Taken by Storm (ROMANTIC REALMS COLLECTION) (8 page)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Tahj and his cohorts thudded endlessly into the night, having lost their pursuers hours ago behind a myriad of dunes, but taking no chances all the same. The rising winds had become both friend and enemy to them, as it erased their tracks, but, at the same time, spit grains of sand into their faces like glass pellets. They wrapped as much of their exposed skin in scarves as possible, but still, the sand managed to get past this barrier and even the natural protection of their lashes to sting their eyes.

Moonlight glinted off of the desert floor as they hurried on, trying to maintain a northerly direction despite the lack of any landmarks, using stars as their only guideposts. The immenseness of the open wasteland before them was overwhelming, with a seemingly eternal supply of hills to struggle up, only to then slide haphazardly down the other side. The farther they drove on, the harder the wind began to whip at them, and, finally, they were forced to take shelter.

Tahj was grateful the wind and the speed had made it impossible for them to speak to each other over the past several hours, because he was almost certain he would have said something regrettable to Bashea if his mouth could open. With each mile they put behind them he fumed, his rage growing like a landslide that begins with just a few pebbles and swells to mass destruction.

Even now, as he dismounted and struggled to get the pack off of his horse’s back, a burning anger seethed inside him. As Ballamore made his mad dash over the scorching sand, Tahj replayed the vision of Bashea’s back in front of him as she sped out into the bright sunlight at the top of the alley. He remembered the way his heart had clutched, expecting to see a dozen arrows pierce her like a pincushion. Sure, it had paid off, there was no denying it. But how could she have done something so foolish?

They worked side-by-side in silence, except for a few muttered directions, to erect the tents, struggling to hold on to the thick canvas the wind was trying so desperately to snatch from them. Ironically, just as they finished, the winds dropped to a far more reasonable level. Radeem wasted no time in getting under a lightweight sheet, and he began almost immediately to snore. Tahj decided to seek out Bashea. It was high time he confronted her to let her know how misguided she was. But, as he approached her from behind, his ire sizzled and melted into the sand with each step.

Bashea stood at a distance, her back to the tents, looking small and vulnerable in the vastness of the dunes, which now had a silver, specter-like glow around the edges as the sun began to rise in the distance. Her arms were crossed in front of her, and the breeze blew her sheer clothing so it flapped mildly around her. She had removed her scarves, and her gleaming black hair shone despite the dim lighting.

The prince stopped dead in his tracks five yards from her side. “Bashea?” he called quietly, not wishing to frighten her. She seemed so lost in thought.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice distant.

He moved involuntarily forward until he stood next to her. “How do you fair?”

She turned to look at him with curiosity, and he could see she was troubled. Instead of answering his question, she turned and looked again at the desert. “It’s striking, isn’t it?”

Breathtaking,
he thought, still studying her. Tahj cleared his throat and then shifted his gaze to stare again at the horizon. “It is quite spectacular at times.”

“That’s what I like about the desert,” she replied softly. “It can be mind-numbingly boring at times, and at other times, like this, it has a kind of mystic beauty.” She looked away as if embarrassed, but then turned back. “I couldn’t sleep,” she said in way of explanation. “I thought I’d just stay out here for a while and…think…” She bent and sat down in the sand.

“Mind if I stay, too?” She glanced up quickly. “I won’t disturb you. It’s just…jackals might be around.” He scanned the area then looked back down into her eyes.

What could she say? He was the prince, after all. She nodded, and Tahj slid down into the sand next to her. They sat in silence for several seconds, Bashea thumbing over one of the gold medallions on her skirt, flipping it end over end between her fingers and watching it, though her mind was somewhere else.

Tahj watched the woman beside him, uncharacteristically quiet in the pale morning light, the wind licking at her hair as if it, too, was impatient with her silence.

“Tomorrow…we’ll be home?” she asked carefully, breaking the stillness.

Tahj nodded. “By daybreak we should reach there.”

