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‘We had one guard with us, it’s true. But guards won’t do my people much good. They need practical help if they want to keep this way of life for as long as they can. They need medical help and immunisation clinics. It is much too far for them to travel into the cities for such luxuries.’
‘Is that why you brought the teacher?’
He nodded. ‘Exactly. The boy, Majeed, is very bright. He has already surpassed his previous teacher’s level. He needs new challenges and to learn new skills.’
‘Couldn’t he go to school in Hebra? Don’t they have boarding-schools in Jebbai?’
‘Of course. But then how could he help his family? He will go to university, when it is time and when his brothers are older. But his father needs him now and this way he can both study and help with his family.’
‘I see,’ she said, even though she didn’t. Oh, it made sense all right. But this was a completely different side of Khaled. She was used to the ruthless, authoritarian side of him, the Khaled who acted out of anger, with no thought to the feelings of those he trampled with his unreasonable demands.
This was a different man. A real leader of his people, who ensured their ongoing existence in the style of life they had been accustomed to since ancient times. He could have forced them to abandon their way of life and move to the cities in the name of progress, simply by not supplying them with modern medicine and education. Yet he was ensuring the continued existence and preservation of their separate and special way of life. And from his reception here he was clearly well loved and respected as their leader.
How could someone who was so considerate and generous towards his people act so unreasonably towards her? It made no sense. No sense at all.
In the gathering dusk she noticed the women emerging from tents, their long robes flapping in the light breeze, babies in slings on their backs, many with young toddlers following in their wake.
They converged on a small tent set to one side, where one of the men who had travelled with them—the doctor, it was now clear—was setting up his equipment. It couldn’t be an easy life for these people, always wandering and rarely settled, but they looked happy and healthy as they collected outside the tent, waiting for the doctor to attend to them.
‘After you,’ Khaled said and she realised he was holding open the tent for her. She stepped inside. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the lantern-lit interior and then her first reaction was to gasp.
The tent’s interior bore no relation to its plain exterior. The floor was lined with carpets, woven and richly coloured. Curtains lined the walls, silks and gauzes softly draped in vivid jewel shades, and cushio
ns lay scattered around, inviting and sumptuous. Perfumed candles scented the air, sweet and fragrant. Beyond an open silken partition she could just make out a large bed, presumably her bed, given what looked like her bag placed on top.
It was every little girl’s fantasy. And despite all the dreams she’d had from way back to be a fashion designer, she could even believe it was hers. She’d grown up surrounded by luxury, been raised in the most exclusive boutique hotel in Australia, but this somehow went beyond mere fantasy. This was pure magic.
‘Will you be comfortable here?’
She spun around slowly, trying to take it all in. ‘Oh, yes. It’s beautiful.’
His hand reached for her shoulder, stopping her right in front of him. His other hand tilted her chin. ‘Though nowhere near as beautiful as you.’
Her breath caught as his face hovered above hers, his golden skin glowing and shadowed in the lamplight, a magic prince for a magic setting.
It could have been a fairy-tale.
Except she had no place in this story. She had already chosen her course. She would leave Jebbai, return to Milan, and before long all this would seem no more than a dream.
She raised one hand to his chest, uncertain of whether she was trying to stop him or merely giving in to the temptation of touching him again, of tasting his muscled torso with her fingers, of reading the strong beat of his heart.
The hand on her shoulder moved to cover hers, wrapping her fingers in his. His eyes still locked on hers, he lifted it from his chest and pressed the palm of her hand to his mouth. She sucked in air as his warm lips, his heated breath danced over her skin, as the merest trace of his tongue spread liquid warmth coursing through her.
‘And now,’ he said, his voice low and thick, ‘relax awhile. The women will help you. I have business to discuss with the men and then we will dine together.’
Women? She looked around to see two women near the bed unpacking her bag. Unfamiliar blue fabric shot with gold floated over one woman’s hands. Sapphy frowned.
‘That’s not my bag,’ she said, stepping towards the partition. ‘It can’t be.’
‘You will find it is,’ Khaled responded.
‘But none of this…’ The women moved aside while she checked the bag—it looked like hers, yet nothing inside was familiar. She dug her hands through the gossamer fabrics, the golden tassels and belts, the heavier cloaks. She didn’t own these things. Yet, underneath everything else, there was her toiletry bag. It didn’t make sense.
And yet all of a sudden it did.
Icy realisation filled her veins. This was just the sort of thing she should have expected from someone who had frustrated her at every move. She turned, barely able to restrain the mounting hostility within.
‘What have you done with my clothes?’
