Innocent in the Sheikh's Harem (18 page)

It would be asking much of her. To stay here in A’Qadiz, to surrender her family, to exchange her loyalties from one country to another, to commit herself not just to him but to his kingdom, a place steeped in custom and traditions alien to her. It was not something she could do half-heartedly either, if she was to be accepted. There would be changes, and with Celia by his side some of those changes would come more quickly than he had planned, but some things would never change. As his princess she must not just pay lip-service to their traditions, she must embrace them. It was much to ask. Perhaps too much.

Ramiz forced himself to imagine life without her. His mind refused to co-operate. She was his—had always been destined to be his. Tomorrow, in the clear light of day and before her family, he would claim her.

Filled with determination, and a lightness of heart which it took him some time to realise was a foretaste of happiness, Ramiz retired to his chambers to change. He wondered how Celia’s reunion with her sister was going. He wondered what she was saying of him, if she was confiding anything about him. No, she would not. His Celia—for already he was thinking of her thus—was fiercely loyal. She would tell nothing which might compromise his relationship with her father. Nothing which would put his treatment of her in anything other than a favourable light. She loved him. He was almost sure of it.

The urge to seek her out and declare himself was strong, but duty forbade it. As Ramiz finished bathing and donned a clean robe in preparation for dinner, Akil arrived, looking sombre.

Dismissing the servants, Ramiz turned to his friend. ‘Well?’

‘I spoke to Finchley-Burke as you suggested, Highness.’

‘You call me Highness. It must be bad news,’ Ramiz said with an ironic smile. ‘Spit it out.’

‘Ramiz, you must understand if I was not absolutely sure of this…’

Ramiz’s smile faded. ‘What is it?’

‘The Lady Celia.’

‘What of her?’

‘She has been spying on you.’

‘Don’t be foolish.’

‘Perhaps spying is the wrong word. She has been collecting information about our country.’

‘A natural curiosity, Akil.’

‘No, Ramiz. I’m sorry, but it’s more than that. They left her here deliberately, with instructions to make use of your attraction for her.’

‘You are being ridiculous.’

‘I’m not, I assure you. Oh, nothing improper was asked of her. According to Finchley-Burke it was all neatly veiled—her duty to her country, the memory of her dead husband…you know the kind of thing.’

‘You are saying that Celia was instructed to extract information from me that might prove useful to the British government by—? No, I can’t believe it.’

‘Ramiz, I’m sorry.’ Akil put a hand on his friend’s shoulder but it was shaken off. He took a step back, but met Ramiz’s eyes unflinchingly. ‘I
am
sorry, but you must ask yourself why else would a woman of her birth have allowed you such liberties? Come on, Ramiz, it’s not as if she put up much resistance, is it?’

Ramiz moved so quickly that his fist made sharp contact with Akil’s jaw before he had a chance to defend himself. Akil staggered back against the wall, frightened by the blaze of anger he was faced with.

Ramiz took a hasty step towards him, his fists clenched, but stopped short inches away. ‘My hands are shamed by contact with you. You deserve to be whipped.’

‘Whip me, then, but it won’t change the truth.’ Akil spoke with difficulty, for his jaw was swelling fast. There was blood on his tongue. ‘She has used you. It is as well we found out before tomorrow, for you can be sure her father would have found an opportunity to allow her to brief him. She has used you, Ramiz, we are well rid of her.’

‘Get out!
Get out of here!
’

‘Ramiz…’

‘Now!’

Akil bowed, still clutching his jaw, and fled. Alone, Ramiz slumped down on his divan, his head in his hands. There must be an explanation. But Akil would never lie to him. He knew that for a certainty. There was no reason either for Finchley-Burke to concoct such a story if it was not true. He would not demean himself by asking the junior diplomat to repeat it. Celia would answer to him personally.

Lady Sophia, having much food for thought, graciously agreed to permit Fatima to help her bathe, after much encouragement from Celia. ‘Please, Aunt, I promise you will find it a most amenable experience.’ Celia had also been fulsome in her descriptions of A’Qadiz, and her recent trip to the desert in Sheikh al-Muhana’s caravan, but despite being pressed had said little of the Sheikh himself—even less of her relationship with him.

Cautiously lowering herself into the scented water of the tiled bath, Lady Sophia realised that it was Celia’s very reticence which gave her most grounds for concern. The girl was smitten, it was obvious. She would consult Henry in the morning, for the sooner Celia was removed from this sheikh’s beguiling presence the better.

