One Desert Night - By Maggie Cox Page 0,18

kept ready for his use, Zahir took off his boots and unwound his broad leather belt. He laid a match to the dry tinder of the cooking fire and, sitting cross-legged before the flickering frames, placed the waiting coffee pot in the centre. As the tempting, comforting aroma of delicious Arabian coffee filled the night, Zahir rubbed the back of his hand across his tired eyes and stared out into the distance.

Apart from the crescent moon and its accompanying tapestry of bright stars the night was deep as an ocean and blacker than the wing of a raven… But he never at any time found it threatening. On many sleepless nights he had come out here to his private sanctuary and found that the enfolding darkness acted as a balm for the sorrow he'd endured daily since the death of his parents and since Farida had lost Azhar. He'd also sought solace from the knifing hurt Gina had caused when she'd told him she wasn't returning.

Stoking the fire a little with a stick, he watched the sparks crackle and spit, erupting into the air like tiny fireworks. Gina… He couldn't even erase her name from his mind, let alone her taunting image. Seeing her standing there in her bathrobe, all flushed skin and tousled golden hair, had been the most colossal temptation. He'd burned to hold her close again—so much so that his body had all but vibrated just because she was in the same vicinity.

For the last three years he had tormented himself almost beyond bearing that she was with another man. Had she thought him a fool for trusting her so implicitly? For believing she would love him and only him for ever? The thought had him gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw. Could anyone blame him for believing a part of her very being would always be his when it was to him that she'd given the gift of her innocence that night? It was true what he had told her—he had known she was a virgin. A fact that had made their instant passionate connection all the more sacred and special. At least that was what he'd thought then.

The Heart of Courage's taunting prophecy had not proven true in his case, Zahir reflected bitterly. The sooner he was rid of that blasted jewel the better… Before he started to believe its prophecy had some hold over his heart, too…

Reaching for the nearby folded checked cloth that lay in the sand, he wrapped it round the handle of the coffee pot and poured some of the rich aromatic brew into a waiting cup. Then, turning carefully, he crawled into the entrance of the large cloth tent and sat just inside, staring out at the fire's dancing kaleidoscope of flame as he thoughtfully sipped his drink.

Later—much later—he lay down on the silk cushions and woven rugs and slept a little. But not before seeing the spectacular rays of the dawn seep through the intricate weave of the dwelling's fabric-made walls…

Jake and Gina were having their breakfast on a canopied covered mosaic terrace. In the distance the sound of someone playing the oud—a stringed instrument that produced a haunting sound not unlike a Spanish guitar—floated hypnotically on the air.

The two colleagues were not alone. Jamal appeared at regular intervals, issuing curt instructions to two young housemaids to frequently hand round dishes piled high with fresh chunks of khubuz—the local bread—earthenware bowls of fat glistening black and green olives and dishes of labneh—a strained cream cheese that resembled yoghurt.

At the same time as Gina carefully opened the stopper on a slim bottle of olive oil, to drizzle it on her bread, she sensed a warm bead of perspiration sluggishly meander down her back. The sun was already high and hot in the azure sky, and the thin full-length yellow and gold kaftan she was wearing felt more like a winter coat beneath such unforgiving heat. She hadn't been able to resist sitting outside—not after enduring one of the longest and bitterest winters back home—but she was far from at ease. How could she be at ease after the way Zahir had left her last night?

He'd been so accusing and angry…a million miles away from the tender, beguiling man who had so easily swept her off her feet at first sight. Again, her heart ached to make things right between them, but how?

Adjusting her sunglasses, she watched Jake lift a generous chunk of bread that he'd liberally covered in slices