Beautiful Friend
By
TaleBearer
Julia rubbed the back of her neck. She stood on the warm pavement outside the rear entrance of the Cairo Museum, every muscle in her body yearning toward a bath and her bed. The last thing on earth she wanted to do was go near the curator's office again. It had been a long day, far longer than it should have been. The new exhibit of Old Kingdom jewelry had everyone in an absolute uproar. There were arguments about everything from the lighting to the style of lettering on the display cards to the exact dimensions of the glass in some of the cases. It was maddening. And just when she thought it was over, she put her hand into the pocket of her cardigan and discovered the extra set of keys to the exhibit hall. They had to go back into the curator's desk or there would be weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth fit to make the Flight from Egypt look like a day trip to the Lake District.
Julia unlocked the heavy door of the rear entrance with her own key, then trudged wearily back down the endless hallway that led to Mr. Kufti's office. The workers putting up the exhibit were off wreaking havoc in some distant area. She could hear the sounds of their banging and clamoring only faintly. The mahogany doors of Mr. Kufti's office were slightly ajar. Two male voices were arguing in Arabic. As Julia's hand touched the brass doorknob, one voice spoke more loudly, more urgently. Its deep resonance sank down through her bones. Julia froze, not daring to believe her ears. She knew that voice, had heard it whisper endearments to her when its owner thought she was asleep. Ardeth Bey.
The longing Julia thought safely buried under the pressures of work blazed up inside her. She fell back against the wall beside the doors, her fingers automatically closing around the silver ring she wore on the third finger of her right hand. A Tuareg ring, set with carnelian. The only ring a man had ever given her. That man was Ardeth Bey, leader of the elite group of Tuareg warriors known as the Brotherhood of the Med-Jai. They were the guardians of something so serious they were willing to kill to keep it safe. She was very clear on just how dedicated and dangerous Ardeth Bey could be. And how gentle, how kind, how magnetic. . . .
Julia shook herself out of her daydreams. She was wasting precious time. She couldn't just barge into the curator's office and present him with the keys. Or could she? She didn't speak Arabic. She could claim she thought he was giving more instructions to the exhibit organizers. And she did have to return the keys. Julia took a deep breath and ran a hand over her hair. She'd tamed the long chestnut mass of it into something approaching a bun at the back of her neck. Wisps and tendrils had come free, trailing down along her cheeks and neck. Her navy dress was plain and proper, her shoes a respectable black. Julia's heart sank. The last time Ardeth Bey had seen her, she'd been wearing that slinky green outfit, her hair loose and wild. Now she looked like what she was; a prim and proper bluestocking, a spinster at the advanced age of twenty-four.
This was no time for cowardice. Two months had passed since that morning when Ardeth Bey gave her the ring, kissed her, and vanished into the desert heat. Now he was here, right here, right on the other side of the door. Julia threw her shoulders back, assumed a look of harried efficiency, and walked right in. There he stood. Those dark eyes captured her. One corner of his full lips twitched in the briefest of smiles. A tall man made even taller by the high crown of his black hat, Ardeth Bey was an imposing figure in his black robes and the two sword belts that crossed his chest. A dagger long enough to serve as a short sword hung in another scabbard across his lower back. He wore black riding boots that added further to his height. Julia was grateful for the abrupt nature of the situation, covering her stare of wonder as if it were mere surprise.
"Oh," she cried. "I am sorry. I didn't realize-"
"What are you doing here?" Mr. Kufti snapped. Compared to the grandeur of Ardeth Bey, he made a clownish figure in his drab tweeds and loud tie. Born Egyptian but educated in England, he had picked up all the fussy little habits of Julia's more tiresome professors.
Mr. Kufti stood behind his desk, opposite Ardeth Bey. Ardeth Bey's arms were crossed, his features made stern by his obvious annoyance with Mr. Kufti. Julia held back a smile. The museum staff who had worked with the previous curator spoke of him as a charming, dedicated man. What a pity he'd vanished so mysteriously, to be replaced by this huffy little bureaucrat.
Julia pulled the keys out of her pocket and thrust them at Mr. Kufti like a talisman of protection. "I'm so sorry, I took these with me when I left. I do hope I haven't caused any inconvenience."
Mr. Kufti charged out from behind his desk and snatched them out of her hand. "Fine, fine! Now go!"
Ardeth Bey spoke. Julia didn't understand the Arabic, but she could read his displeasure in his narrowed eyes and sharp tone. Mr. Kufti looked from him to Julia and back again, clearly bewildered. Ardeth Bey arched one dark brow at him, nodding his head toward Julia. Mr. Kufti shrugged.
"Miss Lawrence, my guest has asked me to make him known to you. May I present Ardeth Bey."
Ardeth Bey smiled. That drew Julia's attention to his lips, to the closecut beard and mustache that framed them. She remembered the feel of his beard brushing her cheek, so soft, so warm. Waves of heat swept through her, the heat shimmer of the desert that now dwelled in her very soul, brought on by the intense physical presence of Ardeth Bey. Three long strides brought him before her. He held out his right hand, palm up.
"Miss Julia Lawrence." He pronounced her name slowly, lingering over each syllable, his rich deep voice turning them into music. "It is my pleasure to meet you."
Was it her imagination, or did a wicked sparkle dance in those dark eyes? She put her hand in his, prepared to shake. He bowed, lifted her hand to his lips, and brushed her knuckles with the lightest of kisses. Julia was helpless to conceal the warmth coloring her cheeks, not of embarrassment but desire. Ardeth Bey read it in her eyes. One corner of his mouth pulled up, broadening his smile.
"How--how do you do?" Julia groped for something intelligent to say. "How marvelous to meet a Tuareg warrior. I'm here in your country studying the spiritual practices of your people."
"Do those in your own country leave something to be desired?"
It was a joke, mild banter, but all Julia could think of was how much England left to be desired when Ardeth Bey was here in Egypt. He was all she desired, all she had thought about in the weeks since they'd parted company.
"A woman of the city can long for the peace of the desert." She met his steady gaze with a look she hoped wasn't too obviously forward.
