Claiming His Desert Princess

by Marguerite Kaye

  I love you.

  Her voice, her words were so clear that Christopher started, looking foolishly over his shoulder.

  I love you.

  A princess of the royal blood would never fall in love with a bastard, he had answered. It was not permitted. Groaning, Christopher clambered back on to his camel. His most insistent view, and Tahira had agreed because he’d given her no choice.

  I love you.

  By the sun and the moon and the stars, she had meant it. She’d told him that she loved him, that most intimate of confessions, that most forbidden of emotions, and he’d forced her to deny it, because...

  Because she wasn’t free to love him.

  Because she was as far beyond his reach as the sun blazing down on his head.

  Because it was hard enough, tearing himself away from her when he loved her too.

  The camel bleated in protest at the sudden yank on his reins, turning his long neck around to blast a snort of rank, hot breath before coming to a halt, but Christopher didn’t notice. He was in love with Tahira. What a bloody idiot he was, for taking so long to see it. He loved her. That was what had made it almost impossible not to make love to her! He wasn’t a seducer, he was a blind fool of a man in love.

  But what the devil was he to do about it? His feelings changed nothing. His birth made him completely unacceptable to her family. Tahira was set upon doing her duty for the sake of her sisters and for herself too. Though she loved him. Dear heavens, what that did to him, thinking of it? His heart seemed to expand in his chest. She loved him. She loved him and he loved her.

  Which brought him full circle. Finally noticing that he was sitting, grinning inanely on a camel standing stock still under the blazing sun of the hottest part of the day, Christopher urged the beast into a walk. He couldn’t let Tahira marry another man. He wasn’t even going to try to reconcile himself to that, no matter what the facts. She wasn’t free, she had no choice but to do as her family bid her, but he was having none of it. She loved him. He loved her. There had to be a way for them to be together. He’d find it. He had three more days to travel to Nessarah to come up with a solution. The final, most important challenge of this Arabian odyssey.

  Already, an audacious plan was beginning to form in his mind. Lord Armstrong would receive his precious dossier and not a scintilla more, but Christopher had other valuable bargaining chips up his sleeve. Extremely valuable. All he had to do was find a way to put them to the best possible use.

  Nessarah—one week later

  When Farah appeared at the window of her divan which led out on to her private courtyard, Tahira, who had been lying sleepless as usual, let out a yelp of horror. ‘What are you doing here?’ she hissed, pulling her friend quickly into the room and checking the lock on the other door.

  ‘You have to come with me.’

  ‘You told me I must never use that tunnel again.’

  ‘You have to come with me, Tahira.’ Farah grabbed a robe from the bottom of the bed and handed it to her. ‘Hurry.’

  ‘Why? What has happened? Has my brother...?’

  ‘No, no, nothing like that. I am perfectly safe.’

  ‘And perfectly—I don’t know what. You are shaking.’

  ‘That tunnel is horrible.’ Farah cast her eyes around the divan. ‘And this place. I had forgotten—I could never live here. I had forgotten. I don’t know how I could have forgotten. Will you hurry up and get dressed?’

  ‘You haven’t told me...’

  ‘Hurry!’ Farah gave her a shake. ‘He found me, Tahira. I don’t know how—I don’t know what you told him about me, but he found me, and he’s waiting for you now.’

  Tahira froze in the act of pulling on a pair of trousers. ‘Who found you?’

  ‘That man. Those eyes.’ Farah smiled wickedly. ‘I knew that there was something—night after night, you risked your neck—I knew it must be for a reason. He is a very persuasive reason.’ Her smile faded. ‘I hope I have not mistaken...’

  ‘Christopher.’ Tahira clutched at her heart, which she was pretty sure was about to leap out of her chest. ‘Christopher is here, in Nessarah? But he left, we said our final farewells.’

  ‘Well, he is back, and he is demanding to see you.’

  ‘What does he want?’

  ‘I have no idea, save that it is a matter of life and death and for your ears only.’

