Master of the Desert

She made for a group of palm trees where he had sheltered the previous evening and there she stopped. ‘What’s wrong?’ he said, joining her in the shade.

‘This—all this,’ she said with a sweep of her hands over the jewelled gown. ‘More toys for me to play with, Ra’id? I grew up with this—I thought you knew that. I have fourteen wardrobes crammed full of clothes back in Rome. My brother gives me everything that money can buy; at one time I thought that beautiful clothes and wonderful jewellery, eating at the best places in Rome, was all it took to make me happy. I took it for granted, because that was my life. But it’s not enough, Ra’id. I’ve seen more now, and I want more.’

‘More?’ He hated the disillusionment spilling from Antonia’s lips, though he wondered if he had ever seen her looking lovelier than she did now with the morning breeze tossing her hair about and a vision of the future in her eyes.

‘I don’t mean more stuff,’ she said, perhaps sounding younger than she had intended. ‘I mean more time to be us—to be real—to do real things.’

‘If you mean time to work for the good of the charity?’ he said.

‘Yes!’ she exclaimed. ‘If you’ll let me work for Sinnebar, I’ll put my whole heart into it. I don’t need this pomp and ceremony, Ra’id. And, as for becoming a daughter of the tribe, it’s very kind of you—but it’s too late for me to become anyone’s daughter. I’m not a child any longer, Ra’id. Can’t you see that?’

His proposal for the tribe to adopt her had been his way of smoothing Antonia’s path so that they could be married. He had come to this conclusion without consulting her, he realised now. He hadn’t even told her how empty his life would be without her. In fact, life without Antonia was unthinkable. But had he told her that? Slowly unwinding his howlis, he stood staring out at the desert over which he ruled. He had made much of that desert into a garden for his people to enjoy and to nurture and harvest crops on. Was there as much hope for him?

Then she placed her hand on his arm and stared up at him, pleading. ‘Don’t drive me away.’

‘That’s the very last thing I’m trying to do.’

‘Then you must know I would never settle for anything less than a marriage based on love?’

Ra’id held her gaze. He looked more magnificent than she had ever seen him. There wasn’t a single item of his clothing, or even his expression, his hair or his eyes, that wasn’t unrelieved black, but she loved him without fear or favour. What did his outer coating matter? When she had seen him in regal robes of royal blue trimmed with golden thread and yellow sapphire, had she loved him more? Saif, in his worn, frayed shorts and faded top was the man she had fallen in love with, and they were one and the same. Except, Ra’id al Maktabi was a man turned hard by duty. But Ra’id’s fearful title didn’t frighten her. She wouldn’t allow anything to stand in the way of the people they could be. ‘You were wrong about me liking surprises,’ she told him softly. Still with her hand resting on Ra’id’s arm, she explained, ‘There are some surprises I do not like at all.’

Her heart faltered when he looked down at her and then she saw Saif in his eyes. ‘I think I get that,’ he said.

‘Can we talk?’ she whispered, hardly daring to believe what was happening.

‘We can talk,’ Ra’id confirmed, and, finding her hand with his, he linked their fingers together and, turning, they slowly walked together back to the tent.

He dismissed the servants so he and Antonia could be together.

‘It will cost you nothing,’ she told him earnestly, fixing her gaze on his. ‘No jewels, no land grants, nothing except you and me together, forging a future.’

He heard the question in her voice, and it was a question he couldn’t wait to answer. Drawing her to him, he kissed her gently on the brow. ‘Your wish is my command,’ he murmured.

He had dreams too, and his dream had grown to encompass the two of them standing together—but not too close for, in the words of the poet, even the pillars of the temple stood apart.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THE VALUE of a hug could not be overestimated, Antonia realised as Ra’id held her close. Sometimes she needed a hug more than anything, and it turned out that Ra’id was really good at that too. They were talking now and he was listening, really listening; she was back with the man she loved, the man she had known as Saif. She had changed into a casual robe and was reclining on the cushions with Ra’id, staring out across the ocean of sand through the silken curtain that covered the entrance to his pavilion. ‘I could never live as my mother lived.’