Left alone together with Cassie, Celia gave in to her sister’s plea to be allowed to try on her exotic outfits. She was sitting on her favourite cushion, watching Cassandra parade before her, laughing and telling her she looked rather like the Queen of Sheba, when the crash of a wooden door slamming with force onto tiled walls made the smile die on her face and had her leaping to her feet.

Celia reached the doorway in time to see Ramiz stride across the courtyard. His face was set and white with fury. ‘What’s wrong? Is it my father?’

‘Traitor!’ He stood before her wild-eyed, his chest heaving.

‘Ramiz! What on earth is the matter?’

‘I trusted you! Dear heavens, I trusted you. I who trust no one. And you betrayed me.’

Anger glittered from his eyes, mere slits of gold under heavy lids. His mouth was drawn into a thin line. Celia clutched a hand to her breast. ‘Ramiz, I have not betrayed you. I would never—what has happened? Please tell me.’

‘You lied to me,’ he snarled.

‘I did not lie to you,’ Celia responded indignantly. ‘I would never lie to you. You’re frightening me, Ramiz.’

‘I doubt it,’ he flashed. ‘I doubt anything frightens
you
, Lady Celia, consummate actress as you are. I should have known. Akil was right. I should have guessed from the start that such a delicate English rose would not subject herself to the brutal caresses of a heathen like myself without reason. Do they
know
, my lovely Celia?’ he hissed, nodding contemptuously at Lady Sophia and Cassie, paused on the brink of intervention in the doorway of the main salon. ‘Have you told them the price you paid for whatever pathetic little snippets of information you have garnered for them?’

As realisation dawned Celia began to feel faint. ‘Mr Finchley-Burke,’ she said, her voice no more than a whisper.

‘Precisely. He is here with your father. You didn’t expect that, did you?’

Horribly conscious of the presence of her aunt and her sister, Celia shook her head miserably and moved a little further down the courtyard. ‘Ramiz, it’s true. Mr Finchley-Burke asked me to—to keep my eyes and ears open. Those were his words. It is also true that I thought about it—but only for a few moments. I was just relieved to have an excuse to stay here, Ramiz. I never intended—I would never use—especially not now, after…’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Ramiz, please.’ Celia took a step towards him, her hands held out in supplication, but he shrank away from her as if she were poison. She swallowed hard. Tears would be humiliating. ‘It’s the truth. Even if I did consider it at first…’

‘So you admit that much?’

Celia hung her head. ‘I thought if I could salvage something from George’s death… But it was a thought only—a fleeting one. I never really intended—I know I never would have. And that was before you and I…’

‘There
is
no you and I. Not now.’

‘
Ramiz!
Ramiz, you can’t seriously believe that I would have made love with you for any other reason than—’ She broke off, realising that what she had been about to say was exactly what she had sworn never to say. That she loved him. Looking at him in anguish, she could think of nothing
except
that she loved him.

Now he did touch her, pulling her into his arms, pushing her hair back from her face, forcing her to meet his hard gaze. ‘So why did you, Celia? Why did you allow me such liberties? Why did you give
me
what you gave no other man?’

‘You know why,’ she whispered. ‘I couldn’t stop myself.’

‘How can I believe that when you obviously had no such difficulty in denying your husband?’

‘George has nothing to do with this.’

‘But he has everything to do with it. Was it not for the sake of his memory that you did all this?’

‘Ramiz, have I ever asked you anything remotely sensitive when it comes to A’Qadiz? Have I prodded you for information? Have I ever attempted to cajole secrets from you? You know I have not!’

But he was beyond reasoning. ‘You have done worse than that. You have forced me to betray my honour. You gave yourself to me. You threw yourself at me in the hope that I would succumb and I did. I do not doubt for a moment that your intention is to cry ravishment now, thus allowing your father the moral upper hand, which he will have no hesitation in using to his advantage.’

Celia stared at him in absolute astonishment. ‘I truly thought you knew me. I thought you understood me. I thought I understood you too. But I don’t. I would die rather than do such a thing.’

‘I didn’t expect you to admit it. I just wanted you to know that I’d found out. It is I who would die rather than allow you to take further advantage of me. There will be no treaty. Never. Now get out of my sight.’

He threw her from him contemptuously. Celia staggered. ‘Ramiz, please don’t do this. Please.’

‘I am done with you. All of you. You will leave Balyrma tomorrow. I will have an escort to see you out of my kingdom. I don’t want to see or hear from you ever again.’

The harem door clanged shut behind him and he was gone. As Celia crumpled to the floor, covering her face with her hands, Lady Sophia and Cassandra rushed towards her, helping her to her feet and back to her salon, seating her on her divan and wrapping her in a velvet throw.

