Historical Romance: April Books 1 - 4. Marguerite Kaye

not a man she would care to cross.

      But he was definitely a man she wanted to know better. Tahira wrapped her arms around herself. A man who saw her, a woman without a royal title or impeccable blue-blooded lineage, but like him, without a name and with precious little background. Christopher had made it very clear he liked what he saw. That a man so vital, so wildly attractive could be attracted to her—she couldn’t quite believe it. Last night, she had rather desperately wanted him to kiss her. The ultimate temptation and the ultimate deterrent, he had called her innocence. Was it wrong of her to wish that innocence away?

      Yes, Tahira acknowledged with a wicked smile, very wrong but very appealing. Not that she would ever dare surrender what amounted to her most marketable asset, but there was no harm in travelling a very little way down the sinful path, when no one would ever know, was there? If one thing had become clear from her discussion with Juwan, it was that the days of her current life were severely numbered.

      Talking of time! Tahira checked her watch, and gave a gasp of surprise. It was later than she realised. More than time for her to assume the garb of her alter ego and escape from the harem under cover of darkness, to keep her assignation with the mysterious and brooding foreigner. After all, it would be foolish not to take maximum advantage of what little time, and personal freedom, she had left.

       Chapter Three

      ‘Do you think the early indications are encouraging?’

      Christopher dropped down on to the sand beside Tahira. They were sitting at the base of the rocky outcrop, on the opposite side from the mine entrance. ‘It is too soon to make any judgement as yet, we have only examined a small section of the site so far.’

      ‘I understand that. It is only that I so desperately want this to be the turquoise mine you have been searching for.’

      ‘No one could wish that more than I.’ They had not uncovered a shred of evidence of mining activity in ancient times in the course of the night. Could his instincts be wrong? Christopher wondered. No, he would not contemplate that possibility. Instead, he contemplated the woman seated opposite him. While they worked together, her knowledge and enthusiasm had made it easy to become absorbed in seeking evidence of the past, but now, seated within inches of her graceful, sensuous body, her glossy fall of hair, he was once again acutely aware of her allure.

      ‘It is a beautiful night,’ Tahira said, looking wistfully up at the sky. ‘How I would love to sleep under the stars. To wake in the cool, fresh dawn, to see the desert come alive at the beginning of a new day, to have nothing around me save the sky and the sand.’

      ‘What’s stopping you?’ he asked, distracted by the image of her newly woken, rumpled from sleep.

      ‘I cannot risk returning in daylight,’ she answered, and he castigated himself for his thoughtless question, when he saw her sad little smile. ‘Though to be honest,’ she added, ‘if I were caught, I can’t see how the punishment could be any worse than the fate they have already planned for me.’

      ‘Fate? What fate? What do you mean, punishment? Tahira, do they suspect—?’

      ‘Nothing,’ she interrupted hastily. ‘I only meant...’ She looked away, shielding her eyes with her lids, and gave a heartfelt sigh. ‘My brother’s wife had one of her little talks with me earlier. They have become a tediously regular thing, and she put me quite out of temper for her words were obviously his, but he does not deign to speak to me himself. I have always known that my freedom would come to an end eventually, now I know it will be sooner, rather than later. This could well be my last opportunity to explore our ancient heritage. I hope for my sake as well as yours that it proves fruitful.’

      Her smile was forced, her voice forlorn. Christopher covered her hand with both of his. ‘Why so? If no one knows that you escape...’

      ‘I cannot escape marriage, and that is my fate. One I have been raised to, after all, and so one I should be able to accept with good grace.’

      He should not have been surprised. What was more surprising was that such a beautiful woman was not already married. Christopher dropped her hand. ‘You are betrothed?’

      Tahira shook her head. ‘I was. Have been. Twice. And both times, it has come to nothing.’ Another sigh, and a little shrug. ‘What I deem to be two fortunate escapes, my sister-in-law tells me have placed a shameful stain upon my character. A stain so obvious that I am surprised you have not commented on it.’

      ‘Good Lord,’ Christopher exclaimed, resorting to English. His travels had taught him to be wary of criticising the customs of the many kingdoms he had traversed, but his own recently discovered history meant this was one thing guaranteed to make him reach instinctively for his scimitar. He did so now. ‘Are they forcing you to marry against your will?’

      ‘No!’ She covered the hand resting on his sword hilt with her own. ‘No, it is not like that.’

      ‘You do not have to do as they bid you, Tahira.’

      She sighed, shaking her head. ‘If I do not do as they wish, it is not only I who would suffer the consequences, but my sisters. The reason my sister-in-law’s little chat has put me so out of sorts is that I can’t dispute the facts, much as I’d like to. It is my duty to marry, my brother’s duty to provide me with a suitable husband.’

      ‘Your brother! I thought you said your father was still alive.’

      ‘He is, but he is very frail. It is my brother who reigns, in all but name.’

      ‘Holds the reins, you mean?’

      ‘Oh! Yes, that’s what I meant, of course.’

      The situation could not but revolt him, could not but remind him of another young woman destined to play the dynastic pawn, powerless to resist the will of her family, no matter what her own wishes might have been. Had she lived, would she have braced herself, as Tahira was doing, to bend her will to theirs? Or would she have resisted, and by doing so reshaped both their lives?

      He would never know, and it was pointless speculating, Christopher told himself sternly. Thirty years ago, it was ancient history now. He should be wary of making comparisons, wary of allowing his judgement to be clouded by doing so. ‘Your brother,’ he said gruffly, ‘he will surely take your wishes into account? If you did not like the man...’

      ‘My brother would probably mark that a point in his favour,’ Tahira interjected bitterly.

      ‘You can’t mean that!’

      ‘Do you have any brothers, Christopher?’

      I have five daughters, sir. That hated voice. ‘No,’ he said, ‘no brothers.’

      ‘You are fortunate. My brother is two years younger than me, but he has always demanded deference from everyone, and when he does not receive it, he is adept at finding ways to punish any miscreants. When I was little, it took the form of childish vindictiveness. Spoiling my games with my sisters, breaking our playthings, pinching, kicking, biting. It is no wonder that my sisters and I despise him. But now that he is in charge of our household, he can happily play the despot, pay us back for all those years when we would not love him, or pay homage to him.’

      ‘You exaggerate, surely? A grown man would not act so pettily.’

      ‘My brother’s actions are—they cannot be questioned,’ Tahira said, her lip curling. ‘Now he has decided that I am a bad influence on my sisters, he is determined to separate us.’ She blinked furiously. ‘That is why I find it so hard to reconcile myself to doing my duty. I have another duty, to the dead. I promised Mama, you see, that I would look after my sisters.’

      ‘You clearly love them very much.’

      ‘Yes.’ She clasped her arms tightly around herself. ‘More than anything. When Mama died, I was ten years old, four years older than my next sister. I have kept my promise to look after them