The Sheikh's Jewel (12 page)

Later that night, contented once more, Amber wrapped herself in the sheet to use the bathroom, and trod on the bed curtain, pulling it down. Scrambling behind the ones still hanging in place, and making sure she was covered by the sheet, she whispered, ‘Fix it, Harun, quickly!’

Loving that she could be so demanding and uninhibited with him and yet was so modest otherwise, he rolled off the bed. Then he felt himself being jerked back down to the bed with a thump. Half indignant, half laughing, he was about to kiss her when she shook her head, and her mouth moved to his ear. ‘Harun, I think I know how we can escape.’ She laid her hand across his lips. ‘Put the curtains back in place, but leave the end with me.’

The imperative command spoken beneath her breath put his brain back in order. He hung the cheesecloth back in its place. He’d just turned to her when she put a finger to her lips. He nodded, and crawled across the bed to reach her. ‘Make sounds as if we’re making love,’ she mouthed.

Puzzled but willing to indulge her, he made a soft groaning sound, and another, and bounced, making the old bed squeak, and he heard the soft swishing of feet moving from the holes in the wall. The guards had obviously been ordered to give them privacy.

She nodded and waved her hand.
Do it again.

As he continued she folded the end of the curtain over, and looked closely. She probed it with her fingers. Pulling something from the bedside table, he couldn’t make out what in the darkness, she moved it into the material. Then she whispered in his ear, ‘This is one of the hairpins they gave me. If we twist them a bit, we can use them like clothing pins. We can use a curtain each, doubled over, and weave the pins through to hold the edges together.’

‘You’re going to make us wear togas?’ he whispered back, trying hard not to laugh, but intrigued nevertheless. He made another necessary noise.

She nodded, her face adorably naughty in response to his groan. ‘We girls played dress-ups enough as children. I destroyed sheets and curtains regularly until the servants complained, and Father made materials available to me. I made my sisters be my emperors or slaves. I was always Agrippina or Claudia, of course.’ And then her grin faded. ‘And the rest of the curtains we can tie together with the sheets.’

The simple brilliance of the plan caught him by surprise, as did her knowledge of Roman empresses’ names.
She really does love history.
‘In the middle of the night, I take it?’

She nodded again. ‘You go first, since you have the greatest chance of making it safely down, while I make, ah, appropriate sounds.’ She nudged him, and he groaned again, while she sighed and moaned his name. ‘Then I follow.’

He shook his head. ‘No, you’ll go first.’ The slowest person had to go first. Then if anyone saw them, or the light came early or a check, he could jump down and—

‘No,’ she whispered urgently. ‘You weigh more than me, and these curtains might not last long. I’m not athletic, and I might panic if the curtains begin to give. If you’re already down…’

‘I could catch you,’ he whispered back, seeing the sense in that.

‘You can get away,’ she finished at the same time. ‘You’re the important one—you have to live. I couldn’t bear it if you were hurt, or caught because I let you down.’ Then she moaned again. ‘Oh, my love, yes…’

Words she’d said while making love, but he’d taken them with a grain of salt in his experience, women became very affectionate during the act when he pleased them, and he’d never had a more compatible lover than Amber.

But she’d said it now:
My love…
and it disturbed him somehow, left him with that restless, needing to get out of here feeling. Yet she was willing to sacrifice herself—she saw him as the important one—and it caught him like a jab to the solar plexus. He’d always been the replacement, with the disposable life. Until now. Until Amber.

Did she really mean it? The doubts were insidious, but part of him now, a part so intrinsic he wouldn’t know how to get them out of his system.

‘Amber,’ he groaned, and then whispered, ‘I’ll go first, but only because I can catch you—and because you’re more vocal than me, during, ah…’

With a grin, she jabbed him in the side with her elbow, and he chuckled low.
Objective achieved,
he thought with a wry twist to his lips. She was distracted—and more, she was laughing. It was stupid, but he wanted her to stay happy for what would probably be their last day together. He could see her plan working. Already he was adding to her plan, with his commander’s training—and planning what to do when he had Amber safe somewhere. If his brother had been taken, or, Allah forbid, killed, he knew what he had to do. If Alim was safe, the plan barely changed.