"Yes, well." Mr. Kufti took Julia's elbow and steered her toward the door. "No doubt you'll be wanting to go home now. Early day tomorrow, you know. All those exhibits to label and catalog."
Julia held back a groan. Her work/study program should have placed her in the anthropological department, but Mr. Kufti had somehow made her his Girl Friday, keeping her on hand for every dull secretarial job he could heap on her. Only his ability to make a negative report to her grant committee kept Julia from indulging her fantasies of turning him into a mummy. She'd gladly stuff his various innards into a selection of cheap glass vases, then leave him to face Anubis in a state similar to addressing the House of Lords while being stark naked and painted bright blue.
Voices in the hall outside the door made Ardeth Bey snap another comment at Mr. Kufti, who pointed toward the door in the far corner. That led to the room containing his private files. Julia knew it only too well. Another door on its far side led back into the long hallway that would take her to the rear entrance. She shook off Mr. Kufti's grip and turned to Ardeth Bey.
"You can't let them see you here, can you?"
"It would be better if they did not."
"Come with me. I can get you out of here, and I have the perfect hiding place."
"Miss Lawrence!" Mr. Kufti spluttered, turning a dark shade of purple. "You have no business intruding like this and then dragging my guest off--"
Julia hurried toward the far door. Ardeth Bey turned in a swirl of black robes and followed her. Julia threaded her way through the narrow aisles of the filing cabinets, trusting Ardeth Bey to keep up. She eased open the other door just enough to peer out into the hallway. A mob of discontented workers approached, herding their sweating, shouting foreman ahead of them. Julia waited, watching them draw closer and closer to Mr. Kufti's office. Ardeth Bey stood right behind her, leaning over her shoulder to look ahead as well. The buckle of one sword belt pressed into her spine. Julia smiled, remembering the last time she'd felt that, the first time he'd held her in his arms. Not the most romantic encounter, but things had improved from there. Now the heat of his breath on her neck made it very difficult to concentrate.
The workers prodded their foreman into Mr. Kufti's office and slammed the doors behind them.
Julia slipped out and ran down the hallway, keeping on her toes to prevent her heels from clacking on the floor. The rear entrance was quiet at the moment. No further deliveries, no gangs of workmen milling around. Julia leaned against the brick wall and heaved a deep sigh of relief.
Ardeth Bey glanced all around them, constantly alert. "You say you have a hiding place?"
"How long do you need to hide?"
"I must return here tomorrow evening. I would have stayed with Mr. Kufti, but now. . . ."
Julia grinned. "Perfect. Follow me."
She set off down the alley, heart lifting at the thought of the evening ahead. Suddenly she wasn't tired at all, her fatigue burning away in the stimulating presence of Ardeth Bey. They walked in silence, the sound of her heels and his boots echoing off the walls of the narrow alley. She thumbed the ring on her finger, twisting it round and round. Wrapping it with yarn had helped, but it was still loose enough to give her something to fidget with when she was nervous. She risked glancing at him. The moon was full and high, throwing enough light down to paint him in shadows and silver. So beautiful, in daylight or in darkness.
"It's good to see you again."
He glanced down at her right hand. The silver ring flashed in the moonlight. "You are well?"
Heart thumping, Julia willed her hands not to shake. With her right hand she clasped his left. "Better now."
His hand tightened around hers. Julia let out her breath, sudden exhilaration leaving her light-headed. At the first turning she guided him to the right. Ardeth Bey glanced all around, one hand on the hilt of one scimitar.
"Where are you taking me?"
"To my flat."
He stopped. "Your home?"
"Yes. Is that so shocking?"
"To some it would be. Your husband would not care for it at all."
"I'm not married." Julia held up her right hand. "I wear no ring but the one you gave me."
For a moment they regarded each other. Something changed in Ardeth Bey's eyes, some hint of deeper warmth welling up from within. He closed his eyes and turned his face aside.
"I cannot ask this of you. If the ones who seek me knew you took me in--"
"They won't know a thing as long as we get indoors before anyone notices us. Now come along!"
He followed her, more slowly, at a greater distance. When they reached the doorway of the dilapidated building that held Julia's flat and several others just like it, Ardeth Bey took one definite step back.
"You are kindness itself, Miss Lawrence, but I cannot-"
"Would you refuse my hospitality?" If he wouldn't abide by her rules, Julia would use his own against him. "Not so long ago you gave me shelter and protected me from danger. Now I have the opportunity to do the same for you. Will you deny me that honor?"
He stared down into her eyes, into her very soul. Julia recognized the moment. He was about to make another major decision, one that would change the course of their strange relationship.
"Do you fear nothing, Julia Lawrence?"
"I fear many things. Why do you ask?"
"You greeted me, that first day you entered Tuareg lands. Despite Collins' warning, you turned and raised your hand to me. My brothers and I might have dealt with you just as we dealt with Collins. Why did you greet me and invite such danger?"
Julia wanted to look away, but found her gaze transfixed by the darkness in his eyes, the sternness, the discipline there that demanded the absolute truth. How could she possibly describe the way he stood out to her among the other Med-Jai, the burning intensity of his stare, how she sensed the way he questioned her presence?
"I didn't know you were dangerous. To me, at any rate. It seemed the polite thing to do."
"And now, is this the 'polite thing to do'?"
That chill had come into his eyes and voice, the same chill Julia had felt that night when shock and delayed reaction made her beg him to remain in the tent with her. He wanted to know if she was making improper advances. Julia couldn't help wondering how often he had English adventuresses throwing themselves at him, if he was this wary of any sort of flirtation. She held back her impatience and spoke quietly.
"No. This is not 'the polite thing to do.' It's far more than that. You saved my life not once but twice."
She didn't tell him he'd saved it a third time, by simply being who he was, this dark romantic stranger who had made her feel beautiful, had given her a ring, and now had made it clear he was happy to see her again. She smiled and held out her hand to him.
"Get yourself up these stairs and let me at least give you a drink, or I will be seriously put out."
The corner of his mouth quirked in that slight smile. Ardeth Bey bowed, touching his lips and his forehead. "To hear is to obey."
