Page 52 of Kismet

He frowned. Halah’s words could be interpreted many ways. It was all coincidence, nothing more. Allegra had already left her mark on him. As for his past uniting with his future, that was simply the inevitable meeting with Shaftsbury he’d be forced to endure, when he returned Allegra to Marrakech.

“Come, there is much to do before the council meets this evening.” Khalid laughed and slapped him on the back as they watched Allegra’s joyful reunion with her friend.

With a sharp nod, he turned away from Allegra and walked with his friend to where the caravan was setting up camp next to his small tribe. Although they were all under Khalid’s rule, his Amazigh were responsible for small reconnaissance missions as fewer numbers were able to travel more quickly.

Now as he watched his men and their families being reunited with other kinfolk, a sliver of envy wrenched through him. James had been the only real family he’d ever known. His mother had died giving birth to him, a fact his father took great pains to point out to him whenever the opportunity presented itself. Burying the past as deep as he could, he threw himself into the task of directing the gathering of the tribal council Khalid had called.

Hours later, when the council meeting adjourned, he strode out of Khalid’s tent into a darkness filled with dying fires. Other council members emerged from the tent with concerned expressions as they retired for the night. He understood their fears. The First Sheikh of the Amazigh had informed his council that he intended to strike Nassar first. But to do that, he would have to negotiate an alliance with Sheikh Jabbar, a warlord who controlled the northwestern section of Morocco. The man had obtained his power by stealing cattle and horses. Oddly enough, the man had a sense of honor as he never took more than half from his victims.

Even the justice he administered was done fairly. Jabbar was a law unto himself, but if Khalid could convince the man to join the Amazigh, it might prevent war. Nassar wouldn’t go up against Khalid if Jabbar was the Amazigh leader's ally. The only flaw in Khalid’s plan was the possibility that Jabbar might refuse to form an alliance. Even Hakim, who had put his petulant nature aside, had thoughtfully expressed his doubts. It had filled him with a sense of pride to know he’d had a role in the young heir’s education.

He rolled his head to one side and then another in an effort to soothe the sore muscles in his neck. The moon was high in the sky, telling him it was at least midnight. He grimaced. Allegra would be asleep by now. He’d imagined many times what it would be like when she finally came to his bed, but none of his fantasies had included planning for war.It was a conflict that couldn’t be avoided unless they found a way to stop Nassar, and all of it hinged on Khalid forming an alliance with a horse thief. Soon he’d have to send Allegra back to Marrakech for her safety, but until then he could enjoy the pleasure of being with her.

“You’re troubled, my friend.” Khalid emerged from the tent to stand at his side.

“Only for your safety. How many men shall I bring with us?” he asked quietly as he met his friend’s resolute gaze.

“You’re not going with me,” Khalid said. Seeing Shaheen about to protest, he raised his hand in an authoritative manner. “I’m taking two of my own men and our fastest horses. I need you here in case my brother moves more quickly than I expect.”

“And if Jabbar doesn’t agree to this alliance of yours?”

“Then I’ll go to the French.”

The somber words made him jerk with amazement as he stared at his friend. Khalid had always resisted aligning himself with the French, Spanish, or British governments. He hated politics and knew the price the Amazigh would pay if they sought help from any foreign power.

“The French?” he asked as the Sheikh sent him an arched look.

“Nassar’s men will not fight the Legionnaires.”

Khalid was right. Nassar didn’t have the stomach for taking on the French Foreign Legion. Deep sorrow marring his handsome features, Khalid stared up at the night sky.

“I never told you why Nassar hates me, or what drove him to kill Yasmia, did I?”

The question came as a surprise. Khalid rarely mentioned Yasmia’s name, but his celibacy since her death indicated how much his wife had meant to him. He didn’t speak, but simply shook his head at his friend. Returning his gaze to the stars, the Sheikh heaved a sigh.

“Yasmia was beautiful. When I look at Laila, I see my wife so clearly.” Khalid clasped his hands behind his back and tilted his head as if he were studying a specific constellation.

“I fell madly in love with Yasmia the first time I saw her. I didn’t know it at the time, but Nassar felt the same way and spoke for her first. Unable to bear seeing her marry my brother, I announced my intention to live in Marrakech. The night before my departure, Yasmia came to me, and the next thing I knew I was holding her in my arms.”

The Sheikh released a quiet noise of grief and closed his eyes. Ice flowed through him as he absorbed Khalid’s words. Jamal had once told him he could be of the same blood as Khalid. Was this what the Bedouin warrior really meant? That their stories were similar?

“When Nassar found us together, he didn’t say a word. He simply turned and walked away. The next morning, he denounced Yasmia as a whore, naming me as her protector and demanding she be whipped.”

The similarities between his past and Khalid’s made him swallow hard. Like him, his friend had loved a woman and lost a brother. His friend’s features took on a shadowy expression of fury as he turned his head toward Shaheen.

“I refused to let anyone beat her, and I took the whip in her place. Nassar left the next day, and Yasmia and I were married a short time later.”

The Sheikh’s voice faded into silence as he returned his gaze to the starry night above. Uncertain as to what to say to his friend, he remained silent and contemplated how they’d both wrestled similar demons from the past.

“You need to send the anasi back to Marrakech in the morning,” Khalid said firmly.

“No, not yet,” he growled. It was a gut response. Emotions he refused to name tumbled through him at the suggestion. With a shake of his head, he averted his gaze from his friend. “The moment Shaftsbury tells the British who I am, the treaties—”

“The French and British will not interfere in tribal matters. The treaties will hold. Fadi, Coman, and the others are men of honor, unlike my brother,” Khalid said in a firm voice. “The reason you give for keeping the anasi here no longer exists.”

The words were like a lion clawing his flesh open. He didn’t want to let her go. He wanted more time with her. He stared out into the darkness and didn’t respond.

“Shaheen, she’s no longer safe here. I’ve received word that my brother’s spies know she’s still in your camp.”