  Tahira’s heart was definitely making a bid for freedom. ‘He knows I’m getting married.’

  ‘All of Nessarah knows that.’

  ‘Farah, you know that I love him?’

  Her friend enveloped her in a hug. ‘I suspected as much. It was why I was so angry with you, because I knew you would end up being hurt. But I know you, Tahira, you will do what you will do, and though I do not know this man, I have seen enough of him to be certain that if I do not bring him to you, he will find another way to reach you himself, which does not bear thinking about. So will you please hurry up before we are discovered.’

  * * *

  Tahira was beyond words when she came face-to-face with Christopher in Farah’s home, but so too was he. For a long moment they simply gazed at each other across the small space of the main living area, and then they fell into each other’s arms, clinging together like the survivors of a shipwreck, staring as if they were afraid they were looking at a mirage. And then they kissed, and for a long moment, there was no need for words, for their mouths, their tongues, their lips said it all. It felt like a homecoming to Tahira, that kiss, it made everything right with the world. She didn’t want it to end, and it seemed nor did he, for when she tried to force herself to break free he pulled her back, almost roughly, and he kissed her again, and again and again, and only when their lungs cried out for air did they finally break apart.

  Tahira stared up at his beloved face in wonder, still quite unable to believe he was real. ‘I thought I would never see you again. What are you doing here?’

  ‘I realised I had left something behind,’ Christopher answered, his smile dazed. ‘Something more precious to me than anything.’

  ‘Your amulet? I knew you shouldn’t have buried it.’

  He laughed. ‘You were right, but that’s not what I meant.’

  Her heart was thrumming in her chest like the wings of a songbird. ‘What then?’

  ‘Not what, but rather who,’ he said, smiling at her in a way that she was sure would melt her bones. ‘You are more precious to me than anything, Tahira. You are the missing piece of me. I love you so much.’

  The words she had longed to hear, had dreamed of hearing, brought tears rushing to her eyes. ‘Oh, Christopher, I love you too, but we can’t—I can’t—you know that it’s impossible.’

  ‘I thought it was, but now I believe we can make it possible. Thanks to you, my darling Tahira, you helped me see things clearly for the first time.’ He led her over to a stack of inviting cushions, holding her hand between his, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘We were meant to be together, and we will be. No force on this earth is going to prevent it.’

  His words, so heartfelt, tugged her own heartstrings. ‘You have no idea how much I wish that were true, but it cannot be,’ Tahira said wretchedly. ‘I can’t run away with you, Christopher. Ghutrif would not tolerate such humiliation. He would take it as an insult to his authority, and I know him, he is not only vengeful but his influence is immense. He would track us down wherever we fled to, and I can’t bear to think what he would do to you. And not only you, my love, my dearest one. He would not believe me capable of acting alone, or of keeping my actions to myself. He would accuse my sisters of collusion. And then there is Farah.’ She shuddered. ‘It breaks my heart to say it, but I cannot put my happiness over their well-being. Please don’t ask it of me.’

  ‘My darling, I know you too well to ever ask such a thing of
you.’ Christopher’s fingers tightened around hers. ‘Do you think I don’t know what it means to you, to do your duty by your family? Do you think I don’t understand that, after all you’ve told me?’

  ‘Then you understand why it cannot be. I must get married.’

  ‘You must, but it must be to the man you love. With your brother’s blessing of course. I will ensure that everything is above board, and no suspicion attached to your sisters or to Farah. But we must be together, Tahira. We deserve no less.’

  He spoke with such certainty that she was almost convinced. ‘If only...’

  ‘You told me once that you thought the fates had brought us together. You were right, but they didn’t bring us together just to solve the mystery of this thing.’

  He reached into his pocket and produced the amulet, dropping it into her hands. ‘Christopher!’ Tahira stared at the beautiful artefact, quite dumbfounded. ‘Where did you get this?’

  He laughed. ‘For such a clever woman, that’s a very silly question.’

