Claiming His Desert Princess

by Marguerite Kaye

  Despite the fact that his dress was unremarkable, this camel a workaday beast, the miners stopped to stare. Was it his lethal scimitar which caught their attention? Whatever it was that made him stand out, Christopher cursed it, turned his head away, and continued on. Tonight, they would have no choice but to close up the tomb. The last grain of sand had just dropped through the hourglass.

  Chapter Nine

  The euphoria of unlocking the secrets of the tomb had given way to harsh reality by the time Tahira returned to the palace. She had rid herself of the worst of the sandy dust which clung to her by washing in the trough where Farah’s camel was stabled—or she thought she had. One brief glance in her own mirror told her otherwise, forcing her to make a more thorough toilette when what she really wanted to do was collapse, exhausted, on to her divan. Naturally, as soon as she did so, she was once again wide awake, her mind churning.

  It was over, was her primary, most melancholy thought. Christopher had solved the mystery of his amulet’s origins. As Sayeed curled up on the divan beside her, she was reminded of the jewelled sand cat depicted in the centre of the amulet, and of the princess who had worn it. Who was she and what had happened to make an outcast of her? An outcast is what Tahira had told Christopher would be her fate, if she stubbornly refused to marry, but she had envisioned a solitary life, not a lonely death. She shivered again, recalling the strength of the pull she had felt when she touched the sarcophagus. It had been the same when she had first held the amulet. The connection couldn’t be denied.

  If the amulet belonged to a princess, then Christopher would be desperate to restore it to the princess’s descendants. In a panic, Tahira sat up so suddenly that Sayeed swiped at her with his claws in protest. Christopher was a man who acted on impulse. As early as tomorrow—which was already today—he could turn up at the royal palace to hand back the amulet. Which thought kept Tahira wide awake for the remainder of the night.

  * * *

  At breakfast, having almost persuaded herself that she was completely overreacting, when the almost unheard-of summons came, she thought she might faint for the first time in her life. Standing trance-like as her maid dressed her in the elaborate attire required for a formal interview with the Crown Prince, Tahira felt as if she were watching herself from a distance.

  Too late, too late, too late, echoed around and around in her head as she followed the guard from the harem through the corridor leading to a waiting area designed to intimidate the visitor with its porphyry pillars and elaborate ceiling decorated with green and gold.

  Too late! No matter that the summons made no sense, for even if he had become aware of her true identity, why would Christopher betray her and thus himself? Panic made a mockery of logic. The waiting room opened on to the Tower of Justice, a euphemism for the famed armoury with its formidable display of shields, spears, scimitars and daggers, all purely ceremonial in these more civilised times, but many with a bloody history.

  Arriving at the entrance to the Chamber of the Royal Imperial Council, Tahira could scarcely breathe. As the doors were flung open, her name announced and she stepped forward, at first she thought she had simply overlooked him, but a second, more measured glance around the room revealed no trace of Christopher.

  Only her brother seated in splendid isolation at the far end. Tahira dropped to her knees and prostrated herself before him, for once thankful not to have to stand. Ironically, for once, Ghutrif did not wish her deference to be prolonged.

  ‘Rise, Sister. You may proceed and give thanks.’

  Familiar emotions began to take over as her panic subsided, not least of which was guilt, as she struggled to reconcile her simmering resentment with the knowledge that her marriage would make everyone happy, including her beloved sisters. Everyone but herself, that is.

  The Chamber of the Royal Imperial Council was one of the longest rooms in the palace, and the most sparsely furnished. Save for the rich rugs beneath her feet and the lavish curtains which draped the huge row of stained-glass windows, there was only the throne, gilded and scrolled, on which Ghutrif imperiously sat, observing Tahira from under his hooded lids. As ever, she was struck by the family resemblance. Though his features were undoubtedly masculine, they were also unmistakably brother and sister. If Christopher ever did meet Ghutrif would the similarity strike him too? Perhaps she should confess tonight. But if she did...

  ‘I am waiting, Sister.’

