The Harlot and the Sheikh

by Marguerite Kaye

  She loved him so much, and it was so very different from the last time as to be futile to attempt a comparison. It was Rafiq’s absurdly handsome face that had attracted her, but it was the man she had fallen in love with. She loved him because he respected her, and because despite the fact that he was a prince, he tried to treat her as an equal. He did not shy away from pointing out her faults, but he never failed to recognise her achievements. She loved him because he listened to her, and because he understood what she meant, even when it wasn’t what she actually said. She loved him because he wasn’t just playing the Prince, but because he was a prince in the true sense of the word, an honourable man who wanted what was best for his people. She loved him because he put those people first, even when his instincts were to act otherwise. And she loved him for the way he agonised over that fateful choice, even though his agonising pained her.

  This morning had been magical. It had been magical, because she was in love. The fierce attraction which had drawn them together from the moment they met might be nothing more than that for Rafiq, but for Stephanie—oh, what a fool she was not to have noticed the way it had subtly changed, from physical experimentation, to powerful mutual pleasure, to a communion of their bodies, to an expression of her love. Because that’s what it had been this morning.

  Thank goodness Rafiq had not guessed. She would have to make very sure that he continued oblivious, because love didn’t change a single thing between them. She wasn’t that much of an idiot. Pushing herself upright, she shook her feet dry. She was a silly fool, but no one need ever know. In a few months’ time she would return to England and get on with her new life.

  Beneath her bandage, the insect bite itched. Stephanie stopped short in the act of scratching it. She had found the cause of the sickness. The terms of her appointment were for six months, but she had found a cure. The cure was prevention. Her work here was, in theory, over.

  Her stomach lurched. It was too soon. Far too soon. She was not ready to return to England yet. Besides, there was still work to do. Until it was done, she refused to think about it.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘What happened?’

  Stephanie quickly scrubbed at her eyes with her sleeve. ‘Rafiq. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Sherifa.’

  He stood transfixed. The mare was still on her feet, but only just. Her beautiful glossy grey coat was matted with sweat. Her flanks were quivering, her nose was streaming, and her cough had that unmistakable harsh, hacking sound. ‘It started about four hours ago,’ Stephanie said. ‘I’ve been with her ever since. I sent for you immediately, but...’

  ‘I was otherwise engaged. How bad is it?’

  ‘Bad,’ Stephanie said, unable to prevent her voice from wobbling. ‘We have to keep her standing. I have been trying to keep her cool, keep her nose clear, but her heart is racing, and she is struggling to breathe. It is—it is bad, Rafiq. I am so sorry.’

  ‘It’s not your fault. Your theory—It was always—Well, now we have the proof, unfortunately, that you must have been wrong.’

  ‘No.’ She mustn’t cry. She mustn’t wallow in self-pity. ‘I’m afraid that Sherifa is proof that my theory was sound. You see, I—When I went out to the stallions’ oasis, I...’ She caught herself on a sob. ‘I took Sherifa, Rafiq. I rode Sherifa out to the oasis. I didn’t take her into the paddock, I left her tethered outside, but she was there. And those biting flies—when I was collecting samples, it is mostly likely that one of them landed on me, then transferred to Sherifa and—and you see there is no other explanation. It was six days ago, well within the boundaries of the usual incubation period. Sherifa is my proof, and if she dies, I will never, ever forgive myself. I am so very sorry.’

  Her tears had begun again in earnest, but she ignored them. ‘We have to keep her on her feet Rafiq, and though Fadil is desperate to help, he has not your skills. Do you think...?’

  ‘Anything. Just tell me what to do. Anything.’

  He went to the mare’s head and began to murmur to her. The slow, hypnotic tone calmed her, allowing Stephanie to cool the sick beast, but she was under no illusions. The sickness was affecting Sherifa to a far greater degree than it had Batal.

  Through her tears she worked tirelessly, cooling, checking, decongesting the mare in a strict, endless sequence. She had seen Rafiq in passing over the last few days, but they had been like ships in the night. His training was relentless, her work at the stables exhausting. That the first time they were together since she admitted to herself that she loved him should be under such tragic circumstances was too awful to contemplate. Yet here they were together, with his dead wife’s precious mare fighting for survival, and if she died it was Stephanie’s fault.

