My dear darling patient and readers (who I love!)

Thank you so much for your understanding! Here is a small chapter but I promise you two long chapters hereafter. This is a very smooth chapter… but you know what they say about calm before the storm. I hope I can depend a bit more on your patience.

Cannot wait to hear your reviews.

Thank you Singular Toast!

Enjoy all

A

Chapter 3- The Journey

The packing of the caravans and dromedaries woke her with a start and she looked around the tent for the familiar face. She had involuntarily moved to the middle of the sleeping mat in the night seeking warmth and yet she opened her eyes to an empty space beside her. She stretched out her hand and laid her palm on the surface. Cold.

Dastan had risen and moved for while it seemed. She sat up on her mat. Any rational person should not feel this sated in this situation- she was escaping from an assassin, protecting an ancient secret, and had married in a gambling den to her intended brother-in- law, who happened to have slept with half the women in the capital. Instead of being mortified, she quickly covered her mouth with both hands to drown her laughter. She was married, married, and now she had set out on a journey with Dastan pretending to be husband and wife. Her life had been planned, dictated and stable, and now an eccentric poet could not have written this adventure better. She recognized the change in her. She was less cautious and grave in all her thoughts. There was one reason for that- her trust in Prince Dastan.

It was high morning and the caravan was packed for departure, yet Dastan, the person who refused to let her out of his sight had not visited her once. She finally found him at the border of the Valley, pacing like a caged animal. He did not even see her approach and when he finally looked at her, she noticed his face was ash and eyes held an un-telling sadness.

She let him pace until finally he came to her.

"Word had come to Sheik Amar that Tus was crowned King... My father—" he broke away to stifle the hurt in his voice.

He explained that a proclamation had been made across the Empire that the crown was transferred to Prince Tus from King Sharaman due to his health, and Garsiv was now serving as a Vizier. Tamina understood the anger in his eyes. He was angry that he was not there for his family, his brothers. He was here with her with no connection to his family, no word of the real picture. His loyalty burned through his veins, frustration seeping from his eyes in the form of tears which he promptly hid.

"We can go back... Let's go back," she said in a hurried tone. Although she had always been taught to forget her people as soon as the dagger was in danger, she kept them close to her heart. She trusted King Sharaman yet she did not know how King Tus would treat her people.

He walked to her, his face straining to accept the offer. "No." He paused briefly to recollect himself. "No," he said again, "I promised my father that I would protect you and I will do that… Tus is a good man, and will be a good King… he will care for our people."

He took her hands in his, as if he needed something to hold onto, to ground him, and said, "We will go with the caravan and we will live away from this until it is safe for you."

And that was what they did. His heart was in constant turmoil, yearning to find out information or even go to his family. He should have been with his father, the man who truly gave him life though his love and kindness. He knew he had to keep his promise to his father and keep her safe. Strangely, Tamina's presence was a balm to heal his worried heart. It was a long journey made even more tedious by the forced separation of Dastan and Tamina. In caravans it was usual for the women and children to be separated from the men who had the odious task of navigating the terrain and protecting the families. Newly wed or not, they had to abide by the unspoken rules of a caravan and Dastan's concerns for her safety were brushed aside by all as an eager groom seeking his new bride.

One would think the time apart would quell the emotions each evoked in the other however it only seemed to encourage a certain sense of longing. Tamina kept arguing with herself that her feelings towards Dastan were of gratitude for her safety yet every time his gaze rested on her, her breath seized in her throat. She felt she had wasted their time together and now she feared they would be separated like this for quite some time. She had never thought that society would do everything it could to keep newlyweds apart but they did not want any eager show of lust from them! However, there was not a moment where she doubted her safety, for even when her eyes could not find him, he was there.

For him, the nights were the hardest when he longed to have her close to him. He lied and convinced himself that it was rooted in the concern for her safety yet images of her curves had nothing to do with her protection. It was like an addiction, this lust he had for her but again it was not lust. Nothing he could do sated him. He wondered countless times how it would feel to hold her against his body, have her underneath him, wanting and writhing as he pleasured her. And he did want to pleasure her. To teach her, to draw on that passion he knew was in her. He did not care if she was promised to Tus by word and did not want to think about any future except to be with her. This was going to be the longest journey of his life.

The trek to the lands bordering Hindu Kush was to take over three weeks and they would need to change caravans in order to head toward their lands. Tamina treasured each and every step of the journey. For the first time her eyes were seeing things she had only heard of in songs and rhymes. The border lands were a far cry from the amber heat of the Persian desert with distant hillsides, springs flowing downstream and a cool breeze teasing the soft grass that covered the meadow. It was the beginning of summer and the rough cold of winter and spring had been swept away by the sun. When they stopped to finally change horses near to their new home, Dastan watched as she slowly removed her cloth slipper and step on the fresh grass. She smiled as her toes caught the grass between them and Dastan beamed at her joy. That was the first time in his life where his happiness depended on another's. He felt happiness in her joy.

They had freshened up at the stream and changed into clean clothes. They were no longer two young lovers who eloped but they had to be Lord and Lady of this fiefdom. Tamina had kept the one good and clean outfit for this day- ivory pantaloons, a silk long dress and a yellow embroidered wrap-around coat. She covered her head with a matching ivory scarf and walked to Dastan who was also dressed in his maroon coat. His long hair was bound at the neck and his beard was now full grown, making him look older beyond his years. She smiled at him, knowing that he was also thinking of the challenge ahead. Pretending to be married in the caravan was easy compared to day on day playing the part they both were thrust into. Although she longed to end the journey, she feared what the 'Villa' looked like to Sheik Amar and judging by his tastes, this would either be a shack with farm animals or a garish manor. Dastan had told him that the previous owner, a nobleman, had lost the villa in an ill thought-out bet. This had been where he came with his chosen lady of the month.

