here by burying something, a record of our brief history,’ he said. ‘I like the notion that someone like us, with a fascination for the past, might uncover it, in a hundred, a thousand years from now. Only we know what we’ve shared, and when we are gone—it’s a fanciful notion, I know, but I hoped you’d understand.’
‘I do, I don’t want tonight to be the end,’ Tahira said softly, touched to her heart. ‘Even though we will never see each other again—you want us to leave some sort of clue—to bury some sort of artefact, so that a part of us will always be together?’
‘Yes.’ Christopher flushed. ‘I did not think I was the sentimental kind, but...’
‘It’s not sentimental. It’s—it’s the most perfect—it is perfect.’ She kissed his hand. Hot tears dripped on to his knuckles.
‘I didn’t mean to make you cry.’
She shook her head, wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her tunic, smiling mistily. ‘I’m not. I won’t. What did you have in mind?’
Christopher reached behind him to produce a silver casket, the kind used to contain scrolls, and indeed inside there was a scroll. ‘Look and see,’ he said, taking it out and handing it to her.
There were two sheets rolled together, both drawings. The first was of the rock formation which housed the turquoise mine and the princess’s tomb, the distinctive shape, like the battlements of an ancient castle perfectly depicted, the vertical striations of the rock cross-hatched in pencil. The second drawing was of the inside of the tomb, showing the princess’s sarcophagus, the shelf containing the silver pot and the serpent bangle, and over the heart of the effigy, Christopher’s amulet.
‘The place which brought us together, the site of our princess’s tomb, the beginning and the ending of your quest.’ Her eyes were tearing up again. ‘It is perfect,’ Tahira said.
‘That’s not all. Close your eyes and hold out your hands.’ The object he gave her was heavy, lumpy. ‘Now look.’
Horrified, Tahira stared at the piece of ore which he must have taken from the mine either last night or tonight. In its natural state, the copper streaking the turquoise was more pronounced. Though the mineral was unpolished, it was still a stark contrast with the rough stone which encompassed it.
‘As you can see, it is an exact match for the turquoise in the amulet,’ Christopher said, grinning.
‘If they had discovered you in the mine—if you had told me that you needed further proof, I could have—’ She bit off the remainder of her words, colouring brightly. Shock and alarm had made her indiscreet.
‘Your brother is an investor in the mine, isn’t he?’ Christopher said. ‘Don’t worry, I had deduced as much. It was the only reason I could think of which would explain your inside knowledge.’
‘Yes,’ Tahira agreed gratefully, for it wasn’t exactly a lie. ‘But what possessed you to take such a risk?.’
‘It simply felt right, somehow.’
She had the strangest feeling, breathless and giddy, looking at him. ‘It is right, I do see what you mean, though to have risked so much—but it’s done now.’
She placed the lump of ore carefully inside the silver casket. ‘The clues to our meeting and to our find, but I think...’ Reaching behind her, Tahira undid the clasp of her gold chain. ‘Yes, this feels right too. I would like to leave something of myself with the rest.’
‘No, you can’t bury that. It means so much to you.’
‘That’s exactly why I want to put it in here.’ The little token her mother had given her all those years ago was warm from her skin. ‘The Bedouin star,’ she said, kissing the trinket one last time. ‘My nights of wandering under the stars are over, I don’t need you any more.’
‘Then I too want to leave something precious to me.’ Christopher brought out the pouch which had once contained his amulet, tipping the lonely contents on to his palm. His Roman coin glinted dully in the firelight, the base metal almost black. Like Tahira, he placed it to his lips, before returning it to the pouch. ‘May I?’
When she nodded, he put her necklace in beside it and retied the pouch before placing this last item in the casket and closing the lid.
‘Where should we bury it?’ Tahira asked.
‘Over the centuries this well and its buildings will fall completely into ruin as the desert reclaims it. One day, far in the future, someone like us might carefully sift through the foundations, looking for relics.’
‘And then they will scratch their heads and wonder how it came to be that a Bedouin necklace and a Roman coin were buried together,’ Tahira said, beguiled by the image. ‘But you haven’t answered my question.’
‘Come and see.’ He led her into the well-keeper’s house, where a deep hole had been dug just inside the main wall. Together they placed the casket inside. ‘One last thing,’ Christopher said, producing a neatly carved stone cat in a sentinel pose, just like the ones in the princess’s tomb, setting it at the head of the precious box. ‘To keep the contents safe.’
Tahira watched, quite overcome with emotion as he made light work of filling in the hole. How many years before it was uncovered? Who would find it? What would they make of it? How many times over the years to come would she ask herself those questions? A piece of herself and of Christopher, held safe together. Their secret, waiting to be uncovered long after they themselves had been confined to history.
* * *
‘I don’t want tonight to end,’ Tahira said, as they sat back down on the rug laid out in front of the fire underneath the starry sky. ‘If this really was a magic carpet, that’s what I would wish for, to stay right here always.’
Christopher had not thought beyond this moment. All the effort he had put into the burial of the casket, he’d told himself was for Tahira, but as he pulled her into his arms, he could admit to himself that it was for him too. His own way of preserving these forbidden moments for ever. Stupid thought. Mawkish. But somehow right.
Like their kisses. The most natural thing in the world to kiss her under the desert stars. The taste of her had become so achingly familiar in such a short time. Days. Not even enough weeks for the moon to turn full cycle. He ran his fingers through the heavy silkiness of her hair. She had tied it back loosely tonight, held only with a silk scarf which came easily free, allowing him to spread the rippling waterfall of it over her back. Jasmine. How would he ever smell jasmine again without thinking of her? Her hands fluttered over his shoulders, her fingers tangled in his hair. Her kisses were the heat of the desert, the glitter of the stars, the sultry, heavy air of the desert night.
They sank back together on to the rug and their kisses merged one into the other, drugging and rousing. She whispered his name as no one ever had. Her eyes, heavy-lidded but watching him, reflecting his passion, her skin hot under his touch, the same fire in her blood that heated his. He drank deep of her mouth, then trailed kisses down her throat, to the tempting valley between her breasts. Her fingers plucked at the buttons of her tunic, and when they were open, at the buttons of his. Her hands were on his chest, flattened over his nipples. His mouth on her breasts, and his hands. Soft moans. His own breath, fast and shallow.
Emotion surged with the blood to his groin. Tenderness, wanting, a deep-seated, primal need to be one with her. Her voice urged him onwards, her hands on his back, on his buttocks. And his hands, over her, inside her. The sweet, hot wetness of her desire for him. The hard, driving need of his desire for her. Like nothing before.
Their mouths met again. Such kisses, spinning them to new heights. Her hands on his shaft now as his touch brought her to her climax, as she unravelled beneath him, gloriously naked, unbearably vulnerable, he wanted to gather her to him, to keep her safe, to make her one with him, to complete what they had started, what he so urgently needed.
Completion. He kissed her deeply. She arched under him, her