Chapter Eleven

As Ardeth came awake slowly, he was immediately aware of two things. First of all, he was smiling; he couldn't remember a night when he had rested so well. Secondly, he was alone. His left arm was stretched across the bed, and there was no one beside him. A sad confusion swept through him for the space of a heartbeat. Could he have dreamed the events of the day before, when Margaret had been back in his arms? It had seemed so real; even now, he could practically still smell her hair on the pillow beside him…

But then he felt the touch of fingertips on his forehead, stroking lightly. He opened his eyes and the smile returned to his face. Margaret sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in a long skirt and blouse, her hair tied back with a scarf. She smiled down at him.

"There you are," she said. "I was beginning to worry; I thought that I may have to check for a pulse."

He reached up and caught the hand that now grazed the skin of his cheek. "So you decided to tickle the dead man instead?"

Her smile slipped a little as she looked at him. "I wasn't the only one who suffered in this," she said quietly. She brushed a few strands of hair off of his forehead. "I'll venture that you haven't had much rest lately, either."

He held her hand a little more tightly, bringing it to his mouth and brushing his lips across her knuckles. "None of that matters now." He reached up to touch her cheek. "You look much better this morning. How do you feel?"

"Better." She shrugged. "I'm still a little tired, but I feel stronger than I have in a very long time."

"I am glad to hear that." Ardeth seemed to think for a moment. "Although now that you mention it, I do see some weariness in your eyes. Perhaps you should rest a while longer." He tugged on her hand, pulling her back into the bed and into his arms. She went there easily, her shoes landing with a thud on the floor as she kicked them off.

"Well, if you think that's best, " she said with a happy sigh, running a hand down the smooth skin of his chest before winding her arms around him. His arms tightened around her as he kissed the top of her head. She tilted her head up and caught his lips with hers in a soft kiss that deepened almost immediately. He plucked at the scarf, letting it fall to the floor as he combed his fingers through her hair. His lips trailed slowly from her mouth, down the side of her cheek to her throat, while his hands moved deliberately to the buttons of her blouse.

"Excuse me, sir?" Ardeth pulled his head away at her formal tone and looked at her. Her eyes sparkled with laughter, and she was chewing delicately on her bottom lip, trying to keep a straight face. "But I believe you said that I should rest. And what you are doing to me now will not lead to rest."

Ardeth nearly laughed out loud to find his words from the day before turned against him. "Perhaps you are right," he said, determined to play the game with her. "I should leave you to your rest. But I am finding it very difficult to leave your bed."

"Well, that's good," she said with a grin. "Because I don't want you to leave it. I would be very bored if you left me here all alone."

"I will not do that." His voice had a serious tone that made the grin fall from her face. His hands tightened on her shoulders and he gazed steadily into her eyes. "I will never again leave you alone."

"No." Her voice was equally serious. "No leaving. Ever again." The words were a promise, and she sighed as she felt his arms slide around her, pulling her close once more. She brushed her mouth against his, and he turned it into a gentle kiss. After a few moments she pulled away and sat up. "I have to go."

"There, you see? It begins already." But his voice was light. Margaret laughed at the relaxed look on his face, the look of a man no longer worried about the future.

"I'm not going far," she said. "I just have to go down to breakfast."

Ardeth shook his head. "We will have it sent up," he said with a smile, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Her eyes wavered, and she leaned into his touch. Just as it seemed that she would agree with him, she shook her head.

"No, I can't do that. Rick and Evy are waiting for me, I know they are." She sighed. "Oh, this is going to be torture."

He raised an eyebrow. "You say this about your family?"

She nodded firmly. "Oh, yes. You said Evy was here yesterday, right? And she knows that you were here?" He nodded. "And I didn't show up for dinner last night. There will be no end to the smug looks I will be getting over the breakfast table. In fact, the only thing that would make it worse is if I don't go downstairs at all." She sighed again. "So you see, I have to go."

"Yes, I can see that." He released her with a smile. Margaret stepped into her shoes, scooped up her scarf from the floor, and walked over to the mirror. After she had tied her hair back again, straightened her blouse, and otherwise made herself presentable, she saw that behind her Ardeth had also gotten up and was now fully dressed.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" She asked with a smile, looking at him in the mirror. "You're not going anywhere, are you? Who will tuck me back into bed after breakfast?"