As Julia opened the door to her flat, she breathed a sigh of relief to see it wasn't quite the mess she remembered. The frustration of missing Ardeth Bey had driven her to a positively maniacal thoroughness in organizing all of her many reference books, first by subject, then by title, and finally by author. The few pieces of shabby furniture she'd picked up here and there made the place look less like a home and more like the reading room in a used bookshop. The Cairo pavement trapped the day's heat, releasing it at night to leave her flat humid and sticky. Julia drew the curtains on the room's one window and cranked it open, hoping for a breeze.
"Do make yourself comfortable." She waved one hand at the dark green couch, overstuffed, slightly dinghy, but very comfortable. "What can I get you to drink? I have coffee, tea, some kind of juice, and I believe I still have a bottle of whiskey." She winced, remembering too late Muslims were forbidden alcohol.
"Whiskey?" Ardeth Bey raised one dark eyebrow. "That is hardly a woman's drink."
Julia grimaced. "You wouldn't think so if you knew what I have to put up with all day."
"And what is that?" His sudden attentiveness startled Julia. "Are you not happy at the museum?"
"Oh, the museum itself is wonderful. I despise being treated like everyone's little errand girl simply because I'm female. I do have a degree. I have taught classes. It's not like I'm some dilettante society girl scampering around the ruins with her parasol and her lace gloves."
Julia stopped, flushing with embarrassment. She hadn't meant to go on like that. It was late, she was tired, she hadn't even eaten dinner yet. Then she looked into those marvelous dark eyes, so deep with hidden thoughts.
"Pardon me. Mr. Kufti gets on my nerves."
"So I saw. He can be trying."
"Never mind. What will you have?"
"Tea, please."
"Good. That's some progress. Now let me ask you this. When was the last time you had a meal?"
"Earlier. This morning. But please, do not--"
"Hush." Julia took him by the arm and led him over to the couch. "You're going to sit down, take off those sword belts if you like, and make yourself comfortable."
Before he could make any reply, Julia hurried into the tiny kitchenette. She'd brewed a pitcher of tea earlier. Leaving it in the shade all day had brought it some degree of coolness. She put the pitcher and two glasses on a tray and carried them out to the battered steamer trunk that served as her coffee table, then dragged up one of her mismatched chairs to sit across from Ardeth Bey. She poured one glass full and handed it to him. His fingers curled around the glass, around her fingers, sending a hot streak of pleasure through her. She sat back raised her own glass to Ardeth Bey then took a long drink, savoring the bits of mint leaf she'd mixed in.
"This is the first time I've had company since I moved in. I'll have to see what I can put together for dinner."
She waited, expecting another protest. Ardeth Bey merely raised his glass to his lips and drank. Julia lost herself in the sight of those full lips touching the rim of the glass, those long fingers gripping it. The sudden heat rising within her made her gulp down the last of her tea. She hurried back into the kitchen. Some mad spirit of festivity gripped her. To her amazement, she watched her hands go through the motions of preparing falafel, arranging the pita bread, even mixing up a passable tahini sauce. When she was finished the kitchen looked like a bomb had gone off in it, but that wasn't important. Julia proudly carried the tray out and set in down in front of Ardeth Bey. He watched her, his face impassive as usual, but a hint of a smile played around his mouth and eyes.
"Please," Julia said. "Help yourself."
She looked on anxiously while he filled a pita with the falafel balls, then added the tahini. He took a bite and chewed, then nodded. After downing another swallow of tea, he smiled. He looked her over, noting every detail of her appearance.
"So this is what a proper English lady looks like. I have often wondered."
Julia laughed. Her hand went to her straying locks of hair. "I'm afraid I'm hardly a good example. I'm not a lady, for one thing. My father is a professor at Eton. He was so proud when I won the grant to study here. He insists I write him every week and tell him what progress I'm making on my studies."
"And your mother?"
Julia took a long sip of tea. "My mother does very little but tend the garden and serve on all sorts of committees."
"You love your father."
"I do. He wanted to study abroad, to see all the places we've read about together. He's never been a strong man. That forces him to spend too much time indoors hunched over his books. In the evenings I'd rub his shoulders for him." Julia smiled. It was good to talk about Daddy, to think about the happy times they'd shared. "We'd talk about what he taught in school that day and what I'd learned. He liked to argue philosophy and logic. My mother thought all I should be thinking about was the next season's fashions."
Julia's smile faded. Oh, how the war had raged from one season to the next. Hair up, hair down. Cut the hair, leave the hair long. Twist the hair up, arrange it this way, braid it all that way, on and on and on until Julia was bitterly tempted to shave her head.
A light touch on her cheek brought Julia out of her reverie. Ardeth Bey leaned forward, looking into her eyes, lightly stroking her cheek.
"Such sorrow," he murmured. "Forgive me. I have intruded on your grief."
"Not at all." Julia straightened up and put on a bright smile. She devoted herself to her meal, hoping the food would make her feel better. How silly to be lonely and homesick when Ardeth Bey himself sat here with her.
"So," he said. "You can ride, you can shoot, you can survive in the desert, and you can cook." Ardeth Bey tilted his head to one side, studying Julia. "You would make a good wife. Why are you not married?"
Julia's happiness at his praise dimmed a little. "Are you familiar with the term 'bluestocking'?"
He shook his head. Julia stared into the amber depths of her tea.
"That's the name for a woman who values intellectual achievement over the usual choice of marriage and children."
"You could not have both?"
"No. At least not at the same time."
"Why?"
"In England a woman who marries puts herself under the dominion of a man who expects her to keep house for him, raise his children, satisfy his needs, to submerge her whole being in these tasks."
"You do not care for this 'dominion.' Does Mr. Kufti treat you this way?"
Julia choked on her tea. When she stopped coughing, she started to laugh. "Good Lord, no!" She gasped, wiping her eyes. "Well, he does expect me to dance attendance on his every little whim, but as for having his children, I sincerely hope that thought never crossed his mind!"
Ardeth Bey smiled, but in his eyes another question lingered. "You do not want to marry?"
"Some day. The right man. At the right time." Julia stared out the window. "There's so much of the world to see. So much to do, to study, to learn. It's much easier to travel when you travel alone."
