He wore his Sphynx expression, but there was something else in his eyes. Wariness? She set the leather-bound folio down on the desk. ‘I may be imagining it, but you do not look particularly pleased to see me.’
That flicker of his eye was her only response to this needy remark. And quite rightly so, she thought. What could he say? She had not expected him to fall on his knees and declare undying love, had she? Deciding not to answer that question, Constance opened her folio. ‘I came to give you this. I wanted to explain the annotations, to make sure that you are happy with what I have done.’
‘Is it finished?’
She hesitated only a fraction before uttering the white lie intended to throw him off the scent. ‘Not quite. It will require two, maybe three more nights at most.’
He pulled the folio towards him, opened it at the first page, but made no attempt to examine the chart, which was of the north sky. ‘What will you do, Constance? I wish you would permit me to help you.’
‘You have already done more than enough.’
‘Will you return to your family?’
One question she could answer with certainty. Constance shook her head. ‘No, I won’t go back there, even if they did offer me a roof over my head, which I doubt my father will. I don’t know what I will do, Kadar. I will find a way to earn my keep that allows me to continue with my stargazing. I don’t know what that will be, but I do know you needn’t worry about me. You have more than enough to occupy you now you have the funds to create your utopia. You must be very happy.’
‘Yes.’ His expression remained blank. ‘I would like to know that you too are happy.’
‘I am happy to assure you that I intend to do my best,’ she answered, summoning a smile. ‘Kadar, you have made me— Being here has made me happier than I thought possible. I am changed beyond recognition, and that is in no small part thanks to you.’
‘You are too modest. You have transformed yourself, Constance.’
‘Yes. Perhaps. But you gave me the means, and I am—I will always be grateful.’ Her voice was clogged with tears. She dug her nails into her palms, determined not to let him see her distress. She loved him so very much, and this was the last time—no, best not to think of that. ‘It is a small token of my gratitude,’ she said, indicating the star map, ‘but I hope it will prove a useful one.’
His long fingers traced a constellation. His eyes were bleak. She waited, but he said nothing. She got to her feet. Seeing him had been a mistake after all. ‘I should go.’
She was halfway across the room before he caught up to her. ‘I too am changed, thanks to you,’ Kadar said. ‘I have not thanked you.’
‘There is no need. As you said, transformation has to come from within.’
‘But you gave me the means,’ he said, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. ‘I will always be grateful.’
Now he was smiling at her, and though she was sure she was imagining the tenderness she saw in it, it was breaking her heart. She caught his hand, pressed a kiss to his knuckles, and fled. He called after her, saying he would come to see her once he had studied the map. She made no reply, one hand covering her mouth to suppress her sobs, intent only on reaching her bedchamber before her tears fell.
But there was no time for tears. Her dhow was due to sail at high tide. Scrubbing her face with a wet cloth, she returned to the roof terrace for one last time to drape the cover over the telescope and to leave her note to Kadar, for she knew he, like her, considered this roof terrace to be their own special place. And then, as the first of Murimon’s people crowded the piazza, eagerly queuing to enter the plan room, Constance crept out one of the many side entrances and made her way down to the harbour.
* * *
In the early hours of the morning after a long, rewarding day spent with his people, Kadar could no longer resist the persistent urge for Constance’s company. He told himself it was because he owed it to her to share the excitement of this most auspicious of days. She had been there by his side at the Great Oasis, where the seed was first planted. He had missed her presence today as his plans came to fruition.
But as soon as he set foot on the terrace, he felt her absence and at the same time a horrible sense of foreboding. The moon was high enough, full enough, for him to see that the telescope had been covered over, the stack of cushions which normally lay beside it, gone. Below the awning, the desk was neatly tidied. No notebook. Only, he saw sickeningly, a note.
After lighting a lamp, he broke the seal. The contents were brief, but enough to turn his bones to water. Constance was gone. She thanked him for everything. She would carry Murimon in her heart always. Nothing else. No explanation for the manner of her departure. No apology for not saying goodbye. No mention of any future contact. Nothing.