Though he had no choice but to go ahead with finding their abductors, he could no longer conjure up anger, humiliation or regret. In this abduction, he’d been given a gift beyond price. He could barely believe Amber had been in front of him for years and he’d been too angry, too betrayed or just too plain stupid to look for the passion beneath her ice when she looked at him, and her courage under this extreme test.

But for now, he had to go forward. If she was still willing when he’d found their traitors… ‘So we do this tonight. We can go home.’

A few seconds too long passed before she answered. ‘Yes. Um, wonderful.’

He looked at her, frowning, and saw the uncertainty he heard in her voice mirrored in her forlorn expression. ‘This is your plan, Amber. Why are you hesitating?’

Still wrapped only in the sheet, she wiggled her toes, and shook her head. ‘It’s silly.’

‘I can’t agree or disagree with that statement until I know what “it” is,’ he said, concerned. Though it was hard to see her expression clearly in the waxing moonlight to the east, he thought she looked lost. After a while, she gave a little half-shrug—and with a small start, he realised it was an unconscious emulation of his own act when he wanted to hide his emotions. ‘Tell me, Amber.’

‘You’ll think I’m stupid,’ she muttered. ‘You’ll laugh at me.’

So Amber really cared what he thought about her. Touched, he took her hands in his. ‘No, I won’t, no matter what. I promise. Now tell me.’

She couldn’t look at him; her hands pulled out of his as she looked anywhere but at him. Frowning, he watched her, and waited.

After a few moments she spoke, her voice low, but clearly fumbling for words. ‘Out there—’ her arm shot out, her finger pointing towards the window ‘—everything will change; we won’t be able to control what happens. You’ll have duty—your responsibilities, or your work, or maybe at last you can do whatever you want to do with your life. I don’t know what I’ll have.’ She lifted her face, and she was so beautiful and so sad he wanted to haul her close, kiss her and tell her it would be all right; the world, their families and life wouldn’t come between them. But he couldn’t guarantee anything at this point, and she knew it.

‘I ruined your plans, didn’t I? I never thought beyond here and now, or what you wanted.’ He tipped her face up to his. ‘Did you want your freedom so badly?’

An almost violent shake of her head answered him. ‘I regret nothing. You—you’ve made me so happy, if only for a few days.’ Her hair fell over her face. She seemed very small and fragile. ‘I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know what’s in my future. It’s different for you, the whole world’s there for you, anything you want, but what do I do, Harun? Where do I go from here?’

An ache filled him, not for his sake but hers. Raised only to be a sheikh’s wife, to be a political helpmate and child-bearer, Amber had now lost her chance to be another man’s wife, to bear children. From what Aziz had told him, the only career she’d been trained for was that of a powerful man’s virgin bride, his consort and mother of his children. If she’d been taught to believe it was her only use, no wonder she was lost now. ‘I can’t answer those questions. Only you can do that.’

Her head shook almost violently. ‘I can’t. I’m not—I’m not ready.’

‘You’re not ready for what?’

‘To leave, to give up, to go back to—to the life I had before. I don’t want to go back to that…that emptiness. I’ve been so happy here.’ She looked up again, and in the time between sunset and moonrise he still saw a look of sadness so profound, the ache grew and spread through his body.

The irony didn’t escape him. It had only taken being abducted to show him how little palace life meant to Amber. He felt awful, having left her alone in it so long; but how could he have dreamed the imperious princess who’d cried at the thought of marrying him could be so happy here, in a place with few creature comforts, and being alone with him? With just a small amount of his attention she’d become the most giving, ferocious, amazing lover he’d ever known.

He was happy now with what they had, so happy, but she was lost. He wanted to help her, but at this moment he didn’t know what she needed most—his reassurance or her freedom. ‘What can I do to help?’

She leaned forward and whispered harshly, ‘We could die tonight.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed quietly, wondering where she was going.

She shuffled her feet on the bed, twisting her hands around each other for a few more moments, and finally whispered, ‘I’m not ready to let you go, Harun. I need you one more time before the world comes between us.’

He almost let out a shout of laughter, an exclamation of amazement and the pure joy of it, but, remembering his promise, he held it in. ‘That’s all you want?’

She gave a tiny headshake. ‘It’s all I’m asking for now…no decisions to make, no family to please, no duty to perform, no anger or pride or servants’ gossip. Just give me tonight.’ Dropping the sheet, she burrowed her body against his, burying her face in his neck. ‘Just give me you, one more time.’

