Taken by Storm (ROMANTIC REALMS COLLECTION) (13 page)

Bashea reached up and felt the cut, bringing her hand down to inspect it. “Fine. Fine,” she answered dismissively.

Whether it was the angle of the wind or sheer luck, the end Bashea held seemed less affected by the wind. Sliding down, she managed to tuck the flap under her knees as she half turned to scan the room behind her. Seeing nothing within reach, she took a look in the opposite direction. Several feet away, Bashea caught sight of the crate beside her bed that had held the lantern which wasnow on the floor. The crate was knocked a little askew, but still roughly in the same place as it had been, able to resist the pull of the heavy canvas. She had to release her end, letting the storm again get its foot in the door, and move down the line of the tent, walking on her knees back toward the bed. When she was close enough, Bashea reached out and tugged the crate toward her, moving it little by little up the line.

Suddenly Tahj was behind her. “Here, let me get that.” With a heave and a grunt, he shifted the heavy crate, which also served for storage of her belongings, and Bashea sidestepped back a few feet. With effort, Tahj hefted the crate on top of the fold of the canvas next to Bashea. He turned to look around for another heavy object, and she rose to her feet, returning to her former position and grasping the side of the ripped canvas in her hands. The storm abated slightly, the thunder and lightning a degree less intense, although the rain still came down viciously. As Bashea peered toward the corner during the next lightning strike, she saw Tahj had managed to get his part of the canvas all neatly tucked in with weights at evenly spaced intervals down the line of the tent.

“Here.” Though his voice was gentle, Bashea jumped, surprised he was so close. He held a stack of books in his hands. Bashea backed out of his way, and he arranged them onto the corner of the canvas, bringing the room relatively to order. Exhausted, he fell back onto his backside with a loud sigh. “There.” He turned to smile at Bashea, and she, too, sank to the ground beside him, breathing heavily, her back to their enemy, the tent. Without warning, Tahj reached out and stroked her face below her cut, the skin cool and damp. Her eyes grew wide. “Are you sure you are unharmed?”

She stared into his eyes as if stunned for a second and then reached up again, absentmindedly, to feel the cut. “Yes,
it’s not bad,” she responded finally, pulling away from him.

Tahj watched coolly as she rose to her feet, trying to tug the wet robe around her more tightly and then crossing her arms, half-turned from him. He studied what he could see of her face, some light still coming in from the crack they could not altogether mend. She looked sad and frightened and…impenetrable. He found himself suddenly irritable in her presence, like every neuron was setting him on edge. He spun, mirroring her image by crossing his arms.

“You can trust me, you know, Bashea,” he bit off, but then the anger simply drained away. He closed his eyes with a sigh. After a few seconds passed in silence, he turned back to her, his voice almost pleading. “You can trust me. I won’t hurt you.”

She turned around slowly, not reaching out to him again, just standing still and assessing him in silence. “I know,” she responded, her voice small and shaky. She glanced away for a second, folding and unfolding her hands. She returned her eyes to his face, “I’m sorry, Tahj,” she said without explanation. “I really am.”

“I know,” he murmured, not daring to reach out for her, though every inch of his body screamed to wrap her up in a huge embrace.

Bashea’s gaze flitted everywhere as she tried to find her next words. “I guess y-you’ll have to stay here,” she said after a while.

“We could lift up a corner, and I could sneak out—”

She spun around. “But what if things come loose, or a pole comes down again?”

He crossed to her, noting how Bashea was watching his every move, and placed hands on her shoulders. “Relax, Bashea. I’ll stay if you want me to. I’ll sleep on the ground.”

She nodded slightly, still looking a little bewildered, and he wondered just how hard the beam had hit her. “What time do you think it is?”

“Still several hours before dawn, I would guess.”

She paused. “I’ll get you some blankets.” Bashea moved over to her bed, searching for dry blankets. Meanwhile, Tahj found the lantern, which was, miraculously, still lit, though it was on its side, the candle wax dripping onto the glass shade making its illumination hazy. He turned around, and Bashea stood behind him with a pair of blankets folded over her arms.

“Thank you, Tahj,” she said sincerely and then she reached out and did something he hadn’t expected, placing her hand on his arm.

“It was nothing,” he returned with a gulp, her proximity unnerving him.

Her eyes searched his in the lamplight and she asked in a near whisper, “How did you know to come?”

He was mesmerized. At the moment all he could think was,
The gods led me,
but he recovered. “The storm woke me. I left my tent to see if anyone needed help, and I saw one of your stakes had come loose.”

