"Be careful with that!" Ananiah Roche snapped in worried annoyance at the hired help as they carried the precious wrapped item into the heart of his temple. "Have you any idea what lengths I had to go to to acquire it?"
The servants shied away from his wrath, trying to back up while still carrying the large, flat object wrapped in thick velvet cloth. They brought it to the stand and set it down against the metal frame. It made a slight scraping sound that made Ananiah cringe.
"Of course they don't, Divine Husband," the voice was deep and warm, and rolled through the chamber like the purring of a huge cat. He smiled and looked up to watch her approach.
She, like the eight others of her women, was draped in layers of dark blue silk so lightweight and fine that they floated around her body like mists and were just as translucent. He could clearly see the swell of her breasts and the darker more tantalising places that he so often explored.
He breathed deeply. He was a man who lived in the warm darkness between shadows and death.
She and her women stopped at the foot of the nine stone steps that led up to the temple's altar and now housed one of the items they had fought so hard to get. All nine women lowered themselves to their hands and knees, making abeyance before him. He felt the stir of desire that the power kindled in him.
"Ooben," he said lightly. The woman that had spoken rose soundlessly to her feet. "Ee-oo."
She started up the stairs toward him. He reached out for her as she neared him and pulled her into his embrace, burying his hands in the silks that proved no barrier against his touch. She moaned and opened herself to his needs and he plundered her mouth, marking his possession of her.
"Did you retrieve the other item," he asked after several long moments.
"Of course, my Lord," she answered breathlessly, and snapped her fingers.
One of the other women came to her feet then, and approached, carrying a large black book, with a star shaped pattern indented into the obsidian cover. She placed it into his waiting hands and then returned to her place, face down on the stone floor.
He looked down at the book, and the pattern on the cover. It had once been a lock, but the hasp had long since been burned away by strong acid to allow free access to the text.
"You have done well," his praise held a note of surprise. He had not expected the expedition to have been as successful. "And what of the guardians? Are they dead?"
"Yes, Lord."
"All of them?"
"All of them." She purred.
He smiled again, and made a sound of triumph that came out as a hiss. He did not believe his good fortune. He had found the temple, he had found the site of the former oasis, and his warriors had defeated those set to guard that hallowed place. Now all he needed were the rest of the artefacts, and the body of the one that would serve as his link with the divine. He already had the sacrifice.
"Where is she?" The woman at his side asked, looking around the temple.
"Sleeping," he answered, once more caressing the woman through her silken drapes. "She was tired after such an eventful day, but she has guided us well so far and has earned her rest."
"Yes, Divine One,"
"Now, go to my chambers, all of you." he commanded. "I must see to the mirror, and then I will need the company."
**
Just another day…?
A beam of sunlight played across her face, prying open her eyes to the Sahara morning, still relatively cool as it was yesterday and no doubt would be tomorrow.
She closed her eyes again, willing the light to fade, the sun to sink again below the horizon and keep from dawning on a day that she'd known had been coming for many, many years. When she opened them again the sunlight was still filtering through the canvass of her father's tent.
Her heart hammered in her chest as though it was trying to find a way out, to escape. It echoed her thoughts of the previous moment, for she knew that unless the day failed to dawn, there was no way that she would be kept from the role for which she had been groomed for over half of her young life.
She took a deep breath to try and slow the frantic beat of her heart. Her hands shook as she sat up and picked up a robe to cover herself. Already the sounds of life from the Oasis around her proved the day to be well and truly begun; only she lay sleeping still, one last vain attempt to deny her destiny.
"Ashna, habibti, are you awake?" her mother's soft voice penetrated through the separating layer of gauze fabric that separated her room from the others.
"Yes mama," she answered and looked up as her mother came into the room. She wore an expression of happy, quiet pride. Ashna closed her eyes and sighed. For a moment she felt as though she would cry. Her mother was so proud of her, it felt wrong of her to feel the way she did, but there was nothing that would change that. She faced the rest of her life married to a man she didn't know and had only ever seen from a distance. Like most of the Medjai she knew his reputation and had seen his strength and authority, but to be his wife…? The thought of it terrified her.
"I've brought your travelling clothes for you, my daughter." her mother held out a small bundle of folded clothes. "I thought I might help you dress for your journey. Abra is bringing your washing water."
