Taken by Storm (ROMANTIC REALMS COLLECTION) (11 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

By the time the men returned for their evening meal, Tahj had become one of them. They laughed wholeheartedly and slapped him on the back when they found out how he’d tricked them. When Bashea looked up from her dinner preparations and saw them, Tahj made his excuses and then separated from the group to talk to her.

“Good evening.”

“Good evening,” she replied softly, having met him halfway. Again he noted a sadness about her. “How was the rest of your day?”

“Better.” Tahj grinned, explaining to her how he tricked her brothers.

“That’s wonderful, Tahj.” She laughed, reaching up to squeeze his arm. But then she looked beyond him and her face fell. Tahj turned slightly to see a man approaching who he’d seen bending Kamran’s ear the night before at the feast. He was tall and slender, with a dark, sparse beard and a long, striped caftan made from rough fabric, though he wore showy rings on his hands and exuded the air of a man who was used to living comfortably. Most women would find him handsome, Tahj realized, though he had an instant dislike for him.

“Bashea, may I speak with you?” the man asked gruffly, eyeing Tahj with suspicion.

“Sure,” she answered, pushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. “I-I’ll see you later, Tahj.”

Tahj watched them stroll away. He flinched when the man slid his hand around Bashea’s waist. She stiffened and threw an anxious look over her shoulder. He met her eye just as a group of people stepped between them and blocked his view. He struggled to see through the gaps between them, but when they passed by, Bashea was gone. Tahj wondered if he should try to find them and make sure Bashea was safe, but he judged, while she seemed nervous, she didn’t seem afraid, and decided to leave it alone.

* * *

Later, as Tahj crossed by her tent, he saw Bashea through the flap she left open to catch the rare breeze. She lay on the bed on her stomach, legs bent with feet up in the air, swinging back and forth as she studied something before her. Tahj felt a smile stretch across his face. At the moment she looked like a little girl lost in a daydream, and the image warmed his heart. He approached stealthily, wanting to observe from a closer vantage point, and saw over her shoulder she held a piece of parchment in one hand and
twirled a piece of hair around her finger with the other, staring off into space.

He didn’t know what gave him away, but she turned suddenly, and seeing him, started, sitting up and pressing the page to her chest. “Oh! I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes. You seemed rather…preoccupied,” he responded, a teasing edge to his voice. He reached over and tried to pull the page back to take a look, sensing she was hiding something from him. “What is this?”

“This?” she answered, her voice a little higher than usual. “Nothing.” She spun to hurriedly put the parchment down, but Tahj snatched it just as it touched the top of the crate beside her bed. She sprang off of the bed to try to retrieve it from him, but her arms were too short.

Tahj held it above his head, fending her off as he tried to read it. “What is this? A poem?”

“Give it back,” she fumed, jumping, but missing it by a fraction as Tahj turned his body so it was a barrier to her. He knew he was being obnoxious, but his curiosity was overriding his sense of manners. “I mean it, Tahj.”
Something in her voice had him looking up, and to his surprise, he found she was near tears. “Give it to me!”

“Bashea,” he said quietly in an effort to calm her, “if
you want it back that badly, I’ll give it to you. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Tahj extended his arm, handing it to her, but he looked Bashea in the eye when she reached for it. “But if this is something you wrote, I would really like to read it.”

This stopped her momentarily.
The page stood suspended between them. She bit her lip. “You won’t tease me, as my brothers do?”

“Of course not. I want to know you.”

She hesitated. “I don’t know. My brothers are uneducated, but you—”

“Please, Bashea,” he implored earnestly.

He could see a battle being waged in her eyes. “You can read it, if you want.” She shrugged.“They are nothing.” She stalked to the other side of the tent, but fidgeted and he could feel her eyes on him as he read. Appearing uncomfortable with the silence, she added, “Just something to do to while away the time…” Her voice trailed off as his eyes traveled back and forth across the page, devouring her words.

