When Christina entered the tent, she found Philip waiting to take her to bathe. He seemed in good spirits, and whacked her bottom as she passed him to get the towels and soap. She didn’t ask him if he were one of the men she had seen on the desert. He had made it quite clear before that he didn’t like her questioning him.
In the late hours of the following morning, Christina was mending the hem on one of her skirts when Amine came into the tent very slowly. She stood before Christina wringing her hands.
A terrible pain crept into Christina’s heart. She realized something awful must have happened, but she didn’t know why she felt so sick inside.
“What is it, Amine?” she gasped. “Has something happened to Abu?”
“No,” Amine answered, a tear sliding down her cheek. “It is his father—Shiek Yasir Alhamar is dead.”
“But that can’t be!” Christina cried, jumping to her feet. “Yasir was fine yesterday, and he’s been so much better these last months. I—I don’t believe it!”
Christina ran from the tent, oblivious of Amine’s calls. But she knew, even before she entered Yasir’s tent to find it empty, that it was true. He really was dead. She cried then, the tears flowing unchecked as she stared down at the empty sheepskins on the floor that had been his bed only yesterday. She went down on her knees and touched the soft sheepskin. She had come to care for Yasir, and now he was gone.
She felt Amine’s arms go around her and help her to her feet.
“Come, Christina, it is not good to stay here.” Amine led her back to her tent and sat with her on the couch, holding her closly for comfort. She remained silent until Christina’s tears were spent. “Sheik Yasir died in his sleep during the night. Rashid discovered him early this morning, and he and Sheik Abu took him to the desert to bury.”
“But why wasn’t I told sooner?” Christina asked.
“It was a private thing between two sons and their father. Sheik Abu did not want you to be disturbed.”
“Where is Abu now?” Christina asked, knowing how he must feel. She remembered the agony she had felt when she lost both her parents. Strange as it seemed, she wanted to comfort Philip, to put her arms around him and share his sorrow.
“When Rashid returned to camp, he said Abu rode off into the desert, and then—then Rashid left, too.”
Christina waited patiently for Philip to return. She tried to keep busy so she wouldn’t think of Yasir, but it was impossible. She kept seeing his face as it lit up whenever she entered his tent. She kept hearing his voice as he talked fondly about Philip.
The moon floated high over the mountains and cast a soft gray light that filtered gently through the juniper trees surrounding the camp. Philip stood dejectedly by the fire, warming his exhausted limbs.
It had taken him most of the day riding wildly across the desert to come to terms with Yasir’s death. He thought now that it was better to have come at last. Yasir had always lived a vigorous life, and the months after his illness had turned him into an invalid chafing at his confinement.
Philip wished he had been allowed more time with Yasir, but was grateful for the years he’d had. He had many fond memories to carry with him through the years to come, for he and Yasir had been closer than most fathers and sons; they had been good friends and shared much together.
After feeding and rubbing down Victory, Philip quickly made his way across the sleeping camp to his tent. He was physically and mentally exhausted and was eager to feel Christina close beside him.
Philip went directly to their bedroom, but found it empty. A number of emotions crossed his features—misery, anger, regret, as he wondered why she would choose this of all times to escape him.
Damn, how much more will I suffer before this day ends, he thought. Turning swiftly, he started to run from the tent, wondering how much time Christina had gained. A soft voice halted him before he reached the entrance.
“Philip, is that you?”
Feeling as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his chest, Philip walked slowly over to the couch. Christina was leaning on one elbow, her feet curled under a heavy sheepskin cover. She was gazing up at him with a worried look on her beautiful face.
He sat down beside her and saw that her eyes were red from crying. She put her hand gently on his and spoke softly.
“I’m sorry, Philip.”
“I’m all right now, Tina. I will grieve for a while, but the worst has passed and I must continue to live my life.”
As he searched Christina’s eyes, he realized that she was grieving, too. He hadn’t known she cared so much for Yasir. Philip took her in his arms and held her gently against him as she started crying again.