"Mama," she started to say that she was not a child any more, but stopped as the tears that had threatened earlier flooded into her eyes. She felt like a child. She wanted to burrow into her mother's arms and never come out. "Thank you, I'd like that."
Before she could move her sister bustled in with a steaming bowl of water. She was four years her junior and in typical teenage fashion was enthusiastic for her sister's good fortune.
"Will you ride with him, Ash?" she set the bowl down, her eyes alight with excitement. "Will he sweep you up on his stallion and whisk you off like the wind… Perhaps you can get one of his companions to take me as his…"
"Abra!" her mother voice cracked out as Ashna bit her lip, sniffing back the tears. "Your sister does not need your chattering today. Your father's robes need washing, since you are so keen to have a man of your own to care for, you may take them and wash them."
The fourteen year old girl huffed loudly as she moved out of the room, and crashed about loudly before Ashna heard the tent flap open and fall back into place.
"Forgive your sister. She does not understand the importance of this marriage." Her mother began, taking her hand to draw her toward the bowl. As she undressed, her mother filled a soft cloth with warm water.
Goosebumps rose on her skin as her mother began helping her to wash. There were so many questions going around in her head that she didn't know where to start.
"You've grown to a beautiful woman, Ashna." Her mother broke the silence first as she passed the cloth over her breasts. "He will not be disappointed."
Ashna blushed and stood tongue tied as the weight of her mother's words settled over her already heavy heart. How could her mother know that? She had no idea what to expect, what to do, and already the man she would marry had children. How could he not find her disappointing?
"What do I do?" she asked quietly as her mother helped her to pull on the light sirwal that she would wear under her dress.
Her mother finished tying the dark green garment around her waist and then tenderly cupped her face in her hand. "Your husband will know, my little one. Do not worry."
"But how will I please him if I do nothing?" Her voice wavered slightly and a tear found its way onto her face. Her mother wiped it away with her thumb.
"When I was a little girl, younger than you are now and I was to be married to your father, I too worried about these things. Your gidda told me only that I would know when the time was right," she said.
"And did you?" Ashna asked fearfully.
Her mother picked up a dress of the same green fabric as the sirwal and helped her to put it on. She fastened it tightly across her small bust and smoothed out the skirt that fell almost to her ankles. Then she picked up a brush and pulled up a stool for her to sit.
"Your father brought me into our home – not this, but smaller. When first we were married we were not as prosperous then." Ashna closed her eyes to listen to her mother's tale and to enjoy the feel of the brush as it passed through her hair. "I was as nervous as a kitten as he brought me to his bed, but he was patient and gentle as I'm sure your husband will be."
"But did you know?" she asked again.
"Once we began," her mother finished brushing her hair and began to braid it against her head. "Once our bodies were joined, it was such a natural thing. My body knew even if my head did not. It is the way of these things."
"What does it feel like… joining with a man?" She stood and turned as her mother finished braiding her hair. She'd heard the idle gossip of the girls approaching marriage, and those recently so… even as sheltered as she was – more so perhaps than all the Medjai girls – it was impossible that they could keep her from everything. They said there was pain. "Will it hurt?"
"A little, at first," her mother said, "And likely you will bleed, but soon after, it is the most wonderful feeling. To know that you are so cherished… trusted enough that he will surrender himself completely into your body… no feeling can ever match that."
Ashna's heart contracted as she heard her mother confirm the gossip she had heard. Pain and blood in the getting and in the birthing. She'd heard one of the new mothers in the village say that. She opened her mouth to ask about babies and children but her mother gently put a fingertip to her lips.
"You will make a fine wife for him, my sweet child," she said. "Do not fear."
"Mama," she had to ask her mother one last question. "Do you love Baba?"
Her mother laughed. "What sort of question is that? Of course I love your father."
"And did you? When you were first married?"
"When your father and I first were married it had been arranged by our parents, just as we have arranged your marriage with the Elders of the First Tribe. Our love has grown through the years." She drew her daughter into a light hug. "As will yours with Ardeth."
**
Dawn was just creeping over the horizon when he pulled his car into the grounds of the hospital. He practically abandoned the vehicle and ran inside.
"Mister O'Connell, thank you for coming straight away." Sister Allen met him in the hallway and steered him toward her office.
