And the Desert Blooms (15 page)

“Very wonderful,” he agreed. “You act as if that fact has just come home to you. If you recall, that’s what this hullabaloo is all about.”

“It
has
just come home. All I could feel was hurt and anger and betrayal when my father told me I was pregnant and that you knew all along.” Her hands abruptly tightened on his shoulders. “My Lord, what if I’d taken another fall off Oedipus and hurt the baby?”

“You didn’t fall,” he said gently. “It didn’t happen. Stop worrying about it.”

She was gnawing at her lower lip. “But it could have happened. How irresponsible can you get? I suppose I’ll have to stop riding right away.”

“We’ll bring in an obstetrician and see what he recommends.” Philip’s lips tightened. “But there’s no way you’ll get on Oedipus again.”

“All right, I won’t,” she said meekly. Her lashes lowered to hide the mischief in her eyes. “Until after the baby’s born.”

“Pandora!”

She laughed. “He likes me,” she protested laughingly. “He likes both of us. If he hadn’t acted up today, it would have taken us much longer to get everything ironed out.”

“You’re casting that black devil in the role of Cupid?” Philip asked.

“Well, not exactly. It was very naughty of him to rear up and hit you with his hoof.” She frowned. “We should really go back to the first-aid room so I can put some antiseptic on that cut.”

“Presently.” He pressed her back on the mound of hay and settled down beside her. “Why don’t we just lie still and relax for a while? I like it here.”

So did she. The dusky half light of the stable was so beautifully intimate and the hay beneath them was soft and springy, the scent both clean and sweet. Philip’s long, lean body was warm and hard and infinitely dear as he folded her more closely against him.

She cuddled contentedly, her cheek finding the hollow of his shoulder. “All right, for just a little while.” She suddenly chuckled. “What do you suppose the stableboys are thinking out there? After the way you carried me in here, they’re probably expecting to hear screams and the sound of a horsewhip.”

His lips twisted in a rueful smile. “My screams, more than likely. Most of them know what a wildcat you are. When that guard saw you hanging from the balcony he phoned me rather than run after you himself. I’m surprised none of them offered to stay and protect me.”

“I’ll protect you,” she said dreamily. “You won’t need anyone else. I’ll take such good care of you.”

His lips took hers in a kiss of enchanting sweetness that opened entire new horizons of joy and commitment. How wonderful that so much could be contained in just a single kiss.

“And I’ll take care of you,” he said with a touch of huskiness in his voice. “Now, hush. I want to lie here and hold you and be peaceful for a bit. Heaven knows, I’ll get little enough chance to do it in the future.”

“Will you mind?”

“No, I won’t mind. You expect a little discomfort when your life is starting to grow and change.” He smiled. “You expect it, and you look forward to it.”

Growth and change. Such exciting words for what was to come. Growing individually, yet together, sharing ideas and experiences. Sharing love. A love that would make their lives rich and fertile for the blossoming to come.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked curiously, gazing down into her glowing face.

She laughed softly. “Deserts,” she said. “And blossoms.” Her expression held all the wonder and eagerness of a child. “Oh, Philip, we have so many wonderfully exciting things in store for us. I can hardly wait!”

His eyes were intent and warmly tender. “Neither can I.” He kissed her gently on the forehead. “Neither can I, love.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

IRIS JOHANSEN, who has more than twenty-seven million copies of her books in print, has won many awards for her achievements in writing. The bestselling author of
Killer Dreams, Blind Alley, Firestorm, Fatal Tide, Dead Aim, Body of Lies, The Search,
and many other novels, she lives near Atlanta, Georgia, where she is currently at work on a new novel. She can be reached at her website,
www.irisjohansen.com
.

BOOKS BY IRIS JOHANSEN

And the Desert Blooms

The Treasure

Touch the Horizon

The Golden Valkyrie

Capture the Rainbow

A Summer Smile

Stormy Vows/ Tempest at Sea

Stalemate

An Unexpected Song

Killer Dreams
On the Run

Countdown

Blind Alley

Firestorm

Fatal Tide

Dead Aim

No One to Trust

Body of Lies

Final Target

The Search

The Killing Game

The Face of Deception

And Then You Die

Long After Midnight

The Ugly Duckling

Lion’s Bride

Dark Rider

Midnight Warrior

The Beloved Scoundrel

The Magnificent Rogue

The Tiger Prince

Last Bridge Home

The Golden Barbarian

Reap the Wind

Storm Winds
The Wind Dancer

The Treasure

Available now

MAY 3, 1196
FORTRESS OF MAYSEF
NOSAIRI MOUNTAINS
SYRIA

HIS POWER WAS WANING, fading like that blood-red sun setting behind the mountains.

Jabbar Al Nasim’s fists clenched with fury as he gazed out at the sun sinking on the horizon. It should not be. It made no sense that he should be so afflicted. Weakness was for those other fools, not for him.

Yet he had always known it would come. It had even come for Sinan, the Old Man of the Mountain. But he had always been stronger than the old man in both mind and spirit. Sinan had bent before the yoke, but Nasim had prepared for it.

