Innocent in the Sheikh's Harem Read Online Free PDF Page A

servant, and my brother’s, and my father’s before that.’
    Celia roused herself from the stupor which threatened to envelop her. ‘I’m sorry—I didn’t realise. It must be a great blow for you to lose him.’
    ‘He died an honourable death.’ Ramiz closed his eyes and spoke a prayer in his native language. His voice was low, and the strange words had a simple beauty in their cadence that soothed. ‘Now, go back to the tent. I will finish here.’
    An honourable death. The unspoken criticism hung like a weight from Celia’s heart as she made her way slowly back to the tent. Though common sense told her she could not have saved George, that to have disobeyed Ramiz when he’d told her to hide would almost certainly have resulted in her own death, it did not prevent her from being racked with guilt for having survived.
    George was dead. She was a widow. George was dead—and in such a horrible way that it was as if she had dreamt it, or imagined it as a tale from One Thousand and One Nights . If only it had been. If only she could wake up.
    But she could not. All she could do was behave with what dignity she could muster. With the dignity her father and Aunt Sophia would expect of her. With the dignity which others would expect of George’s wife, a representative of His Majesty’s government, she re minded herself strictly.
    Thus, when Ramiz joined her half an hour later, though she longed to sink onto the carpeted floor, to curl up under the comfort of a blanket and cry, Celia forced herself to her feet. ‘I must beg your pardon, Your Highness, if I have offended you by appearing rude,’ she said, turning towards Ramiz, remembering belatedly to avert her eyes from his face. ‘I must thank you for saving my life, and for the trouble you took with—with my husband.’ She swept him a deep curtsy. ‘I realise I haven’t even introduced myself. I am Lady Celia Cleveden.’
    ‘I think we are long past the need for such formalities,’ Ramiz replied. ‘Come, we must leave this place if we are to find another shelter before dark. I don’t want to risk spending the night here.’
    ‘But what about—? We can’t just…’
    ‘There is nothing more we can do. I have already formed the animals into a caravan,’ Ramiz said impatiently.
    She had not the will to argue. Questions tussled for prominence in her mind, but she had not the strength to form them. And she had absolutely no desire at all to remain here, in the presence of the dead, at the scene of such horror, so she followed the Prince obediently to where her camel was tethered, and when it dropped to its knees at Ramiz’s barked command Celia climbed wearily onto the high wooden platform which served as a saddle. Vaguely she noticed that the beast Prince Ramiz mounted was as white as his horse yesterday had been. That its saddle cloth was silk, intricately embroidered with gold, and that the tack was similarly intricately tasselled and trimmed with threads of gold.
    He mounted with the ease of long practice, and took up the halters of the leading camel in the caravan, as well as a halter attached to Celia’s own camel. Under any other circumstances she would have been furious to have her mount’s control taken from her. Now she was simply relieved. It was one less thing to worry about.

    They rode for about two hours. When the sun began its spectacularly fast slide down towards the horizon, striping the sky with gold and crimson, they stopped and made camp. Unbelievably, Celia had dozed for part of the way. Distance and rest had already started the healing process. As she fulfilled each of Ramiz’s curt instructions her mind sorted and sieved through the events, forming questions which she was determined he would answer.
    They sat by a small fire, eating a simple meal which Celia prepared from their supplies. A new moon was rising. Hilal. The crescent moon. The sign of new beginnings.
    ‘Do you know what happened this morning? Why it happened, Your