. Elmira who, according to Jasim, paid the price for contaminating the stables with her presence. What heinous crime had she committed to force Rafiq to take Jasim’s side against his own wife?
It was cold. The sky was dark, a layer of black cloud blanketing the stars and the moon. Rafiq couldn’t have made it clearer that whatever atonement the Sabr represented, he would not confide in her. It hurt a little, but it was another apposite reminder. There were boundaries she must not cross, had no right to cross. She must not confuse the physical intimacy between them with anything more profound.
Picking up the lantern, with a silent apology to the servant who would discover it missing in the morning, Stephanie left the Pool of Nymphs and headed reluctantly back to her own luxurious prison quarters in the harem.
* * *
Rafiq sat alone at the second of the four Sabr marker towers. He could hear Nura, the chestnut mare he had ridden out, snickering softly to herself, though the night was too dark to see her. Black cloud covered the moon and the stars, but he did not need his eyes to sense the desert that surrounded him. The vastness of it never failed to fill him with awe. He leant back against the cool stone of the Sabr post, rubbing his eyes. He had intended to come out here to think only of Stephanie, to relive those charged moments in the hamam, but Stephanie had unwittingly conjured Elmira’s ghost. The two women were so very different. When he was with Stephanie, he had a taste of his future, free of guilt. He didn’t want to think of Elmira when he was with her. He didn’t want to make any sort of connection between them.
But Stephanie had made it all the same. A gilded cage, she had called the harem. Rafiq dropped his head into his hands, groaning with despair. Guilt descended on him like a carrion crow, doubts, like the predator’s vicious talons, picking at his conscience. So consumed he had been by his dream of restoring the Sabr, he had not listened, had not attempted to understand the consequences of his inaction and subsequent overreaction, until it was too late.
The clouds were beginning to clear. A single star appeared, and then another, and another, and the silver scimitar-like half-moon lit the desert, casting a shadow over the Sabr marker. It was too late for recriminations. Too late for regrets. Too late to wish it all undone. Too late for anything, save atonement.
Getting to his feet, he reverently kissed the stone of the Sabr post. The time had come to seize the day, be bold and act. Stephanie had shown him the way. Rafiq leaned against the marker, closing his eyes. Tonight had once again been like no other he could remember. It made him wonder how it would be when finally their bodies were truly united.
He hadn’t liked being at odds with her, though it had taken him a good many hours to accept that it was this, and not Jasim’s behaviour which troubled him. Stephanie’s opinions had come to matter a good deal to him. She had forced him to accept he was human, capable of misjudgements. She was not his conscience, but she was rapidly becoming his touchstone. Who would fulfil that function when she was gone?
He did not need to think about that yet, because Stephanie would be here for a good few months more. Calling to his horse, Rafiq rode out into the dark desert night.
* * *
Stephanie shifted uncomfortably on the high saddle of her camel. The promise of a visit to a Bedouin horse fair had been too exciting to resist, though she had resisted, until Fadil had promised he would summon her immediately if any new case of infection arose. It was now more than a week since her precautions had been fully implemented, almost three weeks since the last case, so there were grounds for optimism. There was also the fact that since the hamam ten days ago, she had not had the opportunity to be alone with Rafiq.
Not that they were alone now. For the last hour, the desert trail they had been following had been crowded with camels, horses, mules and even men trudging along on foot. The surface consisted of hard-packed mud studded with jagged boulders and pockets of soft, sinking sand, which forced her camel to perform an occasional disconcerting ungainly curtsy, casting Stephanie forward in the saddle, a motion which the camel took great exception to, throwing his head back and expelling a cloud of his foul breath. She had never been so glad of the keffiyeh protecting her face.
‘Is it much further?’ she asked, manoeuvring her grumpy ship of the desert closer to Rafiq’s own mount.
He shook his head. ‘I promise you, it is worth it.’
She could tell by the way his eyes crinkled that he was laughing at her. ‘It had better be.’
A few moments later, they crested a hill, and she forgot all her aches and pains at the sight which greeted her in the valley below. There were hundreds of tents, rows and rows of them, every one seemingly identical, black and conical in shape. Smoke from the many cooking pots cast a pall over the encampment. The noise of children’s laughter echoed, mingling with the brays of mules and camels, the whinnies of horses. There were horses everywhere, some tethered by the tents, but the majority on long ropes attached to huge poles in the clearing in front of the tented village.
‘Those are the horses to be sold at the fair,’ Rafiq told her, edging them both to one side, away from the crowd.
‘An auction?’
