I am yet again sorry about this being slow in coming; as is this story's habit the chapter started out flowing easily and then came to a halt before my muse finally was kind enough to let me finish the chapter. We continue our journey in the past. I hope that you enjoy it!
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The Past…
Over the last two months of their friendship Deirdre and Adreth had each begun teaching each other things.
Ardeth, four weeks ago, had placed a practice scimitar in the young woman's hands and taught her how to use it. She was in no way, shape or form a warrior, nor particularly skilled at it. However she was very graceful and fluid in her movements, and every inch a fighter. Eager to learn how defend herself and others, should the occasion call for it. When he had handed her a gun, though, she had looked at him warily, saying that it was probably a bad idea; when he asked why she made her point by missing the target so badly that he immediately took the gun away. She explained her degenerating eyesight; she could not "hit the broadside of a barn with a bat". When he asked where her glasses were she told him that she could see well enough to generally get around without them but eventually this would not be so. As long as she could do without them her grandparents did not want her to have them, since they "detracted from her looks". She admitted that she had frequent headaches from straining her eyes to read. He presented her with a pair of glasses two days later. She still could not hit the target but now she could at least read with fewer headaches.
A week after he began teaching her she found out he could not dance and she made it her mission to teach him. At first he had fumbled through most the steps and moves but eventually he found his feet and was able to lead her around their impromptu dance floor. He had yet to decide if it was the greatest pleasure he ever endured or the worst torture.
Ever since the kiss they had been increasingly aware of each other, with their attraction steadily growing. A couple weeks into her scimitar lessons Deirdre had arrived a little early to the secluded spot where they did their practicing; she had caught him going through practice movements…shirtless. She had been taught at a very young age that it was not polite to stare, and she had never really felt the need to stare at any man. Until that moment. She was unable to look away from the sight which had sent heat rushing through her veins. Then he had seen her and stopped. Deirdre had finally managed to look away, her face probably blending in with her hair. He had stood frozen for a few moments before moving over to where he had left his shirt and putting it back on. They had attempted to carry on with the lesson as if nothing had happened, but you could have cut the tension in the air with the scimitar they were working with.
Every time she ended up pressed closer to him than intended during a dance lesson. Every time he would wrap his arms around her to adjust her stance with the scimitar. Every touch, every look… They could both feel it building up; Ardeth knew he should break off their "friendship" immediately, but he found himself incapable of doing so.
This particular day she said that she had a surprise. She was leading him through the streets, where he had no idea, until she stopped at the back entrance of a building he did not know. She knocked on the door; a few minutes later it was opened by a man who grinned upon seeing Deirdre standing there.
"Deirdre, right on time."
The redhead smiled warmly back at him as she entered with Ardeth right behind her. "Thank you for letting us in, Jeremy."
He waved a hand. "Happy to help. Madam Neveu sends her best wishes."
A wistful look overcame the young woman's face. "Tell her I send mine."
Jeremy nodded and began to move off. "I'll leave you to it then."
"Thank you again," Deirdre called after him before he disappeared into another room; she then turned to Ardeth. He raised and eyebrow at her and a wide grin spread across her face. "Come," she grabbed his hand and pulled him along behind her as she made her way excitedly to wherever it was they were going in the building. She led him through two hallways and up a staircase before they came to a door; she opened it and pulled him into the dimly lit room.
The floor was smooth hardwood, the walls were covered in mirrors on three sides and a wood bar lined the walls.
Deirdre left him by the door, inspecting the room while she placed the small bag she had been carrying by one wall and began pulling off the long overcoat she had been wearing to reveal an outfit that was more revealing than he had ever seen her wear. She reached into her bag to pull out a pair of worn, faded, pink shoes. "You said that you would like to see me dance ballet some time so I asked Madam Neveu, a friend of my former teacher, to use this room." She sat on the floor and pulled on the slippers, crisscrossing the ribbons around her ankles.
"Did you take ballet lessons here?"
She shook her head as she twisted her long red locks into a strict bun. "No. But sometimes I come here and dance on my own. It's soothing."
She stood and went over to the gramophone and started it up; strains of a classical song drifted through the air. Deidre closed her eyes and began swaying slightly to the music. And then she was floating and flowing around the room; those two words were the only way Ardeth could describe how she moved, like water, like air. She rarely opened her eyes, lost in her own world; he wondered if she even remembered he was there. One song flowed into another. After a while he noticed that her cheeks were damp, from tears. He debated for a moment whether to leave it be or do something.
He stepped into the path of her turning form.
Deirdre collided with his chest; his arms wrapped around her, holding her up when she nearly lost her balance. Her eyes snapped open and coupled with his. Neither could look away. His arms around her waist pulled her closer; her hands, resting on his chest, gripped the fabric of his shirt. His head bent down and hers tilted back.
This time it was she who turned her head.