"True." Ardeth Bey concentrated on his meal. Julia ate a few bites, feeling so high strung she could barely keep still. He was here, in her very living room. Which of the Egyptian gods was smiling on her?
When Ardeth Bey had finished, he sat back with a full glass of tea. He looked a bit better, more relaxed and at ease. Julia gathered up the remains of their dinner and carried the tray into the kitchen. She debated doing the washing up right then, then abandoned it. She wasn't going to waste time on housework when the man of her dreams was sitting in her living room.
A quick search of her cabinets turned up some stale dates and little else in the way of dessert. With a quick smile at Ardeth Bey, Julia hurried into her bedroom and opened the closet, reaching for one of her precious packages of shortbread. While her mother had organized her entire desert wardrobe, Julia and her father had been busy packing the true essentials. She hurried back into the kitchen and arranged the shortbread biscuits on her one decent plate, the one with the roses around the rim. She glanced into the living room and caught a glimpse of Ardeth Bey. He looked unspeakably weary. He wiped one hand over his face, then leaned on that hand, shoulders sagging.
"Mr. Kufti seemed terribly upset about something," Julia called. "I hope it's nothing that involves the Brotherhood." She walked over to the coffee table and set the shortbread down.
Ardeth Bey's fatigue froze into a sudden wary stillness. "You know it does, by the very fact that you saw me there." There was an edge to his voice.
"I'm sorry." Julia resisted the fearful urge to back away. "This has nothing to do with me. I shouldn't have mentioned it."
His wary look changed to one of speculation. "Perhaps it does have something to do with you. You see most of the documents concerning the new exhibit, yes?"
"I do end up filing whatever comes across Mr. Kufti's desk."
"When he is occupied, the people with questions must come to you, correct?"
Julia nodded. Now it was her turn to feel wary. "What are you leading up to?"
"Would you be kind enough to make note of anyone who asks about the exhibit, in particular the scarab, the ibis seal, and the staff inscribed with the lotus pattern?"
"If you like. What do I do with the list?"
"Keep it until I ask you for it. Give it to no one else."
Julia's heart began to pound. "You're trusting me again, aren't you?"
Ardeth Bey inclined his head.
"But you won't tell me what this is all about?"
"It is better that you know as little as possible."
"So the people who are looking for you can't get anything out of me?"
Ardeth Bey looked at her for a long moment. "Mr. Kufti is a fool to treat you like any other woman, to waste your skills on such meaningless work."
"I wish you'd tell him that."
"Perhaps I will."
There was a look in Ardeth Bey's eyes, an amusement mixed with a trace of the annoyance she'd seen in Mr. Kufti's office. Whatever was on his mind, Ardeth Bey wasn't going to come right out and tell her.
"We should get you settled for the night," Julia said. "The couch is quite comfortable. I can offer you a sleeping bag, some blankets and pillows, whatever you prefer."
"Do not concern yourself with me, Miss Lawrence. I have slept in far rougher conditions than this."
Julia laughed. After a moment, a brief pained look crossed Ardeth Bey's face.
"Forgive me. I did not mean--"
"I know what you meant. That's all right. This isn't exactly Buckingham Palace." Julia fetched an armload of extra blankets and sheets from the closet in her bedroom. She dug out her sleeping bag and dropped it beside the couch. "Well then. If there's nothing else I can get for you, I believe I'll have my bath and go to bed."
"Thank you, Julia."
He spoke softly, the sound of her name on his lips like a gentle caress. Julia's throat tightened. She felt suddenly breathless. She looked down at her hands, sure he could read her longing in her eyes.
"You're more than welcome. After all, I do owe you a considerable debt."
He moved around the coffee table to take her by the shoulders. "You owe me nothing. You did the Brotherhood a great service in telling me Collins was with you. We knew he would return."
Julia held back a shudder. She had a vague but grisly notion of what had happened to Collins that night. His men had 'dealt with' Collins while Ardeth Bey carried her off to the safety of that tent. Ardeth Bey told her Collins would never bother her again, removing any doubt she might have had. Julia ached with the memory of lying beside him, close enough to touch him. To stroke his thick black hair, to trace the tattoos marking his face, to run her thumb along the full curve of his lower lip. . . . And now his hands were on her, touching her lightly yet branding her with his warmth. Julia gripped her hands together so tightly the knuckles showed white.
"Well. I'm glad I could help."
She glanced up to see him staring at her with a strange intensity. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but some inner struggle prevented him from speaking. She wanted to stay with him, to stay up all night, to spend every precious moment with him, listening to that magnificent voice. But that wouldn't do. She wasn't that kind of woman, no matter how much she wanted to be. And he needed his rest as well.
"I suppose I should say goodnight." Julia ducked her head in a brief nod and turned away, slipping out of his grasp. She shut the bedroom door behind her and leaned against it, breathing hard. It was time to take herself in hand. This was not one of her daydreams. Ardeth Bey was obviously troubled by something that affected the Brotherhood and its duties. The last thing he needed was the distraction of her silly schoolgirl crush.
A bath. A cool, refreshing bath, a fresh nightgown, and bed. That would suit her very well. Julia stepped into the bathroom to turn on the taps, then tossed her cardigan on the bed and began the laborious process of removing her dress, slip, shoes, stockings, and undergarments. Her clothing felt heavy and unfamiliar, too binding. It was good to be free of it all. Last but far from least, Julia took off the carnelian ring. On her bureau sat a small dish of polished marble, black as Ardeth Bey's hair. She set the ring on the dish, then wrapped a towel around her hair and slipped into her bath.
The tepid water eased the heat of her skin. She felt almost feverish. She tried to relax, to quiet her mind, to let go of the accumulated vexations of the day. Happy thoughts, refreshing thoughts, her father's study, the rose garden, running through spring rain. . . . It was pointless. All she could think about was him. To feel those elegant hands soaping her shoulders, moving down her back, up her ribs. . . . His arms circling her waist, holding her against his bare chest. . . . Julia groaned. If she got so much as a wink of sleep tonight, she'd count herself blessed.