“Mmm,” she murmured, making no comment but spinning the coin in her fingers faster.

“You are worried about something.”

Bashea stopped moving her hands, licking her lips, which were probably over-dry from the wind
. “I’m just not sure….”

She left off without finishing her statement, but Tahj knew she was anxious about her reception when she returned home. He wished he could think of words that would reassure her. Was it really possible she would be scorned for what had been done to her against her will? He stretched his legs out in the sand, the movement luxurious after their long ride. He was beginning to feel just how tired he was. “Tell me about your family.”

To his relief, she smiled. “Well…there are my older two brothers, Jahmeel and Bagrat. They are amazing, so bold and brave.” He watched her eyes, wide and bright as she spoke of them. It was obvious to him she idolized her brothers. “They can tease you to tears in the morning, and then be nearly brought to tears themselves a few hours later when they see you get hurt by someone else.” She laughed softly, shaking her head. Tahj stretched out on his side, his elbow in the sand, supporting his head as he listened to the musical sound of her voice. “They are like my guard dogs, though, jumping every poor, unsuspecting soul they believe has bad intentions for me—or any intentions at all, for that matter.”

She paused, pursing her lips. “Then there is Gaspard, our little storyteller. He will say things—” She chuckled, gesturing vaguely. “—things no one else would ever think to say. His mind just operates in its own separate sphere.” She paused, thinking. “Gaspard is smart, in his own way, but Parvaiz is also very intelligent. He will read whatever he can get his hands on. He always talks about going off to the city, but I think he loves us all too much to leave. I hope so, anyway…though I want him to be happy…” She puzzled over that for a minute, then continued.

“My sisters, Bano and Bibi, are twins, but they are as different as the sun and the moon. Both beautiful and strong-willed.” Tahj smiled, noting to himself that the third sister was much the same. “But Bano, her name means princess,” she added as an aside, “and believe me, she is one. She is wrapped up in herself most of the time, always concerned over what clothes to wear and how her hair looks.” Bashea sighed, but Tahj could tell she was fond of her sister.

“Bibi, on the other hand, could care less about her hair and clothing. And to live in the same tent with those two, constantly going at it, day and night, as I did when we were little…” Bashea looked up at him, her face coloring slightly, perhaps realizing how animated she had become. “And Cyrus is the last of us. He’s a real jewel. You’d love him, everybody does. But I’ve been blathering.”

“No. I like hearing you talk.” He reached out and grabbed her armbefore she could turn away. Her loose sleeves had been blown back by the breeze, exposing skin that was soft, despite the curve of muscle underneathwhich came from hard work. “You sound like quite the group.”

“We are. We might take a little getting used to,” she said hesitantly. “We can be loud.” He was happy to hear her including herself in the group again.

“I think I can handle it,” he replied with a smile. She gazed at him, as if trying to read what was in his eyes, and then slowly slid down in the sand herself, mirroring his position. The move was so unintentionally sensual, he found himself licking his own lips, holding back a sudden urge to taste her. His body became hard with desire as he watched her, and his throat tightened inexplicably.

“Tell me about what it was like growing up for you, Tahj,” she asked him, her silky voice sliding within him.

“Uhh…not loud. My brother, Kadeesh, was six years older than I. He wasn’t around much.” He breezed over the subject. “Radeem, on the other hand—” He jerked his head in the direction of the tent, where the snoring was becoming even louder. “—has always been around. Up until the last several years, when he’s been a captain in the army.”

“I can’t imagine how strange it would be without any siblings around. You must have missed Radeem, then, when he left.”

“Yes, but I was gone much of the time, too,” he answered, brushing a section of hair out of her eyes, “on my father’s business.” His eyes strayed to her lips, and he realized then just how close they were. He had only to stretch out his head to claim those warm, full lips with his own, to cup her neck, and…

Abruptly she jerked away.

“I g-guess I am tired, after all,” she stammered, rising quickly and brushing off her skirt.