‘It’s a little more complicated than that. Fortunately, I will have time to explain. The Bedouin have very strict rules of etiquette. If I were acting as host today, I would be required to attend a number of audiences, which must be held in strict order of importance, with the various Sheikhs—bearing gifts, naturally. But we are outside Bharym’s boundaries here, we crossed into the kingdom of Nessarah an hour ago, and my time is my own.’
‘I had no idea that there would be so many tents.’
‘There will be several tribes here today. The horse fair happens only twice a year in this part of Arabia, rarely in the same location. We are fortunate that it is so close to home this year.’
‘Are we likely to meet...?’ Stephanie hesitated. She did not want to spoil the mood, but it was an obvious question, wasn’t it? ‘Princess Elmira’s fa
mily...will they be here?’
‘I believe not.’
Did that mean he had checked? Because he wanted to meet them, or because he wanted to avoid them? His tone was carefully neutral. His expression was the one she thought of as princely, his lids languidly heavy, not a trace of emotion to be detected, not because it was lacking, but because Rafiq was being careful to disguise it.
‘What about the tribe who raised you as a boy?’
‘They travelled very far north from here some years ago, though I have heard word of them through the other tribes many times over the years. They did not raise me, Stephanie. I lived with them for periods of time in order to learn the ways of the desert.’
‘Oh, I thought when you said—I thought it was all of the time.’
‘You misunderstood. It was no different from the practice of the English aristocracy, to hand the care of their children to a governess or tutor who is expert in certain subjects, or to send their sons to school.’
‘If I had a child, I would not wish to hand him into anyone else’s care. Not that the occasion will ever arise.’
‘You have no desire for children?’
She could tell him it was none of his business, but his determination to disguise his own emotions riled her. She would not pretend. ‘I have always wanted children, lots of them, but now that is not to be. I wish I had had brothers and sisters. Though there were always lots of other children in the camp to play with, it wasn’t the same.’
‘I am sorry, I did not mean to upset you. I should not have asked.’
‘Rafiq, of course I find the subject upsetting, but I am not like you. I don’t want you to change the subject.’
‘Then what do you want?’
‘I want to know if you would like children. I want to know if you would have liked to have sisters and brothers.’ She was in danger of spoiling the day, and she had looked forward to it so much, but she couldn’t stop herself. ‘I’m tired of all the taboos you place on our conversation, Rafiq.’
‘What, by all the stars, are you talking about? I thought we had a very clear understanding between us.’
He was right. As far as he was concerned, he was sticking to the rules. It was unfair of her to expect him to comply when she tried to bend them a little. And it was wrong of her to try, because it was those very rules which protected them both. ‘We do,’ Stephanie said dejectedly. ‘I just wish occasionally you would trust me enough to let me glimpse behind the impenetrable cloak you use to shield your emotions. I would like to understand and, I suppose, be understood. But I am being illogical. Please let us forget it, and enjoy the day.’
‘You are contrary, often contradictory but never illogical.’
She was forced to laugh. ‘Thank you.’
‘Only you would take such a remark as a compliment. You are quite unique, Stephanie, and that is what makes you so special.’
‘Oh.’ The tears rose too suddenly for her to catch the first one as it trickled down her cheek.
‘Are you upset because I did not mention your skills as a veterinarian?’
His smile made her feel like the sun had come out, which was preposterous, because the sun was ever present here in Arabia. ‘I’m crying because that is the nicest thing that anyone has ever said to me.’
‘I wish very much that I could kiss those tears away.’
‘I very much wish that you could, Rafiq, but we are in the full gaze of half of Arabia.’
‘Then later tonight,’ he said.
‘It will be more like morning, by the time we ride back after the fair.’
‘The sentiment, not the hour, is what matters,’ Rafiq said. ‘Now, let us join the fair. It would be sensible to keep your face covered, as it will be very dusty. Also, although English visitors are not unknown here, for the quality of the bloodstock attracts buyers from across the world, you will attract a good deal less attention if you are veiled.’
Chapter Nine
Some of the women were veiled, many were not. Stephanie was at first quite overwhelmed by the crush of jostling bodies and the constant noise. Everyone seemed to speak at a shout and to walk at a snail’s pace save for children and dogs who raced about madly, screaming wildly with excitement, dashing between the tall poles to which the horses were tethered. Men and women bearing trays of hot food and cold drinks called out to advertise their wares as they wandered aimlessly, meandering back and forward through the crowds. The air was heady with the scent of food and animals and people.
