Taken by Storm (ROMANTIC REALMS COLLECTION) (6 page)

Faraz came over to put his arm around Tahj and usher him in. “My Talia and I had plenty of those. That’s good,” he whispered confidentially. “The feistier they are out of bed, the more fun they are in bed.” He jabbed an elbow in Tahj’s ribs.

Then she ought to be incredible,
Tahj thought wryly. He grunted and then chuckled along with his host, feeling uncomfortable. His eyes searched the room for Radeem, but Jessmyn stepped forward, taking his hand and leading him to the table seductively. “You know, there are many men who choose to have a multitude of wives,” she offered.

“Uhh…” Tahj didn’t quite know what to say to that one. He had always thought it was strange when men took a number of wives. He hoped to find one very special woman to spend his life with, as his father had. Tahj sat down, and Faraz’s two other daughters came to sit next to him, too, rubbing their hands over his arms.

“You’re strong,” Dariya said, and the others giggled. Tahj felt Etti’s hand slipping lower on his thigh and shifted nervously. By the time Radeem came out, he felt like he had been fighting back three panthers. To his relief, Dariya and Etti rose to fawn over his captain, leaving him with only the one pair of wandering hands to deal with.

Tahj glanced up when he heard the bedroom door open and involuntarily rose out of his chair as Bashea entered. She was stunning in the white garb she wore, gold medallions hanging from the headpiece and the belt at her waist. The ties of the Choli top skimmed over her bare midriff, and she wore a traditional face veil, which only served to accent her mesmerizing eyes all the more, as they were the only part of her face which wasn’t hidden. A triple strand of pearls hung below her chin, swaying as she walked forward, and Tahj felt as if the earth were swaying in time.

Radeem, who had stopped in mid-sentence when Bashea entered, gulped and bent down to whisper in Tahj’s ear. “Bet you won’t be complaining any more about the money I spent. Worth every damn Abba.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Faraz was the first to recover his voice; he went over to offer Bashea his arm. She placed hers gracefully on top of his, her palm flat against the back of his hand, as he led her to the table, but Bashea’s eyes never left Tahj’s. She was vaguely aware she should be listening to whatever it was her host was saying at her elbow, but she had become lost in Tahj’s gaze, her blood humming through her veins.

Bashea felt a bubbling up inside, a strange warmth that seemed to come from her toes and spread upward and outward. For the first time in days she didn’t feel scared, or angry, or confused. She suddenly understood the humor of the situation she found herself in, faking an engagement to a prince she barely knew, while his clown of a captain was strutting around like a peacock, three women throwing themselves at him in front of the proud eyes of their doting father. It was all so wonderfully odd and off-kilter, and somehow she found herself grateful to be sharing it with Tahj.

The others started their animated chatter again. “You look lovely,” Tahj told her quietly.

“Thank you,” she returned, her face growing suddenly hot underneath the veil.

Food was brought to them in mounds—exotic fruits, spicy meat, and heavy breads—and as they ate, Faraz entertained them with stories about his daughters. After the meal, they pushed the tables back and the three girls danced in front of the fire while their father played the nay. The music the small, wooden flute made was slow and sensual, and the dance was perfectly synchronized, as the trio had been dancing with each other their whole lives.

Tahj and Bashea and Radeem reclined on satin pillows, which were brought out and thrown on the floor for their comfort, and watched with rapt attention. When the dance was finished, the girls collapsed breathlessly on the floor in front of Radeem while they all applauded. Soon after, Faraz brought out a sitar and small cymbals, and Etti and Dariya accompanied their father in a more frolicsome tune. Jessmyn pulled a laughing Radeem to his feet and cavorted around the room with him.

Bashea laughed, too, a little lightheaded from the strong drink her host had served. Radeem, noticing how amused she was, grabbed Bashea’s hands in turn, and forced her to dance along with him. Feeling carefree, Bashea spun with Radeem and then swirled around him, the alcohol loosening her hips as she shimmied closer and closer. On a whim, she took the scarf from her shoulders and wrapped him up in it, holding the two ends as if making him her prisoner.

