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CHAPTER TEN
THETUNNELSWEREcandlelit, but it was the sound of running water that guided her.
She passed the area where she had been pampered earlier that day and remembered being told to go and rinse off. Maggie followed, as best she could, the same path she had taken then.
Yet it was not memory that drew her now, or the sound of cascading water in the distance. Instead, it was the fragrant, sensual air and the other sounds—music mingled with women’s laughter—that told her she was nearing the forbidden part of thehammam.
And then the blue tiles gave way to crimson and she entered the forbidden passageway.
Maggie could hear the women’s laughter and chatter fading as she walked in the opposite direction of their sounds.
She looked up at the rope that ran the length of the passage and wondered if he had already summoned his choice for the night.
Or choices.
She stopped at one of the tiny fonts and this time when she pressed her fingers in she did not just inhale the fragrance. Instead, she rubbed it on her neck and chest, wondering if that was whattheydid.
Of course not, Maggie thought, made more than aware of her own naivety as she looked at the murals. The oil was for sex.
The women were sensual and bold and, Maggie could see, would arrive for him all oiled and ready.
It was a daunting thought but she refused to oil herselftherefor him and instead pulled the wrap tighter around her body.
She should not venture further. Maggie knew that. It would kill her to find him in the midst of making love to these beautiful, experienced women.
It was not some masochistic need that kept her walking; it was the pure and desperate hope of seeing him one more time.
Knowing him just a little more.
And even if she did not understand all their ways, she was beginning to.
Maggie reached the end of the passageway, but she crushed her body against the wall and stayed hidden by the shadows. Tentatively, she peered out.
There was a deep, sunken pool and steam rose from the water as it hit the cool night air. There was a fountain that ran down one wall. The guides had been right; the pool at its base glowed red.
And then she saw the true reason she was there and her throat squeezed tight.
Beside the mysterious fountain, on a stone bench that had been carved into a wall, lounged Ilyas, outstretched and propped up on one arm.
His top half was naked but on his bottom half he was dressed in black, silk harem pants that lay low on his hips. Her eyes travelled down the length of him, from his beautiful chiselled face to his bare feet.
She was glad that he was alone and grateful to have this moment. This was how she would remember him.
She jolted at the deep sound of his voice.
‘You’re late.’
Maggie stepped out of the tunnel, and though the air was cool her face was hot.
‘How did you know I’d come?’ Maggie asked.
‘I didn’t,’ he said, and then her stomach twisted as he admitted more. ‘But I hoped.’
There was so much they could say, but that was not the reason she was there. It was a deep desire for his body that had pulled her from her bed, not the need to talk.
He summoned her with his finger but it seemed a very long walk around the pool on legs that felt like jelly.
She stopped before she reached him, and stood by the pool instead.
