Robed people poured into the courtyard as the gates were shut and locked behind them.
They were lining up before the first building with its immense keyhole doorway, bowing repeatedly.
“What’s happening?” she whispered.
“We’re being welcomed by my people. They have heard I’ve brought home my bride.”
The camel stopped moving. Robed men moved forward. Mikael threw the reins and one of the men took it, and commanded the camel to kneel.
Sheikh Karim jumped off the camel, and then turned to look at her. His gaze held hers, his expression fierce. “What we have just done is life changing. But we’ve made a commitment, and we shall honor that commitment.”
Then he swung her into his arms and carried her through the tall door of his Kasbah, into a soaring entrance hall, its high white plaster ceiling inset with blue and gold mosaic tile.
He set her on her feet, and added, “Welcome, my wife, to your new home.”
* * *
A slender robed female servant led Jemma through the Kasbah’s labyrinth of empty halls. The maid was silent. Jemma was grateful for the silence, exhausted from the long day and hours of travel. The last time she’d glanced at her watch it had been just after midnight, and that had to be at least an hour ago now.
The silent maid led Jemma down one hallway to another, until they reached a white high ceilinged room with walls covered in delicate ivory latticework. The bed’s silk coverlet was also white and stitched with threads of the palest gold and silver, while silver and white silk curtains hung on either side of the tall French doors which opened to a courtyard of ivory stone and planters filled with palms, gardenias and white hibiscus.
The room wasn’t huge but it was opulent, elegant, and blissfully serene, an inviting, soothing oasis after a grueling and frightening day.
“Tea? Refreshment, Your Highness?” the maid asked in polite, accented English.
Your Highness?
Jemma glanced behind her, expecting Mikael to be there. But no one stood behind Jemma. The room was empty.
And then it hit her. The maid was speaking to her. They all knew she’d married Mikael, then. They all knew she was his bride...
Would he come to her tonight? Did he expect to consummate the marriage tonight?
Jemma sank down on one of the white sofas in the sitting area, no longer sure her legs would support her.
“No, thank you,” she said. “I’m fine. I think I just want to sleep.”
“Shall I draw you a bath before I leave?”
Still dazed, Jemma nodded. “Yes, please.”
A few minutes later the maid had gone and steam wafted from the bathroom, fragrant with lilacs and verbena.
Jemma entered the grand white marble and tiled bathroom with the gleaming gold fixtures, the sunken tub illuminated by a multitude of dazzling crystal chandeliers above.
Awed by the grandeur, she stripped off her dusty robe and gritty clothes and slid into the water for a soak.
The hot scented bath felt so good after the jarring camel ride that Jemma was reluctant to leave the bath until the water began to cool. By the time she finally pulled the plug, she could barely keep her eyes open another moment.
Wrapped in an enormous plush white towel she returned to her bedroom, not at all sure what she’d wear to sleep in, and there on the oversized bed was a simple white cotton nightgown with lace trim at the shoulders and hem.
Jemma slipped the nightgown over her head, gave her long hair another quick towel-dry and then climbed beneath the soft smooth cotton coverlet, desperate to sleep. She didn’t even remember trying to fall asleep. She was out within minutes of turning off her bedside lamp.
She was still sleeping deeply when woken by a firm, insistent knock on the outer door.
Opening her eyes, she frowned at the dimly lit room, confused by what she saw. It took her a moment to figure out where she was. Sheikh Karim’s Kasbah.
And then she remembered—she’d married him.
Or so he’d said. She didn’t feel married. She didn’t feel anything at all but sleepy and numb.
Jemma slid her legs from the bed and slipped on the white robe she’d seen draped over a chair before she answered the outer door.
It was Mikael.
“Good afternoon,” he said.
She tucked a tangled strand of hair behind her ear. “Afternoon?”
“It’s after two.”
“Is it? I can’t believe it.”
“I’ve ordered coffee to be sent to you, and then you’re to join me for a late lunch in the east pavilion. Don’t be late.” He turned and walked toward the door, but Jemma followed.
“That sounds rather rude, Sheikh Karim,” she said, following after him. “Is that how you speak to all your women?”
He glanced at her. “I’m accustomed to being in charge.”