The Governess and the Sheikh (22 page)

‘And I thought you did not want to leave,' Celia said. ‘Your letters have been so full of Linah this and Linah that. Where is she, anyway?'

‘Visiting friends. She is permitted to do so once a week now.' In the excitement of Celia's unexpected arrival, and the need to preserve face in front of Mr Finchley-Burke, Cassie's woes had retreated to the back of her mind, but now they returned to her with full force. ‘I sent you a note,' she said, slumping back down on to the cushions by the fountain. ‘You obviously haven't got it yet. I'm so glad you're here, anyway.'

‘No.' Now that they were alone, Celia took the opportunity to look more closely at her sister. It was not just the dark shadows, but the lack of animation in
her beloved sister's face that worried her. Cassie's eyes were dull, her attention seemed to be turned inward. When she smiled, as she was trying to do now, it looked more like a grimace. Something had hurt her; her misery was obvious in the tense way she was holding herself. But to hold a tight rein on her emotions—that wasn't like Cassie. Nor was the distinct lack of tears. Her sister was being most un-Cassandra-like, Celia noted with growing alarm. ‘What is it, dearest? Tell me what on earth has been going on. And no shilly-shallying, if you please, I want the truth.'

Under her sister's concerned gaze, Cassie's throat clogged. She shook her head, avoiding eye contact. ‘I can't. You will think I'm so foolish. And you're right, Celia, I
am
.'

‘Please, Cassie, tell me what's wrong. I can't bear to see you like this. You look as if someone has died.'

Cassie's chin wobbled. ‘Not someone, but something. Crushed to death. I love him so much, Celia.'

‘Love him? Who?'

‘Jamil. Prince Jamil. I am in love with him.' Her confession came out in a rush.

‘Oh, dear.'

Her fingers plucked feverishly at the embroidery on one of the satin cushions. It was almost a relief to say it. ‘I know. I know. I know. And he wants to marry me, and he's so angry that I said no, and now he's gone away and he hates me. He hates me, Celia, and I love him so much.'

‘Marry you!'

‘It was the most awful thing. He sounded like Papa, and he said it would be a pleasant duty for him
to produce an heir, and he said that his betrothal to the Princess Adira didn't matter, and…'

‘He is already betrothed!'

‘Not any more. He's off breaking the news to her family at the moment. And now he won't have anyone to give him an heir. And I don't want anyone else to give him an heir. Except I don't want him to be alone either.' Cassie gave a hysterical little laugh. ‘Oh, Celia, it's hopeless, all of it. I must get away from here, you see that, don't you? I can't see him again, but I can't bear the thought of never seeing him again. I can't. I just can't. Please, please, please, just take me away.'

At this point, Cassandra would normally have thrown herself on to her sister's shoulder and sobbed, but she did not. Cassie simply resumed her frantic plucking, unravelling a beautiful fringe of emerald-and-gold
passementerie
, winding the strands around and around her fingers, rocking back and forth, staring off into space with an expression of misery on her face that Celia had not seen since their mother died. Then, Cassie had not cried either. With a sense of foreboding, Celia began patiently to extract the story. From the things Cassie left out, together with her own experience of just how very seductive the desert and its princes could be, she surmised with some accuracy the full extent of Cassie's indiscretions. She could not blame her, having been just as indiscreet herself when first she met Ramiz, but nor could she see a way out of the tangle. Nothing Cassie said gave her the slightest hope that Prince Jamil loved her. And on this matter the sisters were in complete accord. Without love, Cassie could not—should not—marry.

‘So you'll take me away from here?' Cassie said, looking at the carnage she had wreaked on the cushion with some surprise. ‘Tomorrow. Only I must stay to see Linah first. She will be so upset; we have become very close. My only consolation is that I have done some good there. Jamil—Jamil—he loves his daughter, and she loves him.'

‘Then you have indeed done some good, and should be proud of yourself,' Celia said bracingly. ‘Tomorrow, then, we'll start back to Balyrma. If you're sure.'

White-faced but determined, Cassie nodded.

 

But Linah took the news very badly indeed, and Cassie's self-control was tested to the limit. The child was distraught, blaming herself, pleading with her governess to stay, promising never to misbehave again. Touched to the core by this evidence of her affection, Cassie was overwhelmed with guilt.