  ‘Your Highness.’ She dropped on to bended knee and took the extended hand, kissing the air a fraction above his skin. ‘I must thank you profusely for arranging this most—most worthy match.’

  ‘Worthy?’

  Worth a great deal to you, I have no doubt, Tahira thought rebelliously. Fixing her smile, she inclined her head. ‘Worthy of our Royal House of Nessarah, I mean.’

  ‘Then it is to be hoped that you make a better fist of representing our Royal House this time around.’

  Tahira bit her lip, determined not to rise to the bait. Silence, she had learnt the hard way, was the best way to neutralise her brother’s barbs.

  Silence stretched. Ghutrif’s fingers drummed on the wide arm of his throne. He crossed his legs. He uncrossed them. Tahira stared down at the rug on which she knelt, counting inside her head. She had once got as far as eighty-five. Today, Ghutrif surrendered at forty-one.

  ‘What have you done to yourself? You have the hands of a miner, not a princess!’

  Curse the skies! ‘Scratches inflicted by my little Sayeed,’ Tahira said, with a silent apology to her cat. ‘I was teasing him, it was my own fault.’

  ‘That animal is vicious and feral. You know you will not be permitted to take him with you?’

  ‘Then I will release him into the wild,’ Tahira said through gritted teeth. At least that way, she thought, to console herself, one of us will retain their freedom.

  ‘The camel race to celebrate your betrothal is arranged for four days hence. The marriage will take place within the month. I am planning a lavish celebration, although naturally both events will pale into insignificance compared to the festivities planned to mark the joyous and long-awaited arrival of my son and heir.’

  Ghutrif was smiling that supercilious smile that made her grit her teeth. He was dangling something between his fingers. ‘Perhaps that is why I am in such a generous mood, Sister. You may have this small token to celebrate this most worthy match I have made for you. Call it a reward for your obedience. I intend to have your wedding jewels crafted from the same material. Not so valuable as diamonds perhaps, but rarer.’

  It was a bracelet, formed of polished gems set in gold. The stones were a vibrant blue, streaked most distinctively with copper. Tahira had seen a similar image on the wall of the tomb last night. She had seen the real things on Christopher’s amulet. ‘Turquoise,’ she said, reaching eagerly for the trinket.

  Ghutrif snatched it away. ‘Crafted from the first samples taken from my new mine.’

  ‘It is very beautiful. Most distinctive.’

  Ghutrif threw the bracelet into the air. Tahira snatched it, fastening it around her wrist with trembling fingers. The gems were a perfect match. ‘There is nothing like it in Arabia, nor even in Egypt, I am most reliably informed,’ her brother told her with another of his infuriating, self-satisfied smiles. ‘The mine will be most profitable.’

  Which meant that the mine would be heavily guarded. ‘When will it become productive?’ Tahira asked, dry-mouthed.

  ‘Such a question from a woman. But I suppose you are concerned that there will be sufficient ore for your wedding jewellery.’

  She cast her eyes down in what she hoped was a coy manner. ‘You know me so well.’

  ‘Full operations commence immediately after the camel race.’

  Which meant they must make haste to close the tomb. Tonight. It could not wait any longer. ‘If you
will excuse me, Brother, I am overwhelmed by your generosity,’ Tahira said. ‘And with only four days to prepare for my betrothal—there is much to do.’

  ‘Your new-found enthusiasm is as surprising as it is pleasing.’ Ghutrif eyed her warily. ‘Go and prepare with my blessing, but this time there must be no last-minute hitches. Have I made myself clear?’

  ‘Completely,’ Tahira said, turning her back disrespectfully on her brother and fleeing the chamber.

  * * *

  Never had a day in the harem passed so excruciatingly slowly, Tahira thought, as she headed across the desert towards the mine. It was a beautiful night, the air salty and damp, the sky shimmering, hazy, the stars appearing as if peeking through a gauze curtain. Would this be her last-ever night with Christopher? The crushing sense of impending doom was making her teary, and she was determined not to spoil it with tears, but if this really was to be goodbye—She blinked furiously.