  ‘You opened up the tomb! But the mine is in full production...’

  ‘I was very quick. And very desperate.’

  She curled her hands around the relic, feeling the familiar sense of connection. ‘I am so glad. It belongs to you.’

  ‘It doesn’t, it belongs to you. Or rather, it belongs with you, and I hope that one day in the very distant future, you will hand it on to our daughter, and that she will hand it on to hers, and our story, and the story of the first princess who owned this most precious thing, will become a family legend.’

  ‘Please don’t. It is too painful to imagine such a perfect future, Christopher.’

  ‘It can be ours. One of the many things I’ve learned about myself in the last six months is that if I want something badly enough, I’ll find a way to get it. I want you to be my wife, Tahira, and I’ve never wanted anything so much in the world.’ His tender expression became serious. ‘I thought our blood defined us. I thought it made you an Arabian princess and me an illegitimate Englishman, but I was quite wrong. You have never been a princess to me, you have always been yourself, simply Tahira. I don’t care that your blood is blue, and I’m not interested in your pedigree any more than I’m interested in mine. The blood flowing in my veins no more makes me than you. I am not a base-born bastard, I am simply Christopher Fordyce. Do you see?’

  She pressed a fervent kiss on his hand, the salt of her tears mingling with the familiar taste of his skin. ‘I do see, and I am so glad that you do now, but my brother...’

  ‘Is a man driven by greed and ambition, and will care naught for my heritage when he learns what I have to offer him,’ Christopher said grimly. ‘Trust me, I understand men like Prince Ghutrif only too well, having one such, unfortunately, rather too closely related to me.’

  His father, he meant. The man at the Foreign Office. The man with contacts. The man whom Christopher had vowed never to see again. ‘Lord Armstrong,’ Tahira said warily, ‘the man who is expecting your report.’

  ‘He’ll have it, and that will be an end of matters between us for ever. But you may recall, there’s a good deal I won’t be putting in that report which, as you pointed out yourself, could be worth a fortune, if one was inclined to exploit it.’

  ‘You said you were not so inclined,’ Tahira said, frowning in puzzlement.

  ‘I’m not, directly,’ Christopher replied, grinning, ‘but I know a man who may be.’

  Tahira’s eyes widened as understanding dawned. ‘Ghutrif,’ she whispered, awed.

  ‘The very man.’

  ‘What—how...?’

  ‘I have a plan. Do you want to hear it?’

  He was smiling again, the smile that connected with her insides, made her want to melt into his arms, but it was his eyes that convinced her, made goose bumps break out on her arms, the skin on the back of her neck lift. ‘Do you think it will work, truly? You wouldn’t promise something so important if you weren’t certain you can make it happen, would you?’

  ‘Never.’ He kissed her swiftly. ‘Now listen, for we don’t have much time before you must get back to the palace and get yourself ready for the summons.’

  ‘Summons?’

  ‘Patience, I’m about to reveal all.’

  * * *

  A few heart-fluttering hours later, Tahira was dressed in her formal best and waiting when the promised summons duly arrived. She had spent what was left of the night fluctuating between wild euphoria and extreme terror. Following the guard from the harem through the corridor leading to the waiting area, she felt as if she was soaring high in a current of air, waiting on a promised pair of wings to arrive before the winds changed, plummeting her back to earth. Past the porphyry pillars, under the elaborate ceiling decorated with green and gold, into the Tower of Justice, her heart thumped painfully in her chest. Christopher would have entered from another door. If he was here. He must be here. She must have faith.

  The doors to the Chamber of the Royal Imperial Council were flung open, her name announced as she stepped through. Not so very long ago, the day after they had opened up the tomb, she had come into this room in response to another summons, dreading seeing Christopher because it would mean he had discovered her identity. He had not been there. Now he knew all her secrets, and here he was, garbed in the robes of a rich merchant, standing by her brother’s throne with a pronounced arrogance she had never witnessed. Not even by a flicker did he betray himself, playing the part he had assumed to perfection. Not even by a flicker did he betray her either, no warning glance, no reassuring smile, nor any trace of nerves. He trusted her to play her part.