In the days that followed, the camp was in a strange kind of mourning. All the gay shouts and loud talking had disappeared.
Amine tried in her own way to lift Christina’s spirits. Christina was grateful to have a friend she could talk to. If it weren’t for Amine and her children, she would really be lonely.
Christina couldn’t seem to bring Philip out of the mood he had fallen into. She chatted away about nothing in particular whenever he was about, but he just sat and stared into space as if she weren’t there. He answered her questions and greeted her, but that was all. She remembered she had been in the same state after her parents died, but John had helped her through it. She didn’t know how to help Philip.
At night when they went to bed, Philip held her in his arms, nothing more. It began to get on her nerves. She constantly wondered when he would take her again. She wasn’t pleased with the present arrangement, she told herself, because she wasn’t used to the way Philip was acting.
She tried to think of ways to pull him out of his depression, but couldn’t. Besides, hadn’t she wanted to see him suffer? It was what she’d once wanted, but not anymore. It hurt her to see Philip unhappy, and she didn’t know why.
IT HAD BEEN five days since Yasir died, and the tension was wearing Christina down. Philip was off hunting somewhere, and she had no idea when he would be coming back. She’d chosen to stay in her tent these last days, but now she just couldn’t stand it anymore.
She left the tent, searched out Ahmad, and asked him to make Raven ready for her. Then she quickly donned her robe and breeches, and by the time she reached the corral, Ahmad was ready to go.
“It is good that you resume your activities,” he said with a big smile as he helped her mount.
“Yes, it is,” Christina returned. But not all activities, she added to herself, thinking of the quiet nights she’d been granted lately.
They rode down the mountainside slowly, but when they reached the bottom, Christina urged Raven into a fast gallop. Ahmad was accustomed to the way she rode and managed to stay beside her.
They had been riding for at least half an hour and were far into the desert when Christina spied four men on horseback coming swiftly toward them. They had come from nowhere, it seemed, and were soon upon them.
Christina slowed Raven and turned to see Ahmad raising his rifle. But before he had time to pull the trigger, a shot rang through the air, and Christina felt sick as Ahmad fell slowly from his horse, blood oozing from his chest.
“Oh, God—no!” she screamed, but Ahmad lay motionless on the hot sand.
Immediately Christina turned Raven and whipped him into a gallop. She wanted to go to Ahmad, but she had to think of herself now. She could hear her pursuers closing in behind her. An arm went around her waist, yanked her from her horse, and threw her across another one. She struggled fiercely and was rewarded when she fell off backward onto the hard sand.
The man who had grabbed her got off his horse and slowly approached Christina. He had an angry, ferocious look on his bearded face.
Christina’s heart beat painfully as she scrambled to her feet and started to run, but before she had got ten feet away, the man had swung her around and slapped her brutally across her face, knocking her down. He lifted her up halfway by the front of her robe and hit her two more tim
es, then dropped her as if she were dirt. She was crying hysterically as she turned over on the sand so he couldn’t hit her any more.
Vaguely, Christina could hear voices quarreling, but they sounded so far away. She felt dazed, and for a moment she didn’t even know where she was or why she was crying. It all came back to her painfully when she cautiously raised her head and saw Ahmad’s lifeless body lying some distance away from her.
Oh, God, why did they have to kill him? she thought miserably. A few yards away from her three of the men still sat on horseback, one of them talking harshly to the man who had beaten her.
Amair Abdalla dismounted and walked over to the woman lying on the sand. He felt pity when he turned her over and saw her face, already discolored and swelling. He had been told this woman was a beauty, but now her face was dirty from the sand, with clear streaks running down her cheeks from her tears.
That bastard Cassim! It had happened so fast that Amair had been unable to stop him. They were in a hurry, or he would punish the beast now. Cassim had always been a cruel man. His wife had nearly died twice from his cruelty and beatings.