"She's my wife," he answered and ran an exhausted hand over his face. "What's happened?"
She waved her hand toward a seat. It was then he noticed the uniformed man that occupied another of the chairs in the room.
She must have noticed the direction of his gaze because she said quietly, "This is Sergeant Ross of the local constabulary."
"Police?" his voice caught up with the racing of his heart and mind and he demanded, "What's going on?"
"Mister O'Connell," the police officer greeted him gently. "I'm afraid it seems your wife is missing."
"Missing?" He jumped to his feet again and turned an accusatory stare the hospital sister's way. "You were supposed to look after her, supposed to be taking care of her. What do you mean, missing?"
"Mister O'Connell… Richard," she started her sentence three times, taking a run up at it, he thought. "Rick, you must understand how agitated she was today. How disturbed… you saw her you…"
"You called the police?" He demanded in disbelief.
"We're worried that she might be a danger to…"
"No!" he interrupted forcefully, starting toward the door. "Not Evy."
"She was hospitalised…"
"Because she was harming herself," he said, swinging back around to face them. "Because I couldn't be with her twenty four hours a day, seven days a week and because her brother was coming apart at the seams too."
"I understand your…"
"Pardon me, lady, but you understand nothing… not a God damned thing!" he spat. "So if you don't have anything helpful to suggest, excuse me. I'm going to find my wife."
"Mister O'Connell, kindly sit down before I have you placed under arrest for interfering in police business," the sergeant said loudly. With a sigh, knowing it would not help Evy if he got himself locked up, he returned to his seat. "Thank you."
"I've already told the sergeant what I know of Evelyn's behaviour today, but you know her better than anyone," Sister Allen said gently, "Perhaps you could tell him about your visit with her today."
"I erm…" Rick had to clear his throat as he remembered, "I thought she seemed so much better today – like she finally had some life, you know?"
"Rick, come and see," Evy took his hand the moment he walked into her room. He almost swooned at such a positive contact. It was the first time in many months that she'd seemed so vital, so alive… almost happy.
"What honey?" he asked as she led him toward a small table at the side of her room. "What am I looking at?"
He looked down at a sheet of paper that was covered in tiny scrawling handwriting, which could have been drawings.
"Hieroglyphs?" he asked.
"Hieratic silly," Evy slapped his arm and giggled. It was a glorious sound and he accepted the punishment of the light slap quite gladly. "I though you know the difference by now!"
"I do, I do." He gave her a killer smile and waggled his eyebrows at her. "I'm just teasing."
"Oh you!" she slapped his arm again and then threw a tight hug around his chest. After he banished the surprise he put his arms around her and held her too, lowering his head right beside hers and rocking the both of them gently from side to side.
"Rick?" she said against his chest.
"What baby?" he tensed slight at the change in the tone of her voice.
"Do you think she's happy?"
His heart dropped out of the bottom of his shoes and his stomach leaped up to throttle him. Every time he thought there was a glimmer of a breakthrough, of Evelyn returning to him that question came up like an unscalable wall between them.
"I mean… I've been there and it's beautiful. I showed you right?"
"Yes, Evy, yes you did… and you do… every time you give me that smile of yours," he answered gently. He cupped her face in his hands as she pulled back to look at him. Her eyes were shining with tears that matched his. He kissed her forehead and she sighed and pulled away.
"Oh Rick, look," she snatched up the papers on which she had been writing and thrust them into his hands as though she'd forgotten that she'd ever shown them to him.
The broken halves of his heart grated together as he took the papers and looked them over. Trying not to let his pain show in his voice he said, "Hieratic, right?"
"You know your writing," she praised him in an excited tone of voice.
"I know my wife," he replied, swallowing hard, "But Evy, why Hieratic?"
She leaned toward him and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "They're spying on me."
"Who are?" he asked.
"The people here," she used the same tone. "They think I'm crazy."
He had to turn away to hide the broken expression that crossed his face. He sighed and fought for control, to turn back and reassure her that she wasn't crazy, just sick… depressed after all that had happened to them – hardly a surprise.
"I don't think she is, Rick." Her soft, mournful voice interrupted his torment. "I think she'd rather be home with us. I miss her so much."