She gave herself a thorough scrubbing with her loofah and one of the bars of lavender scented soap she'd brought with her from London. She might have to rough it a bit to make her grant money stretch far enough, so she had taken precautions to bring a supply of what few luxuries she enjoyed. Clean, fresh, and dripping wet, Julia rose from the bath thinking how little she must resemble Aphrodite emerging from the foam. No matter. She fully expected to find her living room empty when she got up in the morning. That was Ardeth Bey's way. He would vanish with the sunrise, off on whatever mysterious business occupied him this time. She was tremendously lucky to have seen this much of him.
Julia dried off and put on her robe, then considered her three nightgowns. Every one fine English linen, every one pretty with lace and floral embroidery, every one of them screaming "Old Maid." If she couldn't satisfy all of her wild impulses tonight, she could at least have one. In the back of her closet hung a dress of sheer creamy fabric, something like chiffon only in cotton. The neck was cut in a deep V front and back, decorated with elaborate patterns stitched in the same color thread. The effect was simple yet striking. The sleeves were loosely tailored, hanging in folds not quite to her elbows. As she pulled it on over her head and smoothed its soft folds down around her hips, Julia recalled a cabaret she'd heard about, some terribly tawdry stage show off in London's East End. The girls in it were said to wear nothing but corsets, garters, black stockings and impossibly high heels. Their faces were painted, and some even had tiny sequins affixed to their eyelids. They sang badly, danced without grace, and were immensely popular. Julia suspected the showgirls were more highly prized for the private performances they gave after the curtain came down.
Some imp of the perverse nagged at Julia. What would Ardeth Bey do if she were to walk out in such a provocative costume?
"Probably yell 'sheytana,' " she muttered, "Then grab his scimitar and start swinging."
She-devil indeed. Never in her life had Julia ever been anything like a she-devil, a femme fatale, and the future held little prospect of her ever being one. Julia bent over the bed and plucked the pins from her hair, letting them rain down on the blanket. Her braid came loose, hanging down over her shoulder as she straightened up. She unplaited it, looking at herself in the mirror that hung above her bureau.
An oval face. Good cheekbones, determined jaw, upper lip a bit thinner than the lower. Eyes that too often looked gray, when in fact they were a delicate shade of blue. Her father had once told her she had eyes like mother of pearl. Had Ardeth Bey ever seen a seashell? Would he know the rainbow of colors inside an abalone? Her nose was neither here nor there. Her profile was nothing remarkable, although she might venture to say she was at least passably pretty. Julia had washed her hair that morning, braiding it and pinning it up while it was still damp. Now it fell around her shoulders and down her back in great rippling waves. She took up her brush and began the hundred strokes her mother had always insisted upon. It was her usual habit to braid it again to keep it out of the way while she slept. Tonight the very thought gave her a slight headache. Her daily life was so constricted, so enclosed by propriety and expectations and the unspoken pity reserved for a woman who apparently couldn't catch a husband.
Julia didn't want a husband. She wanted a lover. She turned to stare through her bedroom door to the living room beyond it, wishing she had the strength, the gall, the sheer nerve to go out there and do her best to seduce Ardeth Bey. There were only two things standing in her way. One, while it was a most attractive prospect, she had no idea at all how to go about it. Two, if she failed, or even if she succeeded, he might regret the act strongly enough to keep himself out of her sight for the rest of her stay in Cairo. That thought she simply couldn't bear. She reached for the carnelian ring and held it cupped in both hands, then pressed a kiss to the stone before she slipped it onto her finger.
Julia scooped up the hairpins and dumped them on her bureau, then pulled back the bedclothes and stretched out. She tossed her hair back up over her shoulder to fan out across the other pillow. She stared up at the cracked plaster of the ceiling, not even bothering to make shapes out of the water stains. What kind of world was it where a man as beautiful as Ardeth Bey was out there sleeping alone on her couch, while Julia lay awake in her own bed, nearly sick with frustration? She closed her eyes and imagined him beside her as he had been that night in the tent. The fall of his long black hair across her face, along her throat. . . . The scent of his skin, warm and sandy yet with a faint spice all his own. The soft touch of his lips on her cheek. . . . The intoxicating sound of his voice, so warm against her ear as he called her "beautiful stranger."
A faint vibration in the floor brought Julia out of her fantasies. Someone was walking across the living room, back and forth, back and forth. It had to be Ardeth Bey, but by the softness of the vibration he wasn't wearing his riding boots. If he'd taken them off, how much of the rest of his clothing had he taken off? Julia gave herself a mental shake. The more important concern was why Ardeth Bey continued to pace. Something weighed on his mind, keeping him awake. Julia waited, feeling the soft thud of his steps make four more circuits of the living room. Propriety and respect for his privacy held her back. Curiosity and desperate desire urged her forward. Julia sat up, flung her robe around her shoulders, and started for the door. Better a she-devil than a lonely old maid.
"Slowly, my girl," she whispered. "Never startle a man who carries three different swords."
She took a deep breath, belted her robe around her waist, shook back her hair, then opened the bedroom door.
"Is anything--" She gasped.
Ardeth Bey stopped in midstride. He stood in the middle of the room, facing the window. He turned toward her, making the moonlight pouring in through the window show her every line of muscle on his naked torso. He wore only his black pants. His hair fell free across his broad shoulders. Muscles corded his arms and ridged his flat belly like a washboard. The left half of his face was in shadow, making the tattoo on his right cheek stand out in the stark light. More of the strange protective designs marked his forearms. Another pair had been inked in on his chest, with one more above his navel. Julia couldn't catch her breath. Ardeth Bey looked like some djinn, some sheytan, some dark and powerful spirit of the night.
"I am sorry," he said. "Did I wake you?"
"No. No, I wasn't asleep yet." Julia swallowed, tried to keep her voice steady. "I thought-- You seemed so-- "
Her voice failed before his steady stare. She couldn't take her eyes off him, yet the longer she looked at him, the greater the danger of her making a complete fool of herself.
On the other hand, if she let this moment pass her by, she'd hate herself for the rest of her life.
"It's plain to me something serious is worrying you. Can you talk about it at all? I hate the thought of you prowling around in here like a caged leopard."
"Caged. . . ." He cast an uneasy glance at the walls around him, then up at the ceiling. "A good word."