Kadar.

“You sent for me, master?”

He turned to see Ali Balkir striding along the battlements toward him. The man’s voice was soft, hesitant, and he could see the fear in his face. Nasim felt a jolt of fierce pleasure as he realized the captain had not detected any loss of power. Well, why should he? Nasim had always been master here, in spite of what outsiders thought. Sinan might have been the King of Assassins, feared by kings and warriors alike, but Nasim had been the one who had guided his footsteps. Everyone here at the fortress knew and groveled at his feet.

And they’d continue to grovel. He would not let this monstrous thing happen to him.

Balkir took a hurried step back as he saw Nasim’s expression. “Perhaps I was mistaken. I beg your forgiveness for intrud—”

“No, stay. I have a task for you.”

Balkir drew a relieved breath. “Another attack on the Frankish ships? Gladly. I brought you much gold from my last journey. I will bring you even more this—”

“Be silent. I wish you to return to Scotland where you left Kadar Ben Arnaud and the foreigners. You are to tell him nothing of what has transpired here. Do not mention me. Tell him only that Sinan is claiming his price. Bring him to me.”

Balkir’s eyes widened. “Sinan? But Sinan is—”

“Do you question me?”

“No, never.” Balkir moistened his lips. “But what if he refuses?”

Balkir was terrified, Nasim realized, and not of failing him. Nasim had forgotten that Balkir was at the fortress at the time Kadar underwent his training; Balkir knew how adept Kadar was in all the dark arts. More adept than any man Nasim had ever known, and Kadar was only a boy of ten and four when he came to the mountain. How proud Sinan had been of him. What plans he had made for the two of them. He had never realized Nasim had plans of his own for Kadar.

All wasted when Kadar had left the dark path and rejected Sinan to live with the foreigners. What a fool the Old Man had been to let him go.

But it was not too late. What Sinan had lost, Nasim could reclaim.

If Kadar did not die as the others had died.

Well, if he died, he died. Kadar was only a man; it was the power that was important.

“He won’t refuse,” Nasim said. “He gave Sinan his word in exchange for the lives of the foreigners.”

“What if he does?”

“You
are
questioning me,” Nasim said with dangerous softness.

Balkir turned pale. “No, master. Of course he won’t refuse. Not if you say he won’t. I only—”

“Be gone.” Nasim waved his hand. “Set sail at once.”

Balkir nodded jerkily and backed away from him. “I will bring him. Whether or not he wishes to come I will force—”

The words cut off abruptly as Nasim turned his back on him. The man was only trying to gain respect in his eyes. He would have no more chance against Kadar if he tried to use force than he would against Nasim, and he probably knew it.

But he wouldn’t have to use force. Kadar would come. Not only because of his promise but because he would know what would result if he didn’t. Sinan had spared the lives of Lord Ware, his woman, Thea, and the child Selene and given them all a new life in Scotland. Nasim had permitted the foolishness because he had wanted to keep Kadar safe until it was time to use him.

But no one would be more aware than Kadar that the safety Sinan had given could always be taken away.

Kadar had shown a baffling softness toward his friend Lord Ware and a stranger bond with the child Selene. Such emotions were common on the bright path, but Nasim had taught Kadar better. It seemed fitting that he be caught in his master’s noose because he’d ignored his teachings.

The fortress gate was opening and Balkir rode through it. He kicked his horse into a dead run down the mountain. He would be in Hafir in a few days and set sail as soon as he could stock his ship, the
Dark Star
.

Nasim turned back to the setting sun. It had descended almost below the horizon now, darkness was closing in. But it would return tomorrow, blasting all before it with its power.

And so would Nasim.

His gaze shifted north toward the sea. Kadar was across that sea in that cold land of Scotland, playing at being one of them, the fools, the bright ones. But it would be just a matter of months before he would be here. Nasim had waited five years. He could wait a little longer. Yet an odd eagerness was beginning to replace his rage and desperation. He wanted him here
now.

He felt the power rising within him and he closed his eyes and sent the call forth.

“Kadar.”

AUGUST 4, 1196
MONTDHU, SCOTLAND

“SHE’S BEING VERY FOOLISH.” Thea frowned as she watched Selene across the great hall. “I don’t like this, Ware.”

“Neither does Kadar,” Ware said cheerfully as he took a sip of his wine. “I’m rather enjoying it. It’s interesting to see our cool Kadar disconcerted.”

“Will it also be interesting if Kadar decides to slaughter that poor man at whom she’s smiling?” Thea asked tartly. “Or Lord Kenneth, who she partnered in the last country dance?”

“Yes.” He smiled teasingly at her. “It’s been far too peaceful here for the last few years. I could use a little diversion.”

“Blood and war are not diversions except to warriors like you.” Her frown deepened. “And I thought you very happy here at Montdhu. You did not complain.”

He lifted her hand and kissed the palm. “How would I dare with such a termagant of a wife.”

“Don’t tease. Have you been unhappy?”

“Only when you robbed me of craftsmen for my castle so that you could have them build a ship for your silk trade.”

