The Sheikh and the Servant (9 page)

Noori lifted his eyes to meet Shahin’s. “I wish to remain here.”

Shahin met his eyes and answered softly, “The tribe will benefit.”

“As will I,” Noori whispered. “As will I.”

Chapter 8

Noori
fluffed the last pillow in the sheikh’s tent before checking to make sure that the evening repast had been delivered as ordered. He smiled at the variety of sweets that were arranged on the platters. Shahin had left earlier to collect his children, planning to bring them back to the tent to spend the evening. He smiled nervously as he pulled a simple gift for each child from his bag. They weren’t much, but he had thought to get the children something. He remembered their happy smiles from the night he met them, and he hoped to draw more smiles forth this night.

Sawsan ran in first, skidding to a halt in front of the servant as her father stepped inside the tent behind her, carrying Massarah. She wore a blue and red dress with a red veil and black cape and hood. “You’re still here!” she said, surprised.

Noori knelt before the young princess, bowing his head in deference to her. “Of course I am still here,” he answered. “I was in awe of your beauty and had to see you again. Perhaps when you are old enough, I will have enough wealth to be your suitor,” he joked.

Sawsan’s jaw dropped, and she looked up to her father, who just raised an eyebrow. She looked back at Noori and dissolved into giggles. Massarah wiggled and was set down. He made a beeline for the table, climbing onto a stool.

Noori held a hand over his heart, pretending to be hurt. “Your laughter wounds me, sweet princess. Am I not the man for you?” He raised his other hand to steady the stool that rocked with Massarah’s awkward weight.

A soft smile curved the sheikh’s mouth as he watched Noori with his children. Obviously comfortable leaving them to Noori’s care, he walked over to his desk, shuffling through papers and then patting his pockets, a distracted frown forming.

Sawsan giggled again and noticed Massarah. “Be careful, Massarah,” she said kindly, obviously loving toward her brother. She looked to Noori. “He’s really hungry. They dug holes today.”

“Under the history of farming book,” Noori said, noticing Shahin’s fruitless searching for his spectacles. Shahin found his glasses with a grunt and slid them on, sitting down at the low table gracefully with his papers and stylus, although he spared several looks for the children.

Noori served Massarah a plate of finger foods as he asked Sawsan, “Dug holes? What treasure did they seek? Or did they seek to hide a treasure?” He served her as well, pulling the young boy down from the stool to rest in his lap on the carpeted floor.

Massarah ate quickly, fruit in both hands. “Sand holes for storms,” he said through a full mouth of food.

“He is learning about how to survive in the desert,” Sawsan translated, eating more delicately.

Noori laughed at the children’s conversation before glancing at Shahin. “Will you not join your children for repast?”

The sheikh looked up, somewhat befuddled, and pushed the papers away. He scooted over to sit next to Sawsan, who offered him a honeyed date. With a slight smile, Shahin accepted it, popping it in his mouth as the children watched avidly. He pursed his lips and rubbed his belly. “Mmmm mmmm.”

Massarah and Sawsan both giggled, then each ate a date and mimicked their father, eyes closed, lips pursed, rubbing their bellies. “Mmmmmm mmmmm.”

Noori rolled his eyes, smiling broadly as the family ate together. It was the most he’d seen Shahin eat in some time. Much business and work had fallen upon him as of late, and Noori had come to learn a better understanding of how much responsibility the sheikh carried. As he watched, a load of care seemed to lift from Shahin’s stooped shoulders, and he became more lighthearted as he joked with the two youngsters.

The children shared bits of their dinner with their father, and he did the same, until Massarah offered his cup of goat’s milk. Shahin wrinkled his nose and shook his head.

“Milk is for growing boys, Massarah,” he rumbled.

Noori rose from his position and poured Shahin a glass of wine. “And juice is for growing men,” he teased.