Tahj scrambled to his feet as well. “Bashea…” But before he could elaborate, she was taking steps away from him.

“Thanks, Tahj, for keeping me company. Sleep well.” And with that she turned and hurried away, leaving him gawking in her wake.

Tahj kicked at the sand unhappily, staring for a few seconds at the flaps of her tent, which had swallowed her up, before heading to bed himself, frustrated. Like two magnets, the closer they got together, the harder an invisible force pushed them apart.

* * *

It had to be midmorning when Tahj woke up. Strange that the sun was beating down, making waves rise above the sand when he was taking his night’s rest. He wondered what woke him, whether it was just this oddly blaring light, rather than the comfort of dark which made him open his eyes, or something else. He glanced across the tent at Radeem, who had laid his shirt across his face in an effort to block out some of the light. The shirt moved up and down with his breathing, the guttural noises issuing from his open mouth as loud and obnoxious as usual.

Tahj turned over on his side, pulling his pillow over his head to block out the snores, but even through this barrier he heard Bashea scream. In an instant he was up, grabbing his sword from a peg on the tent’s central post. He shook Radeem, but his breathing only changed pace; he did not open his eyes. Too impatient to wait, Tahj rushed out without him.

As he approached it, Bashea’s tent wall moved and he heard her voice, muffled by something, and frightened. He crept to the door and listened, but was confused because he could hear no other voices, though there was the sound of struggling and Bashea’s moans. Carefully, his heart in his throat, he eased back the flap of the door, peering inside. He could see Bashea’s figure on the bed, thrashing and calling out, but as his eyes scanned the room around her, he saw it was empty.

Curious, he took a step forward, just as Bashea let out a particularly loud cry. He rushed to her side, afraid her wound pained her or some sort of infection had set in, making her feverish. He could see a bead of sweat on her brow, but when he felt her cheeks, they were cool. No fever, then. She cried out again, piteously, and he reached down to wake her just as she lashed out, catching him on the jaw and knocking him backwards, onto his rear, in the dirt.

Bashea flew up, her eyes wild, clutching her sheet to her chest. “Wh-wha-what are you doing here?” she s
tammered, practically upsetting her cot in her effort to move away from him.

“Calm down!” Tahj shook his head to clear it, the blow having left him unfocussed.

“Calm down?” she parroted, her voice rising. Her eyes still darted around the tent as if to assure herself her nightmarish visions were gone.

“You were just having a bad dream,” he added, his voice showing the irritation born from the pain of a throbbing chin coupled with the blow to his ego. The idea he’d been knocked to the ground by this slip of a girl was embarrassing.

“A bad dream?” She rose from the bed, pulling the sheets with her for some reason, though they did nothing to hide her. Tahj noted a cut on her neck he hadn’t seen before and deep bruising on an upper arm the sleeveless nightgown she wore didn’t hide. “You make it sound like I’m some foolish girl, afraid of the dark, running to her
baba
for help!”

“Be at peace. I was just saying—”

“Be at peace?”

Bashea spun toward him, her eyes flashing, and he took an involuntary step backwards. “There is no peace for me now, Tahj!” She pushed her hair back with a shaking hand. “Not now. Not after what they did to me.” Tahj had made the mistake of donning his uniform pants when he went to bed, and now Bashea s
tared at them, and, perhaps linked with the black images swirling around in her head, still fresh from her sleep, they made her snap. She rushed at Tahj, forgetting the sheet and dropping it to the ground as she attacked him, flailing and pounding him with her fists. “You did this to me!” she shrieked. “This is
your
fault!”

“Ay! Ay!” he countered, caught off-guard by the flurry of fists and the accusation. “It wasn’t me!” He caught her wrists and held her.

“Wasn’t it? You weren’t there, granted, but it was your men.” Bashea struggled against him hysterically, seeking to free her wrists, but he held her tight.

“My father’s men!” he spat back, giving her a little shake. “Some of them have been around since I was in diapers.”