Shaking, his arms held her tight against him. How had he ever been so stupid as to believe he’d married a cold wife? By heaven, this woman was a warm-hearted, generous miracle, a gift from God who’d given him chance after chance every time he’d screwed it up or hurt her again. But this time he wasn’t going to leave her crying, alone with her pain, leaving her to hide behind her only solace, her pride.

He laid her tenderly back on the bed, and closed all the window shutters and the bed curtains before returning to her. ‘Just you and me.’

Her lips fell apart, and her eyes glowed. ‘Thank you,’ she breathed, as if he’d offered her a treasure beyond price.

‘You’re welcome.’ Was his voice as unsteady as it sounded to him? After three long, lonely years, he realised what he could have had with Amber all along: a willing wife and lover as generous as he could have dreamed, a woman who didn’t care in the least about his family name or position; all she wanted was him.

Give me a chance. It’s all I’m asking.

It was all she’d ever asked of him: to give her a chance to show him the woman she really was inside. But he’d just kept pushing her away until he’d been given no choice in the matter. The chance she’d asked for had been forced on him, and he’d only given her grudging trust. Their alliance had been years too late, forged from desperation. And still, when he thought of what Amber had given him in return…

Praise God for their abductors, and this ruthless method of bringing them together.

How could he let her go after this? Was this the last night he’d ever have with her?

‘You can have whatever you want. Just ask and it’s yours, I swear it,’ he said, even now only half believing she’d take him up on it.

Her eyes shimmered at his words. ‘Do you think, when we go back, we could maybe go on a honeymoon? Just us, you and me?’

Something inside him felt as if it burst open, something tightly locked away too long. ‘Of course we can. I’ll have a few things to do first, but as soon as they’re done…’

She nodded, and kissed him. ‘Of course. I can wait.’

She’ll wait for me.
He smiled, and wondered if he’d ever stop smiling again. ‘We know we don’t need to take the honey-wine with us.’

‘No, and you don’t need to drug me.’ Her returned smile was a thing of pure beauty. ‘You’ll ravish me day and night, and I’ll let you.’

‘I’ll do my poor best.’ He bowed as he laughed. ‘Let me? I doubt you’d let me stop, my jewel. And you’ll ravish me.’

‘Of course I will,’ she replied earnestly, as if he’d asked her for reassurance.

In all his life, he’d never remembered feeling like this—as if he could fly. The hope he’d believed dead was back, the terrible, treacherous thing he hardly dared to believe in was whispering to him that, this time, he wouldn’t be hurt or left alone; he’d finally found the one who would want to stay with him. ‘I have a yacht off Kusadasi on the Adriatic Sea. I haven’t used her in years. We could cruise through the Greek Islands, or we can head to the east if you prefer. It’ll be just you and me, for however long you want.’

‘Oh, Harun…’ She wound her arms around his neck, and buried her face in his shoulder. He heard her mumble some words, but, though he couldn’t make them out, he felt the warmth of her tears against his skin, and then her lips roaming him in eager need.

Squelching that traitor’s voice inside him, knowing he had to leave her first, he lifted her face and kissed her.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

H
OW
long do I want with you? I want for ever.

Had he heard her say it? She didn’t know. All she knew was that in the last few days, she’d truly become a woman—and the frustrated desire she’d known for so long, the admiration and longing for her husband had become total and utter love without her even noticing. Harun had ignored her, but he’d never intentionally hurt her; he’d left her alone, but he’d fought for peace in Abbas al-Din, and worked himself half to death to hand his brother a country in good economic and political shape when Alim returned.

Had Alim ever really been a champion in her eyes? Perhaps in a public way, but it was nothing in comparison with the way she saw Harun.

During the past three years, Harun had shown her the real meaning of the word
hero.
Being a hero didn’t have to come in flashy shows or trophies or spilling champagne in front of cameras; it wasn’t in finding wealth, writing songs or poetry or giving flowers; it was in wordless self-sacrifice, doing the right thing even when it hurt, giving protection and—and just giving, expecting nothing in return.

She loved the man he was, and she no longer needed or even wanted fancy words or riotous acclaim. She just needed him, her quiet, beloved tiger, her lover and her man, and now she had him to herself, she never wanted to let him go again.