She'd cried then, and so had he as he held her, before they forced him to leave, as they always did just when he was starting to make real contact with her… with her emotions and with his own. Perhaps that was the problem… that they had never really taken the time to grieve their loss after the last terrible adventure in Egypt that had left the whole family deeply scarred.
"But she'd seemed so much better," he said, feeling useless.
"Mental patients often do, Mister O'Connell, just before some kind of…"
"Whoa!" he stood up again and held up his hands. "She was not a mental patient. Depressed, yeah… crazy, no!"
The police officer held up a placatory hand. "Mister O'Connell, have you any idea where she might go? Anyone she might try and contact? We've already taken the liberty of informing your son's school just in case she'd go there."
"She'd come home," Rick said. "There is nowhere else."
**
"Baba!" Suhayl ran and jumped at him as soon as he entered his sister's home along side Tarek, her husband.
He caught the boy and swung him around, before hugging him close. It had been almost three weeks since he last saw his son, and he missed him so much. He tensed his jaw to banish the though that always came as a pair with that one.
"Have you behaved for your aunt?" he demanded of the boy.
"Yes, baba," Suhayl answered as he set him back on his feet. "I'm a good boy."
Ardeth looked over at his sister, and she nodded with a smile. "He's no trouble Ardeth. And he helps to keep Badr company."
Ardeth picked up his nephew, who came to investigate and was pulling on his robes. Badr was just one year younger than Suhayl, and it probably did help having the older boy around to help with him, but looking at his sister's belly, swelling with the life of Tarek's second child, he knew he couldn't expect her to play mother to his son for too much longer. He sighed, and put the child back on the ground to watch him race off with Suhayl into the far corner of the tent. Allah but he was tired.
"We have been away for many weeks. Let me take the boys with me so that you can spend time with Tarek," he suggested.
To his surprise, his sister shook her head, and even Tarek seemed surprised and a little hurt at this.
"The Elders want to see you," she said. "Leave the boys at least until you have been."
He sighed again. Would they ever give him any peace?
"We are only just returned," Tarek voiced his thoughts. "Can they not wait at least until morning?"
"They said it was urgent." she gave both her husband and brother an apologetic smile.
Ardeth reached over and squeezed her shoulder, before he slapped his brother-in-law lightly on the back. Then bone weary he exited the tent and made his was across to the centre of the settlement toward where the Elders held council.
"Welcome home, First Medjai," they greeted him as he entered. Their formality worried him. The last time they had been so formal had been the time they had told him of his own death.
"Respected Elders." He returned the formal greeting. "You asked to see me."
"We did," said one.
"Well I am here," he answered, feeling more than a little uneasy. "Speak what is on your mind, Old Ones."
He was too tired to play games with them, and anyway was almost sure he could guess what they were going to say and knew also it was something he did not want to hear.
"You must marry, Ardeth. You need a wife."
"I have a wife," he answered without pause. "I need no other."
"Meirionnydd?" A second Elder came from his side of the tent. He was carrying a huge scroll in his scrawny arms. "She is no wife to you, Ardeth. There is no record of a marriage."
"You're splitting hairs, old man," he growled. "According to the old laws and traditions of the Medjai we are man and wife. She shared my bed and bore my son, my heir. She is my wife."
"At best your concubine, First Medjai," a third Elder added his voice to the argument. "But without our blessing, just another woman that gave comfort to a tired Medjai warrior at the end of a long battle."
It took every ounce of self control Ardeth possessed not to draw his blades and cut the man down where he stood for even thinking so badly of Meiri. It was partly the fact that he knew it had been said to bait him that gave him the strength to stay his hand.
"She is my wife," he repeated firmly through clenched teeth.
"Nor have we accepted your choice of heir," the eldest of the Elders stepped forward, he at least Ardeth noted, almost had a note of regret in his old voice.
"This is outrageous!" he snapped and raised his voice. "How dare you presume to blackmail me? Because of your interference Meiri left the protection of the settlement… because you convinced her that she was the cause of all the trouble and now this!"
"Meirionnydd left because she knew what was best for the Medjai." The eldest said. "As did you at one time, my boy."
"I am not your boy, I am your First Medjai," he pointed at the gathered Elders. "And I will not submit to these kinds of threats."
He turned on his heels and started toward the door. He had never been more angry is all of his life.
"I could have all of you banished or worse for your conspiracy against the very heart of our society!"
