Sheikh's Mail-Order Bride (12 page)

* * *

Kadar surveyed the serried rows of people, men, women and children, all still bowed, none daring to look him in the eye.
Show that you really are a different kind of prince
,
Constance had said. Butrus would have ridden through them, gazing down from the height of his camel, taking this obeisance for respect, when really it was simply—what? Tradition? Fear?

Wrong, is what it was, Kadar thought. He did not want this kind of meaningless adulation. He wanted to be different. Truly different. He wanted to be the kind of prince these people deserved. Dismounting from his camel, he helped Constance to do the same. ‘I want you to accompany me,' he said.

‘But I can't speak the language, and you are the prince, Kadar. I—'

‘I want you to accompany me,' he repeated. ‘To set an example, Constance. Let them see, the women and the girls, that I practise what I preach.'

He could read her now as easily as a book. He could see her doubts flitting across her face, hear her protesting that she was no worthy example, almost as if she had spoken aloud. And he could spot the exact moment when she decided to do as he bid her, not because he demanded it but because she understood, at which point Kadar led his camel towards the throng, and ordered all of his people to rise.

Though he was accustomed to addressing groups of the most eminent men in Europe and Arabia, Kadar had never spoken to such a mixed gathering without the benefit of his usual meticulous preparation. Though his advice to diplomats and traders and politicians had affected countless lives over the years, it had been at arm's length, remote from the individuals themselves. But these people, these very people standing before him, watching him with trepidation and wide-eyed curiosity, they were a very different case. He was responsible for them. His decisions directly affected their lives. It was a humbling experience, and it was one which filled him with awe, and a fierce determination not to let them down.

His doubts fled. His nerves were vanquished. He needed no speech, no preparation. He knew, with absolute certainty, that what he must do was speak from the heart. ‘People of Murimon,' Kadar said, ‘I stand before you for the first time, proud to be your prince, and deeply aware of the privilege which has been conferred on me. Though I have ascended to the throne under tragic circumstances, it is time to consign the shadow of Prince Butrus's death to the past, and to allow the dawn to rise on a new age for Murimon.'

He spoke not of what Constance had called his laudable plans. He kept to himself his more ambitious aspirations, and spoke only of what would immediately affect these people. A new school. Lessons for all who wished them. A port where the bountiful excess from this oasis could be sent out for the rest of the world to sample. ‘I make no promises of wealth and fame and fortune, to you. I do not have the power to see into the future, any more than our court astronomer does,' Kadar said, nodding to Constance, who had been standing discreetly behind him. ‘She can map the stars. She is proof that it is possible for anyone to reach for the stars, proof that we are grounded only by our own fears. But even a court astronomer has limitations. I do not know what the future holds, but I can promise you it will be different.'

Kadar drew breath. All eyes were upon him, but that proved nothing save that they were giving him his place as a prince. He had for the first time ever opened his heart to the scrutiny of public view. He wanted more than to be merely given his due. He wanted them to be on his side. ‘I am sharing my dreams—some of my dreams—with you,' he concluded. ‘But I will not impose them on you. I want you to share them. I also want to hear your dreams and aspirations. I will not be a prince who sits remotely on the throne. I will be your prince. Here. Now. Always. Listening.'

At first this was met with complete silence. Heart pounding, he waited. It started slowly. Whispers. Then murmurs. Then nods. And then applause. He resisted the urge to turn to Constance, resisted the urge to utter his relieved thanks aloud, and waited. When the applause died down, a man who was clearly the elder, came forward and invited him and the court astronomer to honour them by sharing a humble repast.

Graciously accepting, Kadar watched as the townsfolk dispersed to prepare the food, exhilaration giving way to disappointment as not a single person came forward to speak, save one, a tall, muscular man of his own age with a stern expression.

‘Highness,' he said. ‘I am Maarku. May I speak frankly?'

‘It is what I desire above all else,' Kadar said.

Maarku smiled wryly. ‘Highness, when a prince asks a subject's opinion, it is the custom for that opinion to concur with the prince's, is it not? It is not considered wise to contradict a prince.'

