Call of the Trumpet (20 page)

“I’ll do it myself!”

“Wait! Please.” Hagar rose as swiftly as her age allowed. She did not know what strange mood was upon him, but she knew how Al Dhiba would react to it. This was a time for them to come together, not to be driven apart. “Risking offense,
ya ammi,
I must remind you that it is not seemly to invade a woman’s privacy when she bathes.”

“I’ll announce myself then, and keep my back turned. Does that suit you?”

The head of steam he had built seemed to have cooled somewhat. Hagar nodded and added, “I would remind you of one more thing, though you know it well.” She paused, making sure she had his rather distracted attention. “One must approach a skittish mare quietly.”

How well he knew. Matthew smiled at her. “I will try to remember … you meddlesome, withered old woman.”

Hagar laughed and shoved him from the tent. “Go now,” she commanded. “Go to she who has awaited you.”

The water had revived her, cooling both the heat of her body and of her temper. Cecile redonned the new
towb
and jacket, hoping they might help to improve her mood. Yet as she sat at the water’s edge to replait her damp hair, she knew it would take a great deal more than new clothes to heal the pain in her heart. She would never forget the humiliation of meeting with Haddal. Her foster father, the man she had counted on, longed to find. The one who had held her dreams in the palm of his hand.

Cecile laughed bitterly. She had wanted to belong. Well, she did. Literally. To Haddal. She had no illusions left. A Badawin woman was what she had wished to be, and it was what she had become … a thing with no more value than a camel. Wincing, she recalled the way they had discussed her, as if she hadn’t been there. And that Rashid! Furthermore, what “plans” had Matthew referred to? What was going on?

Dropping a half-finished braid, Cecile wrapped her arms about her knees. Wasn’t it a simple matter? Despite her lowly status, wouldn’t she be given what was hers and be left alone to live quietly among Haddal’s people?

No, it was not a simple matter, Cecile answered herself, not anymore. She briskly resumed plaiting her hair. El Faris had seen to that. Somehow he had managed to make everything as difficult as it could possibly be. Nothing was clear or simple anymore. Much as she was loath to admit it, she no longer relished the thought of living quietly in Haddal’s camp. She would miss Hagar, for one thing, and what of Jali? Where would he go? Would he feel bound to go on with the man who had given him shelter and protection, or would he remain with her? What of El Faris himself?

No! Cecile shook her head, swinging her braids against her shoulders. She must not wonder or think about him anymore. She had already pledged once today that whatever had existed between them was over and done with. Besides, if he had wanted her to stay with him, not Haddal, wouldn’t he have come to her long ago, long before they reached Ath Thumama?

Tears of angry confusion sprang to Cecile’s eyes. It was too much all in one day, to be so cruelly disappointed by Haddal’s reception. To realize her dreams were not going to come true exactly as she had so long imagined them. And to know, with terrible certainty, that no matter what she tried to tell herself, how she tried to deny it, she did not wish to go her way while Matthew went his.

To compound her anguish, Cecile remembered the girl who had approached Matthew, touched his boot, and gazed at him so adoringly. There must be others like her. He would not always be alone. The tears streamed down her cheeks. She had been through so much, come so far … and for what?

With a muffled groan, Cecile sank to the warm sand, head pillowed on the
makruna,
and closed her eyes to the scalding stream of tears.

The first thing Matthew saw was the moisture glistening on her cheeks. He knelt at her side and touched her shoulder. “Dhiba …”

Cecile recoiled, startled, and scrambled to her feet. Then she collected her wits. “I … I didn’t realize who it was,” she apologized, wiping away the tears. “You frightened me.”

Matthew smiled. “It is I who must apologize, I fear. It seems I am always coming upon you when you least expect it.”

Cecile shyly returned his smile, remembering the last time he had found her at the water’s edge. She blushed, and recalled with yet another start that both her head and face were uncovered. She reached for the veil and
makruna.

“No, not yet,” he said, picking up the length of blue cloth. “No one else can see you. Please. For just a moment.”

Cecile dropped her eyes, heart thudding painfully, mind searching desperately for something, anything, to say. “I … I should apologize for the way I acted this afternoon. I never should have … should have run from the shaikh’s tent like that.”

“It’s all right. I understand.”

Cecile looked up, her eyes wide. “You … you do?”

“I think so,” Matthew replied, praying Allah would give him the right words this time. “It must be hard for you, raised as a European, to accept the way Badawin women are … regarded … by men. I know I myself have difficulty with it.”

Could it be true? Did he really understand? Cecile felt the lingering anger and dismay seep away. “I … I’ve tried to accept it,” she replied tentatively. “But you’re right, it’s difficult. Especially since I had expected, well, a somewhat different reception from my foster father.”

“He didn’t mean to be cruel, or unfeeling. I hope you realize that. He treated you the same way he would treat a daughter of his blood.”

Cecile’s anger instantly reblossomed. “Yes, like a piece of property!”

Remembering Hagar’s caution, Matthew swallowed his first response. Instead he took a moment to consider how beautiful Al Dhiba was, her skin so golden, the first faint rays of moonlight catching the fiery sparks in her dark eyes, highlighting the shining lengths of raven hair.

“‘Property’ is, perhaps, an ill-used word,” Matthew said presently. “A man must always be responsible for a woman. Even in Europe, in England, it is a husband, if not a father. It is even more necessary on the desert, where survival is a great deal more difficult to ensure. Haddal simply assumed his role as your protector. Do you understand?”

Much against her will, Cecile nodded. “But did he have to talk about me as if I wasn’t there?”