"To what end, young buck?" An old voice called back fearlessly. He could not tell which one and did not care. He just wanted to be away from them all and to wash their foul stink off his body. "Already some of the chiefs of the twelve tribes are losing faith in your leadership."
He froze mid stride and clenched his fists at his side. "Speak," he demanded, his voice colder than a night in the open desert.
"There is still talk that your bringing the Usertim into the heart of the Medjai has caused the ill luck spoken of in Sekhemkare's curse. Some say that in continuing your dalliance with this woman you perpetuate that curse," the same voice said.
"It is not a dalliance, she is my wife!" he roared in frustration. "Would any of them expect for their people to demand they put aside their wives if a few of their battles turned sour…?"
"Or their crops failed… or their goats died… or children were born deformed or dead…" the Elders continued to throw a catalogue of the disasters that had been befalling the twelve tribes in the last few years at his back, for he still had not turned. "They need strong leadership now, not a man who constantly wanders the desert and leaves the son he calls his heir in the care of others."
"I ride the desert fulfilling my sworn duties in guarding the many sacred sites," he argued.
"You wander the desert to avoid you duty as First Medjai in providing strong leadership for the twelve tribes and sons to lead after you!" the Elder's accused.
"I have a son." He turned then. "I will not forsake him and I will not abandon Meiri. I will not put her aside for another woman!"
"Ardeth… Ardeth… Ardeth," a calm voice that he had not yet heard finally joined the argument as Mohammed came from the shadows in the rear of the tent and crossed the room to place a fatherly hand on his shoulder. He shook off the contact. "No one here is demanding any such thing."
"You have openly threatened that if I do not comply with your demands and take another woman to wife, you will not recognise my relationship with Meiri as being valid and disinherit Suhayl." His voice held a note of angry disbelief. "How can you say you do not demand it?"
"It is your own fear which makes those connections, my friend," Mohammed said quietly. "All we are saying is that for the sake of the Medjai, for the twelve tribes of which you are leader, you needs must marry. None here expects you to forget the woman who gave you back your life and bore your first child. Your wife will care for him as if he were her own and he will be your heir. What could be a more simple solution?"
"For you to accept Meirionnydd. She is my wife!" he said quietly. "And she is the mother of my son and heir."
"She will not come back, Ardeth, and you know that," the eldest of them said. "Not until she feels the ending of the curse's threat to the continuation of the Medjai."
"It is this separation which perpetuates that ill fortune!" Ardeth snapped, "And you who have perpetuated that with the half truths you told her to make her believe you. Ill fortune, I might add, for which you have so far failed to find a solution."
"Not so," Mohammed answered, still at his side. "We have just given you a solution."
Ardeth was so angry that for many long moments he could not speak for fear that he would explode under the ferocity of the words that were on the tip of his tongue. He forced himself into the solace of logic, reviewing the words that were reportedly those spoken by his ancestor.
By my life blood I swear that any Medjai breaking this interdiction will bring upon himself and his fellows the curse of ill luck in battle as in life, that his line will not survive. Know that this decision was not reached lightly… nor will there be mercy and nor will it be revoked until such time as the harm to our people brought by this act is undone.
"You were told to find a solution that unravelled the harm caused by the intervention of the Usertim between Imhotep and Anck-Su-Namun that resulted in the death of Seti the first and the events thereafter," he said in a very measured voice. "I fail to see how my taking a wife addresses even one of those issues. Imhotep is still the abomination he ever was; Anck-Su-Namun the true evil behind the whole sordid affair and the Medjai are still living an enforced separation from their balancing power."
"Ardeth…"
"No!" He snapped. "You listen to my words but you do not hear me. It has ever been thus with you people. Past your prime as warriors you seek to bend the future of the twelve tribes to your will. That makes you little better than Anck-Su-Namun yourselves. Your only saving grace is that you believe you act for the good of the tribes."
"How can you say such things?" Mohammed asked gently.
"Because they are the truth, Mohammed," he answered vehemently. "Plain truths that I see as did my father before me."
"Then what of the other commanders, Ardeth Bay?" As Mohammed looked away another of the Elders took up an important and more tangible issue than curses and conspiracies. "They need some demonstration that you are still the strong leader who will keep unity among them."
"And you think a marriage will do this?" he asked sarcastically.