  She now had the final confirmation of Christopher’s amulet’s origin, in the form of the turquoise bracelet, but she couldn’t possibly show it to him because he’d ask her how on earth she came by such a thing, and she couldn’t possibly tell him the truth since that would mean revealing that she’d been deceiving him all along as to her identity.

  Tahira cursed under her breath. All she had left was tonight. She would be much better served by concentrating her energies on not ruining it.

  * * *

  Christopher was waiting for her at the entrance to the tomb. He immediately enveloped her in a fierce embrace which left her breathless.

  ‘I was worried you might not be able to get away,’ he said, pushing her hair back from her face. ‘You look a little crestfallen, has something happened?’

  A lump rose in her throat. Tears burned her eyes. She longed to tell him, all of it, but what good would the truth do, save to ensure that they parted on bad terms? ‘I’ve missed you, that’s all,’ Tahira said, surprising them both. ‘It has been a very long day.’

  Christopher looked unconvinced. His eyes, those striking eyes, saw far too much. ‘Tahira...’

  She pulled his head towards her and kissed him. It was a kiss meant only to silence him, but as their lips clung it became a desperate kiss. She truly had missed him. She would miss him terribly when he left. And Christopher, his hand stroking her hair, the nape of her neck, her cheek, she had no doubt that he felt the imminence of their impending parting every bit as much as she did. They kissed fiercely, desperately, as if they were trying to meld into one entity. When they finally stopped, breathing ragged, cheeks flushed, eyes dark with a mixture of passion and resignation, there was nothing more to be said.

  ‘We must seal the entrance up tonight,’ Christopher said flatly, freeing her from his embrace. ‘We can’t risk it being discovered.’

  ‘I’ve heard the mine will become fully active imminently,’ Tahira ventured.

  ‘Have you?’ He waited, but she could tell from his tone that he had no expectation of her explaining how she came to know such sensitive information. Her relief was tinged with another heavy dose of guilt. She hated deceiving him, but she had no choice.

  ‘I’ve been making drawings documenting the layout of the tomb. It’s taken me most of the day. It was worth the risk,’ Christopher said with a shrug at her horrified expression. ‘I wanted you to have something to add to your collection.’

  Tears burned her throat again. ‘Thank you.’ Would she be able to take these with her? They belonged in the library with the rest of her modest body of work, but Tahira couldn’t imagine parting with them. ‘Thank you,’ she said again, kissing his cheek.

  He caught her to him once more, resting his chin on her head. He said something she couldn’t understand beneath his breath. Then he let her go. ‘It will take us most of the night to seal the entrance. We must make a start, but before we do, I’ve been mulling something over. It’s my amulet. I’ve always assumed that I’d hand it over to a person, a descendent of whoever owned it, but why do that when the true, original owner is right here?’

  It took Tahira a moment to understand his meaning. When she did, to her shame, what she felt first and foremost was relief. ‘You intend to leave your amulet in the tomb?’

  ‘It is such an obvious solution, don’t you think? I mean, it must have been a personal piece, because if it was part of the crown jewels, it would never have been allowed to be buried with her. It seems to me that this is the perfect place to leave it. Bury the past in the past,’ he concluded with a bitter little smile. ‘I confess I find it a singularly apt solution.’

  Now that she knew he would not be seeking out Ghutrif, Tahira’s relief gave way to concern. ‘Christopher, what if the painful memories you associate with your amulet refuse to be buried with it? Physical objects can be buried, emotions are more difficult to dispose of.’

  ‘Since when did you become an expert on the subject of burying emotions?’

  ‘Since I was informed earlier today that my betrothal is to be formalised in four days’ time.’

  ‘So soon!’ He wrapped her in his arms. She surrendered to the comfort of his embrace, the steady beat of his heart, the familiar scent of him, the heat of him. His hand stroked her back as if she were a child, but his voice, like hers, was not steady. ‘You are determined to go through with it?’

