An hour later, Ginni's stomach grumbled about her small breakfast, and she went looking for something to eat. Seemed lunch had been set up like a buffet in the room with the glass table. She helped herself but found herself pushing the food around on a china plate rimmed in gold, hardly tasting the delicate spices and exotic dishes, and that was a pure shame. Getting up, she headed for the door and almost ran into Nasim.
He caught her arms—and she caught a breath.
For once, he looked a real sheikh. He had on the full deal—white robes, the white scarf over his head, held in place with a black, rope-like ring. A golden sash wrapped his waist, and white, wide trousers ended in soft, black boots. With that trim, black beard, those amber eyes, and the thick, dark eyelashes under the slash of black eyebrows, he looked better than any movie pirate. He also smelled a lot better than movie theater popcorn; his scent of musky spice wrapped around her, leaving her light-headed.
With a smile, he kissed one cheek, then the other, and said, "Hello, wife. Sorry to have kept you waiting, but the ambassador from Dijobuli insisted on a formal meeting."
She untangled herself from his arms. "That'd be, ‘good afternoon.’ Hope it wasn't bad." Her stomach knotted. Jasmine's
dad had seemed more than a little miffed about Jasmine having ditched her wedding.
Nasim shrugged. "The formalities of untangling what should have been my marriage to Jasmine Hadad. Have you heard from her? She has not yet told her father where she is."
Ginni bit down on her lower lip and chewed on it. She really didn't want to get in the middle of Jasmine needing to deal with her family.
Shaking his head, Nasim said, "Never mind my asking. You've lunched? Good. We start your lessons today." He took her hand and pulled her with him. She went, steps dragging. Given the dress she'd grabbed, she was hoping they weren't headed for the desert again. She'd be happy to stay out of the sun. The palace went in for thick walls and open doorways instead of air conditioning, and it reminded her of her grandma's old house, with its deep porches and breezeways.
She lost track of the turns they took—down this hallway, turn, down another one. More paintings on the walls, thick carpets, niches with vibrantly colored vases. She started to think this was as much a museum as a place to live. Could she maybe start complaining about that to make Nasim think he'd married the wrong woman?
And then Nasim led her onto a terrace that overlooked yet another garden, this one outside the main structure, but with a tall, white wall in the distance. She pulled in a breath, took in the flowers and lush vegetation, and wondered how anyone minded living in what was better than the best resort.
A couple of fellows in those long, white tunics waited. They smiled, swapped a bunch of words with Nasim, who'd dropped her hand and was pulling on a thick glove that came up to his elbow. One of the fellows offered her the same kind of glove—just one of them. She tried to pull it on like Nasim was doing and looked up to find yet another guy headed toward them with what looked like a hawk perched on his arm.
A black, leather hood with a tassel sticking up covered the bird's head. Brown feathers on its breast contrasted with a paler brown, and grey feathers stood out on the wings as it spread them and fluttered. Ties dangled from killer talons. The servant moved the bird to Nasim's arm. He said something to it, fed it some kind of treat, and it settled.
Slipping the hood from the hawk's head, Nasim turned to Ginni. "This is Kazakh. She is a saker falcon, and she has much to teach you."
Ginni eyed the bird, which seemed to be staring back as if sizing her up for a tasty meal. "That beak of hers—you sure she's not intending to take one of my fingers off?"
Nasim gestured for her to lift her arm. She did so—ready to jump back. The bird was still looking her over, but shifted from Nasim's arm to Ginni’s, digging into the glove with long talons in a way that left Ginni glad of the glove and also glad she worked out.
"She's no lightweight," she said, trying to balance her arm with the bird on it.
He grinned. What with him in the flowing robes and the sun sparkling in the blue sky, she thought he looked younger—happier. She kind of liked this Nasim better than the one in the button-down tailored suits.
They headed out into the garden, following a dirt path, her carrying the falcon and trying not to let her arm sag. The bird fluttered as if it wasn't happy, and Ginni caught Nasim's elbow with her free hand.
"I think she likes you better."
He took the falcon back onto his arm, soothed its feathers, and with a word to the falcon, threw it up into the sky. Ginni gasped. In the sky, the giant bird took on an unexpected grace as it stretched out its wings, beating up into the wind. It went from looking a menacing creature to a thing of utter beauty. Ginni decided the plan to make Nasim want to ask for a divorce would just have to wait.
"She's hunting now," Nasim said, sounding about as proud as a daddy watching his kid graduate.
"How does she know what to get?" Ginni asked, watching the bird soar overhead. "How does she know to come back?"
"I raised Kazakh from a hatchling. Her training has been one of the great joys of my life. But wait and watch—we hunt with her." Nasim kept talking, his voice low, almost mesmerizing. He stepped closer to Ginni and put an arm around her waist.
Ginni didn't care. She was caught up in the moment. "You ever wish you could be up there with her—flying high and free?"
Letting out a breath, Nasim nodded. "Kazakh is like me—a captive in luxury. She has the best food, the best care, but she is never truly free. Ah, look, she's spotted something—a rabbit perhaps. See how she circles. She'll dive soon, if she thinks the prey worth a chase."
He kept his stare on Kazakh, but he could feel Ginni's gaze on him now. "Ever thought about letting her go free?" she asked, her voice soft.
He looked down at her. "She is also like me in that regard—neither of us would do well without the surroundings we have grown up in. We are creatures of our world."
Ginni gave a snort and looked up at Kazakh again. "That sounds more like an excuse to me."
Kazakh's cry pulled Nasim's stare from Ginni. He needed his focus to be on the falcon now. Kazakh missed her first try at prey and came back to his arm when he whistled. He started to explain the finer points of falconry to Ginni—how it was not so much the hunt as the pleasure of watching Kazakh fly. And how Kazakh had infinite patience.