He chuckled, coming up behind her to slip his arms around her waist. "I shall return," he said, pulling her into him. "I did not dare to hope that I would spend so long in your company yesterday. I must meet with some of my men this morning, so they will know that I still live."

She smiled at the humor in his words, but her hands tightened on his arms at the mention of his men. Her eyes met his in the mirror, a little afraid. "Tell me again," she said, her voice small. "Tell me that this…that we will be all right."

He tuned her around to face him. "We will be all right," he said. He kissed her once more, slowly, then leaned his forehead against hers. "This may not be easy. But whatever must be faced, we will face together. I will never let you go again."

A hint of a smile touched her lips. "Good."

"Now go," he said. "I will come back to you as soon as I can. You must rest today. No," he said, smiling as she raised one eyebrow with a slightly wicked expression, "I mean truly rest. You are still not as strong as you should be." He ran the backs of his fingers over her cheek, which was still a little pale.

She nodded. "All right. I'll come back here after breakfast. And I'll rest. I promise."

He squeezed her hands tightly and released her, and she left the bedroom. Soon after he heard the door to her hotel room close behind her, and her footsteps in the hallway. For a few moments he simply stood in the middle of the room, lost in thought. So much had changed in the course of one day. And he could not think of a time when he had been happier.

Shaking his head, he brought his mind back into focus. Hamid and Asim were waiting for him, probably at the museum. He should get there, and soon.

***

Several times on the way down to the dining room, Margaret had nearly lost her nerve and turned back. How could she face them? She had been joking with Ardeth upstairs about breakfast being torture, but the closer she got to the dining room, the more she realized it had not been a joke after all. Only the thought of what she would surely face later, if she didn't come down, made her continue on. Best to get it over with.

They weren't hard to spot; it was late morning, and the dining room was nearly empty. Evelyn and Rick sat at a table in a quiet corner. Any thoughts of turning around and slinking out were erased when Evelyn saw her and waved to her with a smile. A knowing smile, Margaret thought to herself, but perhaps that was just a trick of the light. Her steps slowed as she neared the table. Rick and Evelyn seemed to be staring at her. Everyone in the room seemed to be staring at her. As she sat down, she mustered what she hoped was a perfectly normal smile, but the fact that she was gritting her teeth probably made it a little less so.

"Hey, Meg," Rick boomed happily, seemingly for the benefit of the people sitting at the other end of the dining room. Or possibly even outside in the street. "Did you have a good night…er…I mean …um… you're looking very rosy…I mean, rested…I…oh, hell. Do you want some coffee?"

A nervous giggle escaped Margaret's lips. Was Rick blushing? That alone made her discomfort easier to bear. "Yes, please," she said, gratefully accepting the cup he offered her. As he poured her coffee, he caught her eye and winked. Margaret felt the heat rise in her cheeks again.

Evelyn patted her hand. "Well, you are looking much better this morning. Whatever Ardeth did, it's working marvelously." Margaret's face burned even hotter, and she stared hard at her coffee. Evelyn seemed to think about what she had just said, and choked down a laugh. Margaret stole a glance at her sister-in-law and pursed her lips. For some reason, it was all starting to seem less embarrassing and more amusing.

As if to punctuate this latest observation, Jonathan appeared as only he could, throwing the entire dining room into an uproar as he found his companions, sat down, and reached for the coffeepot. Margaret was glad for the distraction he created, but she knew she was going to have to say something soon. She took a deep breath, but before she could speak, Jonathan did instead. "Well, look who we have here. Aren't you looking sparkly-eyed this morning, Meg darling." He reached over to playfully tweak the scarf in her hair. "The cat who ate the whatsit, that's who you look like. Very pink and lovely. I guess you finally had a good night last night. Did you sleep well--?" He stopped speaking mid-sentence to turn to Evelyn. "What?!" He exclaimed in an affronted voice. "Why do you keep kicking me? I can't be in trouble yet, I've only just gotten up."

