Hot Arabian Nights. Marguerite Kaye

we be travelling—you will no doubt be expected to travel with a large caravan?’

      ‘This is not a royal procession. We will be travelling unaccompanied.’

      Two nights under the stars. Alone with Azhar. The prospect was both thrilling and slightly scary. What if their journey led to their other intimate journey progressing? To what undiscovered and magical places might that lead them? With Azhar as her guide the voyage was bound to be as exciting as the destination.

      She shivered, then remembered the real point of their trip. ‘I am flattered, Azhar. I appreciate the honour you have done me by confiding in me. Can you rely on Kamal to implement your instructions while you are temporarily absent?’

      Azhar’s frown was back in place. ‘He was naturally defensive, he certainly was inclined to view my suggestions as criticisms, but he did not refuse to co-operate.’

      ‘Kamal has no option but to co-operate,’ Julia said. ‘As far as Kamal is concerned, you are his future King.’ Azhar drew her one of his intimidating looks, but she simply glared back at him. ‘Wasn’t that the point of dressing up, of choosing this court room for the audience?’

      ‘What matters is his co-operation. I have achieved that,’ Azhar said stiffly.

      And all at once, Julia saw the fundamental flaw in his logic. It was so simple, so obvious, she couldn’t believe she had not spotted it before. Azhar thought his brother weak, but he did not doubt his good faith. Or he would not doubt it. When Azhar left, Kamal would be King. A weak man who was also an honest man would be grateful for the checks and balances and props that Azhar had put in place. But a corrupt man would set about dismantling them in an instant.

      Julia’s heart sank. Azhar claimed to value his freedom more than anything, but first and foremost he was a man of honour. He would surrender his kingdom to a weak ruler, but he would never leave it in the hands of a corrupt one. She hoped most fervently that their trip into the desert would prove that Kamal was the former, otherwise Azhar would be sealing his own fate.

      ‘May I take your silence for agreement?’ Azhar asked her.

      Julia hesitated only fractionally before nodding.

      She was rewarded with a smile in which she was certain she detected an element of relief. ‘I must leave you now,’ Azhar said, ‘I do not wish to arrive late to Council. Contrary to the opinion of some, I have found that tardiness serves not to enhance one’s sense of importance, but rather gives the impression that one does not value the importance of others. Have your maid pack for you. We leave at dawn.’

      A brief smile and Azhar was gone, leaving Julia with her second unwelcome insight of the day. It was not a reluctance to contradict him which kept her silent, but a reluctance to hurt him. She was beginning to care about this man, and she would be a fool to allow herself to care more. Whether he remained in Qaryma or not, wed to his kingdom or wed to his business, his future lay a world apart from hers. She had her own future to think of, her own freedom to finalise. This next trip into the desert would move her much closer to completing her collection of species.

      Time was running out for her here in this fantastical world. But in the meantime, she resolved to make the most of it. Alone in the desert under the stars, there would surely be the opportunity for another stage of the journey she and Azhar had set out on. A journey she would embrace, not shy away from.

      * * *

      The sky was a spectacular deep fuchsia pink when they set out at dawn the next day. As the sun climbed slowly above the horizon, it lightened from pink to orange and then suffused gold. Julia had managed to mount her camel fluidly in the Bedouin manner, stepping lightly on its neck, giving her that vital few seconds extra to seat herself before it reared up. Still slightly smug from this success, and concentrating hard on mirroring the swaying rhythm of the beast she rode, for it did not come naturally by any manner of means, she did not notice that she and Azhar had no pack mules with them until they were well clear of the city.

      ‘We don’t have any tents. And my clothes...’

      ‘It is taken care of,’ Azhar replied.

      ‘How? In what way is taken care of?’

      He glanced over at her. ‘In the way of a surprise, Julia, nothing more sinister. A series of small treats, to show my gratitude.’

      ‘Treats? What sort of treats?’

      Above the flutter of silk that covered his face, Azhar’s eyes crinkled into a smile. ‘All will be revealed in due course. On any journey patience is a virtue, and enhances the experience. I hope to have the opportunity to demonstrate that to you.’

      There was no disguising his meaning. Julia reminded herself that this was not shocking since it was not real, it was fantasy. The world would be real again soon enough. She resolved once again to embrace whatever was to come. She wasn’t shocked, she was excited.

      The sky settled into newly minted blue, the sun to pale gold. The desert stretched before them, a vast swathe of undulating sands. Like the sky, the air was newly minted, not yet too bright nor too hot, though it would certainly be both very soon. Julia would never be able to acclimatise herself to the heat in the way the true people of the desert did. She still wilted like a water-starved plant in the blaze of the afternoon sun, and her head still ached if she was foolish enough to stay out in it too long, but she loved the tingle on her skin, that particular combination of dry air and sand that was the essence of the desert. She loved sunrise and sunset. She loved the oddly salty taste of the air as dark descended and the wondrous night sky lit up. She loved the way the landscape shifted and changed before her eyes. And she loved the contrasts, the sifting golden sands and the soft red rocks, the vivid greens of the oases and the exotic variety of crops that grew there. The colours of the clothes and the scents of the markets. She had even come to terms with the distressing variety of noises emitted from her camel, the sour huff and puff of its breath as it carried her, the groaning when she forced it on to its knees, the bleating sound it made when communing with other beasts.

      She curled her leg around the pommel, shifted in a vain effort to get more comfortable on the box seat, and looked around her with a contentment so all-consuming she felt she might burst. This was her favourite time of day, when the morning sparkled with promise. Of new places and new experiences. Of new people. Perhaps even new plants.

      And beside her, Azhar. Looking at him, she felt her contentment turn to a fizz of excitement. His tunic had pale-blue-and-white stripes today, the boots which clad his long legs dark-blue leather. His cloak was plain white silk, billowing out in the gentle breeze around his muscular frame. His keffiyeh was also white silk, tied with a scarf of dark blue. He sat on the camel with that graceful ease, that unconscious air of command that Julia had noticed from their very first meeting. Azhar did not need a huge caravan to follow him, he did not require a posse of servants or even cloth of gold to proclaim his status. He looked every inch the sovereign.

      Despite the fact that his desert clothes covered all but his hands and the top half of his face, he still managed to look quite devastatingly attractive too. Beneath her veil, a smile tugged at Julia’s mouth. This man, this powerful, honourable, quite beautiful man, found her attractive. It astounded her, but she no longer doubted it, and the knowledge thrilled her, imbuing her with a confidence she had never possessed before. So far, this so-called journey of physical exploration of theirs had been focused entirely on her. She had been content—more than content—to allow Azhar to direct it, and to define each destination. Looking at him now, Julia decided to surprise him. She wanted to see him naked. She wanted to see him out of control. The small issue of her utter lack of expertise in such matters momentarily deflated her, but not for long. Instinct, she told herself, would take over, fed by passion. It was the most natural thing in the world, what occurred between a man and a woman. She simply had to let nature—her nature, previously dormant—run its course.

      * * *

      It took three hours to reach the village, by which time Julia’s mind was far from the night to come, with all its potential excitement, and focused only on keeping her numb bottom securely perched on the boxed saddle.