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Clearly, it’d be his country, she concluded with no small amount of disdain for him. Where else would he take her? Well, better not ask such a dangerous question.
The country had been under the presently weak Turkish Empire administration for centuries. Janissaries, Turkish guards, milled here and there.
They reached a narrow street and walked on for a few of minutes more and stopped in front a large two-floor building with a big and busy yard around it.
“A caravanserai.” Tariq provided. “A place where caravans and merchants prepare for their journey.”
In fact, she looked about her, stables, men in Arabic attire, camels, horses and several boxes dominated the place. Very much like any lodging scattered in English countryside, except for the camels and clothing, naturally.
They entered the building and climbed up a narrow wooden staircase and the man showed her to a room. He motioned for her to go inside the shady hall. As she did, he stopped at the threshold.
“I have the last details of the caravan to prepare.” His velvety voice caressed her ears. “Meanwhile, you can refresh. I’ve ordered a bath for you.”
She looked at the bare room with sleeping mats on the floor and a tub in the middle.
“It took me a while to procure a tub and hot water for you.” He looked at her. He expected Adriana, not Lucinda, he’d planned to offer her this. “It’s not usual here. Baths are taken collectively in public bath houses, with separate ones for men and women. I didn’t think you’d be comfortable with them, though.”
“A foreign idea, no less.” She agreed. The mere notion of being naked with other people in a room was embarrassing, let alone the thing itself.
With an ironic grin, he turned to leave. She’d take her culture as superior, no doubt. Her excuse being that her way of life was the only possibility she’d known. He stepped once and turned back to her again. “Oh, and Aziz will be watching the door. Just in case, you know.” His obsidian brows lifted, conveying he would not take chances.
She nodded, and he closed the door, just as she saw Aziz posting himself at the side of it. When she saw herself alone, she hurried to the wooden window. Too high. She closed it and the only light came from the oil lamp hung from the ceiling.
Lucinda welcomed the bath and enjoyed the privilege of being able to refresh, even to wash her hair. Undressing and dressing again proved difficult, but not impossible. Her long-sleeved dress proved compliant, and she kept her shawl, folded, with her.
The travellers’ book she’d read described the Sahara extensively. She remembered the information it heated during the day and cooled at night. Those books had provided her with a lot of valuable knowledge which she had every intention of using now.
When she finished, she opened the room’s door and came face to face with Aziz. Soon footsteps on the floorboard announced Tariq. “Ready?”
She assented, and they all walked to the yard. His tall, broad frame in full white Arabic garb now. The kaftan, or tunic, the sirwaal, or loose trousers, sandals and his head covered with the ghoutra, held by the igaal circle. His attire only made his cognac-against-fire eyes stand out and he revealed to be no less attractive in it.
Tariq had the habit of having camels to ride as much as to carry the goods. He’d purchased an extra one for Lucinda. Well, not for her, but for Adriana, actually. He made the camel sit so she could climb on it and sit on the flat saddle. The camel pace suave it rocked pleasantly. Lucinda enjoyed this new experience.
The caravan left the caravanserai in a serpent line of camels, goods and people. Tariq rode at the head on his camel of the best breed. Lucinda rode at his side and he held her reins. He’d take no chance while they were still near Gabes.
“What has happened to her?” Adriana asked to no one in particular, with a deep concern pleating her brows and shading her eyes.
Pietro, Harriet Croft and Adriana sat at the villa’s drawing room. They’d noticed Lucinda absence this morning. They’d gone off to sleep last night believing she had already retired to her room.
Pietro sent his footmen to look about for Lady Lucinda. One of them brought back a hair-pin Mrs Croft recognized as one of her charge’s. The lady used several to pin her thick, glossy chocolate hair.
“I’ll have to write to her parents.” Harriet said in distress. How would they judge her, Harriet, as a companion? She’d let the girl slip away from under her nose!
Pietro sighed and looked at her, his honour also in check, if he did not keep a lady safe under his roof. “Please, give me a few of days. I’ll put my men after her. If we get no news, you can write her parents.”
Harriet looked at him and considered his suggestion. She acquiesced with a dry nod, too agitated and tense to utter any word.
CHAPTER THREE
The sun glared blindly as the caravan advanced westwards. Lucinda mentally marked the route and the views, in case she’d get a chance to make it back. Tough it proved difficult in a desert. They’d been ridding for hours now and she congratulated herself for being a good amazon, lest she’d already be sore. She wished she had her bonnet though. The sun burned on her exposed skin over her modest neckline and face. She retrieved her shawl and covered her bosom. The wool was a little heavy for that temperature, but better than nothing. March wasn’t the worst climate in Sahara. The travellers stated that it remained still mild, compared to the summer months, when it’d be scorching.
Tariq moved his cognac eyes discretely to her. No complaints, no swooning, no tantrums. She rode in silent dignity, with her shawl wrapped around her. He couldn’t help admiring her serenity and fortitude. Any other franj woman wouldn’t take it thus. With difficulty, he tore his eyes from her and trained them ahead.
At sunset, he gave word for the men to build up camp for the night.
Lucinda climbed down from her mount, patting the camel’s neck for its good work. She looked around the landscape. The landscape had changed. It transformed from green near the coastline, to arid now at inland. The setting sun tinted the endless stretch of sand and rocks in purple shades. So different from what she was used to, and yet so grandiose. She sat on a rock nearby and drank water from a skin container that Tariq had given her at the beginning of the journey. Ideas for a way to escape swirled in her head.
Tariq’s velvety voice interrupted her musings. “Come, the tent is ready.”