But she knew there was little choice in that. She’d lose him again; but for now, she’d take what she could with him.

‘What do you want most to get from your job?’ she asked while they waited for the deepest part of the night.

He didn’t ask her to explain; he knew what she wanted: to connect with him, to know him. ‘It’s the really ancient history that fascinates me—our early ancestors. The Moabites during the Ishmaelite period, and Canaan, with the Philistines to the west. I want to know who they were beyond the child sacrifices and the multiplicity of gods.’

She held in the shudder. ‘They sacrificed children?’

‘Yes, they sacrificed their firstborn to the god Malcam, believing it brought his blessing to their crops. Archaeologists have found the sites of newborn cemeteries all over modern-day Israel and Lebanon, Jordan and Syria.’

This time she couldn’t hold it in. ‘That’s disgusting.’

‘Our ancestors weren’t the most civilised people.’ He grinned. ‘But what I want most of all is to discover traces of the real people called the Amalekites. It’s still hotly contested by historians as to who they were, because they just seemed to disappear from the human record about three thousand years ago.’

‘How can that be?’ she asked, wide-eyed. ‘How can a whole nation of people just vanish without trace?’

‘They didn’t—there are records, but none belonging to them. It seems they were a warrior-nation that didn’t keep their own records. Other contemporary nations speak of them as the most terrifying warriors of their time…oh, sorry, I must be boring you to sleep,’ he teased as she tried valiantly to hold in her third yawn.

‘No, no, I want to know,’ she mumbled, snuggling deeper against his chest. ‘I’m listening, I promise—just sleepy.’

Harun smiled down at her, and stroked her hair as she fell into a deep sleep. He could give her an hour; it was just past midnight.

* * *

It was heading for two a.m. when he woke her.

Instinctively Amber reacted to the gentle shaking by rolling into him, seeking his mouth. It was amazing how quickly she’d become accustomed to needing him there. ‘I’m sorry, I let you sleep as long as I could,’ he whispered, after they’d shared a brief, sweet kiss. ‘We have to start on the plan.’

With difficulty, she reoriented herself. ‘Of course, I have the pins ready. We’ll need to be as silent as possible.’

‘If we make any noise, I’ll make some lover-noises to cover it, and you do that laughing thing you do.’

She felt her cheeks heating, but smiled. ‘I can do that. Now help me pull the curtains down. We’ll just take one down at a time—and while I’m making one toga, check the windows to see how many guards are stationed.’

The curtains proved no hardship in pulling off the rail, except in the slight swish and slide of falling off the rail, once it was loosened. She pulled him to her and deftly wound the doubled fabric over his shoulder and around his waist. ‘What I wouldn’t give to be able to rip the towels into strips,’ she murmured as she had to push the pin-head through the fabric every time. ‘Then we could have a waist-sash.’

He groaned her name softly, and pushed the bed down with his hand. If they got quiet for any length of time, the guards would return. ‘Here, let me.’ He twisted the ends of the pushed-through pin so each end bent back on itself. ‘No chance of its undoing now. Put one at my waist and it should be fine.’

‘Two is better.’ She worked two pins into the waist, at the rib and hip level. ‘Now if one goes the other will hold.’

They both made appropriate noises while he got down another curtain and she made her toga; he helped her twist the pins, and the cheesecloth felt surprisingly strong under his hands. Amber felt breakable in comparison, or maybe it was the fear in her eyes.

They continued making sounds of love as he twisted the remaining curtains and sheets together in sailing knots.

It was time. It was nearly three a.m. and they couldn’t keep up the noises much longer, or the guards would become suspicious. Seeing the fear growing in her eyes, he held her hands, smiled and whispered, ‘You know what to do. I’ll pull the rope three times when I reach the bottom. Be strong, my Kahlidah, my Agrippina.’

She gulped at the reference to her great-grandmother. ‘I’m trying, but right now I don’t think I take after her.’

She was falling apart at the worst possible time, and he had only seconds to pull her back together. ‘I’m relying on you,
mee numara,
my courageous tigress. This is your plan. You can fulfil it. You
will
do this.’ And he kissed her, quick and fierce.

‘I think I’ll leave any roaring until later,’ she whispered with a wavering smile.

Harun winked at her. ‘I’ll be waiting for you.’

