"Oh, the rooms are now climate controlled. Tarek saw to that at least."
"You sound fond of your cousin."
With a smile, Arif launched into stories of how he and his cousins had grown up in the palace and then been sent off to school together. "I was the serious one," Arif admitted.
She found herself laughing at some of their exploits—the time they'd swapped their professor's lecture notes with a Monty Python sketch to see if the old guy was paying attention, and he hadn't noticed until halfway through, or the time they'd gotten themselves utterly lost in the desert on a dare from Nasim.
"We are city boys at heart, I fear," Arif admitted. He shook his head, and Christine caught herself reaching for his hand to pat it. She pulled back and glanced out the window instead, seeing only the lights of the city behind them and the darkness of the desert in front. A half-moon hung high in the sky.
Looking back at Arif, she asked, "Just where are we going?"
"We are here." He drank the last of his water, put the crystal glass down, and waved at the huge tents spread around a torch-lit oasis.
Christine leaned forward. The limo pulled to a stop, Arif got out and offered his hand. She had to take it, and for a moment she clung to him, wobbling on her heels on the uneven ground. His arm went around her waist. Her heart skipped a beat, but he let go and offered his arm. Just like a gentleman. This kind of thing was going to drive her crazy.
His spice had mixed with that coming from the tents. A shrill ululation split the air. Several drums were beating, and the smell of roast meat reminded Christine she'd skipped lunch and hadn't had dinner yet. Her mouth started to water.
Tucking her hand in the crook of his arm, she turned her attention to the oasis.
A half-dozen black tents flapped in a slight breeze. Almost everyone seemed to be in traditional garb, men and women. She glimpsed an occasional suit or dress, and she was glad she'd changed and had gone for something covering and dressy. The desert air had cooled, and now she was almost comfortable. Except for the heels.
Two steps and she was sinking in the sand and wobbling again. Arif glanced down at her. He turned to the nearest man and said something far too rapid in Arabic for her to follow. A moment later, a woman in black robes and headscarf appeared with soft, black boots, which she offered to Christine.
Christine hesitated only a moment. "Shokran…shokran jazeelan. Thank you. Thanks very much." The woman giggled, and Christine hoped it wasn't because of her accented Arabic. She'd never really used it much before this trip. She swapped her heels for the boots and handed the shoes back to the woman.
The woman glanced at Arif. "Hal beleemkan?"
Fighting not to roll her eyes, Christine said, "Tab’an! Sure—it's a fair trade."
Eyes dancing, the woman took the shoes. They disappeared under the black robes. With a bow, the woman rejoined the others nearer the tents. Christine wiggled her toes in the boots—they were a touch large—and glanced over at Arif. He was smiling at her, eyebrows lifted.
Christine lifted her chin. "Well, she didn't have to ask you if it was okay. They were my shoes to give away."
"But of course. And now, let us join the wedding guests."
She stopped where she was and slipped her hand from Arif's arm. "Wedding? Are you trying to marry me here and now?"
He grinned. "You haven't moved the ring on your finger—so, no. Wafa is the daughter of Abd Al-Wali, who is my third cousin on my father's side, and therefore related to the royal family. I must attend, since there is a family tie and Tarek cannot, but she marries into the Bedouin who travel through Zahkim as they roam the desert. This is to be an utterly traditional wedding. You will see customs that date back thousands of years."
Christine's eyes brightened, and a smile lit her face. It was like watching the day dawn. Arif caught a breath. He also caught her hand. She did not pull away from him, so he led her into the nomad's camp. She seemed to want to see everything, and she asked a thousand questions. He did not mind. And he watched only her.
He did not bother to explain that the wedding had been going on for two days already. He did, however, tell her about the traditions unique to the nomads of Zahkim. In Zahkim, men and women did not celebrate in separate tents. The wedding was held under the stars, not inside the main tent, where goat and camel meat, lentil stew, sweet cakes, and tea had been set out.
The drumming stopped, and the bride stepped out of her tent, her robes and the arga covering her lower face lavishly decorated with golden coins that glittered and clattered as she moved, her eyes bright and rimmed with kohl. Christine caught a breath when the bride lifted her hand, revealing the red henna tattoos on her hands in far more intricate patterns than Tess had gone for at her wedding.
"Those are amazing," Christine whispered, leaning closer to Arif.
He made a mental note that his Christine must have the most beautiful designs put on her skin at her laylat al henna party. Leaning closer to her, he caught a whiff of her scent, and his pulse quickened.
Putting a hand over hers, he said, "They have no meaning; they are for beauty only."
The ceremony was simple and short, and afterwards the feast started—and the nomads of Zahkim knew how to party. Christine was pulled into a dance with the women. Tradition held that a women should only dance in front of other women if veiled, and so one of the other women handed her a black veil so she could join in. Guests threw candies into the air, and jokes circulated about how poor Maali had his hands full with a bride who would rule his house. The party moved into the tent to partake of the feast, and the drumming started up again, along with songs and more dancing.
The festivities were still going on when Arif noticed Christine's shoulders starting to sag. He rose, offered his congratulations to the two families, along with a handsome bride gift of money, and then made their farewells. He led Christine back to the limo with a hand at the small of her back.
Once inside the car, Christine settled back with a sigh. "That was amazing. But the bride and groom…they seemed so young."
"Not much younger than we are. And very much in love. Maali has been engaged to Wafa for two years—th