‘I don't want these people to pay mere lip service to my ideas,' he said. ‘I want them to support them, and if they cannot, to help me improve them. Will you speak to them, encourage them to come forward?'

Maarku pursed his lips. ‘Do you swear that there will be no repercussions if they tell you what you do not wish to hear?'

‘I wish to hear the unvarnished truth, nothing more.'

‘Then I will speak to the townspeople, Highness. Now please, bring your court astronomer and take some nourishment with us.'

* * *

Though she had not understood a single word of Kadar's speech, Constance had been struck by his very obvious conviction. There were none of his usual carefully considered sentences, no evidence of his measured tone or his cool, almost detached demeanour. The Prince Kadar who had spoken to his townsfolk that morning had been passionate, moving, emotional. It had been a revelation. He might only have been a prince for a few months, but Kadar patently loved his kingdom and his people. His desire to improve matters came from the heart and from his gut too.

Observing him now, as he sat with his usual careless grace, cross-legged on a blanket, surrounded by a group of young men so enthused that they were competing to have their voices heard, Constance felt a glow of satisfaction and admiration, and beneath it, something a little more concerning. She longed to remain here in Murimon to watch Kadar transform his kingdom. She wanted to witness his success, to see him become the radical Prince that he aspired to be. He would do it, there was no doubt about that. But she could not be part of it. And it was that, a yearning to be part of something she could never aspire to, and to mean something to a man she could never have too—yes, that was more than a little concerning.

But now was not the time for future regrets. Looking around her at her own little circle of people, not only women and their children but several elders, all smiling and gesturing and doing their best, despite the huge language barrier, to include her, added to Constance's glow of satisfaction.
We are grounded only by our own fears,
Kadar had translated for her from his speech. She had been just that, for most of her life, but no longer. Kadar's speech had been a turning point for her as well as for every single person here.

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time they left the oasis. ‘I meant to show you many other places today, but there is not time now, and besides I need to seriously reconsider my plans in the light of what I have learned,' Kadar said as the last of their entourage of children waved a final farewell and returned to the town. ‘Today has made me realise how egotistical were my ideas. I wished to bring my world to Murimon, when what is really needed is to improve this world first, make it ready. We need ship builders and road builders and teachers and engineers more than we need scholars. Practical men.'

‘And women,' Constance said.

Kadar smiled warmly at her. ‘And women, of course.' He brought his camel to a halt beside her. ‘Today has been one of the most enlightening of my life, and you have been fundamental to that. I am very grateful, Constance.'

‘I did nothing. It was all your own doing. Your speech had me spellbound, and I had no idea what you were actually saying! You were magnificent, Kadar. You should be proud of yourself.'

He shrugged, but she could tell he was touched. ‘I have a lot to learn about being a prince, but today I made a start, I think.'

‘Today, you took the first step—how did you say it?—out of the shadow of your brother's death towards a new dawn.'

‘A small step.'

‘But a significant one,' Constance persisted.

Kadar laughed. ‘It feels that way at the moment, but I always find that the night brings true counsel. I'll see what I think in the morning. In the meantime, let us take a break from my kingdom's future, and enjoy the remains of the day.'

He urged his camel forward again, back through the mountain pass. Constance followed behind him, surprised, when they reached the head of the pass overlooking the port, that he then took a narrow path which led away from the palace, following the coast. They were traversing the ochre-coloured cliffs which bounded the beach where they had gone for their first horseback ride together, through the lines of olive trees and onto the scrubland which took over as the fertile topsoil disappeared. Below them now she could see the secluded crescent of the bay, the sand silver at the highest point, turning to gold where the sea was just beginning to creep in.

‘It's a pity there is no way down,' Constance said, for her head was beginning to ache from the relentless sun. ‘It looks lovely and cool down there.'

‘My English Rose is finally beginning to wilt. Let us see what we can do to remedy that,' Kadar replied.