He felt sick. But what had he expected? They had agreed she would go. She was a distraction. He had proved to himself over the last three days how much of a distraction she was by forcing himself not to be distracted, hadn’t he?
Had he? Though he had been avoiding her, he discovered now that there was a difference, a huge difference, between knowing that Constance was here, gazing at the stars, sleeping the morning away in her suite, writing up her notes, riding out on the mare he had come to think of as hers, and Constance not being here at all. Constance sailing away from Murimon. Away from him. For ever.
But what else could she do? It was the suddenness of it—he decided resentfully—which was what was wrong with it. He felt thwarted. Denied the opportunity to share his success today. Denied the opportunity to tell her just how beautiful her maps were. Denied the opportunity to make one last attempt to persuade her to accept his help in forging her future. Unable to lie up here and discuss the stars with her one last time. To see her face light up as it always did when she talked of the heavens, her eyes shining like stars, her hands fluttering like a meteor shower, her hair like a glorious corona around the sun that was her face.
Kadar looked up at the vast night sky. The moon was too bright for stargazing, but he could just make out Aquarius. The water carrier. Was Constance gazing up at the exact same constellation as the Red Sea carried her far away, across the ocean, to her new life? He had even been denied the small consolation of being able to say goodbye properly. To hold her in his arms one last time, to kiss her one last time. And the biggest frustration of all was that he had been denied the opportunity to tell her that he loved her. Passionately. Completely. With all his heart.
Which he did, he realised with sudden searing certainty. Watching the spectacle of a shooting star blaze across the sky, Kadar wondered at his own blindness. He loved her, and the very fact that it felt so utterly different from what he had felt for Zeinab made him certain that this time his love was true. Not perfect. A love that saw the real Constance, and did not idealise her. A love that loved the imperfect Constance, and did not want to change her or protect her or stifle her. A love that wanted her to be free to be whatever she wanted to be. A love that wanted, above all else, for her to be happy.
That is all I care about, Kadar. I want you to be happy. Constance’s words. His own feelings. His heart lurched. Was it possible that she loved him? But if she did, how could Constance have possibly kept such feelings to herself?
Because she loved him. Could the answer be so simple? Because although she loved him she thought she had no rightful place here? But he could carve a place for her, cast in whatever form she desired if she would let him. Did she love him? Jumping to his feet, Kadar felt invigorated, filled with excitement, hope and just a little bit of fear. He was going to find out. And there was something else he was going to do to prove it.
* * *
Traversing the Red Sea might well be the quickest route to Egypt, but it was still a very long journey, and the dhow which Abdul-Majid had chartered for her was no racing yacht. Fortunately, Constance was in no hurry.
Having fled Murimon, she wanted to relish this precious time alone, to capture the scents and the sounds and the sights and the heat of Arabia as she sailed northwards. They sailed only by daylight. The two crew slept ashore at night, while Constance sat on deck and gazed at the stars and remembered. With every passing hour she missed Kadar more. Though she tried to ration her thoughts, she endlessly conjectured about what he was doing, what he was thinking. Was he thinking of her? Was he missing her? Was he looking at the same stars as her? Pointless speculation, but utterly addictive. When she reached Cairo, then she would try to let go of him. When she reached Cairo, then she would try to look forward and not backwards. But not yet.
It was on the third day when they caught up with her. Two men wearing the Murimon insignia who, judging by their appearance, had been sailing round the clock. Her heart in her mouth, Constance broke the royal seal on the letter they gave her. With Abdul-Majid absent, Kadar could not leave Murimon. The matter was urgent. Only she could resolve it. He begged that she return with all speed.