With one swift, serious look he kissed her a final time; with a little frown and eyes enormous with fear and strangely uncertain determination, she waved
him off.

He crept to the window, and checked as best he could. If guards were posted around he couldn’t see them—but then, he thought the numbers of guards had thinned out in the past day. They’d achieved their first objective, he supposed, and would let them enjoy their faux honeymoon.

At first, he had thought that with every piece of furniture but the chairs being nailed to the floor, he could use a bigger piece as a ballast. The closest to a window least likely to attract attention was the dining table—but now it looked too old, fragile; it might break under his weight. After scanning the room again, he saw the only real choice was the bed, since the wardrobe was too wide, taking rope length they couldn’t afford.

The bed was the furthest from any window. This was going to be tight.

He looked at her again, and pulled at each corner of the bed, testing its strength, while Amber covered the noises as best she could with cries of passion, but her eyes were wide and caught between taut fear and held-in laughter.

The sturdiest part of the bed was the corner furthest from the window, but he estimated that would leave their rope at least eight feet short. Having jumped from walls in his army training, he knew they couldn’t afford the noise he’d make in landing, or in catching her. If she’d come that far, seeing the gap.

This was Hobson’s choice. A swift prayer thrown to heaven, and he made his decision, tying the rope with a triple winding around the nearest bed leg and through the corner where the mattress rested.

Then, slowly and with the utmost care, he let the makeshift rope out of the window closest to the bed, and in the middle of the room, an inch at a time. It was frustrating, wasting time they didn’t have, but throwing the rope could lead to its hitting something and causing attention.

At last the rope could go no further. He leaned out, and saw the rope was only short by about three feet, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief, giving Amber a thumbs-up.

Her smile in the moonlight was radiant with the same relief he felt. With a short, jaunty wave and another wink he hoped she could see, he climbed over the sill, gripped the cheesecloth in both hands and began the drop.

The hardest part was not being able to bounce off the building, but just use his hands to slide down. By the time he’d reached the smoother sheet part of the rope, his hands were raw and starting to bleed. He and Amber had discussed this even as they’d loved each other the final time; she knew what to expect.

He only hoped her courage saw her through. But she was only twenty-two—what had he done with life by then? Yes, he’d passed all his training exercises with the armed forces, but that was at the insistence first of his parents and then Fadi. He’d replaced Alim and Fadi at necessary functions, but again, he’d been trained for it all his life. He’d told Amber how to rappel down the rope, but if she panicked—

In his worry over her, he’d rappelled automatically down the final fifty feet. His toga was askew, but his pins held. Running even by night in their bare feet would be hard, harder on Amber; would they make it?

Stop thinking.
He looked around and again saw no guards. Vaguely uneasy, he checked out their surroundings, and tugged on the rope slowly three times. Within moments he saw her looking out of the window. Beckoning to her lest she back out, he hoped he’d done enough.

It was long moments before she moved—time they didn’t have; the eastern sky was beginning to lighten. Then she slipped over the edge and, using only her hands, began dropping towards him. His heart torn between melting at her bravery and pounding with fear that she’d fall, he braced himself to catch her.

She stopped at the point where the sheets took over from the curtains, and he almost felt the raw pain her hands were in. He did feel it; his hands took fire again, as if in sympathy.

Come on, Amber. I’m waiting for you…

A few moments later, she began sliding down—literally sliding—and his heart jack-knifed straight into his mouth.

Allah help me!

A slight thump, and a madly grinning Amber was beside him, looking intensely proud of herself. ‘You thought I was falling, didn’t you?’

He wanted to growl so badly the need clawed around his belly, but instead he found himself kissing her, ferocious and in terrified relief. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Which way?’

He pointed. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t recognise where we were before, but from above the perspective changes, I suppose. This was one of the first battle areas during the el-Shabbat war. We’re only about fourteen miles from Sar Abbas.’

Her face changed, losing some confidence. ‘Fourteen miles. I can do that,’ she whispered, frowning like a child facing a wall. ‘Let’s run.’

His uneasiness growing—why wasn’t anyone trying to stop them?—he took her hand and ran southwest. Towards the dimly lit road only a mile away where he hadn’t been able to see it before, behind the part of the building without windows. The brighter lights of Sar Abbas glinted in the distance like a welcoming beacon.