SILK AND SECRETS (25 page)

Juliet crumbled some of the ashes and sprinkled them across the deepest laceration. Immediately the blood coagulated.

“Interesting, ” he commented, “is this a Persian remedy?”

“Afghan,” she said as she treated the next gash. “Burned hair is suitable only for small cuts, but it stops the bleeding and reduces the chance of infection. Any sort of hair will do.”

“So much more civilized than cauterization. Speaking of which, how is your arm?”

“Fine. I’ve almost forgotten about it,” she said truthfully as she finished treating Ross’s hands. Though now that she was reminded of the injury she had sustained just a few days before, she realized that her arm was throbbing. In the excitement of the
bozkashi
match, she hadn’t noticed.

The ride back to Merv was much more relaxed than the journey out had been. Occasionally some locals would pass by and call out an admiring remark about the match, which seemed to have been witnessed by every man in this part of the Kara Kum. The process of Ross becoming a legend was well under way.

The road followed the river of Merv for the last stretch. Narrow and rush-lined, the channel wound through the desert in lazy curves, its banks incongruously green against the barren sandscape. They came to a place where the river pooled by some willow trees, and Ross reined in Julietta, regarding the water longingly. Then he gave a mischievous smile and turned his camel toward the river. “You can go on to the caravansary without me,” he said to his companions. “I’ll be back later.”

After dismounting, he divested himself of boots, shirt, and
bozkashi
hat and dropped them in a mound on the sandy bank. Then, with a whoop of pleasure, he dived into the river.

The sight of Ross’s half-naked body immediately unraveled all of the progress Juliet had made in controlling her inconvenient lust. The day was already blisteringly hot, but now a wave of heat swept over her so intensely that she felt faint.

Ignoring Ross’s suggestion that the others continue without him, Murad said enthusiastically, “A splendid idea, Khilburn. We shall join you.” He guided the camel he and Saleh shared over to the riverbank. Then he couched the beast, scrambled out of his pannier, and began peeling off his clothing.

Saleh also climbed out of his pannier, then removed his sandals. Glancing at Juliet, whose camel had followed the others to the river, he suggested, “If you do not swim, wade with me in the shallows.”

More slowly than the others, Juliet dismounted. She was feverish, on the verge of burning up, and the water beckoned like paradise, but joining her husband in the river was unthinkable.

Ross glanced over and tossed a teasing handful of water in her direction. “Yes, Jalal. At least get your feet wet.”

Wordlessly she shook her head. It would have been best to return to the caravansary alone, but at the moment the effort was beyond her. Spinning on her heel, Juliet strode along the riverbank until she was out of sight of her companions.

Her breathing harsh and irregular, she kept on until she found a small secluded pool veiled by willows and high rushes. No longer able to maintain even the faintest semblance of control, she folded down on her knees in the sandy soil at the edge of the water and dragged off her tagelmoust with trembling hands. Since leaving Serevan, she had been swathed in layers of fabric day and night, and in her present fevered state she felt as if she would suffocate if she wore the veil any longer.

She dropped the tagelmoust beside her, then used her cupped hands to splash water onto her face and throat. The blessed coolness was soothing to both mind and body.

She had thought that, over time, being around Ross would become easier. Instead, every day was harder than the one before. Today her sexual awareness of him had sizzled to a dangerous new level; if she continued like this much longer, she would incinerate.

No, she would not. She would do whatever was necessary, no matter how hard it was. It was Juliet who had insisted on accompanying her husband on this trip, and having done so, she must abide by the consequences. In another ten days they would reach the city of Bokhara and she would not be constantly in Ross’s company. Surely matters would improve then.

Unfortunately that thought was of no help at the moment, so with deliberate brutality Juliet reminded herself how hopeless the situation was. Yes, she desired Ross to the point of distraction, but desire was only part of a deeper yearning. Far more than passion, she craved the love and acceptance she had found only in his arms, and that she would never know again, for his love was long gone, destroyed by Juliet’s own actions. Even if Ross was willing to bed her, which was by no means certain, all she would find would be a fleeting sexual satisfaction that would be paid for by utter emotional devastation. The knowledge sobered her as nothing else could.