* * *
Adverse winds held them back. It took three days to return despite this smaller, swifter craft. Three days for Constance to speculate and to hope and to quell her hopes and to dream and then to stamp all over her dreams. One thing she did not do was dread. Whatever had prompted Kadar to summon her back, she trusted him. Even if he had guessed her feelings, he would not abuse them. Had he guessed her feelings? And if so, what did he feel in return? The two questions uppermost in her mind. The two questions to which soon, very soon, she would receive an answer.
As they sailed past the twin lighthouses into the port of Murimon, her heart was in her mouth. A chair awaited her. Had been waiting for her every hour of the last two days, she discovered. Memories of that initial journey up the steep, winding road to the palace filled her mind. Her heart thumped so hard she was sure it would leap out of her chest. Her legs felt boneless as she was helped from the chair into the piazza. She was overwhelmed anew with the magnificence of the palace, with the sheer beauty of the bay below. It felt so right to be back here. It was so wrong of her to be thinking this way.
A guard met her. Expecting to be taken to the roof terrace, to the library or even her own suite of rooms, she became extremely apprehensive when she realised he was leading the way to the Royal Saloon. The matter was urgent, Kadar had said. Only she could resolve it. It hadn’t occurred to her that it might be an official matter and not a personal one. That an emissary might have arrived from the British consulate in Cairo. Anticipation gave way to disappointment. And then the doors were flung open.
The room was empty. Stepping inside, vaguely aware that the doors had been pulled closed behind her, it took Constance a moment to realise what was different. It seemed darker, though outside it was daylight and the window shutters lay open and the chandeliers...
‘Oh, my goodness!’ Above her, the white domed ceiling had been transformed into a depiction of the heavens. Constance stared up in wonder. A night-blue sky littered with stars of gold and silver, stars with bluish hues and red. The summer sky over Murimon. The sky she had worn on her coronation robes. The sky she had mapped for Kadar.
‘The sky which witnessed the most important and profound event in my life.’
She whirled around. Her heart leapt. ‘Kadar!’
‘You, Constance,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘And it took you leaving me for me to finally realise that I can’t live without you.’
Was she hearing things? Perhaps she was dreaming. She gazed up at the star-filled ceiling and back into Kadar’s eyes. He had never looked at her like that before. Not just bone-melting, but heart-melting. ‘You can’t?’ she asked foolishly, for though hope was blooming urgently, she was afraid to believe.
‘I could,’ Kadar said, sending Constance’s heart plummeting. ‘If you did not want me, if I will not make you happy, I would live without you because your happiness matters to me more than anything. But I don’t want to live without you, Constance. I love you.’
Now her heart was performing somersaults. She felt as if something inside her was unfolding, opening out, blazing with dazzling light. ‘You do?’ she whispered.
‘I do,’ Kadar said with such simple honesty that she could no longer doubt. ‘I love you with all my heart, and if you think...’
She threw her arms around him. ‘I don’t think, I know. I love you so much. I love you, I love you, I have loved you for days and weeks and—and—and...’
Whatever she was going to say would be lost for ever, because his lips claimed hers. It was a kiss like no other, a kiss so full of heartfelt relief and tenderness and joy, that it sent her senses spinning. She kissed him back with utter abandon, allowing her mouth and her hands to say all the things she had been concealing, and he kissed her even more fervently in return, saying those most precious of words over and over.
Finally they stopped to breathe, staring into each other’s eyes, dazzled and dazed. ‘I love you, Constance,’ Kadar said. ‘From the moment you walked into this room, I wanted you. You fascinated me. You made me angry and you made me laugh. You saw through my words to my innermost thoughts, and when those thoughts were ill judged, you had the temerity, the boldness, the compassion and the persistence to correct them. You turned my world upside down, and then you set it the right way around again. You made me want to climb to the stars with you. You make me happier than I ever thought possible.’
‘Oh, Kadar.’ She could barely speak for happiness. She needed new words to tell him how much she loved him, but there were no new words, and when she told him with just the three, she saw from his eyes that it was enough. ‘I love you,’ she said again, wondering if she would ever tire of telling him.
