With difficulty, she reoriented herself. ‘Of course, I have the pins ready. We’ll need to be as silent as possible.’
‘If we make any noise, I’ll make some lover-noises to cover it, and you do that laughing thing you do.’
She felt her cheeks heating, but smiled. ‘I can do that. Now help me pull the curtains down. We’ll just take one down at a time—and while I’m making one toga, check the windows to see how many guards are stationed.’
The curtains proved no hardship in pulling off the rail, except in the slight swish and slide of falling off the rail, once it was loosened. She pulled him to her and deftly wound the doubled fabric over his shoulder and around his waist. ‘What I wouldn’t give to be able to rip the towels into strips,’ she murmured as she had to push the pin-head through the fabric every time. ‘Then we could have a waist-sash.’
He groaned her name softly, and pushed the bed down with his hand. If they got quiet for any length of time, the guards would return. ‘Here, let me.’ He twisted the ends of the pushed-through pin so each end bent back on itself. ‘No chance of its undoing now. Put one at my waist and it should be fine.’
‘Two is better.’ She worked two pins into the waist, at the rib and hip level. ‘Now if one goes the other will hold.’
They both made appropriate noises while he got down another curtain and she made her toga; he helped her twist the pins, and the cheesecloth felt surprisingly strong under his hands. Amber felt breakable in comparison, or maybe it was the fear in her eyes.
They continued making sounds of love as he twisted the remaining curtains and sheets together in sailing knots.
It was time. It was nearly three a.m. and they couldn’t keep up the noises much longer, or the guards would become suspicious. Seeing the fear growing in her eyes, he held her hands, smiled and whispered, ‘You know what to do. I’ll pull the rope three times when I reach the bottom. Be strong, my Kahlidah, my Agrippina.’
She gulped at the reference to her great-grandmother. ‘I’m trying, but right now I don’t think I take after her.’
She was falling apart at the worst possible time, and he had only seconds to pull her back together. ‘I’m relying on you, mee numara, my courageous tigress. This is your plan. You can fulfil it. You will do this.’ And he kissed her, quick and fierce.
‘I think I’ll leave any roaring until later,’ she whispered with a wavering smile.
Harun winked at her. ‘I’ll be waiting for you.’
With one swift, serious look he kissed her a final time; with a little frown and eyes enormous with fear and strangely uncertain determination, she waved
him off.
He crept to the window, and checked as best he could. If guards were posted around he couldn’t see them—but then, he thought the numbers of guards had thinned out in the past day. They’d achieved their first objective, he supposed, and would let them enjoy their faux honeymoon.
At first, he had thought that with every piece of furniture but the chairs being nailed to the floor, he could use a bigger piece as a ballast. The closest to a window least likely to attract attention was the dining table—but now it looked too old, fragile; it might break under his weight. After scanning the room again, he saw the only real choice was the bed, since the wardrobe was too wide, taking rope length they couldn’t afford.
The bed was the furthest from any window. This was going to be tight.
He looked at her again, and pulled at each corner of the bed, testing its strength, while Amber covered the noises as best she could with cries of passion, but her eyes were wide and caught between taut fear and held-in laughter.
The sturdiest part of the bed was the corner furthest from the window, but he estimated that would leave their rope at least eight feet short. Having jumped from walls in his army training, he knew they couldn’t afford the noise he’d make in landing, or in catching her. If she’d come that far, seeing the gap.
This was Hobson’s choice. A swift prayer thrown to heaven, and he made his decision, tying the rope with a triple winding around the nearest bed leg and through the corner where the mattress rested.
Then, slowly and with the utmost care, he let the makeshift rope out of the window closest to the bed, and in the middle of the room, an inch at a time. It was frustrating, wasting time they didn’t have, but throwing the rope could lead to its hitting something and causing attention.
At last the rope could go no further. He leaned out, and saw the rope was only short by about three feet, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief, giving Amber a thumbs-up.