"They have said as much," The Elder who carried the scroll toward him said, "Since it shows your commitment to providing sons to lead after you, who might be allied with the daughters of their tribes to maintain that unity."
Frustration and bitterness rose to almost choke him. He did not want another wife. He could not love another woman than Meiri so it would not be fair to the woman in question, and he had no doubt that his Respected Elders had some girl in mind. Yet he could not ignore that seed of dissention amongst his tribal brothers.
"Who is she?" he forced the words past his uncooperative lips.
"The same woman you should have married five years ago, Ardeth," Mohammed answered. "That has been promised to you these last ten years. We have already sent our escort to bring her here."
"Who… is… she?" he asked again and grabbed a very tight reign on his temper. How dare they send for her without first having his consent?
"Her name is Ashna al-Tahrani. She is the eldest daughter of Ishaq, brother to…"
"Sulayman, who leads the twelfth, yes I know," he sighed. Sulayman's daughters were all already grown and married women. He was well aware that if they were not it would be a daughter of his own that would have been offered. He had refused her once, but then they had been in the midst of vicious conflict with some of the other desert tribes, not in peace time, as they were now. To refuse again without a compelling reason to do so could well be taken as an insult. He settled on the only defence he had left. "I will speak with my wife."
"Ardeth…"
"I will speak with my wife," he said very slowly. "If… and only if she agrees…" He stopped and could not continue.
"You will consent to this marriage?"
"I will." It took great effort for him to bring the words to his lips, before he turned and stormed from the tent.
"Ardeth?" He pushed past Rashid who came to find him and began to once again saddle Marhana.
"Please, apologise to my sister and ask her to watch Suhayl," he said through clenched teeth.
"What is wrong?" Rashid asked.
"Please," Ardeth asked him, "Just do as I ask Rashid, I will explain when I return."
**
The sound of movement in the outer chamber of the cavern complex woke her and without a second thought she wrapped an outer robe around her and made a grab for the gun that Ardeth had given her. She crossed the room to stand by her sleeping daughter's bed and shaking a little pointed the gun toward the doorway.
The blanket slung across as a makeshift door was pushed aside and she tensed, ready to fire if she needed to, ready to protect the life of her child.
In the dim light of her lantern he was the most beautiful sight that she had seen in many weeks, his hair already unbound from its restrictive turban, his robes adding to the impression of height and power.
"Ardeth," she gasped and started toward him.
"Meiri…" He took the gun away from her and tossed it aside, then wrapped his arms around her and leaned down to enfold her completely in his embrace. "Allah, but I have missed you, hayati!"
She felt the tension in him then, the almost overwhelming sadness and frustration over and above his missing her, as she missed him.
"What is it, my love?" she asked, trying to pull back from his arms. He held her too tightly and instead she burrowed closer and held him as tightly as he was holding her. "It's all right. I'm here. I've got you."
His hand on her back moved up to her hair and she sighed deeply as his fingers slipped into the silky nest of it to pull her head away from his chest and he lowered his mouth to hers. She opened her lips to receive his kiss.
It started slowly, their lips pressing lightly together, almost as if they were gathering their breath in respite against the cruelty of the situation that kept them apart. Then he let out a soft growl that set every hair on her body on end with anticipation as he voiced his need. His lips pressed more firmly against hers then, and she felt the hot brush of his tongue along the line of her lips, before it dipped within, to meet with hers and stroke together softly as passions rose.
His teeth pulled against her bottom lip, his beard grazing the soft skin of her face as he shifted again to capture her mouth fully. His hands came up to cup her face almost desperately as his tongue began to spar with hers for possession of her mouth. She surrendered completely, needing the passion as much as he seemed to need to express it.
Wordlessly, he picked her up and carried her toward the corner of the room where the bed of soft cushions and goat skins was made, and set her down on it, kneeling beside her. His eyes sought permission to continue, for even after three years of marriage, he would never take pleasure from her without her wanting the same. She smiled softly and reached to grasp one of the bandoliers he wore and to lift it off over his head.
"Always, my heart," she whispered, shrugging off the outer robe she had donned when she had left her bed moments before.
She reached for the buckle on his belt as he followed her lead and removed the other of his bandoliers and then his boots, before he turned to face her again.