"You don't like being indoors, do you?"
Ardeth Bey walked over to the window and stared up at the night sky. "Ever since I was a child, the stars have hung above me each night. No matter where I slept, no matter what the season, no matter if it was a time of joy or grief. The stars are always there."
"They're still there now."
"Yes, but I cannot see them. And they cannot see me."
The wistfulness in his voice made Julia reach out to him, holding his hand between hers. He looked down at their hands.
"You are very kind, Miss Lawrence."
"My name is Julia."
They stood in silence. After a moment Ardeth Bey leaned his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes. Again that weariness shadowed his features. Julia's heart ached to see him so careworn.
"When my father had a bad day at the university, he would come home and ask us to let him be while he indulged himself in his recipe for relaxation. Shall I tell you what that is?"
Eyes still closed, Ardeth Bey smiled. "Please."
"A stiff drink, a hot bath, a thorough backrub, and a good night's sleep." She lifted his hand up between them and pressed it to her cheek. "I don't know what it is that's troubling you, but I guarantee Daddy's recipe will make you feel better."
"The Brotherhood does not drink liquor, although I have heard your whiskey praised by Americans and Englishmen alike."
"How about the hot bath?"
It was still so humid in the flat, even with the air from the window, that Julia understood completely when he shook his head.
"Well. That brings us to the backrub." Julia dragged her straight backed chair over in front of the window. "Here. Sit down."
"Why?"
"So I can rub your back. Lugging those scimitars around all day can't be doing your shoulders much good, to say nothing of what all that horseback riding will do to your spine. Now sit."
Julia put a briskness into her voice, hoping she sounded like a Matron. She felt like a great quivering bowl of custard. To lay her hands on his naked skin, to knead those muscles so hard and solid beneath it. . . .
Ardeth Bey sat down. Julia's hands shook as they hung poised in the air above his shoulders. Chiding herself for her cowardice, she settled her palms on the points of his shoulders. His skin was warm, smooth, firm. She worked her thumbs along his trapezium muscles, searching for the knots. They were there, nearly the size of walnuts.
"I'm afraid this might hurt a bit. I'm going to have to work rather hard."
Ardeth Bey's shoulders shook with silent laughter. Of course. Any man who'd lived through getting all those tattoos, to say nothing of being the leader of the Med-Jai, would no doubt have developed a high threshold for pain.
Julia shut her eyes and let her fingers lead the way, working back and forth along the trapezium, down to the thoracic vertebrae between the shoulder blades, then out to those muscles, the ones needed to wield his scimitars. They were dense, hard, molded to his rib cage. Her hands warmed to the task, the blood flowing as she worked her thumbs, the heel of her hand, even her knuckles into the knots that told the tale of his burdens. If the force she had to use caused him any pain, he never made a sound.
Now it was time to work on his neck. This took her hands up into the wealth of Ardeth Bey's black hair. As it fell across the backs of her hands and her wrists, Julia's blood ran hot in more than just her fingers. Ardeth Bey let his head fall forward. The breath eased out of him. Julia smiled. He had surrendered. What a peculiar victory, one that filled her with quiet joy. She combed her fingers through his hair, not even bothering to pretend she was moving it out of her way. She stroked his neck, letting her fingers drift forward, down along his bare chest.
Unfortunately, the unaccustomed labor had begun to make her hands ache. Her father had the sedentary figure of a professor, not the lean and powerful frame of a trained swordsman and desert warrior. Julia tried to ignore it, but the pain throbbed all the way to her wrists.
"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'll have to stop now. My hands are starting to hurt."
Before she could lift her hands from his shoulders, Ardeth Bey's hands came up to cover them and hold them there. "You should not have hurt yourself for me."
"Do you feel better?"
He moved his shoulders, rolled his head from side to side. "Yes. You are very good at that." He rose, still holding her hands on his shoulders. He raised his arms, lifting her hands up to spin Julia around. She laughed. They might have been dancing. Ardeth Bey caught her by the shoulders and planted her in the chair. He leaned down to whisper in her ear.
"You must allow me to return the kindness."
Sudden shyness seized Julia, making her panic. "Oh no, really, that's not necessary. I'd better-"
His fingers sank into the thickness of her hair at the base of her skull. He kneaded the muscles there, working down her neck with a gentle but firm touch. The sheer relief of it made Julia's head sink back into his hands. She opened her eyes to look up at him. He bent over her, the dark curtains of his hair falling forward to conceal his expression. He tugged at the collar of her robe.
"Did your father wear so much when you rubbed his back?"
"Well, no, of course not."
"Then you will agree that this is in the way."
Julia closed her eyes. He wanted her to take off her robe. He wanted her to undress in front of him. Well then. She'd make the most of it. She stood up, then turned to face him. Now the light fell on him fully, showing her the beauty of his face and figure, all light and shadow. She untied her belt let the robe slide off her shoulders, pooling on the floor at her feet. Despite the blush heating her cheeks, she kept her head up and looked Ardeth Bey in the eye. The moonlight streaming through the window behind her must surely be showing him every curve of her figure through the thin material of her gown. Much to her delight, she heard Ardeth Bey breathe in slowly, then let his breath out in a long sigh. He murmured something in Arabic.
"What was that?" Julia asked. "Did I hear the word 'sheytana'?"
He looked at her in surprise, then grinned. "You know that word?"
"Mr. Kufti frequently mutters it when he walks away from me."
"Does he." Ardeth Bey kept grinning, looking Julia up and down. He nodded. "You are that."
Wild joy spread through Julia. This man, this gorgeous man, saw not a proper bluestocking but a long-haired, good-as-naked she-devil. She turned her back to him, shaking out her hair, then started to sit down. Ardeth Bey caught her shoulders and held her upright.
"One moment."
Julia waited, every nerve alert. The tips of Ardeth Bey's long, slender fingers touched the crown of her head, gliding down through the length of her hair. His hands brushed the curve of her hips. Julia forced herself to keep still, fighting back the urge to turn and fling her arms around him. Ardeth Bey gathered up her hair in one hand and draped it gently over her left shoulder. With a light touch on her right shoulder he pressed her down into her seat. His hands settled on her shoulders, kneading the tight muscles there, pressing just hard enough to be effective. Julia leaned back into his touch, not caring if she found a solid streak of bruises in the morning.
