Sheikh's Mail-Order Bride (22 page)

Kadar, fighting the rush towards an almost unstoppable climax, had no words, but he did not require them.

* * *

‘See just there? That is Aquarius,' Constance said, ‘one of the oldest recognised constellations, listed by Ptolemy. It also happens to be the sign of the zodiac associated with my birthday.'

They were lying side by side in the hammock, naked and for the time being sated, under a thin blanket. Though the canvas hammock was large, their bodies rolled naturally towards each other. In the pitch dark, Constance had no fear of her feelings showing too clearly, and so felt free to indulge them. Kadar had his arm around her. Though they both had their eyes trained on the night sky, her hands strayed every so often to touch him, to stroke him, to memorise the feel of his skin, the contours of his muscles and sinew, and when she touched him, she mouthed the declarations of love she could not speak aloud.

‘So you were born under the sign of the water carrier,' Kadar said. ‘Somewhat appropriate, given the circumstances of your coming here.'

She chuckled. ‘Ganymede, the water carrier, was Prince of Troy, and so beautiful that Jupiter was captivated by him when he spotted him tending to his father's flocks. Jupiter transformed himself into a bird and flew poor Ganymede off to the heavens, where he became Jupiter's wine bearer.'

‘Not a particularly exciting fate, but a great deal less bloodthirsty than many you have told me relating to the stars,' Kadar said. ‘Aquarius is in the quadrant of the heavens known as the Sea, is it not?'

‘Yes. If you look, there is Pisces the fish, and the whale, Cetus, beside it. And though it's not visible tonight, there is a river, Eridanus.' Constance snuggled closer, her cheek resting in the hollow of Kadar's shoulder. She could feel his heart beating. ‘If we had the telescope we could see Jupiter tonight, over there by Ursa Major. I was looking at it just last night. I have all but completed your star map.'

She wished she had not said so, for it was a reminder that the sands of her time here had almost run out. The last few grains were trickling through the hour glass. Her eyes filled with unbidden tears. She shifted, lest one should fall on to his chest and give her away.

‘Are you pleased with your efforts?' Kadar asked.

‘Yes, though it is not nearly so detailed as it might be, and I am sure that my measurements would benefit from being reviewed by someone with more experience.'

‘And I am sure that you underrate yourself. What you have achieved in such a short period of time is remarkable.'

‘Thank you.' She gazed up at the celestial dome above them, losing her tears in the rapture that always filled her at the sight. ‘I have a—a dream, I suppose you would call it. To create a complete star map for every season, with the story of each star incorporated into it, all the myths and legends. And illustrations too.'

‘It would be your magnum opus,' Kadar said. ‘Tell me more.'

She did, losing herself in the descriptions of her favourite constellations. ‘Skies for all seasons,' she concluded. ‘Stars and planets intertwined with their mythology. I know it's likely impossible, but...'

‘I think it sounds very possible, and I can't imagine anyone better suited to create it,' Kadar said, capturing her hand and kissing her palm. ‘If it could be commissioned, if I could find someone capable of producing it, would you...?'

‘No.' She sat up, making the hammock rock. ‘No, I don't want you to— I can't allow you to...' Couldn't bear him to. She bit back the words just in time. Could not bear him to be an elusive presence in her future, the tantalizing promise that she might one day see him again as a result of his patronage hanging like the Sword of Damocles over her head, a promise to be unfulfilled for ever, yet a possibility that would never recede. ‘I think that when I leave here, it would be best if it is final,' she said, thankful for the dark, thankful that her voice sounded considerably lighter than she felt. ‘I must stand on my own two feet.'

‘You do not wish me to help you? Constance, it would mean a great deal to me if you would allow me to—think of it as legitimate payment for all that you have done here.'

‘I have already earned my keep, I hope. Truly, Kadar, you have given me so much, I cannot take any more from you.'

‘You wish to be free of all encumbrances, all obligations,' he said heavily.