Sheik Ali Hejaz would not take kindly to the beating of this woman. Christina Wakefield was important to Sheik Ali in more ways than one, and he had given strict orders that she was not to be harmed.
Cassim would be taken care of when they returned to camp—and he knew it. But now they must hurry. The plan did not call for a confrontation on Sheik Abu’s home ground, and Amair didn’t want to have a run-in with the big man. It would mean sure death.
Moments had passed since the young man had turned Christina over. He had been staring at her face, and she could see the pity in his brown eyes. What was going to happen now? Perhaps they wouldn’t hurt her any more—not now, anyway. Christina instinctively cringed away from the man when he bent down to pick her up. He carried her to the horses, put her on his small Arabian, and got on behind her. The other three men were mounted and waiting, and they all rode off at a gallop.
Christina closed her eyes when they passed Ahmad’s body. Poor Ahmad. He was only a little older than she, and now his life was finished. The four men left Raven and Ahmad’s horse behind. If they were thieves, why didn’t they take the horses, too?
Who were they? They couldn’t have known she was a woman, not the way she was dressed, so why hadn’t they shot her also? The men couldn’t be here to rescue her, for nobody had known she was here. Besides, if they meant to take her back to her brother, they wouldn’t beat her. It just didn’t make any sense.
These men must be from the neighboring tribe that Philip had warned her about. Would they all use her, then sell her into slavery? Philip would never be able to find her!
Philip, where are you? You’ve got to find me! But what could she be thinking! Hadn’t she wanted to leave Philip?
At least my new master will never have the power to make me weak with his touch the way Philip does. No other man will be able to arouse my desire like Philip. Suddenly she realized what she’d just said in her thoughts.
I love him! I loved him all this time and didn’t even know it! Christina, you’re a fool, a stupid little fool. You fought Philip all these months and prayed to be sent home, when all the time you loved him. You may never see him again, and Philip still thinks you hate him.
But what if he doesn’t come? What if he’s glad I’m gone and off his hands? Can I blame him after the way I’ve acted toward him? Oh, no, he’s got to come for me, he’s got to save me so I can tell him how much I love him. And he’s got to find me soon, before it’s too late!
When Yasir died and I wanted to comfort Philip, I should have known then that I loved him. It has taken a nightmare to make me see the truth, and now it may be too late. Oh, God, give me another chance!
It was getting dark now, and they were still riding hard, as if the devil himself were chasing them. Again it didn’t make any sense. If these four men were from the neighboring tribe Philip had talked about, they should have gone into the mountains and reached their camp already.
She must be wrong. They had been riding along the base of the mountains, but now, as the moon came out to light the way, they turned and headed into the desert. Where were they taking her? And what would happen to her when they got there?
Christina remembered the long-ago time when she had asked herself these same questions, only Philip had been her abductor then. She really had hated him those first weeks after he brought her to his camp. He had taken her away from all she loved. He had manipulated everyone to bring her to this land. But every young woman leaves behind all that she knows when she marries. It takes time to become accustomed to a new life.
Well, she had become accustomed—too accustomed, in fact. And she felt a fear and emptiness in her heart that she would never see Philip again. It was worse than the pain that she felt in her swollen face with each step of the horse. She closed her eyes to shut out all the misery she felt, and, somehow, fell asleep.
The sound of loud voices brought Christina’s eyes open. She was lifted down from the horse. She wondered what had happened until she saw all the new faces about her and felt the soreness in her face. The sun was up and the heat was torrid, bouncing off the sand, forcing her to shade her eyes from the glare in order to see.
Before Christina was taken into a small tent, she glanced about the encampment. They were at a desert oasis. Two huge palm trees towered over six small tents, and she could see goats, sheep, and camels grazing on a stretch of grass behind them.
Inside the tent, it took Christina a moment to become accustomed to the darkness. She saw an old man sitting alone on a pillow behind a low table covered with bowls of food.