Ardeth Bey worked down along her spine, his thumbs smoothing the knots from her shoulderblades. His hands moved lower, gliding down the filmy fabric of her gown, tracing the line of her ribs and waist. Julia drifted in a warm haze, content to remain like that forever. His hands traveled back up her spine, moving up her neck, every touch a caress, deepening into full massage when he found a spot of tension. By the time his hands were lost again in her hair, Julia was ready to slide right down to the floor. The stiffness in her neck and the ache between her shoulders were gone, replaced by the warmth and pleasure of his hands. Her whole body was turning into soft butter.
Those long fingers slid forward to cup her jaw and tilt her head back. He'd swung his hair to one side, letting it fall in a black wave down the left side of his face. The moonlight painted his olive skin a paler color, making his beard and mustache all the darker. The blue ink of the tattoo on his cheek seemed taken from the night sky. He was so beautiful, so strong.
"Better?" he asked.
"Much better."
"Will you sleep now?"
And end this waking dream? Julia clung to the moment, knowing it would soon pass. Not trusting her voice, she turned her head from side to side within the cradle of his palms. He knelt beside her.
"Then tell me, what is it you need?"
Julia stared straight into those captivating dark eyes. The moonlight illumined the irises, showing her patterns there like the folds in a length of dark brown velvet. Her entire body yearned toward him, everything in her soul cried out for him. She raised one shaking hand to brush her fingers along the softness of his beard.
"You."
A look of sadness came over his face, along with a regretful smile. The heat inside Julia turned to ice. Mortified, she drew breath to take back the damning admission. Ardeth Bey pressed two fingers against her lips.
"This is not the time. I will give you as much as I am permitted."
"And what is that?"
"The last ingredient in your father's recipe. A good night's sleep." He stood up, holding out both hands to her. "Come."
Julia wasn't sure exactly what he was offering her, but there was one matter that had to be settled first. "This isn't going to interfere with your vows or something like that, is it? I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself for me."
Ardeth Bey rewarded her with the white curve of his grin. "Sweet woman. How good of you to think of that." He pulled her to her feet, then took her face in his hands. "Take from me that which I willingly give, and ask me for nothing more. All will be well."
"You're asking me to trust you again."
"Will you?"
Julia covered his hands with hers, running her hands up the length of his arms to his bare shoulders. The silver of her ring flashed in the moonlight.
"Yes. I will."
Ardeth Bey led her through the doorway to her bedroom. He lifted her up in his arms, much as he had that night he lifted her down from his horse after the wild ride away from Collins. He knelt on the bed and turned to settle back against the pillows with Julia gathered close in his embrace. Her head on his shoulder, the length of her body pressed against his, Julia scarcely dared to breathe for fear of waking up and discovering this all had been a dream.
"I will tell you a story," Ardeth Bey said. "Drift with it. Let it carry you into sleep."
Julia rubbed her cheek against the smooth bare skin of his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath her hand. The solid strength of his arms around her was paradise itself. Ardeth Bey began to speak, pitching his rich voice low and soft.
"The night is the time of the djinn, the time of the devils, the time of darkness and evil. We watch, we Brothers of the light, we stand against the evil with steel and bone and blood. We are the line drawn in the sand. We are the guardians of the children who sleep safe in their beds each night. The children of the world are our children. We stand against the darkness, making way each night for the coming dawn."
The rhythm of his voice lulled her. Julia's eyes began to close. Now they opened wide. "So that's why I always associate you with sunrise! And yet, I only see you at night, in all this black."
Ardeth Bey nodded. "We abide in the darkness, for that is where the light is needed most. I am here, here for you, here to hold back the darkness you fear."
"How do you know what I fear?"
"I have only to watch what you believe you must defend yourself against. That tells me what you fear."
Julia wanted love, to be loved, to share her life with a man who would understand her need to roam the world in search of secrets and hidden truths. She feared she would become nothing more than a well-educated teacher or research assistant or one of those helpful women who populated libraries and bookstores. Older women. Lonely women. Women in cardigans with too many cats and no memories.
Julia held her breath, trying to hold in the sobs that waited to burst out of her. How many nights had she spent dreaming of Ardeth Bey, only to dissolve in hopeless tears? Even now they leaked from her eyes, betraying her. Ardeth Bey's arms tightened around her, one hand stroking her hair.
"You are not alone now, Julia. Have you forgotten what I told you? I will always be with you in your heart."
"In my heart, yes. But what am I to do when I want you in my arms?" She looked up at him. "In my bed."
"All things in their time. There is a greater need I must serve, but for this night, I am yours."
The heat of him beside her, the comfort of his arms around her, the rhythm of his hand gliding through her hair all combined to bring the welcome weight of sleep. Julia struggled back through the drifting borders to wakefulness.
"One more thing. Just one, then I'll go to sleep."
"And what is that?"
Summoning up every ounce of her courage, Julia shut her eyes and spoke. "Kiss me goodnight?"
"Just once?" His voice held the slightest note of sternness, but beneath that Julia heard a teasing note.
She nodded. "Just once."
Ardeth Bey drew his arm out from beneath Julia and leaned on his elbow, looking down into her face. He traced the outline of her features with one fingertip. His lazy stroking of her cheeks and lips roused every last nerve in her body. He leaned forward, letting his hair spill across her forehead and throat.
"I have thought of you often."
His voice was the barest whisper. He slid his fingers into the thick hair at her neck and lifted her up to meet his kiss. His lips moved over hers, tasting her, exploring the shape of her mouth. Julia's hands sank into his hair, combing through it again and again, drawing him closer to her. He tasted good, a hint of mint on his breath from the tea. The tip of his tongue followed the outline of her lips, lingering on the lower curve. It was all Julia could do to keep still. He was testing her, holding her to their agreement. She could ask no more of him than he was willing to give.