A shooting star blazed fleetingly across the night sky. A wishing star. If only that were true, Constance would wish for the freedom to love, safe in the knowledge that she was loved in return. That, she knew, was not possible, but she was still free to be herself. ‘Yes,' she said gently, deliberately allowing him to mistake her meaning, ‘I wish to be free.'

‘Then I will not press you, though I wish— But I shall, of course, respect your wishes.'

‘Thank you.' She lay down again. He put his arm around her again. She settled her cheek against his shoulder, placed her hand on the heart of the man who did not love her but who had listened to her simple wish to sail on the open sea, to lie on the sand and gaze up at the stars, who had transformed it into something beyond her wildest dreams. ‘Thank you,' she said again. ‘For this. For everything. It is absolutely perfect.'

* * *

They sailed back to the port of Murimon in the morning with the sun behind them, and their night of passion too. They were both subdued, lost in their own thoughts. At Kadar's insistence, Constance took the tiller once more while he tended to the sail. She could not imagine that there would be a call for her new-found skill in the new life that awaited her, but on the other hand, she was determined to think positively. There was no telling what might happen. The future lay before her like the huge sands of the desert, limitless and uncharted. Not a depressing thought at all, but an exciting one, she told herself sternly.

Beside her, Kadar was facing out to sea, his face in profile. The Sphynx had returned. Was he thinking of last night, of the passion they had shared? Or was he too thinking about the future? The challenges which faced him made hers look trivial by comparison. She had no doubt he would succeed, but how, and in what order would his plans be implemented? Would his precious kingdom embrace change or resist it? So many questions, and she would never know any of the answers. She would never see this beautiful kingdom flourish under his rule, see his people come to love as well as respect him. It hurt so much, but she knew there could be no other outcome.

All too soon, the port hove into view: the lighthouses on the twin arms of the harbour, the string of fishing boats at the mouth of the bay and the bustle of ships and dhows in the docks. The air was redolent with the scent of spices being loaded on to a schooner: sweet, rich red pepper, nutty cinnamon bark and perfumed cardamom pods. A camel brayed. A pack of mules wheezed. Riggings clanked and sails flapped. The sun burned its way to its zenith in the sky. Stevedores called to each other. Now that her ear was attuned, Constance could pick out some of the phrases, though it was unlikely that Abdul-Majid would have time to teach her many more. Unlikely that she'd have call to use her limited vocabulary at all, once she left Egypt behind. She had probably had her last lesson in Arabic, for Abdul-Majid would be heading to Nessarah to break Kadar's betrothal. This was probably her last sail. Last night—no, she would save thinking of last night for a time when she was far from here.

‘I think it would be best if I left as soon as possible,' Constance said, the words out almost before the thought entered her head. Too late to retract them now.

They were on the quayside. Kadar finished securing the dhow before he answered. When he did so, his face was set to his Sphynx expression once again.

‘I agree.'

Two simple words, but they felt like a dagger to her heart. The fact that she wanted to retract her hastily spoken words, that she actually wanted to tell him she would stay as long as he needed her, the fact that she wanted to beg him to tell her there might be a chance he could love her if she stayed, made her certain that she must go, soon and for ever. ‘As I said last night, I am almost finished my map, so there is nothing to keep me here.'

‘No, there isn't.'

She had expected him to contradict her. Even though she was set on going, she had expected it. ‘And you have a great deal to occupy you,' Constance said. ‘I do not wish to distract you.'

‘No. I must concentrate on the task in hand.'

‘So I should— I think it is best if we do not— Last night should be our—our swansong, if you like.'

‘Yes. That would be best.'

The tiny flicker of his eye, the giveaway sign that he was feeling more than he would permit her to see was all she had to comfort her. And it was small comfort at that. She did not want him to be unhappy or regretful. ‘So we are agreed,' Constance said, pinning a bright smile to her face. ‘A parting of the ways, as soon as possible.'

‘I think that would be the most sensible course of action, Constance.'

‘Yes.'

‘Yesterday, last night was perfect.'

‘And one cannot improve on perfection,' she said, with a shadow of a smile. Though they could. If only...