Her smile in the moonlight was radiant with the same relief he felt. With a short, jaunty wave and another wink he hoped she could see, he climbed over the sill, gripped the cheesecloth in both hands and began the drop.
The hardest part was not being able to bounce off the building, but just use his hands to slide down. By the time he’d reached the smoother sheet part of the rope, his hands were raw and starting to bleed. He and Amber had discussed this even as they’d loved each other the final time; she knew what to expect.
He only hoped her courage saw her through. But she was only twenty-two—what had he done with life by then? Yes, he’d passed all his training exercises with the armed forces, but that was at the insistence first of his parents and then Fadi. He’d replaced Alim and Fadi at necessary functions, but again, he’d been trained for it all his life. He’d told Amber how to rappel down the rope, but if she panicked—
In his worry over her, he’d rappelled automatically down the final fifty feet. His toga was askew, but his pins held. Running even by night in their bare feet would be hard, harder on Amber; would they make it?
Stop thinking. He looked around and again saw no guards. Vaguely uneasy, he checked out their surroundings, and tugged on the rope slowly three times. Within moments he saw her looking out of the window. Beckoning to her lest she back out, he hoped he’d done enough.
It was long moments before she moved—time they didn’t have; the eastern sky was beginning to lighten. Then she slipped over the edge and, using only her hands, began dropping towards him. His heart torn between melting at her bravery and pounding with fear that she’d fall, he braced himself to catch her.
She stopped at the point where the sheets took over from the curtains, and he almost felt the raw pain her hands were in. He did feel it; his hands took fire again, as if in sympathy.
Come on, Amber. I’m waiting for you…
A few moments later, she began sliding down—literally sliding—and his heart jack-knifed straight into his mouth.
Allah help me!
A slight thump, and a madly grinning Amber was beside him, looking intensely proud of herself. ‘You thought I was falling, didn’t you?’
He wanted to growl so badly the need clawed around his belly, but instead he found himself kissing her, ferocious and in terrified relief. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Which way?’
He pointed. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t recognise where we were before, but from above the perspective changes, I suppose. This was one of the first battle areas during the el-Shabbat war. We’re only about fourteen miles from Sar Abbas.’
Her face changed, losing some confidence. ‘Fourteen miles. I can do that,’ she whispered, frowning like a child facing a wall. ‘Let’s run.’
His uneasiness growing—why wasn’t anyone trying to stop them?—he took her hand and ran southwest. Towards the dimly lit road only a mile away where he hadn’t been able to see it before, behind the part of the building without windows. The brighter lights of Sar Abbas glinted in the distance like a welcoming beacon.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Sheikh’s Palace, Sar Abbas, a few hours later
IN THE opulent office that had been Harun’s but was now his, Alim stared at Harun when he walked in the door unannounced, and then ran headlong for him. ‘Praise Allah, you’re back, you’re alive! Akh, mee habib akh!’
Brother, my beloved brother. Harun
had the strangest sense of déjà vu with Alim’s outburst, the echo of words he himself had spoken only a few weeks ago in Africa. But Alim sounded so overwhelmingly relieved, and Alim’s arms were gripping his shoulders hard enough to hurt. He didn’t know what to make of it. ‘So you were given demands?’
‘No.’ His brother’s face was dark with stress and exhaustion as they all sat down on respective chairs around his—Alim’s desk. ‘This never went public, but two guards were found drugged in the palace the night you disappeared, and another almost died saving me from an abduction attempt. I came to check on you and you were gone—and Amber too. We sent all our usual guards away, and filled the palace with elite marine guards. Under the guise of army exercises I’ve had the best in the country looking for you, and hunting down your abductors. How did you get away? What happened?’