‘And I love you too. So much.’ His expression became serious. ‘But I want you to be happy, my darling Constance. I won’t make you a prisoner of my love,’ he said urgently. ‘I have thought about it, I promise you. You can continue in your role as court astronomer. You can create your magical map merging the skies with mythology. You can succeed Abdul-Majid as chief adviser if you so wish. Anything that makes you happy, I will make it so.’
‘Kadar!’ She was laughing through her tears. ‘Kadar, all I need to make me happy is you. Not if you love me as I love you.’
‘I promise you, you will never have cause to doubt that.’
Love, naked blazing love was writ across his face. Constance pulled him to her. ‘Never,’ she said, ‘I will never doubt it when you look at me like that.’
Kadar swept her into his arms. He pushed her hair back from her face. ‘I love you. I will always love you, as the stars are my witness. Will you marry me? Become my Princess and rule by my side?’
‘You want me to become a real princess? Rule an entire Arabian kingdom with you?
‘There is no one on the planet better qualified for the role, no one else I could contemplate sharing my kingdom, my life and my bed with. Say you will, Constance.’
She gazed up at the celestial dome he had created especially for her. She gazed into his eyes, dark with love for her. ‘Yes,’ she said, with utter certainty, ‘I will marry you.’
When his lips met hers, their kiss was no longer tender. Passion flamed between them, blazing like the stars in the domed sky suspended above them. He kissed her mouth, her eyes, her neck, her throat. She pressed herself so tightly against him she could feel every ridge of bone, every contour of muscle, every inch of his arousal. Her skin tingled, her pulse raced, her breath was ragged. His touch was setting her on fire.
‘We can’t,’ she said, though her voice implied the contrary. ‘Not here.’
Panting, he tore his mouth from hers. Then he scooped her up and began to stride towards the door.
‘What are you doing?’ Constance clung to him, torn between laughter and passion. ‘Where are we going?’
Kadar’s smile was sinful
. ‘To climb a ladder to the stars,’ he said.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this story, make sure you don’t miss the first book in Marguerite Kaye’s
HOT ARABIAN NIGHTS miniseries,
THE WIDOW AND THE SHEIKH.
And watch out for two more books in
this sizzling series, coming soon!
Historical Note
My Twitter tag when writing this book was #geeksheikh, so for those of you so inclined here are some geeky historical facts.
HMS Kent, the ‘East Indiaman’ ship on which Constance sailed, was a real vessel. She was built for the East India Company and launched in 1820, five years after I rather cruelly sent her to the bottom of the Arabian Sea. In my defence, the voyage to India was extremely precarious, and a great many of the Company’s ships perished after two or three voyages.
The real Kent was on her third voyage, sailing to Bengal, when she went down in the Bay of Biscay, with roughly the same proportion of crew, soldiers and civilians on board as I’ve depicted, under the guidance of the same Captain Cobb, though sadly, with substantially greater loss of life.
Caroline and her brother William Herschel between them ‘mapped’ considerable expanses of the northern skies, in the process discovering many new comets, stars and nebulae as well as, famously, the planet we now know as Uranus. The process required minute documentation of angles and timings, and in reality I’d imagine was pretty uncomfortable and a bit tedious.
I’ve kept Constance’s scientific method for star-mapping deliberately vague, and doubtless made it completely unrealistic in the process. But she’s avoided a bad back, her eyes aren’t strained, causing her constant migraines, and she’s not too exhausted to do anything other than sleep the day away. In other words this is a romance, and sometimes you just can’t let reality intrude too much.
On saying that, Kadar’s telescope is based on the one through which William Herschel first observed Uranus, and in fact he did manufacture telescopes for other people at his workshop in Slough, so he might well have made the one Kadar commissioned. And the anecdote about a comet being perceived to be an omen for a plague of sneezing sickness in cats is, astonishingly, true.
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