“It is the Badawin’s way,” he said, at a loss for further explanation. “It isn’t done to dishonor a woman. Despite the way he went about it, Haddal expressed not only his approval of you, but his concern for your welfare.”

And is that what you are doing?
she longed to ask. Were the gentle words indeed meant to soothe her injured pride? Did he truly care? Cecile held her breath. Why was he looking at her so strangely? Why did she long to simply step into his arms?

The moment shivered between them. Matthew yearned to take Cecile in his arms, but he was afraid he would lose control if he did. And when he lost control, he frightened her. He must not allow that to happen. Not now. No, he must take care and say the words he had come to say. From the look in her eyes, he no longer feared her reaction. It was right. Taking her shoulders gently, he gazed down into her eyes.

And now it was Cecile who could no longer deny what she felt. She wanted to touch him, needed to know if he cared. When she saw him start to speak, she raised a finger to his lips and gently silenced him. Following her hand, she moved closer, until she felt the heat of his body. Swallowing the last vestiges of her long-cultivated pride, she said, “Tell me, please. I must know. Do you … ?”

It was as far as she got. His lips came down on hers. His arms encircled her waist and pulled her against him.

Cecile melted, losing awareness of her own body as it flowed into his. The earth heaved beneath her feet. If he had not held her, she would have fallen. When he abruptly released her, holding her at arm’s length, she swayed dizzily. Matthew gave her a little shake.

“Listen to me, Dhiba,” Matthew commanded roughly, voice hoarse with passion, control swiftly ebbing away. “We must be married. At once!”

Cecile’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“I said, ‘Marry me.’ And we must do so immediately. Do you understand?”

Cecile shook her head stupidly. It was too much to grasp all at once. Did this mean he loved her? Did he really love her? “But … why?” she gasped. “Why so quickly? I … I don’t understand!”

The words swirled in Matthew’s head. There was so much he wanted to say, so many reasons he wanted to give her, beginning and ending with the fact that he did not think he could live another day without her.

But, once again, he found himself unable to utter the pretty sentiments. And the memory of Rashid pressed. In his urgency, Matthew blurted, “Because if you don’t marry me, Haddal will give you to Haled eben Rashid. He saw you and desired you. Haddal wants you married. It will be done.”

The ground no longer swayed. It had vanished altogether, dropped away entirely from beneath her feet. She was falling. Desperate, Cecile clutched at the strong, muscular arms gripping her shoulders.

“Are you saying I must … must … will be
forced
to marry?”

“You have no choice, don’t you see?”

Cecile nodded. At long last she truly did see.

“Haddal has decided,” Matthew continued. “Your only choice is now Rashid … or me.”

“Yes,” Cecile said softly. “Whose property shall I become?” Daring no longer even to hope, she lifted her gaze to the blue eyes regarding her so intently. “But why?” she persisted. “Why not simply let me go to Rashid? Why do you offer yourself as an alternative?”

So much to say, so much. Words of love he wanted to murmur against the fragrant flesh. But how … how? Where to find those words? Perhaps, once they were wed …

Now, however, all he could see were Rashid’s filthy hands pawing the delicate body he held only inches from his own. Unconsciously, Matthew’s grip tightened, and he gave Cecile another small shake. All thoughts, all words of love dissolved into the image of Rashid possessing her precious flesh.

“Rashid is … is not a good man,” Matthew faltered at last. “He doesn’t deserve you. He cares nothing for you, only for the joys of your body, while …”

“While you, on the other hand, would marry me to thwart a man you hate! Is that it?” Matthew recoiled, and Cecile wrenched from his grip, grief and disappointment overwhelming her senses and breaking her heart. “I should have known!” she spat. “You’re all alike, all of you! You care for nothing but yourselves, your silly honor and your worthless possessions. Well, I will not be one of them! Do you hear me? I would rather go to Rashid. At least he
desires
me!”

Matthew felt the fragile remnants of his self-control desert him, finally and completely. Once again, as usual, she had misinterpreted his every word. As Cecile whirled away, Matthew grabbed her wrist.

“Not again,” he rasped. “You’re not going to run from me again. I don’t know what I’ve done to make you so angry … what I’ve
ever
done. I don’t understand. But I’ll tell you this.” Matthew dropped Cecile’s hand. His chest heaved with his ragged breathing.

“I’ll give you one hour. You have one hour to make up your mind. I’ll wait for you in my tent. If you don’t come …” Matthew shrugged. “There’s nothing more I can do to help you.” Without another word, Matthew stalked off through the palms and disappeared into the city of tents.

The silence closed around Cecile. Then the palms whispered. A frog croaked. Somewhere in the distance a child cried out and a dog barked in response. But the sounds seemed faraway and unreal.

She stood at the edge of a chasm, teetering. Which way would she fall? Cecile reached out as if to steady herself. She groped in the darkness until she felt the rough, uneven ridges of a palm trunk. She leaned into it.

Why couldn’t she think straight? Why did her pulse thunder so loudly in her ears?

Cecile knew the answer, knew even as she continued to deny it. The last barriers of pride and fear had been stripped away, and the truth lay naked, waiting. She had only to turn to it.

Yet how could she? Did he love her? In spite of his words, is that what he had meant? Love?

Cecile recalled the night they had lain together, hidden from the sandstorm. She had been so frightened of him, yet he had calmed her with gentle words and had told her she was safe, that he would protect her. Could it be he wished now to protect her from Rashid? Was that not caring, deep concern, if not quite love?