Shahin accepted the wine with a nod, sipping it. When Sawsan pulled on his arm, he lowered the goblet to her lips. “Only a sip,” he cautioned her, tipping the cup slightly.

Massarah turned up his nose and held his milk close. “I don’t like juice,” he stated clearly.

“Neither do I,” Noori assured the young boy, pulling him closer. “I’ve found that it turns some men into overgrown goats.” He laughed as the child’s eyes grew large. Actually mid-drink, Shahin coughed upon hearing Noori’s comment, choking slightly, his face reddening at the hidden meaning. “Speaking of goats,” Noori segued into the next topic, “I have a gift for each of you.”

He sat Massarah on the carpet and retrieved the gifts. To Massarah, he presented wooden carvings of three animals. To Sawsan, he presented a pair of dancing shoes. They were inexpensive, but he’d decorated them himself.

Sawsan squealed happily. “They are so pretty! So pretty!”

Massarah looked at each carving soberly, holding them up for his father and naming them. “Goat. Horse. Piece of sh—”

“Massarah!” Shahin interrupted, his eyes widening. The young boy just looked at his father innocently.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Shahin drew a deep breath. “Camel,” he said firmly.

“Camel,” Massarah chirped obligingly, already playing with the figures.

Noori smirked at the near slip, asking, “Have you allowed him time alone with Rami? That sounds like one of his pearls of wisdom.”

“Rami,” Shahin muttered, leaning back as Massarah climbed into his lap to show off his new toys.

Noori reached to help Sawsan try on her shoes. “The next time you dance, every eye in the room will be on you, most beautiful princess.”

“Pretty, pretty!” Sawsan trilled.

“Children,” the father rumbled.

“Thank you,” they chorused in reply, Sawsan twirling, Massarah absently playing.

Noori smiled gently in return, whispering, “I also have a gift for their father.” He held out a hand, waiting until Shahin extended his own to retrieve it. He awkwardly reached around Massarah to accept the gift.

Noori let the intricately beaded chain fall into Shahin’s hand. It had a loop on each end. “To help you keep your spectacles, my lord.”

Both of Shahin’s brows rose slowly as he studied the beaded chain curiously. When Massarah reached to yank, he quickly lifted the chain out of range. “No, Massarah,” he said absently, looking at the loops.

“You gave Father a token of your esteem?” Sawsan asked, oddly questioning.

Shahin’s eyes shot to his daughter and narrowed.

“A token of my gratitude,” Noori was quick to point out. “Your father brought me out of bondage from another household. For that I will always owe him my very existence.”

Sawsan seemed to lose interest and went back to dancing around the table. Her father, however, watched Noori silently for a long time, the chain grasped securely in one hand.

Chapter 9

Shahin
stormed into the tent, his face a dark thundercloud, his muttered words harsh and biting as he talked to himself. He grabbed a satchel and stuffed a robe into it violently. Noori jumped at the sudden entrance. Shahin was not expected back in the tent for hours and his appearance and his apparent mood led Noori to believe there was trouble brewing. “My lord, is something wrong?”

Shahin growled under his breath and yanked a soft blanket off his pallet. “Have my horse saddled,” he ordered gruffly. He stalked over to a small table and grabbed his comb and more clothing, movements jerky and angry.

Noori stepped outside the tent, asking Rami to have the sheikh’s horse readied for travel. Entering the tent once more, Noori moved closer. “What is wrong?” The sheikh’s behavior was frightening him.

The sheikh jerked his chin to the pallet. “Pack another blanket for me and some food,” he said shortly, and he took a deep breath and visibly tried to calm himself.

Noori packed the bag as ordered, grabbing a spare bag and packing an extra blanket for himself. Slinging the bags over his shoulder, he asked, “Should I have a horse prepared for me as well?”

“No, I go alone,” Shahin answered shortly, strapping on both his long sword and knife.

Noori shook his head adamantly, daring to contradict the orders of his lord. “I will go with you, my lord.”