“I needed that ship. What good is it to produce fine silks if you can’t sell them? It wasn’t sensible to—” She shook her head. “You know I was right, and you have your castle now. It’s as fine and strong as you could want. Everyone at the feast tonight has told you they have never seen a more secure fortress.”

His smile faded. “And we might well have need of our fortress soon.”

She frowned. “Have you heard news from the Holy Land?”

He shook his head. “But we walk a fine line, Thea. We’ve been lucky to have these years to prepare.”

Ware was still looking over his shoulder, Thea thought sadly. Well, who could blame him? They had fled the wrath of the Knights Templar to come to this land, and if the Knights found out that Ware was not dead, as they thought, they would be unrelenting in their persecution. Ware and Thea had almost been captured before their journey started. It had been Kadar who had bargained with Sinan, the head of the assassins, to lend them a ship to take them to Scotland. But that was the past, and Thea would not have Ware moody tonight when he had so much to celebrate.

“We’re not lucky, we’re intelligent. And the Knights Templar are foolish beyond belief if they think you would betray them. It makes me angry every time I think of it. Now drink your wine and enjoy this evening. We’ve made a new life and everything is fine.”

He lifted his cup. “Then why are you letting the fact that your sister is smiling prettily at Lord Douglas upset you?”

“Because Kadar hasn’t taken his eyes off her all evening.” Her gaze returned to her sister. Selene’s pale-gold silk gown made her dark red hair glow with hidden fires, and her green eyes shone with vitality—and recklessness. The little devil knew exactly what she was doing, Thea thought crossly. Selene was impulsive at times, but this was not such an occasion. Her every action tonight was meant to provoke Kadar. “And I didn’t invite the entire countryside to see your splendid new castle so that she could expose them to mayhem.”

“Tell her. Selene loves you. She won’t want you unhappy.”

“I will.” She rose to her feet and strode down the hall toward the great hearth, before which Selene was holding court. Ware was right: Selene might be willful, but she had a tender heart. She would never intentionally hurt anyone she loved. All Thea had to do was confront her sister, express her distress, and the problem would be solved.

Maybe.

“Don’t stop her, Thea.”

She glanced over her shoulder to see Kadar behind her. He had been leaning against the far pillar only seconds ago, but she was accustomed to the swift silence of his movements.

“Stop her?” She smiled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“And don’t lie to me either.” Kadar’s lips tightened. “I’m a little too bad-tempered tonight to deal in pretense.” He took her arm and led her toward the nearest corner of the hall. “And you’ve never done it well. You’re burdened with a pure and honest soul.”

“And I suppose you’re the devil himself.”

He smiled. “Only a disciple.”

“Nonsense.”

“Well, perhaps only half devil. I’ve never been able to convince you of my sinful character. You never wanted to see that side of me.”

“You’re kind and generous and our very dear friend.”

“Oh, yes, which proves what good judgment you have.”

“And arrogant, stubborn, and with no sense of humility.”

He inclined his head. “But I’ve the virtue of patience, my lady, which should outweigh all my other vices.”

“Stop mocking.” She turned to face him. “You’re angry with Selene.”

“Am I?”

“You know you are. You’ve been watching her all evening.”

“And you’ve been watching me.” One side of his lips lifted in a half smile. “I was wondering whether you’d decide to attack me or Selene.”

“I have no intention of attacking anyone.” She stared directly into his eyes. “Do you?”

“Not at the moment. I’ve just told you how patient I am.”

Relief surged through her. “She doesn’t mean anything. She’s just amusing herself.”

“She means something.” He glanced back toward the hearth. “She means to torment and hurt me and drive me to the edge.” His tone was without expression. “She does it very well, doesn’t she?”

“It’s your fault. Why don’t you offer for her? You know Ware and I have wanted the two of you to wed for this past year. Selene is ten and seven. It’s past time she had a husband.”

“I’m flattered you’d consider a humble bastard like myself worthy of her.”

“You are not flattered. You know your own worth.”

“Of course, but the world would say it was a poor match. Selene is a lady of a fine house now.”

“Only because you helped us escape from the Holy Land and start again. Selene was a slave in the House of Nicholas and only a child when you bought her freedom as a favor to me. She was destined to spend her life embroidering his splendid silks and being given to his customers for their pleasure. You saved her, Kadar. Do you think she would ever look at another man if you let her come close to you?”

“Don’t interfere, Thea.”

“I
will
interfere. You know better. She’s worshipped you since she was a child of eleven.”

“Worship? She’s never worshipped me. She knows me too well.” He smiled. “You may not believe in my devilish qualities, but she does. She’s always known what I am. Just as I’ve always known what she is.”

“She’s a hardworking, honest, loving woman who needs a husband.”

“She’s more than that. She’s extraordinary, the light in my darkness. And she’s still not ready for me.”

“Ready? Most women her age have children already.”

“Most women haven’t suffered as she suffered. It scarred her. I can wait until she heals.”

“But can she?” Thea glanced toward the hearth again. Oh, God, Selene was no longer there.

“It’s all right. She and Lord Douglas just left the hall and went out into the courtyard.”