Historical Romance Books 1 – 4. Marguerite Kaye

      ‘Anything. Just tell me what to do. Anything.’

      He went to the mare’s head and began to murmur to her. The slow, hypnotic tone calmed her, allowing Stephanie to cool the sick beast, but she was under no illusions. The sickness was affecting Sherifa to a far greater degree than it had Batal.

      Through her tears she worked tirelessly, cooling, checking, decongesting the mare in a strict, endless sequence. She had seen Rafiq in passing over the last few days, but they had been like ships in the night. His training was relentless, her work at the stables exhausting. That the first time they were together since she admitted to herself that she loved him should be under such tragic circumstances was too awful to contemplate. Yet here they were together, with his dead wife’s precious mare fighting for survival, and if she died it was Stephanie’s fault.

      She picked up the empty wooden bucket to fetch more cold water, but Rafiq took it from her. ‘I will do it. Sherifa is calm for the moment. You need to calm yourself, Stephanie, or you will be of no use to either of us.’

      ‘It’s my fault. If I had thought for a moment...’

      ‘You have proved beyond doubt the source of the disease. Even if we lose Sherifa, it means we won’t lose any others.’

      ‘But we can’t lose Sherifa. I know how much she means to you.’

      He did not deny it. Stephanie wanted to throw herself at his feet and beg forgiveness, but that was hardly constructive. By the time Rafiq returned with fresh water, she had herself under control. ‘Thank you. If you can persuade her to drink a little, that would be very helpful, but the main thing is to...’

      ‘...keep her on her feet.’ Rafiq’s smile was ghostly.

      ‘Exactly. And tell her that she’s going to make it,’ Stephanie said firmly, ‘because I’m determined not to lose her.’

      * * *

      Stephanie worked with a grim resolve which seemed to increase the more the mare visibly weakened and Rafiq’s confidence fell. Though he kept up his murmuring, he was losing faith fast, and in the early hours of dawn, when Sherifa fell to her knees, despair set in. ‘We are losing her.’

      ‘No.’ They got her back up, thanks mostly to Stephanie’s sheer effort of will. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered to the mare, ‘but it’s not time for you to join your mistress just yet.’

      He tried to block them out, but the memories took hold as he and Stephanie fought what seemed to be a losing battle to keep Sherifa alive.

      Elmira putting Sherifa through her repertoire of tricks the night of the feast to celebrate the signing of the marriage contract.

      Elmira riding Sherifa through the gates of the palace ahead of the train of stallions on their wedding day.

      Elmira’s tears of joy when Sherifa gave birth to her first foal.

      Elmira’s tears of sadness when Jasim took the foal away. Far too early, Elmira claimed. It had been early, but Rafiq had been reluctant to intercede on her behalf. The foal was a fine stallion now, one of their Sabr racing string, in fact.

      Sherifa’s knees buckled again, and once again Stephanie refused to allow her to fall. ‘Shouldn’t we—isn’t it cruel to prolong her suffering?’ Rafiq asked, his voice cracked.

      ‘I am prolonging her life. Don’t give up on her, Rafiq. Please don’t give up.’

      He had given up on Elmira. He wouldn’t give up on her mare. ‘Come on, Sherifa,’ Rafiq muttered, in the language he had learnt as a child, in the language that Elmira had always spoken to her beloved mare. ‘Your mistress would want you to show your true Arabian spirit.’

      The hours passed in a daze. At times he could sense Elmira’s ghost watching him, alternatively accusing him and pleading with him. If Sherifa died, it would be a damning judgement on him. He wasn’t sure he could endure it. Would he still have the heart to enter the Sabr, far less win it?

      * * *

      ‘Rafiq.’ A gentle hand on his shoulder roused him. Daylight streamed through the high window. He blinked. Silence. No wheezing. ‘Is she...?’

      ‘See for yourself.’ Stephanie’s smile was strained. ‘A miracle,’ she said.

      Rafiq rubbed his eyes. Not a miracle, but an exhausted horse with a soaking wet coat and a streaming nose settling down for a long-overdue sleep. ‘Sherifa.’ Rafiq scrabbled to his feet. The mare tossed her head and attempted a wheezy whinny.

      ‘She’s made it. I’m not sure if she’ll ever be fit for breeding again, but...’

      ‘She’s alive.’ Rafiq ran his fingers along the horse’s back. ‘You saved her.’

      ‘We saved her,’ Stephanie said.

      He caught her to him, hugging her tightly, burying his head in her hair. ‘Thank you. You can have no idea how much this means.’

      ‘I do.’

      ‘No, you don’t.’ He staggered. The stable floor began to tip and tilt. ‘I killed her, Stephanie.’ His legs wouldn’t hold him any longer. He slid down on to the floor, dropping his head on to his hands. ‘I killed Elmira.’

      ‘Rafiq!’ Stephanie wrapped her arms around him. ‘Rafiq, you are overwrought. You don’t know what you are saying. Elmira died in her sleep. Aida told me.’

      He was so tempted to agree. He was so tired. But it was said now, there was no taking it back. He lifted his head. ‘Aida told you what everyone believes. Only I know the truth.’

      He felt light-headed and heavy-witted at the same time. Elmira, Sherifa and Stephanie had become confused in his fevered dreams, he remembered that. Looking at Stephanie now, dark shadows under her eyes, her hair lank, her skin sallow, her tunic stained, he felt something inside him stir. An odd feeling. He didn’t know what it was. He was too exhausted to work out what it was.

      ‘I thought she was here,’ he said. ‘Elmira. She was a permanent presence here, in the stables, in the early days of our marriage. Haunted them,’ he added with a dry laugh. ‘That’s what Jasim said. She certainly does now.’

      ‘You didn’t kill her. You’re not capable of killing her. I know you, Rafiq.’

      ‘You didn’t know me then, Stephanie. I was obsessed.’

      ‘You told me that. And I told you...’

      ‘...that my marriage made perfect royal sense. I remember. It’s no excuse. Though Elmira was happy at first, would have remained happy if I had been the husband I should have been. But even on our marriage day, I was more interested in the bloodstock that was her dowry, than my wife. I put her in the harem, I ensured she had all the clothes and jewels she desired, and I—I left her there. I visited, because it was my duty to visit for the sake of an heir, but I didn’t visit often, and I made no effort to get to know her. Elmira was my wife, but she was a stranger to me, Stephanie.’

      He slid a glance at her. She didn’t like what she was hearing. Not surprising. She was trying to disguise it, but subterfuge was one of the few things at which Stephanie did not succeed. ‘Her only pleasure was the stables, the horses, Sherifa. But not only Sherifa. She had a way with horses. She could charm them, much better than I could. She didn’t like Jasim. She thought his methods harsh. She said he didn’t love them. You and Elmira—you would have agreed on that. You would have probably—you’d probably have liked each other. If I had taken the time, I’d have liked her. But I didn’t take the time.’

      His head ached. His vision was slightly blurred. He narrowed his eyes. ‘Stephanie?’

      She touched his hand. Only fleetingly, but he knew it was her. ‘Did you take a fall yesterday during training?’ she asked.

      ‘Never a day goes by without me taking a fall.’

      ‘I