No, the point was not to think, if only. The point was not to regret what might have been but to relish what she had already experienced. ‘I will speak to Abdul-Majid regarding my travel arrangements,' Constance said. ‘No need for you to concern yourself with them, you have enough to occupy you.'

‘I—yes, that would be helpful.'

Their eyes locked for a long moment. Kadar took a step towards her and hesitated. She longed to believe that he was as torn as she, but she recognised it as wishful thinking. Courageous Constance, he had called her yesterday. She would not let him down. So she took a step back and slid her feet into her slippers and started to head down the quayside. Kadar followed, but his progress was slow, waylaid by people whose bows he returned, whose respectful greetings he stopped to acknowledge. She was delighted to see this evidence of his progress of coming to terms with his exalted position, but as a result it was some considerable time before they eventually reached the palace.

* * *

Though Constance longed for the sanctuary of her bedchamber, it was not to be. As soon as they entered the piazza, Abdul-Majid appeared. ‘Highness, Lady Constance, forgive me but a most urgent matter has arisen.'

He did not seem surprised to see them together, though he made no comment on the fact. The chief adviser was a great deal more discreet than they had been, Constance thought, blushing. She had not even considered the gossip that their absence together must have given rise to. Yet another reason for her to leave sooner rather than later. ‘If you will excuse me,' she said, but the elder main shook his head vehemently.

‘With respect, Lady Constance, I believe that this matter would be better—in short, I believe your presence would be helpful. An Englishman has arrived at the palace,' he added hurriedly, perhaps sensing Kadar's exasperation. ‘A Mr Christopher Fordyce.'

‘Is this man known to you?' Kadar asked her.

Constance wrinkled her brow. ‘I don't think so, the name is not familiar.'

‘He could be from the British Embassy in Cairo,' Kadar said, frowning. ‘It is more than three weeks since I sent them my communication regarding yourself. I suppose it is possible that he has come to collect you.'

Her heart sank all the way down to her slippered feet. ‘That is—that would be convenient,' Constance said, the tone of her voice implying the exact opposite.

Was there the faintest trace of regret in his eyes? She could not be sure. Kadar nodded curtly. ‘Come, let us find out if that indeed is the case.'

‘If you will permit a suggestion, Sire. If this Englishman is indeed an envoy from Cairo, it would be better to receive him more—er—formally,' Abdul-Majid said, with a deprecating look at his Prince's dishevelled appearance which made Constance wonder what kind of impression she must be making.

Kadar sighed. ‘You are correct, of course. Can you be ready in half an hour?' he asked Constance. ‘Good. Have Mr Fordyce wait in the anteroom to the Royal Saloon.'

* * *

A little over half an hour later, Constance burst into the Royal Saloon. Bathed and changed, she wore pantaloons and a tunic of pale blue muslin with matching slippers, with a long fitted robe fastened over the top. The pattern was striking, like swirling waves in many shades of blue. With her hair a damp cloud of curls already escaping from the pins with which she had tried to contain it, her curves emphasised by the tight fastenings at her waist, she looked rather less the court astronomer, as Kadar supposed was her intention, and rather more like a court concubine.

He refrained from telling her so. There was something fragile in her expression that worried him. A set to her mouth he did not recognise. Down on the docks, he had come so close to asking her to postpone her departure, despite the fact that he knew he needed to devote himself to his people. Only the fact that Constance herself seemed to be dead set on leaving had prevented him. Which was a good thing, he reminded himself.

‘Do you think he is an emissary?' she asked him, worrying at a hairpin which had come loose. ‘Do you think he will bring word from England? My parents...?'

‘No.' Belatedly realizing why she had reacted so strangely to the Englishman's arrival, he hastened to reassure her, clasping her hands between his. ‘They will very likely only have received the first communication, and even if they have received my amended note, the earliest we could expect a reply from England would be another three or four weeks. If that is what is worrying you...'

She snatched her hands away. ‘I'm not worried.'

He waited, for her expression was at odds with her words, but Constance seemed to have abandoned her usual practice of strewing her thoughts like rose petals.