By now, Rick had abandoned all pretense of dignity; he laid his head on his arms to muffle his guffaws. Margaret, who had been growing redder and redder during Jonathan's speech, glanced over at Rick and finally gave up on being embarrassed, joining him in helpless laughter. Shaking her head, Evelyn said, "Ardeth came back yesterday. Idiot," she added with a grin.

Jonathan's eyebrows climbed up his forehead, his mouth dropped open for the briefest moment. "Oh," he said. "I see." He looked over at Margaret, who was wiping tears from the corners of her eyes with her napkin, trying to compose herself. He leaned over and nudged her shoulder with his own until he got her to look at him. "Meg," he asked quietly, as if nobody else were around, "you're sure about this? That he'll make you happy?"

She felt a smile come immediately to her face. She tried to find the words to answer him, to tell Jonathan how much more than merely happy she was. But her smile seemed to be all the answer he needed. "Fair enough, then," he said with finality. "Pass the sugar, please."

Margaret added cream to her coffee, stirring it with a spoon and watching the white swirl into the black of the coffee, blending into a wholly new color. As she took the sugar bowl from Jonathan's place, she knew that she should say something. She needed to tell them, although it was pretty apparent that they already knew. Nevertheless, she owed them this, after all they had done for her. Taking a breath, she gathered her courage and raised her eyes again. "I know this won't exactly be a surprise to anyone, but you should know that I…I'm not going back to England. I'm staying here," she said, feeling that smile creep onto her face again. She picked up her cup to take a sip. "I'm staying here," she continued, "with---"

"Well, speak of the devil," Rick interrupted. "Here he comes now."

Evelyn smiled. "I knew he wouldn't be able to stay away long."

"Shhh." Margaret had run out of blushes, and just raised her eyebrows at the troublemakers across the table. Still smiling, she turned her head, seeing Ardeth approaching with two of his men.

The coffee cup clattered as she dropped it, bouncing off the edge of the saucer and falling to the floor, shattering into tiny pieces of porcelain and splashes of coffee. The smile fell from her face, and she could practically feel the blood draining from her face. Her lips had gone numb as well; they tingled as she tried to form words.

"You…"

"Meg?" She dimly heard Rick's voice speak her name, but it didn't occur to her to answer. She clutched the edge of the table. Standing next to Ardeth was a traitor. One of Omar's compatriots, she remembered him from the boardinghouse in Luxor. Looking at him now, she clearly recalled his words. "As long as he defers to these Westerners, it is clear that he is no longer fit to lead."

What had Omar called him? Asim, that was it. He had been in her room, the day before Rick and Ardeth had saved her the unthinkable fate Omar had planned for her. A fate he would have had a hand in.

Margaret leapt to her feet, her first instinct to run from him. But her gaze locked with the traitor standing next to the man who was to be her husband. Obviously, Ardeth had no idea who Asim really was. He didn't know the dark thoughts in this man's head. Before she knew what she was doing, she had launched herself around the table and across the room, meeting the approaching Medjai a few feet from the table. She latched onto Ardeth's arm, pulling the surprised man a few steps to the side, away from the traitor.

"Margaret, what are--"

But she did not even acknowledge that Ardeth had spoken, turning instead to Asim. "Who do you think you are?" Her voice was low, filled with a venom that no one had ever heard her use before. Not giving him a chance to speak, she continued. "Ardeth, this is not one of your men. I don't know what he said to make you think he's loyal to you, but he's a liar."

Asim's brow furrowed. He took a step towards her. "My lady, I--"

Margaret let out a little squeak at his approach and fell back a couple steps, but she still stood between Asim and Ardeth, her arms outstretched in front of her to keep the enemy at bay. "Don't come near me." Her voice shook with a combination of anger and terror. Traitor or not, surely he would not try to harm her now, not here, with Rick and Ardeth so close?

"Margaret, no." Ardeth's hands were on her shoulders, stroking lightly in a gesture of comfort. Margaret did not want to be comforted; she shrugged off the touch.

"Don't treat me like a child!" she cried. "I saw him. I saw you, didn't I, Asim?" She practically hissed his name. "I saw you, and I heard you and Omar. What you were planning. You know I am telling the truth. Don't deny it."