‘I wish I knew.’ Harun frowned. ‘It was like they wanted us to get away. The guards disappeared, and we rappelled down a rope of sheets and curtains. We ran to the highway into the city and I called in a favour from an army captain who drove us the rest of the way.’ He grinned. ‘We only stopped to change, since our attire wasn’t quite up to palace standards.’ He flicked the grin over to Amber, who was watching him with a look of mingled pride and exasperation—at his cut-down version of events, he supposed.
‘Maybe their plan was contingent on us all being taken,’ Alim said quietly. ‘Any thoughts on that, akh? You’re the tactician in the family.’
‘He’s more than that,’ Amber interjected sharply, the first words she’d spoken.
‘Alim didn’t mean anything by it, Amber.’ He reached over, touched her hand to quiet the protest he felt wasn’t yet done.
‘I meant it as a compliment, actually, Amber.’ Alim was frowning. ‘Harun’s the one that saved the country while I was lying in a bed in Switzerland, and he ran the country while I drove a truck.’ He met Harun’s eyes with an odd mix of admiration and resentment. ‘I’ve only been here a few days and I’ve got no idea how you did it all so well.’
Harun felt Amber gearing up for another comment born of exhaustion and—it made him want to smile—the urge to protect him, and he pressed her hand this time. ‘We think it might have been some el-Kanar supporters who wanted an heir.’
‘You mean they wanted an heir from you and Amber?’ At his nod, he earned a sharp look from Alim. ‘And who don’t support my, shall we say, less than traditional ways, and my choice of bride.’ When Harun didn’t answer, he was forced to go on. ‘Then I can assume the rumours about the state of your marriage were correct?’
Neither moved nor spoke in answer.
After a flicked glance at them both, Alim avoided the obvious question. Amber’s face was rosy, her eyes downcast. It was obvious she was no longer the ice maiden she’d seemed to be the week before…and Harun could almost swear Alim’s left eye drooped in a wink. He certainly seemed a little brighter than before.
‘So I’d guess you think the plan was to kill me and install you as permanent ruler.’
It wasn’t a question, but still Harun nodded and shrugged. ‘That’s what they planned, but they left one thing out of the equation.’ He met his brother’s enquiring look with a hard expression. ‘I never wanted the position in the first place. I still don’t want it. Stepping into Fadi’s dead shoes was the last thing I wanted three years ago. Less still do I want to be in your shoes now.’
Alim stilled, staring at him. ‘You don’t want to be here at all, do you.’
Again, it was a statement of fact.
‘He never did.’ Amber spoke with the quiet venom of stored anger. ‘Tell him, Harun. Tell him the truth about what you’ve sacrificed the last thirteen years so he could do whatever he wanted.’
Alim only said, almost pleading, ‘Akh?’
‘Amber, please,’ Harun said quietly, turning only his head. ‘I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but this is not the time.’
‘If not now, when…?’ Then Amber’s eyes swivelled to meet his, and she paled beyond her state of exhaustion. ‘You’re going to sacrifice yourself again—you’ll sacrifice us, even—to fulfil your sacred duty. And for him.’ She jerked her head in Alim’s direction. ‘Is he still all you’ve got?’
‘Harun?’ Alim’s voice sounded uncertain.
Harun couldn’t answer either of them. He was lost in the humbling knowledge that she could read him so easily now—that he had no time to formulate an explanation; she knew it all. And she wasn’t going to support him.
When he didn’t speak Amber made a choking sound, and turned on Alim. There was no trace of her old crush as she snarled at his brother, ‘You’ll let him do it for you again, won’t you? Just as you let him do everything you were supposed to do, all these years. He gave up everything for you, while you were off playing the superstar, or feeling sorry for yourself in Africa, playing the hero again. Did you ever care about what he wanted? Did you think to ask him, even once?’
In the aftermath of Amber’s outburst, all that was audible in this soundproof room was her harsh breathing. She stared at Alim in cold accusation; Alim’s gaze was on Harun, tortured by guilt. Then Amber turned to him, her eyes challenging. She wasn’t backing down, wasn’t going to let him smooth this over with pretty half-truths.