Bashea dropped her hand. “Oh.” She seemed a little disappointed in the logical answer. “Thank you for coming. I would have never been able to manage that alone.”

Tahj took the blankets she handed him, continuing to scrutinize her even as she turned away. She was a mystery, this woman. She seemed to pull him in and push him away like a cat playing with its prey, but he sensed it was totally unintentional.

Since Bashea had climbed into bed, wet clothes and all, he decided to do the same. He moved over to the doorway and spread his blankets out on the ground. He noticed Bashea had turned on her side, away from him, so, with a nearly silent sigh, he got between the covers, lying on his side facing her. The lantern still glowed in the night; neither one had thought to extinguish it.

Maybe twenty minutes had passed when Bashea abruptly flipped over. Tahj was lying on his back with his arms folded beneath his head, watching the shifting shadows on the tent’s ceiling. Her movement caught his attention and he turned toward her. He could see now she was also wide awake.

She seemed to have made a decision. She lifted her covers.

“It’s cold,” she said simply.

Was she cold? Or did she think he was, Tahj wondered. He froze, uncertain of what she was asking. It seemed pretty clear, but he hardly dared to believe it to be true.

“I trust you, Tahj.” Her face was solemn in the lantern light.

Tahj nodded his head without speaking and stood, bringing his blankets with him as he crossed the room mechanically. He paused by her bed for a minute, but she didn’t speak, seemingly struck mute. He spread his blankets over her small figure with care and waited. She lifted the blankets again, and he sat down with his back to her, then leaned over and slowly stretched out beside her, not facing her, waiting to follow her lead.
Expecting at any moment to feel her hands slide around him, his skin prickled, but she made no move to touch him. He let his breath out, still amazed she’d invited him into her bed, and wondered if she were expecting something from him.

Tahj debated his next course of action. Should he speak to her now about his feelings? Or would that make her feel uncomfortable? Had she simply asked him to join her because of the cold, with no other intentions behind her invitation? Or was it possible she, too, had feelings for him?

He could feel her smoldering heat, and in his mind could trace each curve of the body creating that heat as she flowed silently behind him, and these thoughts derailed all other thought for a time. He had never shared his bed with a woman, and the comfort of having another so close swamped his senses. He could smell the perfumed scent of her hair on the pillow. The rain had slowed to a pleasant pitter-patter, and he could hear the rhythmic sound of her breathing over the drips on the canvas and in the mud outside. It was all so comforting, he couldn’t bring himself to even move for fear it would break him out of the cozy cocoon he shared with her. He drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Tahj woke hours later with one terrifying thought. If Jahmeel or Bagrat found him in Bashea’s tent, they would rip him to shreds with their bare hands.

He hastily climbed out of bed, but paused before leaving. Sometime during the night, Bashea had turned over in her sleep and now had her back to him. He crept around the bed to gaze on her face, framed on the pillow like artwork. He stood for a long time, frozen, while birds began to sing outside and a few early risers shuffled about. Bashea’s face was kissed with a faint rose blush, lips slightly parted. Hands were folded together near her face, the soft tendrils of her hair tumbling recklessly across the sheets and down her shoulders. As if by force, Tahj fell to his knees in the dirt, his chest filled with a zinging ache.

“Good morning, friend,” he heard outside, close enough to startle him.

He rose and made his way to the area of the tent that had ripped the night before. He pulled the edge back and saw he was facing a neighboring tent. Sliding his eyes to the right, he saw a heavyset woman bent over a fledgling fire. Footsteps faded away in the distance, and he judged this was as good a time as any to make his escape. He tiptoed out of the tent, his eyes on the woman at the fire as he backed away. He turned around and barreled straight into Jahmeel’s chest, stealing his breath away, though it left the big man unscathed.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, clearing his throat. “Good morning.”

“Is it?” Jahmeel responded pointedly.

“No,” Tahj was quick to answer. “Not at all. Horrible, actually. Didn’t get a wink of sleep. ” Seeing Jahmeel’s eyebrow raise he tried to backtrack. “Not because of…anything improper…the storm…. The storm was loud,” he ended dumbly.

“Uh-huh.”

“And the lightening…” He whistled. “I think I’ll go back to my tent now and try to lie down.”

Jahmeel stepped in his path and eyed him for a nerve-racking minute. Then, seeming to believe he had made his point, Jahmeel backed away, bowing and sweeping his hand in a sarcastic invitation to pass. Tahj moved by him, scrutinizing him warily, and scurried to his tent.