"You are cold, my wife," he noted and ran his hands over the swell of her breasts to press his palms against her already pert nipples. She closed her eyes and sighed at his touch, then leaned in closer to kiss his cheeks, his eyes, and his forehead while his hands continued their tender assault on her breasts.
"Then warm me, my husband," she breathed between kisses, and reached for the knot holding his outer robes firmly closed. She tugged the length of material free of his waist just as he pulled her closer to him and slipped his hands around her, to cup her buttocks and pull her against the hardness already straining in the front of his desert pants. Pushing off the many layers of his robes at once she wound her hands around his now naked shoulders, and holding him, lay back against the bed.
He followed and circled her with his arms, holding her against him and searching for the bottom of the robe she wore. She reached for his hand and guided him, sliding his fingers along the back of her thigh beneath the cotton dress, alive to his touch and then let go, to move her own fingers against the ties that held his pants fastened. They too succumbed to the need she shared with him and with his help she pulled them free of his body to leave him naked at last to her touch.
**
He moaned as her fingers encircled his length, and leaned closer to capture her mouth in another deep kiss. He tasted her mouth, breathed her breath but it was still not enough. After months apart he needed more.
His hand again climbed along the back of her thigh, this time to raise her leg over his hip. His fingers brushed against her centre and moaning into the kiss she pressed against him and rolled him onto his back, her legs falling either side of his as she straddled him and leaned against his chest.
The movement broke the kiss, and breathlessly he lifted the robe she wore over her head before he gathered her against him, naked now. She kissed and nipped his neck as she moved against his hardness. Never enough to take him inside her, but enough to let him feel the evidence of her need to do so as her heated centre glided over him.
She leaned up again and he cupped his hands around her full breasts, his thumbs playing over her nipples, squeezing them gently between his thumbs and the side of his hands. Her head fell back and she moaned his name in an expression of her passion as their mutual need reached a peak and he could hold himself back no more.
Sliding his hand into her hair he brought her lips down to meet his crushing kiss, and rolled them so that he was covering her. She wrapped her legs around his and ran her fingernails down his spine until she could grasp his buttocks.
He moved only slightly but brought them together to fill her until they were hip to hip, moaning her name as she sheathed him, the perfect match for him.
**
After many long moments of stillness he began to move inside her with an urgency and passion that stole her breath and had her reaching for him all over again, wanting to match him, to get closer somehow.
Her hips rose as his fell bringing him back inside her, their kisses proved a mirror for the actions of their bodies. She became totally lost in him, and in the moment of their passionate love.
There was no restraint, no reservations, just complete surrender to the emotions and the feeling… to the sensations of overwhelming oneness, each with the other. Her skin was alive with the touch of his hands, and his body against hers. Her heart beat to the rhythm of their lovemaking and her soul burned with the flame of his life force. She was surrounded by his protection, a part of his being even as he became a part of her body, as she surrounded the risen expression of his love.
He leaned up and she opened her eyes to see the most beautiful expression of poignant sweet agony of his face. His breathing was as ragged as hers. She reached up a hand as if drawing him back to her would somehow help her to reach that elusive ache that she could not quite reach to be free of. He nuzzled the hand and gathered her close again before capturing her lips in another passionate kiss.
A sudden break in the rhythm of their dance, and a deeper hard thrust against her… his lips came suddenly from hers and he cried out a wordless expression of fulfilment as his release crashed over him. She felt the heat inside her and she too burst, drinking him deeper still with the tremors of her own sweet death.
His weight settled over her as he pressed his head into the crook of her neck, as if all of his strength were gone. He was breathing hard and the light sheen of sweat covering them both began to cool them. She was about to reach for a nearby skin to cover them when she notices his breathing was not just hard, it was ragged still, and his body had begun to shake. He was weeping.
**
How could he ever turn away from such love? How could they even expect him to share himself with another than Meiri? How could he possibly even tell her what they had demanded and expose her to such pain as he felt at that thought?
In the vulnerability that followed the most fulfilling release that was her gift to him, the emotions of the day grabbed hold of him and would not let go. Emotionally and physically exhausted, he broke down and wept into her hair.
"Ardeth?" she questioned gently, but at the same time her fingers brushed against the back of his head and she tried to soothe him tenderly.
"I cannot!" he gasped amid his tears.