Asim looked a little rattled at the accusations flying his way. He looked to Ardeth, his face grave. "My lord, I should not have come," he said. "I had not thought how my presence would upset her. I will see to the horses." With a slight bow, he turned and was gone.

To her astonishment, Ardeth simply watched him leave, a small frown on his face. She grasped his arm, tugging a little to get him to face her. "You can't just let him go. You have to stop him. He's probably going to meet someone. You have to--"

"Margaret." Ardeth grasped her upper arms, turning her and forcing her to look at him, speaking quickly and urgently. " Margaret, you are mistaken. All is well."

She looked at him in utter frustration. "How can all be well? I'm not mistaken. I saw him. At the boardinghouse, with Omar. Just before you came for me. He-- he told Omar where I was hiding. He was going to…"

"No." Ardeth finally captured her eyes with his, stopping her words. "Listen to me. Asim was there under my orders. I sent him there. He gained Omar's trust, and then he led us to you. He acted as my eyes, going where I could not, ensuring that you were alive. When he left you, he came to me. And when we came for you that night, he sent me up the stairs after you."

Margaret blinked. "But…" She began to protest, but confusion had left her speechless.

"Did Asim ever harm you? Raise a hand to you?" Margaret thought for a moment, then shook her head dumbly. "He would never do so," Ardeth continued. "He is loyal to me." He took a deep breath. "Margaret, it was Asim who killed Omar. He saved my life. We both owe him much."

As comprehension dawned, she stared at Ardeth in horror. "Oh, no."

"It's okay, Meg," Rick said, who had gotten up by then and was standing behind her. "He fooled us too."

"I'm so sorry." Her voice was small, and she looked from Ardeth to Hamid, who had stood there all the time without saying a word. "I feel…oh, I'm so sorry. He must think I'm…"

"Do not worry. He knows how Omar frightened you." Ardeth took her hands in both of his, squeezing gently. Behind him, Hamid nodded, agreement apparent in his eyes. "We will make things right with Asim." He motioned her back to the table.

"Yeah, don't feel bad," Rick said as they all took their seats. "You only yelled at him. I almost shot him." By this time, a handful of other patrons, Europeans by the look of them, gaped openly at the O'Connells and their guests, looking alarmed and outraged. Rick glared at them, and they turned back to their plates.

The waiter had brought her a new coffee cup. Margaret stared at it, too dazed by what had just happened to pay much attention to anything. But an outburst of laughter from Hamid made her blink in surprise, and brought her attention back to the table. Was this the same stern-faced man who had followed Ardeth only a short while ago? He was saying something about a "brilliant maneuver" to Rick, who looked a little embarrassed. Now that the pounding of her heart was starting to slow, she was better able to attend.

"Oh, and who ever told Nasir he could drive?" Rick asked.

This brought a fresh round of laughter from Hamid, as well as a smile from Ardeth. Hamid answered, his voice choked with laughter. "Nasir cannot drive. He rode in a truck once, so he thought 'what could be easier?'"

Rick's mouth dropped open, while everyone around the table laughed. Even Margaret felt a smile come to her lips. After a few speechless moments, Rick shook his head wearily from side to side. "No wonder that wall fell down. I guess I should be happy we all survived." Conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the meal, and they all settled themselves to breakfast and small talk, a welcome occupation after the urgency and danger of the past weeks.

"Abdul sends his regards as well, O'Connell," Hamid said a little while later, sipping his tea. "He spoke very highly of your leadership; he said it was an honor to serve under you."

"Yeah?" Rick cocked a smile, sitting back in his chair. "Well, that's great. Tell him thanks for me. He was a lifesaver, I'm telling you. Not a lot of your guys speak very much English, and if it weren't for Abdul I don't know what I would have done. Well, that and the French I remembered from my time in the Legion."

Hamid nodded, a smile playing around his lips. "Abdul mentioned this also. He said your French was terrible, and it was probably a blessing you never attempted our language."

Jonathan tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a snort. Margaret hid her smile behind her napkin while Rick sputtered. "I don't know what the hell he's talking about. My French is just fine--"

"No, it isn't," Margaret interrupted, just barely not laughing. "It never was."