An hour later, when the sun had fully risen and begun its upward climb, Tahj left his tent, his encounter with Jahmeel leaving him so rattled he felt no more refreshed than when he had first opened his eyes in Bashea’s tent. Tahj made his way over to the fire and was pleased to see Bashea there, dishing out some sort of hot mash from a pot on the fire to a group of men who were gathered, grumpily eating their breakfast, on logs around the central fire. Kamran sat, flanked by two older men nearly his age, on the largest of the logs. Jameel and Bagrat sat together, chewing in synchrony, and Radeem sat beside the two of them, looking like he wasn’t fully awake yet, clutching a cup of some steaming liquid. The brothers looked at Tahj curiously as he approached, but he had eyes only for Bashea.

“Good morning, Bashea,” he murmured, his lips involuntarily parting in a smile.

“Is it?” Bashea responded sweetly, but Tahj detected a slight edge. Tahj blinked, confused.

Bagrat and Jameel, who heard the exchange, sat up a little straighter, continuing to ladle the gruel into their faces, but paying closer attention to the pair in front of them. Radeem, too, lifted his head and followed the proceedings with interest.

Tahj glanced in their direction and lowered his voice, though it still carried to the threesome. “Did you sleep well?” he asked, boldly hinting at their secret, shared intimacy of the night before. Her eyes flew to his, and he could feel the heat they contained searing his skin.

“Did you?” she countered, her voice razor sharp.

Bagrat and Jahmeel’s spoons clattered into their bowls simultaneously, and their eyes shifted to his. Tahj stood flabbergasted, jaw dropped open. He slid his eyes to them in desperation.

“What’s going on?” Radeem whispered under his breath to the brothers. The pair shrugged. Tahj’s eyes begged them for help, and they looked like they would have almost felt sorry for him if they were not so entertained by their sister’s reaction to everything he said. They mouthed Tahj encouragement, telling him to not give up, to continue to prod Bashea and find out what was upsetting her. Tahj believed they were half fearing for him, half hoping for some sort of volcanic eruption.

Tahj cleared his throat, glancing at Bashea’s back. She had turned away from him, flinging her spoon into the pot, which was suspended from a big, iron hook she now swung over the fire. Uncertain, Tahj looked back at his friends, who nodded and gestured in Bashea’s direction. “Umm…did I…do something wrong?”

She spun back to him. “‘Did I…did I…’” she repeated, the incredulity pitching her voice high. “No, Your Highness,” she hissed icily. “You didn’t…” Her voice cracked and she looked around, becoming aware they had an audience. Her face clearly displayed her struggle to rein in her emotions. “You didn’t
do
anything wrong,” she said more calmly, but when she looked back at Tahj, her eyes began to fill again. “You didn’t
do
anything…at all,” she finished just loud enough for Tahj to hear. She scanned the circle of men, all now staring at her, and then turned and marched off without another word. Tahj gulped, watching her leave, knowing he had done something to hurt her, but not understanding what it was.

Bagrat peered at Jahmeel and Radeem, who shrugged, and then he stood up with a sigh. He crossed to clasp a hand on Tahj’s shoulder and said with forced joviality, “Did you know Bashea means ‘lips of the gods?’”

Tahj didn’t want anyone to see how upset he was by Bashea’s reaction to him, so he faked a half laugh. “Are you sure you don’t mean tongue of the devil?” All the men chuckled to themselves, each recalling a time when their spouses had been unhappy with them. But Tahj continued to watch Bashea’s retreating figure until she lifted the flap on her tent and disappeared inside.

* * *

Bashea sat in her tent stewing. She had never felt so utterly confused before. What was wrong with her? She was so angry she could hardly think straight, which wasn’t helping matters. So Tahj had acted the gentleman last night. So he wasn’t interested in her, so what? The last thing she’d ever wanted in life was a man. Who needed someone else to look after? Not her. She had her brothers and sisters and her dad…she didn’t need a man, and she certainly didn’t need Prince Tahj of Avistad.

To think, she’d actually cried over him. Actually shed tears. And then she got up and washed the tears from her face. She did not need anyone. Who did Tahj think he was, anyway, waltzing into her tent in the middle of the night and…what? Why had he come there in the first place? She was about to go over everything again, from the beginning, to try to make sense out of it, when Bibi stuck her head in the tent.

“Father wants to see you.”