Tahj found himself lost in the poem as images of nature swam before his eyes, and he immediately recognized her description of the high meadow, with its tinkling brook and grassy plain. The way she had captured the timelessness and hidden wisdom of objects that were an everyday part of her life amazed him. The flow of the words swept Tahj along and moved him more than he would have thought possible.

Bashea stilled as he lowered the page. She looked like a child standing before her father to be judged for some petty offense. Tahj felt a sort of shock. Now the bed was bare, he saw a leather-bound volume on the bed, parchment paper tied together with leather strings. His gaze flew around the room to take in several similarly bound books scattered about. “This is who you are?” he asked quietly.

She shrugged again. “I don’t know.” She gave a high-pitched laugh. “Sometimes the words just come to me, and I have to write them down to get them out of my head.”

Tahj set the page carefully down on the crate and moved toward her. She lowered her head and fiddled with her hands.

“They’re not very good, I know,” she said in a rush. “Just something to do—” Bashea’s breath left her as Tahj grabbed her chin and lifted her face. His other hand, grasping her wrist, felt her pulse quicken, reminding him of a baby bird’s wings beating against the side of its cage when it is first captured.

“They are beautiful,” he said distinctly, his eyes misty and intense, “as you are beautiful.” His head bent to hers as he leaned in.

They both jumped when they heard Parvaiz’s voice behind them. “Bashea!” he called sharply.

“Parvaiz,” Tahj said, clearing his throat. Parvaiz gave him a hard stare. “I was just leaving.” But on a whim Tahj brushed Bashea’s hand as he passed, still looking evenly at Parvaiz, who barred the doorway. Parvaiz, though several inches shorter than Tahj, held his ground for a second, giving Tahj a meaningful look before letting him pass.

“Parvaiz,” Bashea began, her voice a warning. “You don’t need to say anything.”

She moved across the room and took the single sheet of parchment and slid it into the volume on her bed.

“Somebody does, Bashea. What’s going on with this prince? I came down to talk to you about Ladarius, and I find you with your arms wrapped around
him
?”

She wondered over when her little brother’s voice had become so deep. “It’s not like that.”

“What is it like then, Bashea? Tell me,” he demanded, exasperated.

“I don’t think I like your tone,” Bashea started, going on the offensive.

“Well, that’s too damn bad!” Parvaiz shouted, his face going red.

For a second, Bashea was stunned. Parvaiz had never dared to talk to her this way before, but then her own ire rose. “Listen, Parvaiz, I don’t know why you think you can talk to me like this. Are you such a big man now you can scream at your sister and order her around like a servant? What I do with my life is
my
concern, Parvaiz, not yours!”

Parvaiz looked like he was about to bite back, but he abruptly shut his mouth. This wasn’t his style. He was always logical, and found most confrontations such as this a waste of time and energy. “I am sorry, Bashea. You are right. I shouldn’t be chastising you. I’m just concerned.” He looked up with the last and held her eyes.

The look of concern she saw there shook her, so Bashea turned to put her book away on a shelf and give herself time to collect her emotions, suddenly so raw. “You came to speak of Ladarius…” She forced herself to speak lightly and soften the edges of the seething inside her.

“Yes.” But Parvaiz glanced over his shoulder to where Tahj stood by the fire, trying to look like he wasn’t watching what was going on inside the tent. He sighed, gritting his teeth. “I’m sorry, Bashea, but I’m going to have to ask you again, what is going on with you and Prince Tahj?”

Bashea sighed, flinging herself onto the bed stomach-first. “Why is my love life suddenly of such interest to everybody?”

Parvaiz smiled. “It has always been of great interest. There just wasn’t much to talk about before.” He didn’t move fast enough to avoid the pillow. He laughed, scooping it up off the ground and coming to sit down next to her on the edge of the bed.

When he didn’t speak, Bashea rolled over. “He’s a prince, Parvaiz,” she said, trying to appeal to his logic, “and I am a sheepherder.”