Broken-hearted, Linah begged for one final outing on horseback together. Desperate to make amends, Cassie agreed. But when they arrived at the stables the next morning as dawn was breaking, they discovered that Jamil's groom, who always accompanied them when he was not able to do so himself, was smitten by a fever. Linah's disappointment knew no bounds. Cassie was powerless against her frantic pleas. Though she knew it was forbidden, she decided just this once to take Linah out alone.

They set out at a slow trot through the city, out of the gates and into the desert, taking the familiar route to the Maldissi Oasis, where they stopped for a refreshing drink of water. The sun was rising in the azure-blue
sky. They sat in the shade of a cluster of palm trees and sipped from a goatskin flask, dangling their bare feet in the shallows of the pool.

Anxious not to be away too long from the palace, Cassie put her stockings and boots back on, and helped Linah into the saddle, but the little girl wasn't ready for her treat to end and begged that they go on just a little bit, that they have a race. Cassie agreed, unwilling to deny Linah on this their last ever day together. They set off, Cassie giving Linah a head start.

Spurring her pony into a gallop, the little girl headed due east, directly into the sun. Cassie's stirrup had come loose. She took some time to adjust it, and by the time she was back in the saddle, Linah was lost in the dazzle of the sunlight. A knot formed in Cassie's stomach. She should not have let her out of her sight. Pulling on the reins, she set off towards the speck in the distance that must be her charge. How had the child got so far so quickly? Urging her grey mare into a gallop, Cassie called her name, but Linah either ignored her, or her voice was lost in the wind. She called again, and saw the speck slow. Relieved, she began to do the same.

She was only two hundred yards from Linah when three men on camels appeared from behind an outcrop of ochre rock directly into their path. The child pulled her pony up so quickly she tumbled off, and Cassie gave a cry of dismay. Leaping down from the mare almost before she came to a halt, she gathered Linah to her, relieved to find her dazed and bruised, but with no broken bones.

‘Thank you,' she said to the nearest man, who had a hold of the pony's reins, but when she made to take
them from him, he growled and snatched them back, spitting an oath. The pony shuffled nervously in the sand. Linah shrank against her side. Cassie looked from one man to the other, noting the ragged clothing, the straggling beards, the hungry look in their eyes beneath their red-and-white chequered head dresses. Brigands.

Fear ran like an icy river down her spine, but she knew better than to show it. Cassie cast the man holding the reins a haughty look. He had a vicious scar running from his ear down to his neck. ‘Thank you for your kind help,' she said again, holding out her hand imperiously. ‘I will take these now.'

The man growled something incomprehensible. Linah whimpered and huddled into Cassie's skirts. Cassie's mare was some fifty yards away now, for she had let her go in her rush to get to Linah. She surveyed the motley group. The other two men were watching the one with the scar, obviously taking their cue from him. Each man wore an unsheathed scimitar tied around his waist. She had no weapon but surprise.

Without giving herself time to think, Cassie made to snatch the pony's reins. The scarred man leapt from his camel, pulled a dagger from behind his back and grabbed her. She did not know whether they meant to rob or murder her; her only thought was to get Linah to safety. As the thin point of the blade made contact with her neck, Cassie dealt him a vicious kick on the shins. He yelped and dropped the reins.

‘Run, Linah, run,' Cassie screamed, pushing the little girl towards her pony, grabbing the man's belt and digging her heels in to prevent him from giving chase, at the same time sinking her teeth into the hand
that held the knife. The scarred man howled, his two henchmen dismounting in order to come to his aid, were already on the sand when Linah scrabbled into her saddle and spurred her pony into a wild gallop. As Cassie kicked and bit and threw sand indiscriminately at each of the men, she caught a glimpse of Linah's terrified face looking over her shoulder. ‘Ride!' she screamed. Then a vicious blow to her temple from the hilt of a scimitar knocked her unconscious to the sand.