Bashea was spinning and laughing with her head thrown back. Her eyes searched for Tahj, wanting to share her moment of joy with him and perhaps get him to dance, but he was no longer on the pillows. She completed her turn, still searching for him, when she spotted him on the makeshift dance floor, Jessmyn in his arms. As Bashea watched, the young dancer began to twirl around him, trailing her fingers along his chest as if in invitation. Radeem’s head blocked her view, and she strained to see around him. Jessmyn took Tahj’s hand and placed it on the small of her back and then bent away from him beguilingly so her hair nearly trailed the ground. Bashea’s mouth fell open as Jessmyn sinuously straightened until she was hip-to-hip with Tahj, their faces inches from each other.

Bashea stopped dancing so abruptly she nearly stumbled, her momentum making her dizzy. The smile that had lit her face moments before fell away, and the warmth she’d felt welling inside her turned to an instant inferno. Her eyes snapped with fire. Blindly, she left the dance floor, intending to storm off to her room, if only Faraz hadn’t stepped in her way.

The older man seemed to have noticed Bashea’s reaction, the sudden heat in her eyes followed by the icy frost, and called for an end to the dancing. “Come, Bashea. Sit by me, please. I would like to talk with you.”

Feeling it rude to do otherwise, Bashea sat rigidly on her cushion near her host as his daughter brought more drinks, constantly keeping Bashea’s cup full of a sweet, heavy liquor that made her drowsy.

“You will forgive me, I hope, my dear,” Faraz said, taking her hand gently. “But you remind me so much of my beloved, Talia.” Bashea noticed how his face and voice softened when he said the name. “She died over five years ago, when Jessmyn was just eleven,” he continued sadly. “I’ve tried to do my best by my girls, but I certainly lack a woman’s grace and good sense.”

Bashea was overwhelmed with compassion, the tears in her eyes a testimony to it. “That’s not true. Your girls are lovely, and they seem happy and completely devoted to you. It can’t be easy raising a family alone.”

“It’s not,” he conceded.

Bashea studied her hands as they separated the strands of a tassel on the corner of one of the pillows she lay on. “My mother died when I was ten,” she said softly. “It was me, my two sisters, and five brothers. My father raised us by himself. It was a struggle for all of us.” She peered into Faraz’s eyes with understanding.

Her host paused, something weighing on his mind. “Did he ever remarry?”

“No. She was his one true love, I believe.”

“I’ve often thought, maybe I should have remarried, for the girls’ sakes.” He glanced over at where they were puddled in front of Radeem, feeding the captain grapes and talking to him blithely.

Bashea followed his gaze. “We all must choose our own paths,” she said lightly. She reached out to squeeze his hand. “But you have raised three fine, strong young women with good hearts, my father
. Who could ask for more?”

He regarded Bashea, his eyes soft, and touched her face. “Ahh” he sighed. “You remind me so much of Talia.”

“How did you two meet?” Bashea asked hesitantly, not sure if it would please him to share or make him sad.

To her surprise, he laughed. “My cousin, Jobar, had eyes for my Talia. But once I saw her, I knew. I just knew.” He paused for a minute, reflecting with a sad smile on his face. “So I challenged him to an arm wrestling match for the right to court Talia.” He laughed jovially, his big stomach bouncing. “And I won.”

“You arm-wrestled for your bride?” Bashea asked laughingly.

“Yes.” He snickered. “It was the only time I beat the thug.”

“You must have been inspired.”

“I was. I wasn’t about to lose that match to him, I’ll tell you that.”

“Ummm.” Bashea covered her mouth as she yawned. “I’m sorry, you’ve been a most gracious host, but whatever it is your daughters keep giving me,” she noted, looking down into her now-empty cup, “is making me terribly tired, and I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Faraz rose and helped Bashea to her feet. “Then it is off to bed with you.” He held her hands and kissed them in turn. “And the sweetest of slumbers.”

“Thank you.” She bent in to give him a kiss on the cheek, and was moved when she noticed the way this touched him.

Faraz squeezed her hands. “Thank you, for setting my heart at ease.” She nodded. “Pravin, your bride is tired,” he said with a wink. Tahj scrambled to his feet.

Radeem sighed, turning to the girls at his feet. “I think it is time for bed for me, too.” He tapped Dariya and Etti on the cheeks. “The door,” he whispered loudly, “will be unlocked.”

* * *

When they entered the bedroom, Bashea immediately took off her headband and set it on the mantle. Tahj leaned against the door, watching her and thinking of—and discarding—a thousand things to say to her.

“You will take the bed,” he said abruptly.