Juliet had fled to this private spot because she needed to be alone, but when she regained her control, she realized that she would be a fool to waste this opportunity to bathe. Swiftly she removed the clothing she had worn day and night for the last two weeks. After releasing her hair from its long braid, she stepped into the water. It was pleasantly cool and felt wonderful, caressing her skin like liquid silk. She waded out to shoulder depth and ducked under the surface to wet her hair, then began scrubbing her scalp with her fingertips.

She could have happily spent the rest of the day in the river, but if she was gone too long, one of the men would come looking for her, so she washed as quickly as possible. After climbing back onto the bank, she used her mantle to roughly dry her skin and hair, then dressed again. A pity she didn’t have fresh garments to wear.

After donning her robe, she sat down on crossed legs and began combing her fingers through her wet hair. Working the snarls out was a time-consuming business. It would have been more practical to cut her hair for this trip, but she had been unable to bring herself to do that. Ross had always liked her hair long, and leaving it uncut was like a secret gift to him, one he would never know or care about.

As Juliet began rebraiding her hair, she wondered what her husband really thought about her. Though he was always considerate, even kind in an impersonal way, she suspected that he viewed her as a regrettable piece of ancient history, a nuisance for whom he still felt a reluctant sense of responsibility. Apart from that experimental kiss at Serevan, he had shown no signs that he still found her attractive. His disinterest was fortunate, for she doubted that her willpower would last long if he were to make a serious attempt to bed her, and that, as she told herself—repeatedly—would be disastrous.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that at first she missed the sounds of footsteps behind her. At the last moment she heard the soft rustling and steeled herself to face Ross, though if she was lucky it would be Saleh.

It was neither Ross nor Saleh. Instead, Murad called out, “Jalal, where are you? We are leaving now.”

She whipped her head around just in time to see the young Persian emerge from the tall rushes. Murad’s mouth dropped open as he stared at her face and copper-bright hair. His gaze shifted to her familiar black robe, then back to her face. Incredulously he said, “Jalal?”

Juliet scrambled to her feet, mentally cursing in every language she knew. Her brief carelessness had negated all their attempts to keep her identity from Murad; she might not look like any woman he had ever met, but the lad was not a fool.

Well, there was no help for it; she would have to tell the truth and enlist him in the conspiracy, since the alternative was to drown him in the river. Murad was very loyal to Ross, and she was reasonably sure that he could be trusted.

Dropping her gruff tone and heavy accent, she said in fluent Persian, “Is there any chance I can persuade you that the Tuareg all have red hair and pale, feminine faces?”

The evidence of his eyes confirmed, Murad exclaimed, “No God but God! You are a woman—a ferengi woman!”

“So I am,” she agreed. “But on a journey such as this, it seemed wiser to travel as a man.”

His dark eyes narrowed. “Does Khilburn know?”

“He knows,” she said dryly. “I happen to be his wife.”

Murad thought about that for a time. “But you joined us at Serevan. If you are his wife, how did you come to be there?”

“I am the mistress of Serevan and have lived in Persia for many years, apart from my husband. Saleh is my seneschal there,” she explained. “But the amir’s prisoner is my brother, so I wished to accompany Khilburn to Bokhara.”

“Ferengi men allow their women to behave in such a fashion?” he asked doubtfully.

Not wanting to undermine Ross’s authority, she said only, “Khilburn is not like other men, nor am I like other women.”

His gaze went to her bright hair again, this time with patent admiration. “Truly you are not.”

Juliet tucked her braid inside the back of her robe, then lifted her tagelmoust and began wrapping it around her head and face. “It seemed safer that you not know about me, but since fate has decreed otherwise, it will simplify matters for us all.”

Murad nodded absently. Then a new thought shocked him. “You defeated Habib!”

“Of course,” she said coolly as she finished the complicated winding of the veil. “I am better with a knife than he, so I won. The fact that I am female was of no importance.”

The young Persian did not look as if he accepted that, but his next question was, “What is your true name?”