 

She awoke to darkness and agony. Her mouth was dry; it felt as if it had been washed out with sand. Her head was a ball of fire, centred on her right temple. She tried to sit up. White light blazed, a searing pain, and she lost consciousness. Some time later, she came to again and this time lay completely still, trying to assess the situation The ache was now a dull throb. Her mouth was almost glued shut with thirst. She was lying on her back in the sand, in what appeared to be a cave. She wriggled her toes, then tried to move her feet, only to find them bound. Her arms, too, were tied at the wrists and bound to a stake in the ground. She had only a groggy memory of how she had come to be here.

‘Linah?' Her voice was the merest croak, echoing eerily into the darkness. No reply. ‘Linah,' Cassie said again. Nothing. Good, she had escaped. Or else she was being held separately. Or else—
no, no, don't think that
.

Time passed. She had no idea how long. She lay fitfully between sleeping and waking, waiting, trying not to wonder, for to wonder was to panic. Linah had escaped. She would fetch Jamil. No, Jamil was not
there. She would fetch Halim. Not there either, he was with Jamil. The guards then. Or—or Peregrine Finchley-Burke. Light-headed with dehydration, Cassie giggled as she tried to picture apple-shaped Peregrine riding to her rescue. He would not get even as far as the Maldissi Oasis. And even if he did, how would he know where to look next? He did not know the desert. Besides, he was probably halfway to Cairo by now. Only Jamil knew this desert well enough. And Jamil probably didn't care. And even if he did, he wasn't there. And…

Tears rolled down Cassie's cheek. She could taste them, salty and hot on her tongue. They made her even thirstier. What would she rather die of—thirst or whatever the brigands had planned for her? A thousand cuts? Were they going to stake her out in the heat of the sun and leave her to the predators? Or maybe they would first ravish her. Maybe they intended not death, but life as some sort of slave. She recalled the hungry look in their eyes and shivered so hard her bonds dug into her wrists. If only she had not read all of those tales in
One Thousand and One Nights
. To think that she used to believe them romantic, even the most bloodthirsty. She did not want to die like a heroine. She had a sneaking suspicion that she was not going to make any real sort of heroine anyway. A real one would surely have found some way of freeing herself by now.

Cassie strained, but the ropes merely cut deeper into her wrists and her ankles. They must have taken her boots. How dare they take her boots! And her stockings, too—her feet were bare. Somehow, this minor violation was the one which offended her most, and fed
her courage. Cassie took a deep breath and screamed at the top of her voice.

‘Help! Help! Help!' Her screams resounded and echoed. ‘Help! Help! Help!' She was giving herself a headache. She tugged frantically at her bonds, wriggling and squirming in the sand in an effort to pull the stakes free, but to no avail. Exhausted, her head pounding like a smithy's anvil, Cassie lay panting and attempted to reason. If they wanted her dead, they would not have staked her out like this. Therefore they wanted her alive. Therefore they would be back, soon maybe. She must conserve her energy. She must try to reason with them. If not reason, she must fight. She did not want to die, but she
would
not submit.

 

At first, they could make no sense of what Linah said, for the child, having mustered all her strength and courage to get back to the royal palace, collapsed in a state of shock, muttering Cassie's name over and over. It was Celia who finally coaxed the story from her, and Celia who dispatched two servants hot foot, one in the direction of Prince Jamil, the other to her husband.

Even allowing for a child's natural tendency to exaggerate, what Linah told her of the kidnap was terrifying. Sick with dread, she resisted, with extreme difficulty, the completely useless but wholly natural impulse to rush out into the desert and search for Cassie herself. Instead, she interrogated Prince Jamil's head groom and with his help organised a search party consisting of palace guards. They were out all day, and into the night, but though they found the spot at which the kidnap had taken place, there was no sign of tracks
leading from it, and no one in all of Daar seemed to have any knowledge of where the brigands came from, what tribe they might belong to.

Celia spent the night pacing the floor, trying not to imagine what fate Cassie had met. That they had not murdered her on the instant was her only consolation, and it was a poor one, augmented only by the lack of a body, alive or—but, no, Celia refused to think of that.

Linah had woken several times in the night, hysterical with fear. Morning brought neither a ransom demand nor any sign of Prince Jamil. In despair, Celia consulted with the groom over another search party. Then she set about pacing the floor, wringing her hands and telling herself not to panic.