She turned in surprise. “But you are the prince.”

“I am the prince, and you will take the bed,” he repeated sternly.

She leaned against the carved bedpost, her hands behind her back, studying him. A slow smile crossed her face. “You certainly use that prince thing when it suits you.”

Tahj smiled back. “I do.” He moved past her, pulling a straw-backed chair out from the wall and angling it toward the fire, which someone must have lit for them. He sat down, propping his feet up on a tiny woven ottoman, leaning back a little so he rested against the head of the bed. He folded his arms behind his head. “You enjoyed yourself?” he said with just the slightest edge to his voice.

Her smile dimmed. She turned away from him. “As did you, I suppose?”

He observed as her slender hands undid the belt of coins at her waist and laid it across the foot of the bed, his eyes traveling her slender form with a desire he longed not to possess. She bent to unstrap the sandals, which crisscrossed up her calves, and he pretended to not notice how deliciously curved those calves were.

Then, with a suddenness which made him chuckle, she flopped down on her back onto the bed, her head landing a foot from his elbow. He came to the conclusion then and there she was tipsy. One delicate arm hung off the bed, almost touching his knee, a wide, intricate bracelet wrapped snugly around her upper arm. He laughed to himself, but sat back and closed his eyes, his sleepless night combined with his own alcohol intake making his eyelids heavy.

In what seemed like only a few minutes, he became aware of her steady breathing beside him. He opened his eyes to look at her. Quietly he let the front legs of his chair come down again to the floor and stood to get a better view. The arm farthest from him lay flopped over her stomach, but her near arm was now carelessly tossed over her head. Her lips were parted, cheeks rosy, whether from the wine or the dancing, he didn’t know. Her hair was splayed every which way, and she was the single most beautiful woman he had ever known.

It wasn’t just the physical beauty, he knew now. She had a certain inner light, the strength he saw when they battled their way out of the castle, the compassion he saw in her eyes when she spoke to Faraz about his wife. “You are some woman, Bashea,” he whispered, wanting again to just touch her face, if only briefly.

He flashed back to the moment she had entered the kitchen for dinner. He had admired the alluring way she set one foot purposefully in front of the other as she approached the table across from him, and he caught the moment her eyes changed from spellbindingly intense to tenderly warm. He knew she had begun to smile underneath her veil, though he could not see it, by the way her cheeks lifted and the light danced in her eyes, pleased and perhaps even amused by his reaction to her entrance.

When the dancing began later, Tahj watched the lively entertainment merrily, at first laughing as Bashea did. But when Radeem began to dance with Bashea, his laughter faded and was replaced with a sort of sick feeling in his stomach. At the beginning, when Bashea whirled about, a blur of white and gold, and tan skin, he was captivated, barely able to breathe. But when she wrapped her scarf around Radeem and seemed to be dancing only for him, he quickly sobered, remembering the intimate moment he’d witnessed between them that morning. He felt like he had been punched in the gut.

When she talked to Faraz, after dancing, Tahj watched her face in the firelight. Like a sunset, each instant it was more beautiful than the next.

In frustration, Tahj turned back to face the fire. None of it really mattered. Clearly she was attracted to Radeem and had no interest in him, so it was better if he just learned to deal with that right from the start and quit letting his heart have these little flights of fancy. He pushed thoughts of her from his mind and sat down again, but he couldn’t sleep. He watched the fire burn down, the embers turning into that lava-like, red-gold glow, pieces breaking off and spilling onto the hearth. He got up again, restless, and kicked at the pieces of log which had fallen farthest from the fire, pushing them back into the stone fireplace.

“Tahj?” Bashea murmured.

Surprised, he spun to look at her. She had a dreamy sort of smile on her face but her eyes were still closed. Finding his voice, he answered her. “Yes?”

“Do you…find Faraz’s daughters…pretty?”

Tahj believed she was asking out of jealousy for Radeem and so answered spitefully, “Yes. They are stunning, actually.”

Without another word, she roughly twisted her body with a loud exhale of breath so her back was to him. She was mad then. Good. Just then, the low murmur of Radeem’s voice came through the wall, coupled with at least two of the girls’ giggles.

“Oh, heaven’s mercy!” Bashea threw the pillow over her head. Tahj heard her muffled scream of rage and took a certain sick satisfaction in it. He returned to his chair, but what sleep did come was short and riddled with nightmares.