By the time Ardeth stepped into the tent with a bowl of stew, she was sound asleep, laying on her side as that was the only part of her that didn't hurt. He sat down next to the bedroll and studied her relaxed features. She looked small and vulnerable like this. His eyes dropped to her body, looking at her for the first time without the concealing robes. She was wearing some sort of long skirt with a loose blouse, both in a fetching shade of green.
Although he had felt her body in front of him, he had not actually realised how petite she was. He was a good foot taller than her, maybe a little more and his hands could almost span her waist. But she was obviously filled out in all the right places too, he mused, his gaze lingering on the thrust of her breasts and the lush curve of her hips beneath the western clothing she wore. A feeling of what could have been guilt tried to impinge on his consciousness as he realised how heavy handed he must have seemed to her. The way he acted was not out of place in this country, however, and she would simply have to get used to that fact.
He reached out and gently grasped her shoulder, giving her a small shake to wake her up. No matter how much her body might need sleep, it needed food equally as much, if not more.
Her eyes flickered open slowly and she gazed at him unseeingly for a few seconds. Blinking the sleep away she carefully sat up, leaning as much of her weight onto her hip as she could, instead of her bottom, listing at an angle.
If Ardeth noticed he didn't say anything, although she could have sworn a flash of guilt crossed his face briefly. He held out a bowl of food to her and she took it from him, examining the contents and murmuring a thank you. She thought he would go away, but he sat and watched her as she began to eat, making her feel more nervous by the second.
She felt her appetite fade after she had eaten half of the bowls vast contents and moved to put it down, but his hand stopped her, holding the bowl steady in front of her. "Eat it all."
She couldn't fight the spark of anger that shot into her eyes at his command, even though she tried. She certainly didn't want to anger him again - the consequences weren't pleasant. "I've had enough, I'm not hungry anymore," she tried explaining, attempting to keep her voice even and not too sharp.
"You have barely eaten enough to keep a rodent alive since we first started watching you. You will eat the remainder of this food or I will feed it to you myself!" His tone was the sort that not a single one of his men would have disobeyed, but she was different. He could see that she was about to rebel, her expression a curious mix of fear and defiance, but he held his hand up in front of her, signalling her to stop before she even began.
"Do not test me, Miss Carnahan. You already know that I will not stand for arguments from you," he said, his voice deceptively soft.
She swallowed and wondered what on earth was the matter with her. Was she suicidal? Why did she have this awful urge to argue with him? It was the orders he kept giving her, she decided. She was used to a quiet life with no-one ordering her around, and he was used to being the big boss. She lowered her eyes back to the food and reluctantly picked up the spoon again, starting to slowly eat the remainder of the food.
He didn't move until she had finished her meal and he took the bowl away from her. "Good. I have told the men to retire to their tents soon as I thought you would like to bathe?"
Her eyes darted up to his and then away, nervously. "I would like that, but...where will you be? Will you stay in here?"
He smiled slowly and stood up, holding his hand out to help her up with him. "No, I shall be going with you," he said, still holding on to her hand.
That made her look at him fully for the first time since he had walked into the tent. "Going with me? But...but...you've already bathed..."
His finger over her mouth stopped her stammering. "I am not joining you, merely guarding you from prying eyes. I will have my back turned at all times. Come," he pulled her out of the tent and down towards the water. Once there she found that he had laid out an odd looking bar of what she assumed was soap and a bundle of cloth that she could use to dry herself. On top of the cloth was a bottle of perfumed oil and a comb, sitting alongside a folded black outfit.
"This should be everything you require," he said, pointing to the various items. "The clothing is an outfit from one of the younger and smaller Med-jai, although it will still be large on you. There are a pair of trousers which you can tie at the waist and a shirt. The outer robes have a belt and hidden ties, which I will show you when you have finished bathing." He looked down at her and frowned. "There are no...er...undergarments." He seemed embarrassed to be talking about such things.
"Oh, of course...well, I didn't expect..." she sighed and tried to overcome her own inability to talk. She had thought that she would be left in the tent all night after his treatment of her so far. "This is lovely. I never imagined...thank you."
Her stuttering comments had the ability to make him forget his own discomfort and he smiled. "I will sit here with my back turned and you may have the freedom of the water."
Charlotte looked around and saw that every tent was securely closed and that not one man was in sight. A few clothes were hanging up on any available object and some were laying on rocks. "Can I wash my clothing? Will it be dry by morning?"
He looked at the washed clothes she was looking at. "You can wash them, of course. But they will not be dry by the time we set off again."
"But, then why did your men wash theirs?"
"Because they do not mind wearing damp robes, and some of them have spare clothing, as you now know," he explained, shrugging. "Now, come, wash yourself, we must sleep soon."
He saw how wary she was and made a great display of turning his back and settling himself down in the sand. It took a few moments, but eventually he heard the soft sound of clothing being removed and then the gentle ripples of the water lapping at her ankles as she walked down into the pool.
"Oh, my..." she shivered.
"It is colder than you had imagined, hmm?" Ardeth asked her, almost hearing the shiver she gave.
She looked over her shoulder to reassure herself that he wasn't watching and continued on her journey into the pool, until she was immersed up to her shoulders. "I thought is would be warm," she answered belatedly.