Ardeth pressed his lips together.
She dropped her head to his chest. He was about to release her when he felt her body shaking and realized that she was crying.
"Deirdre…?"
"I can't keep doing this," she sobbed out; he stiffened. She lifted her head to look at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I can't keep pretending that I don't want more than this." One of her hands released its grip and reach up to trail down the side of his face and neck, her eyes watched the path her hand took, while his fell shut at the sensation.
He reached up and captured her hand, pulling it away. "Everyone –"
"I don't care what 'everyone' thinks!" she cried, wrenching herself loose of him. She moved a few feet away, wrapping her arms about her. "Don't you think I wish I knew how things had gotten so complicated?" There was nearly a hysterical edge to her voice, but she was struggling to keep it in check. "Do you think that at times I don't wish things were simple? That I did not feel for you as I do? That I did not want you like I do? But I do! And I can't stop it, and I can't honestly say that I even want to now!"
His lips were on hers in a second. She pushed at his chest fruitlessly a couple of times before her arms slid up to wrap around his neck. He ran a hand up her spine to the back of her head. As his thumb swept along the skin of her neck she gasped; he deepened the kiss and when she returned it with enthusiasm he groaned.
Finally he tore his mouth from hers; she made a sound of protest, but he covered her lips with his fingers, looking her straight in the eye. "I don't do things by halves, Deidre." His expression had her heart racing.
"Neither do I."
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For all the complications that giving in and allowing their relationship to turn romantic caused, for them, personally, it was so much simpler. Easier. Like breathing.
A few days after the turning point in the dance studio, Deirdre introduced Ardeth to her friend, Heather. With Deirdre, whom they both loved, endorsing them to each other they came to like and respect each other fairly quickly. Heather frequently joined them in their lessons, especially the dancing lessons where she revealed to Ardeth that she was a talented musician and vocalist; she would play – and sometimes sing – for them while they moved over the dance floor. Now that she knew what was going on between them she was happy to not only turn a blind eye but on occasion cover for them, which they were particularly grateful for after the first time Deirdre did not sleep in her bed at Heather's house.
Deirdre had quietly slipped into the house early the following morning; Heather was sitting on her bed waiting for her.
The blond had raised an eyebrow and simply said, "Be careful, and next time let me know beforehand so I have more warning to come up with a story."
Deirdre had nearly gaped at her but nodded in agreement.
And so their affair continued.
Until, weeks later, Ardeth received a letter from home.
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They were tangled together on Ardeth's bed in his apartment. He ran his hand up and down her bare back in a lazy caress, but she could tell his thoughts were preoccupied.
"Ardeth."
"Hmm?" he said distractedly.
"What's wrong?"
His hand stilled.
She pushed herself up to look at him – being around dancers so much had made her a little self-conscious than most about her nudity. "What is it?"
He looked away, taking a deep breath. "I received a letter from my mother this morning."
She nodded for him to continue.
"My father has had a stroke."
Deirdre gasped.
"They need me to come home for a while. But…" He reached up and cupped her cheek in his hand, "I do not want to leave you, but it would not be…proper, under the circumstances, to bring you without telling my father first."
Her heart was pounding; she swallowed. "You – you want me to go back with you?"
He sat up and raised his other hand so that her face was cradled between his palms. "That and more. I want to come back for you and bring you to my people as my bride."
Joy overflowed in her heart.
He took a deep breath. "Weddings are different among my people than they are among yours. But if you want a ceremony in a church as well, we can do that."
She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "Yes, Ardeth, yes to everything."
Relief and love spread across his face; he leaned forward and kissed her. "I love you, Deirdre O'Connell."
She grinned. "I love you too, Ardeth Bey."
"I have something for you." He leaned back toward the nightstand, opened the drawer, pulled out a velvet pouch and closed the drawer again. He reached into the pouch and withdrew a silver necklace.
She gasped. "It's beautiful."
"Turn around," he requested.
She did so; he was seated behind her. He reached over her head, draping the necklace over her chest and clasping it behind her neck. He pulled her hair out from it and pressed a kiss against her nape.
She brought the pendent up to her eyes. "What is it?" She looked at him questioningly over her shoulder.
"I suppose you can consider it a promise or reassurance that I will return." A troubled look passed his eyes. "Promise me you will never take it off."
She was surprised at the near-commanding tone in his voice that he had never used with her before. "Why?"
"It will protect you," he said simply, though it actually confused her more. "Promise me…please," there was a pleading tone in the last word that finally convinced her.
"I promise."
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Later she would learn that it was a jealous, would-be suitor who betrayed her secret affair.
Two weeks after Ardeth left her grandparents had unexpectedly blown into Cambridge, dragged her – nearly literally – out of Heather's home and back to one of their estates, furious at her "gall" to "carry-on with a savage".
She became a virtual prisoner in the house.