‘It’s all right, Celia,’ Cassie said, holding her tight and casting a bewildered look at her aunt.

Almost oblivious of their presence, Celia huddled under the soft caress of the velvet. It would never be all right. Nothing she could say would make any difference. Ramiz despised her. It was over.

Chapter Fourteen

‘L
et me in! Open up at once, I say.’

Celia raised a weary head from her pillow and listened.

‘Open up! Dammit, my daughters are in there. Will you open the door?’

‘Papa?’ Celia stumbled from her divan to the courtyard, to find Cassie and Aunt Sophia staring in consternation at the closed door of the harem. ‘Is that Father I can hear?’

‘We can’t get the door open,’ Cassie said. ‘There’s no handle on this side.’

‘Open up,’ Celia called to the guards in Arabic. ‘It is my father.’

The door swung open, revealing an irate Lord Henry with a red-faced Peregrine beside him. The eunuch guards had drawn their scimitars and were barring the way. ‘For goodness’ sake, Celia, tell these men to let us through,’ Lord Henry said testily.

‘This is a harem, Papa. Sheikh al-Muhana is the only man who is permitted to come here. Why did you not just send for me?’

‘Couldn’t get anyone to understand a damned word I was saying.’

‘But where is Ramiz?’

‘If you mean the Prince, I have no idea. Didn’t turn up for dinner with us last night—haven’t seen him this morning. Took us the best part of the last hour to track you down here. I’ve never seen so many corridors and courtyards in my life. This place is like a maze.’

Celia spoke softly to the turbaned guards, gesturing to her father. Reluctantly, they sheathed their scimitars. ‘I’ve told them to leave the doors open and promised we will remain in full view in the courtyard,’ she said, gesturing her father in. Peregrine, who looked as if he would prefer to stay on the other side of the door, entered with some reluctance.

Lord Henry looked about with interest. ‘Well, so this is the harem. Where are all the other women?’

‘There aren’t any. Prince Ramiz is not married. What has happened, Papa? You look upset.’

‘Well, and so I bloody well should be,’ Lord Henry said, casting a contemptuous look at Peregrine. ‘Come here, Celia, let me look at you.’

Lord Henry inspected his daughter, who was dressed in a green caftan of lawn cotton, with her copper tresses flowing down her back, in some state of disorder from sleep. Perfectly well aware that the trauma of the scene with Ramiz and her consequent disturbed night showed in the dark shadows under her eyes, Celia put her arms round her father’s neck, avoiding his scrutiny. ‘It is lovely to see you, Papa. I’m sorry you’ve had to come all this way.’

‘Aye, well, providential as it turns out. Or at least,’ he said, glowering once more in Peregrine’s direction, ‘I thought it was until this damned fool told me what he and that idiot Wincester had cooked up.’

‘Lord Armstrong, I assure you I was just the messenger,’ said Peregrine. ‘Wouldn’t dream of— Would never—’ He broke off to look beseechingly at Celia. ‘I beg of you, Lady Celia, to inform your father of what passed between us.’

‘Let us sit down,’ Celia said wearily, clapping her hands to summon Adila and Fatima, and asking them to arrange divans in the courtyard for her guests, much to Peregrine, Lady Sophia and Lord Henry’s relief. Celia and Cassie, who was dressed in one of Celia’s outfits, though she retained her corsets, sat on cushions, leaning against the fountain.

Once coffee was served, and the maidservants had retired, Celia took a deep breath and recounted her original interview with Peregrine. ‘I assure you, Papa, he was most circumspect in his request, and most painfully embarrassed by it too. I admit, I did consider the possibility of disclosing any information which I obtained here—not by subterfuge but simply because I
was
here—but after Peregrine left I decided I could not. Lord Wincester may consider my first loyalty is to my country, but while I am a guest of Sheikh al-Muhana, my country is A’Qadiz, and I would not insult him by betraying him. If I did, would I not be betraying my country rather than serving it?’

‘Quite right, quite right,’ Lord Henry said. ‘Well said, daughter—exactly as I would have told old Wincester myself, if I had been consulted. Call me old-fashioned but diplomacy is an honourable vocation. I’ll have no truck with stooping to nefarious methods. Britain can fight her corner without resorting to that.’

‘Yes, Papa. I only wish I had said as much to Mr Finchley-Burke at the time,’ Celia admitted, shame-faced.

‘And why did you not, may I ask?’