Julia sighed, relaxing back against the pillows, yielding to whatever delicious torment he insisted on inflicting on her. That surrender, that submission, brought Ardeth Bey to her. His mouth opened over hers, his tongue parting her lips. She welcomed him, twining her tongue with his. Ardeth Bey's free hand slid down her back to her waist, moving over her hip to caress her bottom. Julia stroked his back, not quite bold enough to let her hands roam lower across the taut curves of his buttocks and the heavy muscles in his thighs. He held her tighter, deepening the kiss still more. A groan rose out of Julia. Her nails scored his back. He answered her with his own growl of pleasure, vibrating deep in his chest. His hand slid up her ribs. Julia arched her back, inviting his touch, burning with the need for more.
Ardeth Bey tore his lips from hers and rested his forehead against her shoulder. His breath was ragged. Julia could feel the hammering of his heart.
"You see," he panted. "You think I do not trust you. You are not the one I cannot trust."
Julia stroked his hair. There was nothing to say. He wanted her, wanted her badly enough that he was in danger of breaking whatever obligation he had to put first. Ardeth Bey lay back against the other pillow, clasping Julia's right hand in his left. He lifted it up, rubbing his thumb over the carnelian. He brought the ring to his lips.
"Sleep now. The sun will rise, the day will come, and the darkness will be held back again."
Julia turned onto her side and snuggled down against his shoulder, her arm around his waist. Ardeth Bey kissed the top of her head. Smiling, Julia gave herself up to sleep.
Golden light poured over Julia like warm honey. Its glow shone through her closed eyelids. She smiled, recognizing this as one of her favorite dreams. It was early morning in the Sahara. Ardeth Bey had led her to the secret place where the Tuareg silversmiths worked. He took her by the hand and pointed out the semiprecious stones piled on the work tables. Carnelian everywhere, agates of different colors, mostly several shades of green. The jewelry was magnificent. Her only regret was she could never remember what he explained to her about the meanings of the patterns and the stones. The words faded the moment she woke up.
Julia shaded her eyes against the sun's brilliance and opened them slowly. Ardeth Bey lay stretched out beside her, his head propped on his hand. His robes were gone, leaving his shoulders, chest, and arms bare. Ah, so she'd moved on to this dream. She stared at the tattoos on his chest. They were different. The last time she'd had this dream, bands of Arabic characters circled his upper arms. Another tattoo like a sunburst marked his solar plexus. This time a pair of tattoos marked his upper chest, with another peculiar design above his navel.
Julia reached out to trace one of the tattoos on his chest wit her fingertip. He felt so real, so solid. This would be a very good dream.
"Good morning."
His voice. So close, so real. Julia's perspective suddenly shifted. Gone was the warm, hazy world of drowsiness. She was awake. Now wide awake.
"You're still here!"
"Of course. Did you think I would sneak away like a thief in the night?"
"But-- You have so much to do. All this trouble with the exhibit. You said-- "
Ardeth Bey pressed two fingers against her lips to silence her. He slid one arm under her shoulders and wrapped the other around her waist, pressing the full length of their bodies together. Julia settled her head beneath his chin. Ardeth Bey let a handful of her hair sift between his fingers. He spoke so softly she almost didn't hear him.
"I could not leave you here to wake alone."
Julia buried her face against his chest, holding him as tightly as he held her. "Thank you. Thank you so much."
He touched her chin and tilted her face up, looking down into her eyes. "You think only in terms of your gratitude, as if you deserved none of this." He shook his head, smiling. "Foolish woman. Have you no idea how much you give to me?"
Julia looked into the depths of his marvelous dark eyes, her heart so full it overflowed, spilling tears down her cheeks. Ardeth Bey kissed the trail of each tear, catching it on his tongue.
"To live in the desert," he said. "You must have salt, or you will die." He kissed away the last tear. "You give me life, Julia Lawrence."
"I would give you my life. I would give my life for you."
Ardeth Bey's tender expression took on a wonder, then a gravity that made Julia almost fearful. He sensed her tensing and hugged her close, smoothing her hair.
"There is a name for one who would swear such an oath."
"Tell me."
He spoke a phrase in Arabic, the musical syllables rolling easily off his tongue.
"Now tell me what it means."
"I once called you 'beautiful stranger.' No more. Now you have become my beautiful friend."
Julia closed her eyes and held onto him with all her strength, sealing this moment in her heart. His heart beat in time with hers, their blood moving with the same pulse, their breath flowing in and out in the same rhythm. After several precious minutes had passed, Ardeth Bey kissed the top of her head and leaned back.
"I must go."
Julia nodded, running her fingertip over the tattoo above his navel. "I don't suppose you'd let me take a photograph of you like this?"
Smiling, he shook his head.
"Will you at least let me get my sketching materials?"
"Of course."
Julia rolled over and bounded out of bed, digging in her closet for the satchel that held her pencils and sketch books. She finally found them buried in a corner. When she turned back to the bed, Ardeth Bey was gone. Her bedroom door stood open. She heard the sound of a scimitar being thrust back into its scabbard. Out in the living room, Ardeth Bey was fully dressed, adjusting his second sword belt. Julia blew out her breath in exasperation.
"You said I could sketch you!"
"No. I merely agreed to let you get your materials." The wicked grin on his face did nothing to soothe Julia's temper. "I'm sure you can draw the patterns from memory."
Julia gave him her own grin. "I'm afraid my memory isn't that precise." She walked toward him, hips swaying, delighted to see his gaze had dropped somewhere lower than her eyes. "I'll just have to find some way to get you out of those robes again."
His arms slid around her waist, pulling her tight against him. He said nothing, letting her read the message of desire that burned in the depths of his eyes.
"You are a very clever woman, Julia Lawrence. I look forward to your efforts."
His mouth came down on hers, kissing her with such heat her knees buckled, forcing her to cling to his shoulders. He ran his fingers through the length of her hair, tracing the curve of her ear with his tongue.
"Remember. Keep the list, and give it only to me."
Julia nodded. Ardeth Bey held her at arm's length, his smile warm and tender.
"I thank you for your hospitality, my beautiful friend." He walked to the door, then paused to look back over his shoulder. "Until next time, Julia. Do not fear the darkness. As long as the Brotherhood lives, there will be light."
The End