"It is better that it is cool. More refreshing," he said, leaning back on his elbows and looking up at the stars. He couldn't deny the fact that what he really wanted to do was turn and look at her soft body instead, see all the treasures she had hidden underneath the restrictive clothing, but that was a pleasure he would not have until he was given permission by her to do so. Permission that was unlikely to be given, considering how he had treated her on this short trip. He frowned and tried to think if how he had handled her had been wrong, but he couldn't decide. A woman of his village would have been treated in the same manner, and accepted the punishment, but an Englishwoman? Perhaps he should have left it up to O'Connell or Jonathan to mete out her punishment.
It never occurred to him that they would not have seen the need for punishment at all. She had merely been answering him in the same vein with which he spoke to her. He had always imagined that O'Connell had severely punished Evelyn for the way she had acted at Hamunaptra, but had never spoken to his friend about this.
However his American or English friends would have dealt with Charlotte, he felt justified in his own conduct. She was in his country and, at the moment, in his care. Therefore she must behave as his own rules dictated.
Charlotte relaxed as her body got used to the cool temperature of the water and started soaping herself, enjoying the spicy scent as she lathered her body. It was so nice to wash the grime and dirt off her from the last few days that she forgot her inhibitions about standing nude in the middle of the desert. For some reason she couldn't yet fathom, she actually trusted Ardeth to keep his back turned. Despite what he had done to her she knew that he kept his word when he gave it.
Still, she didn't want to spend too long wallowing in this brief luxury, so she hurried to wash her hair and then set about getting her clothes relatively clean, including her undergarments.
Stepping from the water, she picked up the bundle of cloth and wrapped herself in it, pleased to find it was almost as large as a sheet and kept every bit of her hidden. She shivered as she dried herself, once again surprised at how quickly the temperature dropped out here. It was so hot during the day that she often felt she would pass out and then, at night, it was like being in the middle of a block of ice.
The trousers, when she finally put them on, were absolutely huge. Ardeth may have thought the boy who owned them was small, but he had no idea how much smaller she obviously was. She tied the drawstring at the waist and set about rolling up what seemed like yards of material until her feet poked out of the bottoms. The shirt was easier because, even as large as it was, it didn't gape open at the front too much and the ties there dealt with any problem of modesty. The sleeves had to be rolled up too, and in the end she thought she looked fairly decent. Her hair was a big problem though. It was tangled almost hopelessly from the days and nights in the desert and she hissed in a breath when the comb caught in a particularly large knot.
She noticed Ardeth sit up straighter at the noise, but he didn't turn his head. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, I just can't get this comb through my hair," she answered, working her way through yet another tangle.
"Are you dressed?" Ardeth asked, still sitting with his back to her.
"Sorry, yes I am, it's okay," she said, concentrating on her hair.
Ardeth turned and smiled at the sight she made in the over large clothing. The material almost swamped her, but she seemed to have made adequate adjustments. His eyes were drawn to her breasts as the soft breeze blew the dark material against her body. It wasn't thick material and he could see the pearly glimmer of her flesh beneath it, a fact she was obviously unaware of. He forced his gaze away from her alluring curves and watched as she struggled to pull the comb through her wet hair.
"Let me help you," he said, taking the comb from her before she could protest and moving around behind her. He held the thick weight of her hair in his hands as he smoothed it over her shoulders so it hung down her back, then proceeded to use the comb and the perfumed oil he had laid out for her.
"This oil will make it easier to comb through," he explained when she asked what he was doing. She sniffed delicately when he rubbed a few drops of the substance through her tresses, liking the unusual spicy scent. The feel of him combing carefully through her hair made her relax and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting out a sigh of contentment.
Ardeth smiled at the small sound. She may not trust him entirely, but she was finally beginning to relax in his company, which was a good sign.
He frowned. That was all good and well, but what if she was outspoken in front of his men again? He would have no choice but to deal with her, and then whatever fragile truce they managed would be gone. No matter, he thought, trying to shrug off the problem. He had known the O'Connells for many years now and this was the first time he had ever met this woman. He doubted that he would ever set eyes on her again once he had taken her back home. His treatment of her did not matter.
He concentrated on his task and before long her hair was tangle free and beginning to curl as it dried. Ardeth couldn't resist running his fingers through it one more time, fascinated by it's colour. What are you doing? he thought to himself. He abruptly pushed her away and stepped back.
"I am finished. Gather your things and go to the tent, we will leave in a few hours," he ordered and marched off to the other side of the pool, leaving her standing there alone.
Now what? she wondered. She couldn't work this man out. Just when she thought he was being kind he started snarling at her to change her opinion. Perhaps it was a thing with these tribesmen. That and the fact that she was a white, blonde westerner, she supposed. Well, whatever. Two could play that game and she had no intention of being polite to a man who didn't know the meaning of the word.
She gathered up her things, taking the time to lay out her clean clothes on any available surface, and then made her way to the tent. She still held her underwear, not thinking it seemly to lay that out in full view of the men. She managed to drape it over the crude tent poles before she lay down on the bed. It was surprising how tired she felt, considering it was still probably early in the evening. She had no watch and so had no way of knowing what time it was, but the moon hadn't been up for that long and still, she felt exhausted. After all the trauma of the day, perhaps that wasn't so strange after all.
Her eyes drifted closed as she relaxed against the slightly rough blankets and she slept.