But, as logical as he was, Parvaiz was also a softie, and he obviously saw the pain his sister was in. He touched her face. “To me, you have always been a princess.”

It was such an uncharacteristic thing for him to say, she felt like crying. But she knew it was true. Her younger siblings had always looked up to and idolized her, but being their “princess” wasn’t always easy. “Father says I am to marry Ladarius.”

“Well, excuse me for saying this—I mean no disrespect—but Baba will not have to live with that decision. You will.”

Bashea put the back of her palm to her forehead. “Uuuuhh, I have such a headache!”

Parvaiz smiled, patting her other hand where it lay near him on the bed. “Too much to think about.” He rose. “I will leave, then, so you can do your thinking.” But he turned at the door. “By the way, I came to tell you, Ladarius is not the man for you.”

And he was gone.

Bashea sighed and turned her head with a groan. She stretched out her hand thoughtfully and touched a cord that hung from the tent, rubbing her fingers along its surface. In her mind’s eye she could see Tahj’s bedroom: soft, supple, lavish, curtained bed, carved, finished furniture, walls. She ran her fingers over the crate beside her bed and jerked it back when a splinter bit into her. Frustrated, she removed the jagged piece of wood with her other fingers and stuck
the injured finger in her mouth to soothe it. The pounding in her head continued. She rolled over and closed her eyes.

* * *

Tahj didn’t see Bashea until dinner. They were all gathered around the fire again, and tonight there was dancing. The combination of being out in the sun and fresh air earlier, the warmth of the fire, and the tantalizing smell of the food mixed with the fragrance of the burning wood, all seemed to seduce him into a trance.

Tahj was readily able to distinguish Bashea from the other dancers, despite the veil covering much of her face, and the fact her sisters closely resembled her. There was just an unmistakable spark in the young girl’s eyes, and, when the group circled around until Bashea was standing in front of him, she stopped circling, seeming to dance just for him. The other dancers seemed a bit confused with this change in the program, which left them in their own private dances, sometimes with people they did not wish to dance for, but they had no choice, as they couldn’t go forward with Bashea at a stop.

Tahj grinned up at her, and Bashea’s eyes became even brighter. Had Tahj taken his eyes from her for even a second, he might have seen Bagrat across the fire ring as he leaned over and whispered something to the man he’d seen with Bashea earlier. As it was, he didn’t notice the man until he was upon Bashea. With his back to Bagrat and Jahmeel, Ladarius boldly slid his large hand around from behind and laid it on Bashea’s bare stomach, pulling her strongly toward him and dancing in time to the music, repeating her earlier movements, and bending his knees and wriggling his hips.

Everything inside Tahj revolted, and he jumped angrily to his feet. He looked over at Bagrat and Jahmeel and saw they were laughing. His rage turned to something sharp and cold and he turned, leaving the fire hurriedly to return to his tent.

When Bashea felt Ladarius’s hand slide around her waist across her skin, she was seized simultaneously with fear and anger. It was unheard of for a man to touch a woman so intimately in the company of others. Her eyes grew wide, and she grabbed the man’s hand and wriggled out of his grasp. Turning to find Ladarius standing behind her, she fought the urge to slap him right there in front of everyone.

“How dare you!” she spat.

“Bashea, I told you today I wanted you for my wife.”

The man was obviously drunk. His eyes were unfocussed and his tongue thick. “And I told you I was not interested,” she hissed, storming past him.

When Bagrat saw her face as she marched toward him, the smile faded off his. He scrambled to his feet. “Bashea what…?”

“Don’t talk to me, Bagrat.” She tried to stomp past him to her tent, but Bagrat grabbed her arm and swung Bashea around.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with
me
? Did you not just see what happened?”

“No, I…I mean, I thought—”

“Ladarius, put his…hand on me…on my stomach…like I was some common…” She couldn’t complete the thought; a hand flew to her mouth as if to force her to swallow the horror back.

“What?” Bagrat roared, his eyes already searching the crowd for Ladarius.