The trouble was, his mind had gone totally blank. It had been so long since anyone asked him for unvarnished truth or stripped his feelings bare as she’d just done, she’d left him with nothing to say.
At length she turned back on Alim. ‘Harun never told me any of it, just so you know. Fadi did. I hope you’ve appreciated your life, because Harun gave it to you! And he’s going to do it again. For once, Alim, be a real man instead of a shiny image!’
Then, pulling her hand from Harun’s, she turned and ran from the room.
Harun watched her go, completely beyond words. Devastated and betrayed, she was still loyal to him to the end. Why was it only now that he realised how loyal she’d always been to him?
Loyalty, courage and duty…Amber epitomised all of them, and he’d never deserved it.
‘Have you hated me all these years?’ asked Alim.
The low question made him turn back. Alim’s eyes were black, tortured with guilt. ‘Don’t,’ he said wearily when Harun was about to deny it. ‘Don’t be polite, don’t be the perfect sheikh or the perfect brother, just this once. Answer me honestly. Have you hated me for having the life I wanted at your expense?’
For years he’d waited for Alim to see what he’d done, to ask. For years he’d borne the chains that should have been his brother’s—and yet, now the question was finally asked, he couldn’t feel the weight any more. ‘I hated that you never asked me what I wanted.’ Then he frowned. ‘What do you mean, the perfect brother?’
Alim pulled a face of obvious pain, and rubbed at the scars on his neck and cheek. ‘I need some of Hana’s balsam,’ he muttered. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean. It was always you with Fadi—Harun this and that, you did such a wonderful job of something I should have done or been there to do. Even if I’d come home, I’d have done a second-rate job. I was always well aware you were the one Fadi wanted, and I was second-best.’
It was funny how the old adage about walking in another’s shoes always seemed so fresh and new when you were the ones in the shoes. ‘I never knew he did that.’
Alim shrugged, retreating into silence, and it looked like a mirror of his own actions. So it meant that much to Alim. It had hurt him that much.
He’d just never realised they were so alike.
‘It must have hurt,’ he said eventually, when it was obvious Alim wasn’t going to speak. This was new to him, being forced to reach out.
Another shrug as his brother’s face hardened and he rubbed at the scarring. Though it wasn’t quite the same, it was a defence mechanism he recognised. He thought Amber would, too…and she’d have tried again from a different position. Poking and prodding at the wound until he was forced to lance it.
That the word even came to him with such clarity shocked him. What did it mean?
‘Do you know what it’s like to be inadequate beside your little brother at your mother’s funeral?’ Alim suddenly burst out. ‘Fadi never let me forget it. No matter what I achieved or did, I never measured up to you.’
Harun stared at him. ‘Fadi said that?’
‘All the time,’ Alim snarled.
It was hard to get his head around it: the brother he’d always adored and looked up to had played favourites, just as their mother and father had. The insight turned all his lifelong beliefs on their heads—and the indestructible Racing Sheikh became a man like any other, his big brother who was lost and hurting.
The trouble was he didn’t have a clue what to do with the knowledge that the brother he’d resented so long was the only one who could understand how it felt to be him. ‘Did you hate me for that?’ he faltered. A weary half-shake, half-nod was his only answer, yet he understood. ‘I’m sorry, Alim,’ he said awkwardly in the end, but he wasn’t sure what he was apologising for.
Alim gave another careless shrug, but he saw straight through it. Some scars bled only when pulled open. Others just kept bleeding.
‘So, what did you want to do with your life that you didn’t get to do, while I was off being rich and famous?’ Alim tried to snap, but it came out with a humorous bent somehow.
Willing them both to get past what had only hurt them all these years, Harun grinned. ‘Come on, akh. I don’t change. Think. Remember.’
Alim frowned, looking at him with quizzical eyes…and slowly they lit. ‘The books, the history you always had your nose stuck in as a kid? Do you want to be a professor?’
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