The path he turned onto was narrow, cut into the rock almost like a staircase, and surely far too steep for the camels to descend. But Kadar's camel was already on the vertiginous path, and terrifying as it was, the beach looked so appealing that Constance allowed her beast to follow, resisting the urge to screw her eyes shut, keeping them instead firmly fixed on the horizon. It took no more than a few minutes to reach the sanctuary of the sand, though it felt like an eternity. Letting out a sigh of relief, she slid down from the saddle, handing the reins to Kadar, who efficiently hobbled the two camels.

Her beautiful silk coat was quickly discarded, along with her boots and headdress. Kadar followed suit, removing his cloak, headdress and boots, running his hand through his hair. ‘The water is the perfect antidote for hot feet,' he said.

‘It does look very tempting.' Constance walked through the soft sand, which oozed around her toes, to the water's edge. Her trousers would get wet, but there was a limit to the amount of clothes she could discard. The first wave which washed over her feet was surprisingly cold. She jumped, staggered as her foot sank into the soft sand.

‘Careful.' Kadar caught her arm to steady her.

They waded out further. The waves licked at her ankles and then her calves. Constance giggled with childlike delight. Further, and the water went over her knees, splashing her trouser legs, making them cling to her legs. They were deep enough for the tails of her tunic to trail in the sea.

‘Far enough I think,' Kadar said, ‘else I will have to teach you to swim.'

They stood side by side in the water. It was so clear she could see their toes on the seabed. Kadar's thigh against hers was warm. Her skin under the water tingled from the cold, yet there was a trickle of perspiration in the small of her back. ‘I was going to say I've never been in the sea before, but that's nonsense, of course.'

She turned towards him as she spoke. Her toes brushed his and she stumbled. The wind whipped her hair over her eyes. She reached out blindly, flailing in the water, as some splashed on her face. And it was that, the spray on her face, the taste of brine on her lips, that made her panic, made her heart pump wildly, made her mouth dry, her legs shake. Screams. Tearing canvas. Crashing waves.

‘Constance.'

Hands on her arms, steadying her. Her face pressed against the hard wall of his chest. The slow beating of his heart.

‘You are safe. I have you. I won't let you drown. You are safe.'

Her heartbeat slowed. She forced herself to breathe. His hand was around her waist. The other was on her hair, smoothing it in a slow, profoundly reassuring motion. ‘Promise?' she asked foolishly.

‘I promise.'

Smoothing hands. Steady beating heart. His chin resting on her curls. ‘Will you teach me to swim? Not now, but soon?' Constance asked. ‘I don't want to be grounded by my fears,' she added ruefully.

‘If I could give you a ladder to reach the stars, Constance, I would.'

‘If you teach me to swim, I will overcome my fear of drowning, and be able to sail away to the ends of the earth if I choose.'

His arms tightened around her. ‘Is that what you would like? To sail away to the ends of the earth.'

‘It's a little more practical than climbing to the stars.' Her arms were wrapped around his waist. ‘I don't know what I want.' Her legs were pressed against his thighs. Warm skin, while hers was cold. He felt so solid. When had her fear melted into awareness? ‘That's not true. Right now, I do know what I want,' she said, looking up, ‘but I can't have it.'

‘Constance.' Kadar pushed her hair back from her face. His eyes were dark with the passion she felt. ‘Constance,' he said again, his tone a mixture of anguish and desire that left her in doubt that he felt exactly as she did. ‘You know I want— You know how much I want you?'

‘Yes,' she said simply. She touched his cheek, ran her fingers through his windblown hair. ‘And I you, Kadar?'

He shuddered. ‘Yes.'

He bent his head. She tilted hers. Their lips met but did not move. She could taste salt. She could feel his breath, rapid and shallow. The tide was ebbing, waves retreating now, rippling around her calves. Her heart was pounding, but she couldn't catch her breath. A kiss that was not a kiss. Did it count? Or not count?

‘Constance,' Kadar said huskily, her name a caress. His hand smoothed down her spine, his fingers fanning over the curve of her bottom. ‘We are playing with fire.'