  She picked up the empty wooden bucket to fetch more cold water, but Rafiq took it from her. ‘I will do it. Sherifa is calm for the moment. You need to calm yourself, Stephanie, or you will be of no use to either of us.’

  ‘It’s my fault. If I had thought for a moment...’

  ‘You have proved beyond doubt the source of the disease. Even if we lose Sherifa, it means we won’t lose any others.’

  ‘But we can’t lose Sherifa. I know how much she means to you.’

  He did not deny it. Stephanie wanted to throw herself at his feet and beg forgiveness, but that was hardly constructive. By the time Rafiq returned with fresh water, she had herself under control. ‘Thank you. If you can persuade her to drink a little, that would be very helpful, but the main thing is to...’

  ‘...keep her on her feet.’ Rafiq’s smile was ghostly.

  ‘Exactly. And tell her that she’s going to make it,’ Stephanie said firmly, ‘because I’m determined not to lose her.’

  * * *

  Stephanie worked with a grim resolve which seemed to increase the more the mare visibly weakened and Rafiq’s confidence fell. Though he kept up his murmuring, he was losing faith fast, and in the early hours of dawn, when Sherifa fell to her knees, despair set in. ‘We are losing her.’

  ‘No.’ They got her back up, thanks mostly to Stephanie’s sheer effort of will. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered to the mare, ‘but it’s not time for you to join your mistress just yet.’

  He tried to block them out, but the memories took hold as he and Stephanie fought what seemed to be a losing battle to keep Sherifa alive.

  Elmira putting Sherifa through her repertoire of tricks the night of the feast to celebrate the signing of the marriage contract.

  Elmira riding Sherifa through the gates of the palace ahead of the train of stallions on their wedding day.

  Elmira’s tears of joy when Sherifa gave birth to her first foal.

  Elmira’s tears of sadness when Jasim took the foal away. Far too early, Elmira claimed. It had been early, but Rafiq had been reluctant to intercede on her behalf. The foal was a fine stallion now, one of their Sabr racing string, in fact.

  Sherifa’s knees buckled again, and once again Stephanie refused to allow her to fall. ‘Shouldn’t we—isn’t it cruel to prolong her suffering?’ Rafiq asked, his voice cracked.

  ‘I am prolonging her life. Don’t give up on her, Rafiq. Please don’t give up.’

  He had given up on Elmira. He wouldn’t give up on her mare. ‘Come on, Sherifa,’ Rafiq muttered, in the language he had learnt as a child, in the language that Elmira had always spoken to her beloved mare. ‘Your mistress would want you to show your true Arabian spirit.’

  The hours passed in a daze. At times he could sense Elmira’s ghost watching him, alternatively accusing him and pleading with him. If Sherifa died, it would be a damning judgement on him. He wasn’t sure he could endure it. Would he still have the heart to enter the Sabr, far less win it?

  * * *

  ‘Rafiq.’ A gentle hand on his shoulder roused him. Daylight streamed through the high window. He blinked. Silen
ce. No wheezing. ‘Is she...?’

  ‘See for yourself.’ Stephanie’s smile was strained. ‘A miracle,’ she said.

  Rafiq rubbed his eyes. Not a miracle, but an exhausted horse with a soaking wet coat and a streaming nose settling down for a long-overdue sleep. ‘Sherifa.’ Rafiq scrabbled to his feet. The mare tossed her head and attempted a wheezy whinny.

  ‘She’s made it. I’m not sure if she’ll ever be fit for breeding again, but...’

  ‘She’s alive.’ Rafiq ran his fingers along the horse’s back. ‘You saved her.’

  ‘We saved her,’ Stephanie said.

  He caught her to him, hugging her tightly, burying his head in her hair. ‘Thank you. You can have no idea how much this means.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’ He staggered. The stable floor began to tip and tilt. ‘I killed her, Stephanie.’ His legs wouldn’t hold him any longer. He slid down on to the floor, dropping his head on to his hands. ‘I killed Elmira.’

