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Lauren bit the inside of her cheek. If they didn’t know why she was here, wouldn’t she be compounding her sins by blurting out the reason for her presence?
She devoured the lentil and tomato sauce with flatbread, saffron-laced rice and lamb cutlets, then topped it off with sugared dates dipped in honey. Her stomach almost protesting how full she was, a yawn caught her unawares as weariness dug into her limbs.
Within seconds, the trays were cleared away. Basma approached with a garment in her hand.
Lauren hurriedly swallowed a mouthful of sweet tea. ‘What’s that?’
Basma smiled. ‘Something to sleep in.’
‘Oh, no, I don’t need anything. I have my dress.’
Basma’s eyebrows rose, her gaze drifting to the dirt-smeared dress now tossed in a bundle on the floor near the bath.
Lauren bit her lip. She’d already accepted the tent, the bath and the food. Did she really want to cause offence by refusing one more thing?
Basma silently held out the deep aquamarine nightgown. It was sheer to the point of almost see-through and Lauren fought a blush as she took it.
The neckline was a boat-shaped design, which thankfully left one shoulder free to ease her sunburnt skin, so she chose not to complain at the diaphanous nature of the outfit.
Sending a thankful prayer that she wasn’t near a full-length mirror to catch an embarrassing glimpse of herself, she hurried to the low bed set on a wooden platform and slid between the cool sheets, certain she was in for a few hours of tossing and turning.
But, within minutes of Basma turning off all but one lamp and retreating through the tent flaps, Lauren was fast asleep.
What felt like five minutes later, a gentle hand was nudging her awake.
She blinked, momentarily oblivious to where she was as she mourned the loss of the best sleep she’d had in ages. When it all came crowding back, she jerked upright, her gaze flying to her phone.
She’d forgotten to set her alarm. If she’d missed Tahir’s deadline—
She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it was a quarter to midnight. Still, she was cutting it a little close, which was why she didn’t object when Basma held out another garment.
Ten minutes later, Lauren followed Basma out of the tent.
The colour Lauren wore wasn’t one she would have chosen for herself. Her professional attire veered towards staid greys or deep beiges in a concerted effort to blend in.
She would’ve rejected the deep saffron-coloured midriff-baring top and matching flowing skirt, which was just a series of chiffon layers laid symmetrically on top of one another, if the design hadn’t left most of her shoulders bare and somewhat alleviated the pain of her burns.
Dark gold fur-lined slippers too were studded with bright red stones that winked when she wriggled her feet. And when she moved, they felt like cool heavenly blankets cocooning her feet.
The light gold stole Basma settled on her shoulders completed the garment and added a modesty to the top that Lauren appreciated.
The large camp was mostly quiet at this time of night, the few solar lamps ringing the outer perimeter illuminating the tops of the larger tents. Against the backdrop of the canopy of stars above and the shadows of distant dunes in the distance, the enchanted feeling nudged a little closer.
Reminding herself that she wasn’t here for the magic of the desert, Lauren hurried after a fast-walking Basma towards the largest tent set away from the others.
The two guards stationed on the Moorish-styled entrance barely glanced at them but, again, Lauren was aware of their sharp vigilance as she passed through the small hallway and into a wider receiving area.
Basma murmured to a third guard positioned at the second opening, then, nodding at Lauren, she hurried away.
The guard parted the flap to the tent.
With murmured thanks, she stepped into Tahir’s domain just as the antique clock tolled midnight.
She released a strangled breath when she realised the room was empty.
Half of the lamps had been dimmed. The faintest scent of incense whispered through the air, evoking sultriness she didn’t want to feel in that moment. But more acute was the absence of Tahir.
She went to the low seat in the sitting area. Sinking onto it, she stroked the weave of the soft camel hair dyed with deep reds and oranges and depicting scenes of nomadic desert life. She was tracing a nervous finger over the surface when she sensed the laser focus of a powerful gaze on her.