  For once, she was glad of her headdress and her veil, for her love had been shining out of her eyes every time she looked at her reflection as she dressed. Her maidservant had noticed and commented. ‘I am to be married, remember,’ Tahira had said, so rapturously that her maidservant asked if she was ill. Standing before the man she meant, desperately hoping that he would convince her brother to free her from the man he had intended for her, she tucked her shaking hands into the voluminous sleeves of her dress.

  ‘My sister, the Princess Tahira,’ Ghutrif said, crooking his finger to summon her. Never had the Chamber of the Royal Imperial Council seemed so long, the throne so distant. His lips were tightly pursed, his long fingers drumming on the arms of his throne. Not a good sign.

  Tahira made a formal bow, first to her brother and then to his visitor. She dared not meet Christopher’s eyes. Ghutrif would not expect her to speak. She would throw herself on to her knees and beg if it would help, but it wouldn’t. Christopher had a plan. She must trust Christopher. He had both their lives and their hearts in his hands.

  ‘As I have informed you, Princess Tahira is already betrothed to Prince Zayn al-Farid. The wedding is set to take place in fifteen days.’

  ‘Fifteen.’ Christopher was betrayed into surprise. ‘So soon,’ he added, recovering himself with a prim smile. ‘Then I am both relieved and grateful to have been granted an audience in the nick of time.’

  ‘In time for what?’

  Christopher made a little formal bow, hands together, expression supplicating. How Ghutrif would enjoy having his vanity indulged, Tahira thought. ‘When I saw the most lovely Princess Tahira at the camel race, she captured my heart instantly.’ The gesture which accompanied this statement was theatrical. ‘I knew that I must move the sun and the stars to gain your permission to marry her.’

  ‘She is pledged to another, and I’m not interested in the sun and the stars.’ Ghutrif narrowed his eyes. ‘How did you discern her beauty? How do you even come to know her name. There are four princesses, how can you be sure that this is the one who so very suddenly captured your heart from out of a clear blue sky?’

  Ghutrif was no fool. Tahira quite often forgot this. He was shrewd, and he had a nose for mocke
ry. Christopher was making another little bow. ‘The princess’s beauty is famed throughout Arabia. She was seated in the position of honour at the camel race, and so I deduced she was the eldest daughter, thus learning her name.’

  ‘If you’re so clever,’ Ghutrif said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, ‘then why can you not understand the simple fact that she is already spoken for?’

  ‘When you announced the betrothal, you mentioned only a royal princess. As I understand it, Prince Zayn seeks only an alliance with Nessarah. There are four royal princesses, reputed to be equally beautiful. It is not as if there is any previous acquaintance, nor any particular attachment, is there? Why would not the next in line be just as acceptable as the first? And it would be quite a coup for you, not to mention financially advantageous, your Highness, to have two sisters married instead of one.’

  ‘Prince Zayn has signed a contract.’

  ‘Contracts can be easily amended or redrawn, when other terms offered are more—let us say, amenable.’

  Ghutrif’s fingers stopped drumming. ‘Amenable?’

  With a flourish, Christopher produced a scroll and handed it over. ‘My terms. I trust you will find them extremely amenable.’

  ‘I will not change my—’ Ghutrif broke off as he scanned the scroll, the beautiful Arabic script so painstakingly transcribed by Farah, his eyebrows rising higher and higher on his brow with every line he read. ‘This,’ he said, trying and failing to hide his excitement, ‘is a very interesting document. Untapped ores. New gold and diamond mines. Water sources. How am I to trust this information?’

  Christopher spread his hands. ‘Dare you risk refusing it? More importantly, I know of your vast power and reach of influence, your Highness. I would be a very foolish man indeed to attempt to dupe Prince Ghutrif.’