Nearly a month after she was first locked up in her room the secret she herself had only discovered two days before being unceremoniously removed from Cambridge became too obvious for her maid to miss and was reported to her grandparents, increasing their ire exponentially. They had decreed she was to remain locked away for the remainder of her "confinement". The baby, once born, would then be quietly shipped off to an orphanage and she would be immediately married off to the suitor her grandparents had chosen, incidentally the one who had ratted her out.
The thought of her child being taken from her vaulted Deirdre into action. The instant she sensed her grandparents and the house's staff's guards down the slightest bit the escaped her prison. She had squirreled away enough money and brought enough jewelry to pay her way to Egypt. She stopped in Cambridge on her way, to say good bye to Heather. Her friend informed her that Ardeth had returned for her, but had left a week ago to try and find her. Deirdre had not dared to stay but had asked Heather to tell Ardeth, if he returned, where she was going. After a tearful farewell to her friend she had left.
Deirdre managed to find Rick, who had been shocked, to say the least, at his sister's "condition", but had decided to try and go straight for his sister and her unborn child who now depended on him. So he had gotten a commission and taken them to Libya, Deirdre was reluctant to leave but had little choice. When they arrived she had begun to resign herself to the idea that she may never see Ardeth again with no way to get in touch with him.
She gave birth to a beautiful baby girl who was the center of her world. And even though by the time they had returned to Cairo she had given up any real hope of seeing her beloved again she still wore the necklace.
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Ardeth sat beside his father, who was asleep, they were told this was for the best since it would help him heal. His father was doing better than when he had first returned, but it was doubtful that even once he had recovered he would be able to lead once more. Ardeth bowed his head, feeling a bit guilty for his heart longing to return to Deirdre rather than remain here where he was needed.
"You are troubled, my son," his father's struggling voice had Ardeth's head snapping up.
"Abba, you should be resting." He leaned closer.
"Cannot, when you suffer," he managed, though it was an obvious effort. "What troubles you? You have not been the same since England."
Ardeth lowered his head to stare at his hands, wondering how to tell his father.
"Ah," came his father's knowing voice; the young man looked up questioningly. "You have left your heart there."
Ardeth sucked in a surprised breath but nodded slowly.
Faraj Bey gave a soft chuckle and lifted his good hand to point at his son. "It is in your eyes." He lowered his hand. "Tell me about her."
Ardeth began telling his father about Deirdre, slowly at first but more quickly with each word; one would have to be blind and deaf not to see and hear his love for her.
Faraj took a deep breath and settled back more on his bed. "This is good. You will go and bring her back to us."
Ardeth nearly collapsed with relief. "Thank you, Abba."
But the path of true love never did run smooth.
He returned to Cambridge to find out that Deirdre's grandparents had returned, months early, and had forcibly taken her away. All he had to go on were the locations of their estates, given to him by a tearful and worried Heather. By the time he had reached their third estate news had caught up to him of Deirdre's escape, though her grandparents had attempted to keep it hushed up. He had rushed to Cambridge in hope of catching her there with Heather, only to find that she had left for Egypt to look for her brother.
He immediately caught the next boat home, and began the search for her, but except for a few sightings, some which were highly questionable, he had no more information to go on. He returned to his people and father, heartbroken.
Faraj had lived for two more years but indeed had not been able to retake the mantle of leadership, so it was handed on to Ardeth. His people found in him a strong, steady, good leader, his father's son. But all could see that his heart was not with him; since he had told none but his father about Deirdre they could only speculate what had happened.
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Present(ish) in Cairo…
Deirdre was sitting with her chin propped on her hand, staring out the window at the sunset.
"So," Evy's soft voice drew the redhead out of her memories to look at her, "what will you two do now?"
Deirdre frowned, troubled. "I don't know." She looked down at her lap, she had folded her legs under her on the cushioned chair. "It has been nearly six years since we saw each other last, that's a lot of time apart and neither of us is the same anymore."
"But," the dark haired woman began hopefully, "you still love each other. So you could still work things out."
The redhead had a wistful look on her face. "Maybe," she said, afraid to hope. She went back to staring out the window.
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In the desert…
Ehsan stood watching his elder brother as he went about his usual habit of sunset-watching. Ever since that red haired woman had called out to Ardeth during the skirmish among the ruins, he had been distracted, which was not normal for the dedicated leader. Ardeth treated the woman, Deirdre Ehsan believed her name was, differently than any other outsider. They knew each other; that was blindingly obvious, but how? Was it from his time in England? If so, was she the reason he was so different when he returned?
Ehsan sighed in frustration, knowing that even if he asked it was unlikely Ardeth was going to be forthcoming with any answers. He turned back to where the other men were gathered around the fire, leaving his brother to brood.
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I hope that it was ok! Thank you so much for reading! As ever, let me know what you think!