Page 43 of Kismet

Chapter 12

Vivid fingers of pink, red, and yellow streaked across the sky as another day melted into the heat of the Moroccan plains. The vibrant colors blended with a blue sky to create a beautiful painting that changed with each passing minute. The Atlas Mountains rose upward in a vain effort to touch the ribbons of color stretched so close and yet so far above their peaks. Below the craggy mountain range, the plains stretching out toward the setting sun were a mixture of stone rubble and small areas of verdant green. It was a harsh, but hauntingly beautiful landscape. Would Cordelia like Morocco? The thought of her ward sent a small wave of homesickness cresting over her.

Before she’d left England, she’d written Cordelia a letter explaining her trip to Morocco. She’d made no mention of having received a letter from her niece in hopes that Cordelia would assume Allegra hadn’t received news of the engagement. It had been a way of buying time until she found a way to deal with the situation. She traveled frequently, so it was more than likely that Cordelia would not find her extended absence unusual. Perhaps her absence would prevent Lady Bledsoe from discovering her relationship to Cordelia.

Cordelia’s happiness was all that mattered, and if it were destroyed because of her, she’d never forgive herself. Perhaps her agreement to remain here until Charles had left Marrakech was a blessing in disguise. Allegra heaved a sigh. Or perhaps not. The past few weeks had been a severe test of willpower when it came to Shaheen. It had taken her some time to reconcile his actions in punishing her in front of the tribe. She understood the reasoning behind it, but the emotional aspect of his actions made it difficult to forgive him. Still, his explanation and obvious remorse had made it easier to come to terms with the event. Particularly when the word persuasion was a dangerous one in the man’s vocabulary. He had been true to his word. His persuasive powers were far more potent than she’d expected.

She’d thought he’d do everything in his power to seduce her from the moment he declared war on her senses. But he hadn’t. He’d done just the opposite. Oh, he’d flirted with her, teased her and been attentive as to her comfort, but he’d not even tried to kiss her. Something she didn’t know whether to be grateful for or not. Particularly when she found herself longing for his touch. Without even touching her, he was wearing down her resistance to him.

He’d provided her with several of his books to read, and his friend Jamal had been teaching her the Berber language. And he’d made it his habit to take her riding with him in the mornings. They didn’t talk much during that time, but she found his company pleasurable. He was intelligent and had an excellent sense of humor. In a number of ways, he reminded her of Charles. The family resemblance was even more pronounced when he was flirting with her, because he had the same devilish smile as his cousin.

The desire he felt for her, he kept hidden, but it was there. There were occasions when she would look up to find him watching her with a hunger that frightened and thrilled her in the same breath. Shaheen always disguised his expression quickly, but not before it ignited a response in her. Only in the past week had she come to realize his quiet pursuit of her was working. She found herself dreaming of him each night, waking up with an intense craving for his touch. It was a stark desire that threatened to drag her headlong into an attraction she knew would jeopardize her ability to easily walk away at the end of an affair with him.

But no matter how much she wanted to resist her attraction to him, she knew she was fast losing that battle. She was certain he knew it, too. It was there in the way his fingers would slide over hers when he handed her something or the way his hands held her just a little bit longer than necessary when he helped her off her horse.

With a sigh, she focused on the scenery in front of her. Over the past month, she’d fallen in love with the desert plain and its people. The Bedouins were happy despite the hardship of their existence. The simplicity of their lives gave them time to cherish family and friends. There was a peaceful serenity to everything here that soothed the soul. It reminded her of what she’d never had growing up. A real family.

In the evenings, she would sit with the Amazigh women on one side of the communal campfire for the evening meal, while the men sat on the other. Afterwards many of the adults spun magical stories for the children sprawled at their feet, clinging to every word. And somewhere in the dark, she knew Shaheen was there, watching her from the shadows, his strong, steady presence filling her with a myriad of emotions.

Sand crunched softly beneath a lightweight tread, and she turned her head to see Jamal coming to a halt beside her.

“Anasi,” he said with a slight bow. Thanks to Jamal's tutoring in the Berber tongue, Allegra now knew anasi meant woman. But the respectful manner in which Shaheen’s people said the word made it sound like it was more of a title than a simple word.

“You enjoy watching our sunsets.” The Amazigh smiled as he studied the horizon.

“I do. They’re beautiful. We don’t have sunsets like this in England.”

She sent him a brief look then turned back to watch the colorful display before her. A comfortable silence fell between them as they stared out at the landscape. After several minutes, Jamal cleared his throat.

“Anasi, we’ve received news.”

“News?” She frowned as she looked at him.

“Lord Shaftsbury is still in Marrakech,” Jamal said quietly. “The man recently received a message from England and has strengthened his efforts to find Shaheen.”

With Charles still in Marrakech, it meant she would have to stay in Shaheen’s camp a while longer. Her heart skipped a beat as she tried to quell her happiness at the thought. The emotion was a telling one, and she experienced trepidation at its meaning. She smiled at Jamal.

“Then it seems my stay with the Amazigh will last a while longer.”

“It would seem that way, anasi. I have tried to convince Shaheen to return you to Marrakech and let God determine our fate, but he is stubborn that one.”

“I’m happy to remain until Charles returns to England. I know Nassar is not to be trusted.” She fixed her attention on the dying sun and flinched as the image of her kidnapper fluttered through her head.

“He is a murderer.” Jamal’s face was dark with hate. She understood the Bedouin’s vehemence where Nassar was concerned. She despised the man, too.

“Tell me what happened,” she said.

“Nassar led a ghazu on Sheikh Mahmoud’s camp and murdered Khalid’s wife. His men tried to kill Hakim, but Shaheen saved the boy. For that, Khalid made Shaheen the boy’s bodyguard and a member of his tribal council.”

The horror of Nassar’s actions echoed in Jamal’s voice. She remembered the pain in Laila’s eyes that day in the souq when the young woman explained what a ghazu was. It must have been her mother’s death she’d been thinking of that day. It made Allegra’s heart ache to think of Hakim and Laila motherless at such a young age. She didn’t question the man any further on the subject. He clearly found the topic painful, and she had no wish to add to his sorrow.

Returning her attention to the sun sinking lower on the horizon, she shivered as Nassar’s face slipped so lifelike into her head. The man had much to answer for, and she wasn’t the only one who wished to see him punished. They stood there in silence until the setting sun was little more than a strip of reddish orange on the horizon.

In the hush of the approaching night, she stared out at the Atlas Mountains. The rapidly fading light had changed them so they were sharply etched against the twilight that encroached upon their sturdy façade. They reminded her of Shaheen’s strong and unyielding personality. Just as the mountains kept the Sahara desert from engulfing the Moroccan plains, Shaheen stood guard over his people, keeping them safe from men like Nassar. Almost as if he could read her mind, Jamal turned his head toward her.

“Shaheen is like a son to me. And I think him fortunate to have you as the jahīm anasi.”

“The what?” she asked as she looked at the Bedouin’s features darkened all the more by the twilight shadows. The Amazigh met her gaze then looked down at her hand.