  ‘You know I have no other option. It is what everyone wants. If I refuse, I would not only make my own life miserable, but that of my sisters too. Married, they will believe me happy and make happy marriages of their own in turn. But if I am outcast—no, it does not bear thinking about. I must set a good example.’

  ‘And allow your brother to blackmail you into a marriage you do not want.’

  She took his hand, which was tightly curled into a fist. ‘That is between my brother and his conscience, Christopher, if he has one. I choose to make the best of a bad situation. I also choose to stop talking about an outcome I have always known cannot be avoided on this, our last night together.’

  ‘No,’ he said vehemently. ‘We must close up the tomb tonight, we dare not risk leaving it another day, but let us have one more night to ourselves before you bow to the inevitable.’

  Her mouth trembled. One more night, just one more night. It was her heart’s desire.

  ‘Tahira, is it too much to ask? If you think the risk is too great so close to your betrothal, I would understand. I would not dream of jeopardising...’

  ‘No, it is what I desire more than anything. I assumed that you would want to leave immediately, that is all. I dared not ask you...’

  ‘Tomorrow then?’

  Though it was only one more night, it was one more than she had expected. Tahira nodded mistily. ‘Tomorrow.’

  Christopher kissed her hard, swiftly. ‘Tomorrow. Now let us make haste. We have a great deal to do before dawn.’

  * * *

  The silver pot and the serpent bangle sat on the shelf from which they had been stolen. Christopher carefully laid his amulet on top of the sarcophagus, placing it over the heart of the dead princess’s effigy. Once again, the relief he had anticipated feeling for nine long months still eluded him. He felt oddly bereft and had to force himself to let go of the artefact.

  How odd that they kept it all these years. As always, the memory of that day, that loathsome voice, made him shudder. He released the amulet. Now there was nothing left to remind him, no object left to mock him, no evidence of his shame. Now, he was once again free to be himself. Picking up the lantern, he turned to where Tahira stood watching him from the doorway. She thought he was making a mistake, he could see it in her eyes, though she was biting her lip. She was wrong. He would not regret this. When they sealed up the entrance, that would be it. Then, surely, he would feel an enormous sense of relief.

  He let her lead the way, refusing to look back. Forward, that was the directi
on he was heading from now on. It took them until dangerously close to dawn, but by the time he saw Tahira off on her camel the tomb was resealed. Christopher was done with the past.

  * * *

  Tahira rode directly to Christopher’s temporary abode the next night. After he had tied up her camel, he led her to the fire which he had lit. ‘It’s very nice but it has no magic qualities,’ he said, unrolling a rug with a flourish. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to admit defeat on the whole flying carpet thing.’

  Tahira sank down, running her hand over the tightly woven silk. ‘All the same, I shall imagine you travelling on this, being carried by the winds across Arabia to Egypt. Though there’s not much room for your worldly goods. A camel and a mule would be more practical.’

  ‘This will suit me perfectly.’ Christopher sat down beside her, crossing his legs. ‘I always travel light, and now I don’t even have my amulet.’

  ‘Our princess is keeping it safe for eternity,’ Tahira said. ‘It is such a shame that we’ll never know who she was, what tragedy resulted in her being buried nameless and alone.’

  ‘But we can deduce something of her life from the artefacts buried with her—the silver pot, the serpent bangle, and my amulet. And we also have the drawings from the tomb now, to keep her memory alive.’

  ‘So even though she has no name, she lives on, in a fashion.’ Tahira’s smile was tinged with sadness. ‘Were we wrong to cover her tomb up?’

  ‘No!’ Christopher took her hand, twining his fingers through hers. ‘Definitely not. In Egypt, the tombs which are being uncovered are no longer sacred. They are stripped of all that is of value and then abandoned, or used to house livestock, or more often than not, left open to the elements. Perhaps there will be a time in the future when people value the history of these tombs, but for now—no, I think we did the right thing. In fact, it gave me an idea.’