"Oh, come on," Rick continued to protest. "I'm a lot better at it than I used to be."

Hamid shrugged. "Abdul says he was able to tell most of the time what you meant. A few sentences were nonsense, however, when you were taking defensive positions."

"What? Oh, he doesn't know what he's saying. I remember that; I said we were going to wait till the sun appeared on the wall. And that's what…'quand le sommeil'…um, what's the tense…apparaît? 'Quand le sommeil apparaît sur le merde.' Now what's--"

But the rest of his words were drowned out by Margaret's laughter. She had thrown her head back and was laughing delightedly. Hamid was also laughing, and Ardeth chuckled. Jonathan looked confused, and Evelyn shook her head.

"I don't think that's right, darling," Evelyn said. "The word for 'sun' is 'soleil,' not 'sommeil.' So you said--"

"Sleep," Margaret choked out. "Oh, Rick, he's right. That made no sense. And the word for 'wall' is 'mur.' You said 'when the sleep appears on the--' " She covered her mouth with her hands and laughed anew.

"Shit," Jonathan said, finally laughing too.

Rick raised an eyebrow at him. "It's not worth using that kind of language over."

Jonathan shrugged. "You said it first. I may not be able to speak French, but I can swear in seven languages. And that's what the sleep was appearing on, my friend."

Rick looked horrified for a moment, then he rubbed his hands over his face. "Oh, well," he said with a sheepish smile. "You can tell Abdul his English wasn't so hot, either."

Margaret giggled again, and then startled everyone, including herself, when the giggle turned into a huge yawn. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I suppose I'm still a little tired."

"Well, of course you are," Evelyn said. "You're not going to be strong again in one day."

"She is right," Ardeth added, placing a concerned hand on her arm. "You should rest."

Margaret wanted to protest; she was having such a lovely time, but her weariness won out. "All right," she said, getting to her feet slowly, leaning a little on Ardeth's proffered arm. "I'll be in my room if anyone needs me."

Jonathan stood too. "I'll see you up, old girl."

Margaret nodded. "Thank you, Jonathan," she said as she took his arm to leave the dining room.

"Yes." Ardeth's voice, quiet but intense, made them both turn around. He fixed Jonathan with an almost unblinking stare. "Thank you, Jonathan," he said softly.

Jonathan met his gaze easily. A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and he inclined his head in a partial nod. "Anytime." Then he turned again and led Margaret out of the room.

"What was that all about?" she whispered.

Jonathan shook his head. "It's not important."

***

The rest of the morning passed pleasantly, if quietly. After Jonathan left her in her room, Margaret tried to take a nap, but it proved to be impossible. It was too early in the day, and she had so many thoughts whirling through her mind that sleep did not have a chance. Finally, she wandered into the sitting room, pulling Alex's sweater out of her knitting bag. If she was truly staying here in Egypt, she thought, she should hurry and finish this so that Evelyn could take it back with them.

She had just finished the cuff of one sleeve when there was a tap at her door. "Yes, come in," she called, not looking up from her work.

"Good afternoon." The greeting was in Arabic. Margaret looked over to see Asim standing in the doorway. He looked at her a little warily, as if he were expecting to see the fear return to her eyes.

She smiled hesitantly and answered him in his own language. "Good afternoon. I'm so glad to see you. Won't you come in?"

He hesitated. "I am not disturbing you? They said you were resting."

"All I do is rest," she said, her smile more genuine now. "Nobody will let me do anything else. Please come in."

Asim came in and sat down, waving away with thanks her offer of tea. Margaret laid her knitting down in her lap to give her full attention to her guest. But she found that she had trouble facing him; her hands shook a little in her lap. Her eyes downcast, she finally took a deep breath and dove into speech. "I'm happy you're here. I wanted to say that I'm sorry, for the way I…attacked you this morning. Ardeth told me everything. I was very rude, and--"

He bowed his head rather formally. "No apologies are necessary. I am the one who should apologize. I should have thought how my presence would affect you."