  ‘Rafiq!’ Stephanie wrapped her arms around him. ‘Rafiq, you are overwrought. You don’t know what you are saying. Elmira died in her sleep. Aida told me.’

  He was so tempted to agree. He was so tired. But it was said now, there was no taking it back. He lifted his head. ‘Aida told you what everyone believes. Only I know the truth.’

  He felt light-headed and heavy-witted at the same time. Elmira, Sherifa and Stephanie had become confused in his fevered dreams, he remembered that. Looking at Stephanie now, dark shadows under her eyes, her hair lank, her skin sallow, her tunic stained, he felt something inside him stir. An odd feeling. He didn’t know what it was. He was too exhausted to work out what it was.

  ‘I thought she was here,’ he said. ‘Elmira. She was a permanent presence here, in the stables, in the early days of our marriage. Haunted them,’ he added with a dry laugh. ‘That’s what Jasim said. She certainly does now.’

  ‘You didn’t kill her. You’re not capable of killing her. I know you, Rafiq.’

  ‘You didn’t know me then, Stephanie. I was obsessed.’

  ‘You told me that. And I told you...’

  ‘...that my marriage made perfect royal sense. I remember. It’s no excuse. Though Elmira was happy at first, would have remained happy if I had been the husband I should have been. But even on our marriage day, I was more interested in the bloodstock that was her dowry, than my wife. I put her in the harem, I ensured she had all the clothes and jewels she desired, and I—I left her there. I visited, because it was my duty to visit for the sake of an heir, but I didn’t visit often, and I made no effort to get to know her. Elmira was my wife, but she was a stranger to me, Stephanie.’

  He slid a glance at her. She didn’t like what she was hearing. Not surprising. She was trying to disguise it, but subterfuge was one of the few things at which Stephanie did not succeed. ‘Her only pleasure was the stables, the horses, Sherifa. But not only Sherifa. She had a way with horses. She could charm them, much better than I could. She didn’t like Jasim. She thought his methods harsh. She said he didn’t love them. You and Elmira—you would have agreed on that. You would have probably—you’d probably have liked each other. If I had taken the time, I’d have liked her. But I didn’t take the time.’

  His head ached. His vision was slightly blurred. He narrowed his eyes. ‘Stephanie?’

  She touched his hand. Only fleetingly, but he knew it was her. ‘Did you take a fall yesterday during training?’ she asked.

  ‘Never a day goes by without me taking a fall.’

  ‘I think you are mildly concussed. Look into my eyes.’

  ‘You won’t like what you see.’

  ‘Rafiq, I think...’

  ‘She tried to talk to me, you know. She tried to tell me that she was lonely, but I didn’t listen. Perhaps she wasn’t persistent enough or vehement enough. No, that’s no excuse. I didn’t listen to Elmira, but I did listen to Jasim. He told me she was interfering with the running of the stables. I asked her not to. He told me she was still interfering. She wanted to help with the training, she said. Impossible. Jasim would never permit it. I told her that she had to keep out of his way. She said she would, but she didn’t. I thought it was because—Bedouins, horses, I thought it was that. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it was all Jasim’s lies. Look what he did to you. I should have recognised it as a pattern, but I didn’t.’

  ‘You did, Rafiq. This time, you did. And you acted.’

  ‘Too late for Elmira.’ He closed his eyes. Darkness hovered. The floor beneath him shifted, like the deck of a ship at sea. He opened his eyes. ‘I took his side. He told you that. He didn’t tell you what he told me though, that Elmira had betrayed me with her groom. I didn’t believe it, not at first. I confronted her and she didn’t deny that she enjoyed his company, the attention. She said it was my fault for neglecting her. She said that she was lonely. She said that she only ever felt alive when she went out riding. And I told her she was forbidden to go out ever again.’

  ‘What about the man?’

  ‘Jasim sent him packing immediately. I didn’t question that. It was the right thing to do. I could hardly have questioned the man myself, for if he confirmed it, I would have been forced to divorce Elmira.’

