Silk and Secrets(137)

There was another pause, as if the survivors were conferring. Then the spokesman yelled, "How can we trust you? If you will show yourself, we will do likewise."

Ross wanted to call out to her, "For God's sake, Juliet, don't trust them!"

But he could neither speak nor move, just watch helplessly as she rose and stepped to the lip of the ledge. Tall and proud, Juliet Cameron Carlisle, the Flower of the Desert and the Marchioness of Kilburn, raised her open hands above her head to show that she was weaponless.

For a long, suspended moment, the ravine held its breath. With her blazing hair and black robes whipping in the wind, she was like an ancient warrior goddess, offering peace but equally capable of dealing death to any who betrayed her trust.

Ross saw her in profile and the image struck him with knife-edge clarity. She was a sight he would never forget for as long as he lived—which apparently would not be very long.

The thought mobilized him, for if he was dying, he must tell her that he loved her. Strange how at the end of life so few things mattered; certainly not possessions or knowledge or pride. Only love.

In a voice that could not conceal shock at the identity of his opponent, the Bokharan spokesman shouted, "We accept your terms. One other man died, Meshedee Rajib by name. We shall leave his body on the track so that you may find and bury him."

"It shall be done." Juliet dropped one hand, leaving the other lifted as if in benediction. "You are brave warriors, and I wish you well on your return to Bokhara. Go in peace."

"And peace be upon you, lady." Within moments, the clatter of horses' hooves sounded from the far side of the ravine.

Ross wanted to seize the moment to tell Juliet all that he wished to say: that he could not regret loving her, in spite of all the pain their marriage had brought them both: even though it had led to this bleak hillside.

With immense effort he stretched out his hand, trying to catch Juliet's attention, but movement sent jagged pain shafting through his head and once more he fell into darkness.

He came around again when deft hands probed his aching body. Recognizing her touch, he opened his eyes and whispered, "Juliet," not sure that he had made a sound until she turned to him, vivid joy on her face.

He tried to speak again, but she laid a finger over his lips. "Hush, love, save your strength."

He would have laughed if he had not been so dizzy. "For what... should a dying man save his strength?"

"Oh, Lord, you heard what I told the Bokharan soldiers," she said ruefully. "I only said that you were fatally wounded to persuade them to leave."

She leaned forward and brushed his forehead with a feather-light kiss. "You're not dying, love. In fact, you were amazingly lucky. Shahid's bullet grazed your skull and knocked you from your perch, but the bushes on the cliff slowed your fall and you landed on a fairly soft ledge. You'll have a handsome collection of bruises, but nothing seems to be broken."

It took a moment to reorient his jumbled thoughts toward continued existence. When he had, Ross asked, "Murad?"

"Ian says the bullet went right through his arm and the wound is clean. He banged his head when he fell from his horse, but he should be fine."

Ross exhaled with relief. "We were fortunate."

"Very, but now it's time to get the wounded back to Serevan. Do you think that if I help, you can get down to the horses?"

"We'll see." With Juliet's considerable aid, Ross managed to sit upright. After that, everything became a chaotic blur of pain, confusion, and wavering consciousness. His clearest awareness was of being jogged along on a horse, which gave him a strong sense of déjà vu. Yes, this had happened before, when he was wounded while riding with Mikahl. He was getting bloody tired of being shot, then hauled around like a sack of potatoes.

It would be easier to surrender to the blackness. So he did.

* * *

The next time Ross became conscious, his mind was very clear and he felt deeply rested. Apart from an ache in the side of his head, he felt fine. Experimentally he contracted, then relaxed muscles in various parts of his body, discovering that most were sore from his fall, but there was nothing seriously wrong.

Opening his eyes, he found that the room was tinted with the soft, pure light of early morning. He guessed that he was at Serevan, and from the look of the superbly patterned antique rugs hanging on the whitewashed walls, it must be Juliet's own bedroom.

That being the case, he was not surprised when he came to the belated realization that he was not alone in the bed. He turned his head and found that Juliet slept next to him, one hand tucked under his arm.

She was an admirable sight to start the day, for she wore nothing but the gold chain that supported her wedding ring. In the pale dawn light her fair skin glowed with pearly luminescence and her hair looked dark, with only hints of auburn.