Content simply to absorb the atmosphere, unwilling to draw attention to herself, Stephanie kept in Rafiq’s shadow. Despite the fact that he was not here in any official capacity, he was recognised by everyone, and the question on everyone’s lips was the Sabr. Knowing how much it set him on edge, she watched with trepidation, and was consequently surprised to hear him not only joining in the speculation, but relishing it.
‘This will undoubtedly be Bharym’s year,’ he said. ‘This will be the year the Sabr returns to its rightful home.’ With each assertion, his eyes met Stephanie’s. His fingers gripped hers for a fleeting moment, under cover of the folds of her abba. ‘For the first time, I truly do believe it,’ he whispered.
They joined the milling crowds examining the horses. ‘Though the trick is, as you will see if you observe closely, to pretend not to examine the best ones,’ Rafiq explained to Stephanie. ‘This is not an auction, but operates as a private bartering system. If a great deal of fuss is made over a horse then it attracts the attention of other buyers, thus raising the price. So a buyer feigns great interest in the horses he doesn’t want, while offering a lower price for the ones he does, hoping that by ignoring them, no one else will compete with him. Do you follow?’
‘No,’ Stephanie replied. He could tell she was smiling. ‘It is a preposterous system, since everyone knows the game and plays along accordingly. And, since almost every man and women here is an expert assessor of horseflesh, it must be obvious which are the best horses.’
‘Yes, the ones standing neglected,’ Rafiq answered, laughing. ‘It is the custom never to discuss the price paid, and one can never be sure if the seller is bluffing when he tells you that he has been offered a higher price so bargains are difficult to find. The horses I have purchased at these fairs have all been outrageously expensive, though admittedly of excellent quality.’
‘So you bought the stallions which formed your new stables at a horse fair?’ Stephanie asked. ‘I remember when you told me the story of the Sabr, you said that the stallions had cost you more than I could possibly imagine. At the time, I must say, I didn’t think you meant gold, but it seems you did.’
She could have no idea, Rafiq thought. He felt a momentary urge to confide in her before ruthlessly quelling it. Was this what Stephanie meant when she accused him of hiding behind an impenetrable cloak? After the hamam, he recalled now, she had suggested he be more candid about his past, less guarded. They had been talking of Elmira. She could have no notion that they were talking of Elmira again. He didn’t like this habit Stephanie was developing, of reminding him of his dead wife, no matter how unwittingly. Finding her gaze still fixed on him, Rafiq wished that he had kept his face covered too. He shrugged, turning away. ‘I obtained the Bharym stallions from another source.’
An answer that was not an answer, they both knew full well, but Stephanie had obviously decided not to spoil their unspoken truce, and merely nodded. He should have been relieved. Instead, he felt guilty. He watched her playing the game with the horse traders, amused to see that she was, typically, challenging the system by making a fuss over the finest of the horses, to the glee of their owners, and undoubtedly incurring the ire of potential purchasers, though naturally none betrayed themselves.
Despite her veil, despite her perfect command of the language, she had been spotted as a foreigner, but she did
not seem to be at all unnerved by the attention. He stood on the fringes watching her, ready to intervene if required, but could detect no sign of disrespect. It had been the same in the city, he recalled now. Her natural curiosity overcame any shyness, her modesty, her complete unawareness of her appeal, meant men, women and children alike were drawn to her.
Stephanie wanted children. Lots of them, she had said. Stephanie’s independence was coming at an enormous cost. The unfairness of it struck him afresh. Why should she be punished so harshly! As a prince, he must marry a virgin, but Stephanie didn’t have any title at all. Was purity really so much more important than all her other qualities? She did not have to declare her loss of innocence to the world.
His thoughts were making him very uncomfortable. Stephanie would be horrified if she were privy to them. She prized her precious independence beyond anything. She certainly had no intentions of getting married. Once bitten, twice shy, wasn’t that the English phrase? Hypocrite that he was, he was glad. He didn’t want to contemplate Stephanie with another man. He didn’t have any right to feel proprietorial about her, and she would be outraged if she knew, but that didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t bear the thought of it. Which would only be an issue when she left Arabia and returned to England. And then it would be absolutely none of his business what Stephanie did, so he needn’t concern himself with it at all.
The tall man talking to her distracted Rafiq from this moral maze. Though his dress was not distinguished, consisting of practical desert clothes bearing the hallmarks of a long journey across the sands, the man himself had an unmistakable air of authority about him. And an edge of danger. The scimitar which hung from his belt looked well used. The man himself had the perfect build to wield it.
Rafiq strode across the arena, pushing his way through the crowds. ‘May I be of service?’ he demanded.
The Harlot and the Sheikh Page 15