"It's all right, my love," she whispered, turning her head to kiss the side of his. "Whatever is troubling you we'll sort it out together."
"Meiri, please…"
"Ssshhh," she raised his face from her shoulder and kissed his lips gently. He knew it was to stop him from asking her to come home as he had been about to do. And knew also that by doing so she had already told him that she would not.
She continued to kiss and stroke him tenderly until he calmed, until the storm of emotion that had grown too great for him to hold inside had blown itself out, never minding for a moment that they still had not moved and she still carried his full weight.
"I am sorry," he murmured, and finally moved to lie beside her on the bed and gather her close in his arms.
"Never apologise for showing me your feelings, Ardeth," she murmured against his chest. Her fingers drawing little spirals against his stomach.
"This separation hurts, Meiri," he said. "Please come home."
"You know I can't," she answered. He sighed, knowing it was what she would say he still had to ask. He stroked his fingers through her long hair.
"I need you," he whispered.
"And I you, my love." She sat up then, and reached for a robe to cover herself. "But I will not endanger your people and when I am there, that is just what happens."
"You do not know that those things would not happen anyway." He tried to argue with her and took the robe from her hands. He eased her back into his arms. "Do not shut me out." He told her, kissing her brow.
"We both know the truth of this, Ardeth." She reached up to press her hand against his cheek and he cradled it there. "That words spoken in the love – or in the pain of love lost, as Kem's were, carry great power. We know that better than any living soul."
There was a long silence. He tried many times to find the words to tell her why he was so upset… why he needed for her to be with him now… back at his side, guiding him, balancing his strength with her beauty and his action with her wise words.
**
"There is no way to undo what was done, is there?" she asked, making a guess at what he was thinking.
"They still do not know," he answered. His hands shifted over her back to hold her more tightly, as though he was afraid to let her go more than a breath away.
"Then what, habibi?" she asked. He sighed and sighed again. "Please tell me what is troubling you so much. You're starting to frighten me."
"Oh, my sweet angel," he kissed the top of her head. "Never knowingly… forgive me."
She felt him sigh several more times and knew that he was struggling for a place to begin. Her stomach churned as she waited for him to speak.
"The Elders told me that some of the tribal leaders doubt my commitment to the twelve tribes," he said, and she moved so that she could look up into his face. She frowned at the ridiculous notion. When he spoke again it was incredibly slowly and carefully. "They do not believe I have made sufficient provision to safeguard future leadership of the Medjai."
She understood at once what he meant… what he was being so careful not to say to her, to spare her feelings. Even so the thought of it brought tears rushing to her eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat and said as much as asked, "They want you to marry."
"Yes." He confirmed her worst nightmare in a single word.
"And what did you tell them?" she asked, her voice warbling with the tears she fought to hold at bay.
"Meirionnydd, you are my wife," he said.
"No, Ardeth, not to them," she interrupted. "To them I'm just a woman that shared your bed often enough to get with child and…"
"To hell with them!" he spat vehemently enough that she pulled away, startled. His expression softened at once and he stroked her arm in silent apology. "You are my wife, Meiri, and I want no other. And I promise you, I will never love another."
"But you need to marry," she finished. She knew his words and his emotion were the truth, and knew just from the tension in his body that the thought of another woman than her sharing his life and his bed horrified him, but she knew also that he was as trapped in this situation… by the Elders' interference as she had been. "What is she like?"
"We have never met," he answered. "I know only that she is the niece of the Chieftain of the twelfth tribe…"
"When will the wedding take place?" she asked.
As though she could feel the emotions in the room, Khalidah woke and began to cry. Meiri once more reached for her robe and pulled it over her head to get up and see to their child.
"Nothing is arranged," Ardeth answered. She heard him get up and pull on his pants. "Nor will it be unless I am convinced that you understand the reasons for it and can give me your blessing for those at least."
"You're telling me that you want me to decide what you should do?" she answered tearfully, hugging the crying child close. Even so she leaned in to Ardeth as he wrapped his arms around both of them.
"As is the right of the wife of any Medjai," he answered. "Yours is the right to permit or deny another woman to come into our life."
"Bring her to me." Meiri whispered. "I want to see her… and then you can have my answer."
Ardeth held her very tightly, breathing deeply he kissed the top of her head and murmured, "I will not take her without your consent."