Page 44 of Kismet

“May I anasi?” He reached for her hand that bore the hennaed bird of paradise. Gently, he touched several different marks that looked like small flames inside the design. “These marks show you are thejahīm anasi. The woman of fire.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We Amazigh are a superstitious people,” Jamal said with a smile. “More than a year ago, Shaheen was told that a woman of fire would come to him and leave her mark until his past united with his future. Everyone believes you are the jahīm anasi, except Shaheen of course.”

“That’s utter nonsense. These marks don’t mean anything.” She shook her head in vigorous denial as she jerked her hand out of Jamal’s. The Bedouin arched his eyebrow at her.

“The Amazigh have a saying that it is the most improbable of things that shape our destiny, anasi.”

“But that still doesn’t mean it’s me.” She shook her head in denial as she recalled how the old woman in the market had said she was Shaheen’s destiny.

“Perhaps,” Jamal mused quietly. “But the woman of fire will force Shaheen to face his past. That’s something he doesn’t want to do.”

“I doubt I could help him when I prefer to leave my own past in the dark.” She turned her head away from the Bedouin.

“Shaheen is faced with his past every time he sees you.” Silence fell between them once more. After several moments, Jamal inhaled and exhaled a deep breath as if suddenly reaching a decision. Frowning, he sent her a penetrating look. “If he knew what—”

“Knew what, my friend?”

Startled, the two of them whirled around to see Shaheen behind them, the dim light casting one side of his face into the shadows. His mouth was tight with disapproval. Before Jamal could speak, she met Shaheen’s accusatory expression steadily.

“He thought you might be angry with him for telling me how you rescued Hakim from Nassar’s butchery. That and the fact that Charles is still in Marrakech.”

He sent Jamal a hard look. “There was no need to tell her anything.”

“I saw no harm in telling her what I did.” There was a challenge in Jamal’s voice that made Shaheen narrow his gaze slightly.

With a sharp note in his voice, Shaheen said something in the Amazigh tongue, which caused Jamal’s face to darken with anger. The Bedouin responded with the harshness of a parent chastising a child. Her knowledge of the language was still limited, and before she could even interpret the gist of their argument it was over. Throwing his hands up in a gesture of disgust, Jamal stalked away, leaving her alone with Shaheen in the near dark.

A hungry tension slid through her as she looked up at him. That familiar warm ache settled between her legs and she shivered. Every time she stood this close to him, her body craved his touch. She’d enjoyed the touch of other men many times, but this man was different. He made her body respond in a hedonistic way simply by standing next to her. No other man had ever done that to her before. She shivered again.

“You’re cold.” The warmth of his voice washed over her, flushing her body with heat.

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m fine.”

His knuckles brushed her chin as he forced her to look at him. “If you’re worried about Nassar, don’t. I won’t let him come near you again.”

“I’m not worried. I know I’m safe here.”

She stepped back from the fire of his touch, her pulse racing with a dangerous excitement. The only thing she was worried about was how long she could resist him. Perhaps the real question was whether she wanted to. She looked up at the stars beginning to dot the night sky and breathed an inaudible sigh. It had been the truth when she said she felt safe here with him. She couldn’t define it, but there was something comforting about his presence. He made her feel safe. Beside her, he cleared this throat.

“I’ve never told you how brave I think you are.”

“Brave?” She turned her head and looked up at him with a frown.

“You must have been frightened and feeling all alone when Nassar was holding you prisoner, and yet you never gave in to him.”

“I would have eventually given up if you’d not arrived when you did.” The memory of the hopelessness she’d experienced in Nassar’s camp made her close her eyes.

“But you didn’t. Even when he hit you . . .” A fierce anger flashed across his face, followed by a stark remorse that startled her. “If I could have spared you the humiliation of that bartering I would have.”

“I know,” she whispered as she looked away from him.

Silence drifted between them for a long time before he reached out to touch her short curls. “Short hair becomes you, ma belle.”

“I confess it’s much easier to take care of,” she said with a wistful note in her voice as she touched the top of her head. The trauma following Rana’s attack had eased, but she still felt a sense of violation. “Although, I’m certain it’s not the most becoming of styles.”

He caught her chin with his hand and forced her to look at him. “I think it makes you look adorable.”