Historical Romance: April Books 1 - 4. Marguerite Kaye

rock formation to where he could now see she had left her camel, he couldn’t drag his eyes away from the sensuous sway of her hips, the long, glossy sheath of hair that rippled down her back, the scarf which tied it fluttering like a pennant, urging him to follow. She moved with the careless grace of a dancer. That first glimpse of her perfect countenance had been like a punch in the stomach. No, he amended wryly, it was not his stomach which had reacted to those big almond-shaped eyes and that cherry-red mouth, and that heart-shaped face, and the sweet curves of the body beneath. He had never in his life met a woman so lovely and so innocently alluring. Who the devil was she? His curiosity was aroused, but what mattered even more was whether or not she could help him.

      As they reached the softer sand, Tahira sat down gracefully and Christopher joined her, sitting cross-legged. ‘So tell me,’ he said, ‘do you think this is likely to prove an ancient site?’

      She raised a delicately arched brow. ‘Is this a test of my expertise, before you confide in me?’ When he did not deny it, she gave a charming little shrug. ‘Understandable enough. I told you that I am by no means an expert. I am fortunate enough to have access to some manuscripts, histories, maps of Nessarah. Over the years, I have made a study of my kingdom’s ancient history and traced a number of the older mines—the diamonds and gold which we are famous for, but also some emerald, silver, of course, and semi-precious stones. My practical experience, however, is severely limited.’

      ‘Due to the fact that you have to confine any excavation to the hours of darkness, I presume?’

      ‘Yes. I know it sounds unlikely...’

      ‘Tahira, it’s so unlikely that I believe you. You would not make up such a preposterous lie.’

      ‘That is very true. In fact, it’s so preposterous that it is one of the reasons I think it unlikely my occasional absences will be discovered. Though of late...’ She sighed, averting her gaze momentarily, before giving herself a little shake. ‘There is no real method to my work. My process is not scientific, my notes and drawings rudimentary, as would be obvious to an experienced archaeologist like you.’

      So he was not to ask what had been happening ‘of late’. Christopher accepted this grudgingly. Fascinating as she was, at this point in time, her knowledge mattered a great deal more to him than her circumstances. ‘I am actually a surveyor to trade, but my heart belongs to the ancient world.’

      Which remark earned him a delightful smile. ‘It is so wonderful,’ Tahira said, ‘to meet someone who understands the thrill of standing in the remains of dwellings built thousands of years ago, of holding pots used for cooking, plates that food was eaten from, cups that wine was drunk from—it is the most thrilling—there is nothing quite like it, is there?’

      Her eyes sparkled. Her lips were curved into a soft smile that made his groin tighten. ‘No,’ Christopher said, ‘there really is nothing like it.’

      ‘My sisters tease me when I say that I sense a—a connection of some sort with our ancestors. When I stand amid the ruins of an ancient mining village here in Arabia, one that existed deep in the mists of time, I feel the ghosts, the spirits of the people who lived there.’

      ‘How many sisters do you have?’

      ‘Three, all younger than I, and their only interest in ancient mines is the jewellery made from the precious stones unearthed there. Ish—my next sister says that our ancestors are unlikely to have been miners and she is probably right, but—oh, I don’t know. I like to think that there is something, some inherited fragment of memory, which connects me to the few settlements I have uncovered, the artefacts I have found there.’ Tahira looked away, embarrassed. ‘You probably think that’s fanciful.’

      ‘As a matter of fact,’ Christopher confessed, ‘I understand perfectly. I too, occasionally, feel a similar connection. A memory—though it can’t possibly be a memory. Or a ghost—though I’m not sure I believe in those either. But I do know what you mean.’

      ‘Really? I don’t know anyone else who thinks as I do.’

      Her shy smile was dazzling. Dear heavens, but she had no business to be looking at him like that. Christopher tore his gaze away, focusing on the rocky outcrop over her shoulder. ‘I take it your sisters aid and abet you in your nocturnal excursions?’

      ‘Oh, goodness, no. They would be horrified if they ever found out, and frightened for me too. The stories I tell them—they think my only sources are books. I dare not show them any of my finds. Not that they would be interested, since none of them are valuable.’

      ‘So you keep all your work hidden away?’

      ‘It is not so very difficult, since my work is not so very extensive. One day perhaps hundreds of years from now, someone might find my little collection of papers and artefacts, and wonder how it came to exist. I would like to think of it as my own contribution to Nessarah’s history, but I doubt very much it’s of any real worth save to me.’ Tahira gave a bitter little laugh. ‘My life’s work. There is not much to show for it.’

      ‘As yet, perhaps. You are very young, you have many years of exploration ahead of you.’

      She had a habit of turning her head to one side, of lowering her lids to mask her eyes and her emotions. ‘I’m twenty-four. My father and brother think that I am already past my prime. If they have their way, which they will imminently, I have very little time left in which to indulge my passion.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      But Tahira shook her head, forcing a smile. ‘I intend to make the most of what little time and freedom I have, that is all. Tell me, what is it that you survey?’

      It was an obvious change of subject, but he followed her lead, for she was clearly upset and just as evidently determined not to be. ‘I specialise in the discovery of minerals and ores,’ Christopher said, ‘and by doing so, I fund my archaeological research.’

      ‘Including your trip to Arabia?’

      ‘It is not business that brings me to Arabia.’

      ‘No, indeed, you are here on a quest to solve an ancient mystery which I may be able to help you with.’

      ‘Precisely. I propose, if you are amenable, that we work together, pool our resources. Time is of the essence here. It’s likely that the evidence we’re looking for will be destroyed once mining gets underway.’

      ‘That is very true and also rather flattering,’ Tahira said, giving him a straight look, ‘but you still haven’t told me why you wish to explore the site in the first place?’

      A simple question, and one he must answer if he was to enlist this fascinating woman’s help. Yet Christopher hesitated. Could he trust her? Clearly she had not been sent to spy on him, as he had somewhat ridiculously assumed. In the course of the last six months here in Arabia, the agents he had been so reluctantly given access to had been a diverse and frequently dubious group, but none had been a woman. Might she be a speculator? Equally ridiculous, surely. No, he was pretty certain that her claim to be an antiquarian was true. Whatever else she was...

      Was not relevant, he decided. ‘It is the turquoise which matters,’ Christopher said. ‘I need to prove that it was mined here about fifteen hundred years ago, and I need somehow to obtain a sample of the mineral.’ Feeling slightly sick, he reached for the leather pouch, took out the amulet and handed it to Tahira. ‘In order to match it with this.’

       Chapter Two

      Tahira gazed at the artefact in astonishment, turning it over and over in her hands. The gold links of the chain were the intensely deep-yellow colour which indicated purity. The amulet itself was round, the rim studded with alternating diamonds and turquoise. An intricate design composed of narrow bands of vivid blue enamel on gold had been overlaid on to the main pendant, forming petal-like segments, into which were set much larger diamonds surrounded by more turquoise. But the centre of the