The old man hadn’t even glanced in her direction yet. He was still eating his meal, so Christina looked about the tent. A few pillows were scattered about, and she saw a large chest in one corner, but there were no chairs to sit on or rugs to cover the sand.
When Christina looked back at the old man, he was dipping his fingers into a small bowl of water, as she had done many times after finishing a meal with Philip. He looked up at her then, and his brown eyes widened in anger at the sight of her bruised face. She jumped when his fist slammed down on the table, making all the bowls clatter.
He was dressed in a colorful robe and kufiyah, and she noticed that his feet were bare beneath the table. When he stood up, he appeared to be no taller than herself, but when he spoke, he commanded authority.
He spoke harshly to the young man with Christina, and she surmised he must be the sheik of this tribe. Heated words passed between them that Christina couldn’t understand, and then the young man led her behind a curtain in the corner of the tent.
The small space was barely big enough for her to lie down. There was a sheepskin on the sand, and Christina was deposited there, then left alone.
A few minutes later, an old woman opened the curtains and brought in a tray with a large bowl of food and a glass of wine. The woman set the tray down on the sand, handed Christina a wet towel, pointing to her face, and left Christina alone again.
She washed her face with the towel, but couldn’t remove all of the dirt around her painfully swollen eyes. The food was greasy, but was luckily soft, for it also hurt her to chew. The wine tasted wonderful, but she felt strangely tired after she finished drinking it. Christina fought to stay awake so she could be prepared for what would happen next, but she couldn’t manage to keep her eyes open or think coherently, and presently she fell into a sound sleep.
When Amair Abdalla left the woman in Sheik Ali Hejaz’s tent, he stopped long enough to tell Cassim that Sheik Ali wished to see him, then he went directly to his father’s tent. He did not feel sorry for Cassim, for whatever befell him was of his own doing. Sheik Ali was angrier than Amair had expected, and Cassim would probably die for his deed.
“Amair, did everything go well?” his father, Cogia Abdalla, asked when Amair walked into the tent that they shared.
“Yes, father, all went
as planned,” Amair replied distastefully. He sat down on the sheepskin that was his bed, and grabbed the goatskin of wine beside it. “But I will tell you this—I do not care for what I was ordered to do. That woman has done nothing, and she should not be made the pawn for revenge. Already she has suffered, for Cassim beat her before I could stop him.”
“What! That no-good—”
“Don’t you see, father?” Amair cut in. “None of this should have happened in the first place. Cassim shot the man Christina Wakefield was riding with. I pray that he is found before he dies, for he is Ahmad, the brother of Amine’s husband. If Ahmad dies, then Syed will hate us and we will never be able to see my sister, Amine, again.”
“I should have known this plan would come to no good.” Cogia hung his head dejectedly. “I should never have agreed to let you take part in it. I only want this hatred to come to an end so I can see my daughter again. Amine must have children now, and I have never seen them. I might never see my grandchildren!”
“But even so, father, you should never have agreed to this plan. Sheik Abu had nothing to do with what happened all those years ago. He was across the seas then. I do not think he should be made the target for Sheik Ali’s revenge now that Sheik Yasir is dead.”
“I know, my son, but what can we do now? Perhaps Sheik Abu will not come,” Cogia said. He looked out of the open tent. In the center of the camp three little boys were playing with a baby lamb. Cogia ached with wanting to see his own daughter and her children.
“He will come,” Amair replied. “And if he brings the men of his tribe, there will be much useless bloodshed for something that happened twenty-five years ago. And not one man who will die had anything to do with it.”
And Philip did come, less than an hour later. He came alone and cursed himself for doing so when he realized the danger he was up against.
Philip had returned to his camp and was told that Christina had gone riding with Ahmad. He was glad she’d decided to resume her daily rides, and realized it was time to break out of his own depression. His father was dead, but he still had Christina.