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Her eyebrows arched. Was that a joke? Was that flat tone and deadpan expression his idea of a joke? “I don’t trust the water,” she retorted, pushing the cup away. “And yes, I am thirsty, and I will drink. But it must be bottled water.”
“Bottled water?”
She ignored his incredulous tone. He didn’t understand the difficulties she’d had these past four weeks. She’d never had a cast iron stomach but it’d become particularly finicky lately ever since she picked up parasites from local water just outside Atiq. The parasites had her practically sleeping in the bathroom and she had no interest repeating that experience again. “Yes, bottled water. You sell it in the stores.”
A small muscle popped in his jaw as he gave her a ferocious look, one that revealed the depth of his irritation and aggravation. “And you see stores near by?”
“No, but there were stores back in El Saroush.”
“Are you suggesting I send someone back for bottled water?”
“I’m suggesting you send someone back with me.”
He sighed heavily and pressed two fingers to his temple. “You have the most tedious refrain.”
Her lips compressed. He might not realize it, but she was just as irritated and frustrated as he was. “I’ve only just begun.”
“I should just cut out your tongue.”
“You wouldn’t want to do that,” she flashed. “My new husband might not like it.”
“That’s true,” he answered. “He might miss it, and it could lower your bride price. So, keep your tongue and drink your tea. Or I shall pour it down your throat.”
The cup was pushed toward her face again and this time Tally took it. “If I drink the tea, you’ll leave?”
His dark gaze met hers and held. The corner of his mouth lifted, a faint wry acknowledgment of the battle between them. “Yes.”
And yet still she hesitated. “And if I die out here of dysentery, will you at least promise me a Christian burial?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “I can’t promise that, but I will take your ashes to Casablanca.”
Tally wasn’t sure if she should be reassured or troubled by his faint smile. He wasn’t a particularly smiley-kind of guy. “Fine, I’ll drink it. But then you go.” Quickly she downed the now lukewarm tea, scrunching her nose and mouth at the bitter taste but at the same time grateful for the liquid. Her throat had been parched and one cup wasn’t going to be enough, but it was a start. “There. Done.”
He rose, but didn’t leave immediately. Instead he stood above her, gazing down at her. “By the way, we may be bedraggled barbarians and bandits, but all our water is boiled. Any water we cook with or drink is always boiled. You might get parasites in town, but you won’t get any parasites from me.”
And smiling—smiling!—Tair walked out. As he left the tent, Tally grabbed a pillow, pressed it to her face and screamed in vexation.
He couldn’t keep her here! He couldn’t. And he couldn’t be serious about finding a husband for her. My God. That was just the worst.
She gripped the pillow hard. But what if he never returned her to town? What if he just kept her here? What if he were serious about marrying her off?
She shuddered, appalled.
Her lack of communication with her world back in the States made her situation doubly frightening.
The fact was, there was no one who’d even think to worry if she disappeared from the face of the earth.
Raised in a tiny town at the base of the Cascade Mountains in Washington, Tally had lived at home far longer than she’d ever meant to stay but once she’d left North Bend, she’d gone far away.
Her mother sometimes joked that the only time she heard from Tally was the annual Christmas cards Tally sent documenting her travels. One Christmas card was a misty hand-tinted shot of ancient Machu Picchu high in the mountains of Peru. Another year it was the sun rising in Antarctica. Last year’s card was a child born with AIDS in sub-Sahara Africa.
Once Paolo was the one who would have cared. It was Paolo who taught her to rock climb and sail, Paolo who’d taught her to face her fears and not be afraid. But Paolo wasn’t around anymore and since losing him all those years ago Tally had never tried to replace him.
Love hadn’t ever come easily for Tally and one broken heart was more than enough. And not that she would have married Paolo, but if she’d wanted a husband—and that was a hugeif —it would have been him. And only him. But with him gone, marriage was out of the question.