  Rafiq grabbed Stephanie’s wrist. ‘Ever since I told you half the story, in the tent, it’s been worse, not better. She’s taken up residence here,’ he said, touching his forehead. ‘So now I have to tell you all of it, do you understand?’

  She shook her head. ‘I think you need to rest, Rafiq.’

  ‘Soon. When I am done unburdening myself. I told myself I was protecting her honour by confining her to the harem, but I see now, I was actually protecting my own interests. I didn’t want to send her back to her family. I needed her dowry, Stephanie.’

  ‘She was unfaithful to you.’

  ‘Was she? Her flirtation may have been quite innocent. It doesn’t matter whether she was unfaithful or indiscreet or both. She was truly miserable, and it was my fault. My fault that she took solace in another man’s company—whatever form that took. My fault that she withered away in the harem quite alone, a nomad confined within four walls, unable to protest because I didn’t visit her, and because I didn’t visit her, I didn’t notice. I didn’t see her interest in life itself ebb away, and I didn’t notice when she eventually decided it was not worth living.’

  Stephanie paled. Her hands fluttered to her breast. ‘She took her own life?’

  He was feeling nauseous. ‘Poison. A powerful sleeping draught of some sort. I found her lying here with Sherifa, who was expecting a foal.’

  ‘But Aida said that she died in her sleep.’

  ‘She did. I tried, for what seemed like hours to rouse her, but to no avail, and so I took her body back to the harem.’

  ‘Does Aida know what happened?’

  ‘No, Elmira must have drugged Aida and the guard. The other maidservants slept apart. Aida discovered Elmira dead in her bed when she went to summon her for breakfast. The guard—well, it wasn’t in the interests of a guard to admit to being asleep on duty.’

  ‘You protected her honour, even in death.’

  ‘I did little else for her in life. Elmira lost her life in the pursuit of the Sabr. I have to win it back for her. It’s the only way.’

  ‘Atonement,’ Stephanie said.

  ‘If I don’t, she will always be here, haunting my every step.’ His voice cracked. His chest heaved. A sob racked his body. He tried to struggle to his feet, ashamed, appalled, desperate to get away before his emotions overwhelmed him completely but Stephanie wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight, refusing to let him go.

  * * *

  She held him until he stopped struggling. Then she held him as he surrendered to the racking dry sobs that were the result of two years of pent-up emotion. Then
she held him as he slept where he lay, utterly exhausted, stroking his hair from his brow, listening to his breathing become even, deep, as he settled his head on her lap. She held him for hours, easing herself gently away only to check on the sleeping mare, and then returning to Rafiq, holding him, stroking him, her heart aching with love for him.

  Stephanie did not sleep. She replayed his tortured words over and over in her head. She couldn’t reconcile the picture he painted of himself with the man she knew. He had not loved Elmira, but to hear him describe, from his own lips, his callous disregard for her, was shocking. Yet her own love for him was undaunted, undented.

  She so desperately wanted to help him. Her sordid little story could not compare to his tragedy, but she had learned a great deal here in Arabia about leaving the shadows of the past behind. If there was any way she could use that newfound knowledge to help Rafiq then she would. Nothing could change what had happened, but there had to be a way to make him see that his past had shaped him into the man of honour he was today.

  * * *

  Rafiq slept deeply. He awoke slowly. His eyelids flickered, then opened. He gave a dazed smile when he saw Stephanie, then a tiny shake of his head, and then a firming of his mouth, and he jerked himself upright as he remembered.

  ‘How long have I been asleep?’

  ‘A few hours.’

  ‘Sherifa?’

  ‘She’s fine, she’s been sleeping too.’

  His throat was working. He was horribly embarrassed, struggling to look at her in the dim light of the stall, shaded from the sun by the shutters. ‘You saved her. I am extremely grateful. I fear I was a little—you must excuse my...’

  She caught his hand as he made to get up and leave. ‘Please don’t go.’

  She wanted to tell him that she loved him, but those three little words were guaranteed to send him running as surely as her assuring him even princes were allowed to cry. ‘I want to talk to you, Rafiq,’ Stephanie said, striving for calm. ‘I want you to consider what will happen if you don’t win the Sabr.’