A messenger sent ahead by Sheik Amar ensured that a covered araba was ready for their journey to their abode and no doubt the household staff waited eagerly for their arrival. Around midday, the neat row of the tenant farm houses came to view with sprawling farmlands and a bustle of activity concentrated at what was a little town. Eager crowds peered from their daily work and the children ran beside their carriage. They neared the high walls much further from the town and as the gate was opened, Tamina covered her mouth to hide a squeal at the serene and calm villa made from marble and wood.

The few feet from the gate to the entrance was covered with polished flat stone and the façade of the villa had four large pillars creating an arcade. The entablature of the building had floral carvings and this formed the receiving veranda for the house. The door and frames of the house were of rich mahogany. As she was helped down from the araba, she looked at the structure which almost looked ethereal. It did pale against her Palace yet wondering in anxiety for over two months made the shelter look as grand as her home.

"Welcome my Lord," the older gentlemen bowed, "my name is Adamkhel and I am the head butler and manager to your estate."

He was an older gentleman, tall and stocky with thick eyebrows and a stern face. He briefly turned to the lady beside him. "This is the head housekeeper, Husay, who is in charge of the household."

She was a pleasant lady, hair combed back in a bun and Tamina imagined that her grandmother would be as such if she were alive today.

Dastan greeted both and turned to Tamina. "This is my wife, Sousan."

Adamkhel inhaled sharply at the lack of decorum as the housekeeper and Tamina tried to hide their giggle. Clearly, Dastan did not know the ways of marriage.

"Your Ladyship," Adamkhel bowed, "shall we tour the house?"

As they were accompanied in, he gently turned to Tamina's ear and whispered. "Why did your name cause such a stir?"

She smiled again. "Husbands and wives do not use their names in front of others… it is too intimate and almost vulgar."

He scowled in annoyance, "That is a bit stupid… what do we call each other then?"

"I will call you Husband and you will call me Wife."

'Husband and wife,' he thought to himself. It was his idea, easy escape into a story without basis but here he was a married man. Well legally he was married although their bond was not complete. Dastan surprised himself in how calm he was at his situation. The journey had provided him time to compose himself on the raging uncertainties of Tus' rise to King. Every stop, he covertly gathered information on the state of the Empire. There were no concerns on security, concerns that his father would pass away, or struggle of power. His family had faith in him, perhaps he should too. More shocking to him was that he had gone weeks without brawling, drinking and no philandering thoughts had entered his mind. Has he been reformed? Has she reformed him? Those were his thoughts as he looked at Tamina being shown the villa.

It was a clean, spacious and simple villa with only the intricate carvings on the walls providing design. Apparently, when the unnamed nobleman lost the Villa, he had hurriedly removed most ornaments and artifacts of value as a last resort of retaliation. The villa was perfectly rectangular in shape with the ground floor holding the receiving rooms, library, meal rooms, house-keeping and kitchens with a charming courtyard. The upper floor held the guest rooms and the Lord and Lady's room. The master bedroom overlooked the back gardens with the large, heavy and canopied bed facing the windows. Polished candelabras, a divan and carpet decorated the room. To the left was the mistress's room and to the right his facilities and clothes room. However, for security, they decided to share the master room so that he would watch over her, risking all the scandalous rumors of the married couple sharing a bed!

Tamina opened the trunk and looked at the beautiful clothes left behind by the nobleman's mistress. They had rich embroidery, beadwork on silk material. In Alamut, as the guardian, she was only and always adorned in pale shades of ivory, white and pearl. Here, she was a wife of a nobleman and their duty was only to be as vain as peacocks. She held a teal and copper coat to herself and twirled, a giggle escaping her lips as the hem floated in the air. Suddenly she heard a strong curse from Dastan and she rushed through the connecting door.

There he was, in the middle of the room, wearing large ballooning pants so lose that he had to hold it at his chest!

"How big was this nobleman?" he said annoyed as Tamina started to laugh. "You and I could fit into these pants! Hell these pants can shelter the town from rain! Stop laughing"

She covered her mouth and composed herself. "We will find a solution."

"Easy for you to say, the mistress was slight as you…which makes me wonder if was she crushed to death," he said acidly.

"Oh stop fussing. It is just clothes," she tried to calm him.

"Oh," he said sarcastically, "So you want to see me with my pants on the floor... fine then."

Suddenly, he released the pants and Tamina thinking that he was naked underneath squealed and covered her face. He stood fully clothed and had a revengeful laugh on her account. After the excitement of the day, Dastan ordered a bath and tray to be brought to Tamina while he continued to check the security of the villa.

He wanted the least number of household staff and personally checked for vulnerabilities in case they were found. Instructions were left to ensure that they were not disturbed in the morning and they would awake and come for breakfast. No maids should disturb her Ladyship who will call if she requires anything. No outsiders were to come into the villa and the gates were not to be opened for anyone leaving, including his wife. When he walked into the room, the lamps had died off and only the moonlight illuminated the room. He looked at the small curled up figure in the right corner of the bed. Her hands were tucked under her chin, lips parted, and the sheet covering her rose and fell with her breathing. The fragrance of Lilly of the Valley danced in the air. He wanted to lay next to her, press his face into her hair, inhale her scent. He walked up to the side and softly touched her hair. "Tamina," he whispered.

Dastan had desired for her throughout the journey and now as he looked at the sleeping figure, he was almost ashamed of his thoughts. Ashamed that he branded this feeling as lust when he feared it was so much more. This was temporary. He had been without a woman for weeks and he had been fighting emotion of abandoning his family. Clearly that was the reason for the feelings. Clearly.