The sheikh pulled on his vest, making no acknowledgment of Noori’s words. He slung the two bags over his shoulder and stalked out of the tent. Noori followed, keeping close to Shahin’s heels.

Shahin efficiently fastened his bags to the saddle of the waiting horse and mounted, shading his eyes as he looked across the village.

“I will saddle a horse and follow behind you, Master.” Noori turned to find a horse, spotting one at a nearby tent.

“Come back here,” Shahin growled, and Noori shook his head once more, surprised at his own audacity at refusing the sheikh, yet determined to attend him. Rami watched with wide eyes.

Blinking in amazement, Shahin huffed and urged his horse to walk over to where Noori was preparing to mount. With an annoyed sigh, he held out his hand. “I said, come here,” he rasped.

Rami gaped, watching avidly.

Noori looked up at Shahin, whose expression was hidden from him by the bright sun behind his back. He didn’t question the act, however. He simply took the offered hand and gasped as he was pulled up onto the horse behind the sheikh.

As soon as Shahin felt Noori’s body behind him, he spurred the horse, and they rode off, leaving a stunned Rami in a cloud of dust. Shahin guided the horse out of the village and into a gallop across the arid sand.

Noori held on for dear life as Shahin rode as if the hounds of hell were after them. The fast pace left no opportunity for conversation. He simply pressed against the sheikh’s back, arms wrapped tightly around the other man’s body as they galloped toward some unknown destination. Noori could do nothing more than close his eyes and hold on.

The horse crested a dune and rode down into a sheltered area of hidden cliffs. The landscape changed dramatically, palm trees and greenery growing along a small bubbling creek. Shahin pulled the horse to a stop in the shade of a date grove.

The change of scenery pleased Noori, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. “Why have we stopped, my lord? Are we not heading for some other destination?”

Gracefully dismounting, Shahin started pulling off the bags, shouldering them. He tethered the horse within reach of the water and walked away, splashing through the scanty creek, the water splashing on his boots and black trousers. Noori slid from the horse and followed him. He waded through the creek as well. Shahin followed the cliffs, finally rounding a corner that hid a waterfall and large pool, surrounded by a thick grove of palm trees. He tossed the bags down and pulled off his turban. It also hit the sparse grass.

Noori rounded the corner and nearly bumped into him. He gaped at their surroundings for a moment, and then regaining his composure, he immediately started helping Shahin undress. “Do you wish to swim, my lord?”

Grunting in assent, Shahin stripped down to his trousers, allowing Noori to unbuckle his boots. He unbuckled his sword belt and knife, setting them aside, then turned and walked into the pool toward the waterfall with a sigh. Noori turned aside respectfully, folding the discarded garments and laying them on a nearby rock. He then knelt beside the rock to watch and wait.

Wading into the cool, refreshing water, the sheikh soaked himself under the waterfall before floating on his back, eyes closed. Noori watched him longingly. He had tried his best to make himself indispensable, but at times he felt as if he failed miserably. “If you wish to speak, I will listen.” His voice was low, probably indistinguishable above the roar of the waterfall.

For a long moment, Shahin made no indication that he heard. But then he visibly sighed and righted himself, peering at Noori on the shore. “Come and swim,” he said evenly before turning his back and swimming back to the waterfall.

Noori immediately removed all but his trousers and under-tunic and waded into the water. He stood beneath the fall for a moment, enjoying the cool water, before swimming near Shahin. “’Tis a pleasant way to spend the afternoon,” he remarked idly, waiting to see if Shahin would elaborate on his mood.

Shahin nodded, sliding his hand through his dripping hair. He looked around the grove. “I have not been here in years,” he finally said, swimming back out into the pool, away from the noise.

Noori followed behind, finding a rock near the edge of the pool to recline against. “If I may ask, why haven’t you been here, my lord? It is a lovely spot. Quiet. Relaxing. Solitary.”