“Juliet.”

Murad blinked. “Like Khilburn’s camel Julietta?”

“They are forms of the same name,” she said shortly, thinking that Murad was regrettably quick-witted. Picking up her black mantle, she set off through the rushes. Murad followed, still shaking his head in astonishment.

When they rejoined the others, Juliet announced in English, “Murad caught me with my veil down, so I confessed all.”

Ross made a rueful face. “I was afraid that might happen when I saw that he had gone off to look for you. Well, we’ll just have to make the best of it.”

“You didn’t trust me,” Murad said accusingly to his master.

Ross gave the young man his full attention. “It was not so much that I did not trust you, Murad, as that a man should be very careful where his wife’s safety is concerned.” Seeing that the comment had soothed the young man’s sense of ill-usage, he continued, “Now that Juliet’s identity is no longer a secret, we might as well take advantage of the four of us being private to discuss what to do in Bokhara.”

At Ross’s gesture, all four settled down in the shade of a willow. Saleh asked, “Do you have a plan?”

“Bokhara is a city of spies and suspicion. As a ferengi, I am going to be very conspicuous,” Ross said. “It will be better if the three of you take separate lodgings from me. Besides being able to move about more freely, you will be less likely to attract the amir’s wrath.”

Saleh frowned. “There is some truth to that. I have family in Bokhara, and through them I might discover useful information. But someone must stay with you, for your rank requires that you have a servant. Also, if you are alone it will be more difficult and dangerous for me to communicate with you.”

Ross considered. “That makes sense. Juliet will stay with you and Murad with me.”

“No,” Juliet said immediately. “Where you go, I go.”

As the three men looked at her, she felt a moment of acute embarrassment. Her protest had been as irrational as it was powerful. Half an hour earlier she had been telling herself that she needed to be apart from Ross, yet the very thought of that now made her insides churn. Fortunately, Murad spoke up while she was still trying to think of a logical reason for her remark.

“I agree,” the young Persian said slowly. “Madmen are considered holy fools in Islam and as such have great liberty.” He gave a quick smile. “While ”Jalal the Targui‘ is not mad, the Lady Khilburn plays the role of half-wild desert man most excellently. Knowing that Jalal is unpredictable, our fellow travelers keep their distance and think no more about him. Her. In Bokhara she will be able to come and go scarcely noticed, like a nomad’s dog.“ His smile broadened meaningfully. ”Besides, should not husband and wife be together?“

Ross glanced at Juliet. His brown eyes had darkened to near black and in his face she saw the same ambivalence she felt herself. Both of them might wish the other at the opposite end of the earth, but until this mission was done, they were bound together. They were like two people sharing a bed that was too small for comfort, yet which could not be escaped. “Very well,” he said at last. “If you want to play Ruth, so be it. Now, what can we expect at the Bokharan customhouse? I want to know if we’ll be able to take our guns into the city.”

“There should be no problem with the pistols,” Murad said thoughtfully, “but if you try to take those two beautiful rifles into the city, they will be confiscated.”

“Perhaps the rifles could be wrapped and left outside the city,” Saleh suggested. “My brother still owns my family’s estate, and it lies very near the caravan road. I think your weapons could be safely concealed in one of the outbuildings.”

The men began discussing the possibility in more detail, but Juliet did not join in. She had a bone-deep conviction that staying with Ross was the right thing to do. She was equally sure that doing so would be miserably difficult for both of them.

The steep sand dune tilted Juliet’s camels to such a treacherous angle that she dismounted and led her two animals down the sharply pitched surface. As their hindquarters lurched awkwardly, the camels bawled with irritation.

At the bottom of the dune Juliet remounted, then indulged herself in a very small drink of water. She used the fluid to moisten her dry lips, then held it in her mouth as long as possible before swallowing. Though warm and oily from the waterskin, it still felt ambrosial, for the heat was now more like summer than spring.

After Merv, they had spent three days crossing a stretch of desert with no oases. At Rafitak they were able to refill their waterskins, but only after digging out two wells that marauding Turkomans had filled with sand and stone.