She coloured, but met her father’s gaze. ‘I wanted to stay here. I was glad of the excuse not to leave. I didn’t say as much to Mr Finchley-Burke, but I think he guessed.’ She turned to Peregrine. ‘Did you not?’

He shrugged in agreement.

‘But why?’ Lord Henry looked at his daughter afresh, seeming to notice for the first time her loose hair and traditional dress. His eyes narrowed. ‘Why are you dressed like that?’ He cast a worried glance at his sister. ‘Sophia?’

Lady Sophia, looking unusually disconcerted, in turn cast a warning glance at Peregrine. ‘Perhaps if you are finished with Mr Finchley-Burke, Henry…?’

Immensely relieved, Peregrine rose from his seat, but Lord Henry detained him. ‘He made this mess—damned fool confessed all to that Akil chap last night—so he can stay where he is until we’ve agreed how to patch things up. Which I won’t be able to do until I know all the facts.’ Lord Henry got to his feet, dipping his hand into the fountain as if to test the temperature, and sat back down again. ‘Out with it,’ he said, looking at Sophia. ‘What is going on?’

‘Papa, there is nothing going on,’ Celia said hurriedly. ‘Only that I—that Ramiz and I—that Sheikh al-Muhana and I…’

‘Celia thinks herself in love with the man,’ Sophia said testily. ‘That is why she stayed.’

‘In love! With a sheikh! Are you out of your mind, Celia?’ Lord Henry leapt to his feet once more, looming over his eldest daughter. ‘I hope—I do most sincerely hope—that you have not lost all sense of propriety as to have been spending time alone with this man.’ He eyed his daughter’s guilty countenance with astonishment.

‘I am afraid, Henry, that after the scene Cassandra and I witnessed last night there can be no doubt at all that she has,’ Lady Sophia said grimly.

‘Eh? What scene?’ Lord Henry demanded, now looking thoroughly bewildered.

‘Sheikh al-Muhana came here last night, presumably as soon as he had discovered the Consul General’s little subterfuge,’ Lady Sophia explained, with one of her gimlet stares which made poor Peregrine quake. ‘While Celia chose to keep the detail of what passed between them private, it was obvious from the—the manner in which they spoke that Prince Ramiz and your daughter are no strangers to one another’s company.’

‘Dear heavens.’ Lord Henry staggered back into his chair. ‘What on earth are we to do? The treaty,’ he said, staring at Celia in horror. ‘That treaty—you have no idea how important it is. A long-term commitment like the one we’re aiming for is crucial. Fun-da-mental,’ he said, banging his fist on his knee, ‘is that we trust one another. Now I find that the Prince thinks my daughter has been spying at our government’s instigation, and not only that she has been behaving like some sort of—of…’

‘Papa!’

‘Father!’

‘Henry!’

‘I say, sir…’

Lord Henry glared at the four shocked faces surrounding him. ‘Well, how the hell do you think it looks?’ he demanded furiously. ‘Must I spell it out for you?’

‘No, Henry,’ Lady Sophia said hastily. ‘I don’t think that is necessary.’

Lord Henry mopped his brow with a large kerchief and sighed heavily. His Lordship was not a man prone to fits of ill temper. Indeed, his success as a diplomat was in large part due to his ability to remain level-headed in the most trying of circumstances, but an arduous trip by sea and sand, the incompetence displayed by everyone involved in this sorry matter, and now the scandalous and highly uncharacteristic behaviour of his eldest daughter had sent him over the edge. ‘What were you thinking, Celia?’ he said, his voice heavy with disappointment.

Celia, who by now was feeling about one inch tall, bit her lip. ‘I wasn’t thinking, Papa, that is the problem,’ she said stiffly. She got to her feet with as much dignity as she could muster, shaking out her caftan and pushing her hair back from her face. ‘Ramiz is an honourable man, and one who values the welfare of A’Qadiz over everything else. I am sure, with a few concessions on your part to compensate him for the misunderstanding, he will still be prepared to come to an agreement over the use of the Red Sea port. It will do your cause no harm to inform him that the matter has been a cause of estrangement between you and I, for upon that subject I think you will find you and he are in complete accord.’

‘On the contrary, Lady Celia, I would be most upset to discover that I was the cause of your estrangement from your family. I know how much they mean to you.’

All eyes turned to where Ramiz stood, framed by the doorway. A night alone under the stars in the desert had done much to cool his temper, and with an element of calm had also come rationality. It was true Celia had never made any attempt to extract information of any sort from him, but more fundamentally he felt in his bones that she would not lie to him.