“See me?” Bashea asked in surprise.

Bibi nodded. “Right away.”

Bashea hurried out of her tent. When she got to Kamran’s, she found him pacing.

“Father, you called me?”

“Yes, yes. Bashea, have a seat.” He gestured to a sitting area and pulled a chair up so close to her their knees were almost touching.

“Bashea, I’m just going to come right out and say it. I overheard your argument with Prince Tahj this morning.”

Bashea blinked, her cheeks suddenly hot. “You heard…”

“And let me just say, I think it is fine if you like the Prince—”

“
Like
him?” she practically shrieked.

“Yes, but I have some advice for you—”

“Father, I do
not
like Prince Tahj.”

“You don’t?” For a minute, Kamran seemed genuinely confused, but then, reading his daughter’s face, he seemed to understand.

“You seem to be under the illusion I need a man, Father,” Bashea blustered, jumping up and pacing back and forth as she talked. “First, Ladarius, now Tahj—”

“Bashea, do you think loving this man makes you less strong?”

Was she really so easy to read? Exasperated, she collapsed into her chair again. “Loving…?”

“You are wrong. Loving someone makes you stronger, better, less selfish. Bashea…
azizam
,” he said tenderly. He took a deep breath. “I was wrong to not let you see me cry when you were little. I know it terrified you when I was grieving for your mother.” Bashea dropped her eyes, and Kamran lifted her chin. “But do you think I would give up one moment with her, even one moment, to have never felt that kind of pain?”

Bashea could tell it would do her no good to deny her feelings anymore; Kamran could see right into her heart.

“Oh, what should I do, Father?” she breathed.

“What? What’s troubling you?”

It was enough he knew she liked Tahj; he didn’t need to know all her insecurities, too. “It’s just…I don’t know…” But when she peered into her father’s wise and kind eyes she had a change of heart and told him anyway. “I don’t know how to act when he’s around.”

“Oh.” Kamran chuckled. “Is that all?”

“Father, don’t laugh at me!” Bashea barked, jumping up from her chair again.

Kamran stood and put a hand on Bashea’s arm to keep her from running out. “No, no, daughter. I’m not laughing at you.” He led her over to a loveseat where they could sit together. “It’s just, I remember those times.” Again he chuckled, reminiscing. “I wasn’t sure if your mother liked me or not. After all, she was so pretty and I’m…well, I’m not exactly a looker.”

“Father!” Bashea cried out, frowning at him.

Kamran raised a hand. “No, no, my girl, facts are facts. But your mother had a way of seeing right through all that, right into your heart. Did I ever tell you she had another suitor when I asked for her hand?”

Bashea shook her head. As her father spoke, she could see the years melt away from his face, and he became for her the young Kamran, helplessly in love with her mother.

“Yes. His name was Rostam.” He said the name with such distaste Bashea nearly laughed. “And he was tall and fair and rich beyond your wildest dreams. But your mother knew I loved her with all my heart—still do, in fact—and she chose me.” He clapped his hands on his knees with fresh satisfaction over the idea.

Bashea stood thoughtfully and went to the door of the tent, pulling it back a little and peeking outside. The new morning light warmed her face as she gazed off into the distance. “But,” she said quietly, “I’m not even sure if he likes me.”

“Bashea!” he scolded, coming over to stand next to her, looking down at her with a scowl. He again touched her face gently. “You are beautiful, both inside and out, and if he doesn’t see that, he’s a fool.”

“Oh, Baba!” she interjected dismissively, her face coloring.

“I speak the truth,” Kamran assured her, placing his hand over his heart. “But…” Kamran took her hand and led her over to the loveseat again. He sighed. “Bashea, I have raised you to be too independent. I leaned on you after your mother passed, and you had to grow up too fast. It is my fault.” He held her hand without speaking for several seconds.

“Father, what are you saying?”

“Prince Tahj is a man used to getting his way. He orders soldiers and servants. He asks, and things are given to him.”

Bashea thought this was not the Tahj she knew, but she listened anyway.

“You need to be more submissive,” Kamran stated bluntly.

“Submissive?”

“Yes, submissive. You must bow to his will in all things if you wish to make him yours.”

Bashea hung her head. She knew it was true. She spoke her mind without thought about whether she was contradicting Tahj or not. She lashed out at him in anger, letting her hurt feelings get the best of her. But could she learn to tame her tongue? Somehow, she doubted it. But she still had to try. If only it wasn’t too late.