Historical Romance: April Books 1 - 4. Marguerite Kaye

Christopher snapped.

      ‘Why not, it’s what we princesses are after all, commodities to be bought and sold.’

      ‘You did not seem to me to be particularly unhappy about that when I saw you this morning. You were holding his hand!’

      ‘He was holding mine!’ Anger was a relief. ‘What was I supposed to do, Christopher? He has just purchased me in a deal that my brother is very pleased with, what’s more. When we are married, he will be entitled to do a great deal more than simply hold my hand.’

      ‘I don’t want to know about that!’

      ‘Then why bring it up?’ she flashed back at him.

      ‘If he really is so repugnant to you, though I cannot imagine why...’

      ‘He is not repugnant. According to my sister—whose name, if your are interested, is Ishraq—no more perfect husband could exist. He is charming and he is kind and he is handsome and all manner of things, but none of them matter, because he is not you!’

      The air around them seemed to still. ‘What do you mean by that?’

      Tahira had nothing left to lose. Christopher would not forgive her, now that he knew the truth, so why not tell him the whole of it? ‘I mean that I’m in love with you,’ she said, though by her tone, it sounded more like a declaration of war than love.

      Christopher looked first shocked and then horrified. ‘You cannot mean that. Princesses are not permitted to fall in love with bastards.’

      It hurt. Later, when she thought it over, it would hurt a great deal. For now, Tahira glared at him defiantly. Permitted or not, that is exactly what she had done. More fool her. And more fool her for telling him too. She ought to be relieved that he hadn’t believed her.

      ‘Princesses are permitted to do very little,’ she said sadly. ‘We are, as you have pointed out, defined by our blood. That is the biggest difference between us. You can choose to allow the circumstances of your birth to blight your life, while I cannot escape mine. I searched for any mention of our princess in the palace library, you know. The records are very precise, quite complete, but it is as if she has been eradicated from history. I don’t know what heinous crime she may have committed, but I do know if I defy my family’s wishes, I too will be effectively eradicated. Ostracised. As if I have never existed. My one and only purpose in life, as a princess of the royal blood, is to marry. Your blood is bastard—yes, I can use that foul term too—but still, you are more fortunate than I. You are free to choose.’

      ‘Do you now expect my pity, for the life of luxury you have been forced to lead?’

      ‘I don’t expect anything from you. You have already given me more—you have done more for me, understood more of me, than anyone, and I want—all I can hope for now is that you will be happy.’

      ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

      ‘Because you are deluded!’ The truth burst from her, making her wring her hands in despair. She had not come here to voice any of her doubts, but her doubts were all she could give him. ‘You think that all the blame must be placed at the door of the man who is your true father, but it is not so simple, Christopher. If your mother was of such excellent family, what were they thinking, to allow her to spend so much time alone with a man who could not aspire to her hand in marriage? Did she lie, connive to be in his company? And if she did, do you not think that she is in a little way culpable?’

      ‘You cannot know...’

      ‘I know a great deal more of such situations than you! I know the risks a woman will take to escape the shackles placed upon her by her family.’

      ‘The situations are not the same. You are twenty-four years old, she was sixteen.’

      ‘Exactly! Christopher, if she had lived, do you honestly think she would have been allowed to keep you? She was a mere child herself. She may not have found it easy to give you up, but she would have found it impossible not to do so.’ She paused, taking a steadying gulp of the salty night air. ‘Which brings me to your father.’

      ‘I would rather you did not bring him into the conversation. I have heard enough of your misplaced opinions.’

      ‘Misplaced? Are you sure about that? Why have you not left for Egypt if you are so certain that you are done with the past now that your amulet is buried?’

      ‘That is none of your business.’

      He glowered at her. Tahira glowered back, counting. One hundred, and still he did not speak. She girded her loins and broke the silence. ‘There is another part of the harem,’ she said, ‘where my father and my brother keep their concubines. These women have children. Brothers and sisters who share half my blood, though to say such a thing is not permitted, amounts almost to treason. I will never know them, any more than you will ever know the five sisters you have.’

      ‘Half-sisters, who are entirely unaware of my existence, and if I have anything to do with it, will remain forever so. I know their father for the despicable cur he is, but I will not destroy their love and respect for him.’

      ‘Even if it means depriving yourself of a family you could love and respect?’

      ‘I am not so naïve as to imagine those five females could either love or respect the proof of their father’s misspent youth.’

      ‘No, you are an honourable man. And a thoughtful one, and one who deserves better, Christopher. As to your father...’

      ‘If you’re going to tell me again that he did me a favour in having me adopted...’

      ‘If you had been his legal son, how much freedom would you have to choose how to live your life? Would you be permitted to leave England, to traipse around Egypt, living in caves and tents, and spending most of your waking hours digging up bones, to quote your own words? I doubt it.’

      ‘The point is a moot one. I’m not legitimate.’

      ‘Nor are the children from the other side of the harem, but like you, they are free of the chains of their birth, free to make their own lives. Like you, they have no shame attached to their name because, like you until nine months ago, they believe themselves to be the legitimate children of another family entirely.’

      Christopher looked uncomfortable. ‘But they do not have the privileges their birth should entitle them to.’

      ‘No,’ Tahira agreed. ‘Which is why great pains are taken to ensure that the male children never find out who their true father is, lest they claim a share. Females, however—that is another matter. What female who has lived life outside the harem would fight to be allowed into it? I am accustomed to the life, but it would be cruel to imprison one who was not.’

      ‘Will it be the same—this man you are to marry, will he expect you—will you be confined as you are now?’

      The very questions she had tried to ask today, eliciting only such vague answers that she must assume the worst. But she would not burden Christopher with it. ‘The world is changing all the time,’ she equivocated. ‘As you said, in Murimon...’

      ‘Tahira, you’re not going to be living in Murimon.’

      ‘Christopher, what difference does it make to you where I live?’

      ‘You ask that, after all we have—I told you. I want you to be happy.’

      How could he imagine she could be when she had just confessed her love for him? Because he didn’t believe her, Tahira thought despairingly. And what difference would it make if he did? How many times must she ask herself that question! ‘I must go.’

      ‘You should not have come here in the first place,’ Christopher said harshly. ‘To have arrived here so early in the night, you must have taken a foolish risk.’

      ‘You sound like Farah.’

      ‘Then she is clearly a sensible woman. Does she know