In his determination to be rid of her, Akil had exaggerated. With the discovery of his love still young, and Celia’s feelings for him as yet undeclared, the situation had punctured Ramiz in his most vulnerable spot, but with the dawn had come renewed certainty. He loved her. He was sure of it, though he had never loved before—and never would again. He loved her. She was his other half, and as his other half could no more do anything untrue than he could.

Ramiz had returned to the palace filled with hope. Making immediately for the harem, he had come upon the open door, through which he had witnessed most of the courtyard scene. He had not stopped to wash or change. His cloak and headdress were dusty, his face showed a blue-black stubble, and there were shadows under his eyes. Ignoring all but Celia, he now strode into the room.

‘I must speak with you,’ he said urgently, taking her by the arm.

‘You will unhand my niece at once, sir,’ Lady Sophia said brusquely. ‘You have done quite enough damage already.’

Confronted with a sharp-eyed woman bearing a remarkable resemblance to a camel dressed in grey silk, sweeping down upon him like a galleon in full sail, Ramiz stood his ground and kept his hold on Celia. ‘Lady Sophia, I presume?’ he said haughtily.

‘And you, I take it, are Sheikh al-Muhana. I do not offer my hand, sir, nor do I make my bow, for you do not merit such courtesy. Unhand my niece, sir. She has suffered quite enough of your attentions.’

Ramiz’s eyes narrowed. He took a step towards Lady Sophia, who flinched but did not give ground, then halted abruptly, snapping out a command in his own language. The two eunuchs came immediately into the courtyard, their swords drawn. Before they could protest, everyone except Ramiz and Celia had been ushered with varying degrees of force from the room. The harem door banged shut.

‘Ramiz, what…?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘What?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I’ve never heard you say that before,’ Celia said, with a fragile half-smile.

Ramiz took her hand between his, holding it in a warm clasp. His face was stripped of its mask, leaving him exposed, raw, and there was something more there—something she recognised but had never dreamed to see, had never even allowed herself to hope for. It looked like love.

Celia caught her breath. ‘Ramiz?’

‘Celia, listen to me. I heard what you said to your father just now, but you have to believe I came here to ask you to forgive me for doubting you before I heard the words. What I heard just confirmed what I knew. What I should have realised last night—’ He broke off and ran his hand through his hair, pushing his headdress to the floor. ‘I wasn’t thinking straight. I’d only just realized—only just begun to wonder if it was possible—then when Akil told me—I simply lost control. But there’s one thing I’m sure of—will always be sure of. I love you. Without you my life would be a wilderness. I love you so much, Celia, say you love me and I will be the happiest man on earth. If you will just—’

‘Ramiz, I love you. I love you. I love you.’ Celia threw herself into his arms.

‘Celia, say it again!’

‘I love you, Ramiz.’ She beamed at him. ‘I love you.’

Finally he kissed her, his mouth devouring hers, the day’s growth of stubble on his chin rasping against her tender skin, his hands pressing her so close she could scarcely breathe. She kissed him back with equal fervour, whispering his name over and over in between kisses, relishing the feel of him hard against her, the familiar scent of him, the wildly exhilarating excitement of him, and underpinning it all the simple rightness of it.

They kissed and murmured love, and kissed and repeated each other’s name in wonder, and kissed again until, breathless and transformed, they sat together entwined in one another’s arms on the floor of the courtyard, becoming dimly aware of an altercation on the other side of the door which seemed to have been going on for some time.

‘My father,’ Celia said. ‘He probably thinks you’re ravishing me.’

‘If he would go away and leave us alone I would,’ Ramiz replied with a grin. ‘I did not like the way he spoke to you, or of me,’ he said, his tone becoming serious. ‘And your aunt too. They do not relish your choice of husband.’

‘Husband?’

Ramiz laughed, a loud, deep and very masculine laugh of sheer joy. ‘My love, light of my eyes, you cannot be imagining I mean anything else. You are the wings of my heart. I must tether you to me somehow.’

‘But, Ramiz, what about tradition? I’m not a princess, and in the eyes of your people I’m not pure. Yasmina said…’

‘Celia, what
I
know and what
I
think is all that matters. You
are
a princess—you are my princess. I will be a far better ruler with you by my side than alone. It is you who has taught me that, you who has made me realise that in order to be the man I ought to be I must have you with me.’ Ramiz took her hand and bent down on his knee before her. ‘Marry me, my lovely Celia, marry me. Because I love you, and because you love me, bestow upon me the honour of calling yourself my wife, and I will do you the honour of being your husband for ever, for even death will not part us. Marry me, and make me the happiest man on this earth and beyond.’