Margaret shook her head at this, looking up at him at last. "Not at all. My behavior was unforgivable." She gave him a crooked little half-smile. "But I ask you to forgive me all the same."

"Of course, my lady," Asim answered without hesitation. "But I assure you, I took no offense. I hope that now we can understand each other."

Margaret blinked. What had he called her? "My lady." Those were the same words that Omar had used so many times, over and over, the words a cruel taunt. But Asim's tone of voice was deferential, courteous; he turned what had become an epithet back into a term of respect. Did he know what she and Ardeth had planned for the future? Could it be possible that he approved? Her eyes widened a little in surprise, wondering if he was typical of the Medjai, or simply…

With a start, she realized Asim was speaking again. "… told me you speak our language, but I was not sure I truly believed him. You are a very good actress. You fooled me completely."

"Oh, but you had me fooled as well." Her smile faltered as she remembered the fear that had choked her first time she saw Asim. She had never suspected…

He leaned forward slightly in his seat, looking at her with concern. "I am sorry. If I could have offered you any comfort, my lady, I would have. But it simply was not possible."

"I know." With a small effort, Margaret forced herself to stop dwelling on the horrors of the past. "I am just grateful you did… everything you did." She thought for a moment more, then smiled. "But you know, there is one thing that still bothers me about all this."

His eyes widened, and for a moment he looked very young. "My lady, please, what…?"

"Well," she said with a sly expression, "I seem to remember you saying that you didn't think I was pretty enough for your leader."

For a second he did nothing but stare at her, speechless. Then a slow smile spread over his face, answering her own, and his eyes twinkled. "Ah, then it seems that we are both very good at acting."

With that, he was on his feet, murmuring something about letting her rest. Bowing over her hand, he turned to leave in a whirl of robes. But he paused on the sill, thinking for a moment. "My lady," he said quietly,turning back into the room, but not re-entering it. "I stayed close to him to protect you. Even if he had taken you away, I would not have let him harm you." And he was gone.

Margaret stared after him, her mind churning. She found herself rethinking all her ideas about the Medjai, all because of today's events. She had always thought Ardeth unique among his people; the rest of his men had always seemed so impassive, so unfeeling. Either more or less than human. She had seen this was not so of Hamid, with his infectious laughter and ready wit. And now Asim had shown himself to be charming and spirited. Perhaps they were human after all. Perhaps this really would work, she thought to herself as she brought her attention back to the newly made cuff in her lap.

***

After their first night together again, Ardeth stayed away for a day or two on his own business. When he said goodbye to her, he was rather reticent about where he was going; Margaret could only gather that he thought it was too unpleasant to explain to her. She didn't want to push him, but she hoped that in time he would be able to tell her more, to believe she was strong enough to share everything. Margaret didn't worry in his absence; he had promised that he would always come back to her, and she trusted in that. So she rested, feeling herself grow stronger with nearly every hour that passed. She spent the warm afternoons knitting on the balcony, and evenings in conversation with the O'Connells. Her time with them had become tinged with a small sense of urgency, since soon she would part from them.

One evening, shortly after dinner, Margaret sat in the courtyard of the hotel, her eyes trained to the heavens. The star patterns looked different here in Cairo than they did in London, she noticed. "Another difference," she murmured with a smile. So many things were different between the two cities, and she had lived in both long enough to know which she preferred. London was cold, it was wet, and it was loud. Too many people bustling around, too many motorcars. Cairo was warm; even the slight coolness of the evening seemed to hold the promise of warmth. The sounds of this city were more comforting, alive: more the chatter of people and the brays of animals than the roar of engines. And most importantly, the man she loved was here. That alone made Egypt more preferable to Margaret than anywhere on earth.

Sometimes it seemed to her that he was a djinn; all she had to do was think of him and he appeared. Although she had not seen him for a couple of days, she was not surprised to now hear his voice behind her. "What are you doing out here all alone? You should be resting."

Her smile widened, she hugged herself in her shawl, but her voice was tinged with mock exasperation when she spoke. "I am resting. If I were anymore restful, I'd grow roots. I couldn't sit in my room another minute." She turned her head to the side to look up at him. "And I'm not alone. Not anymore."

Ardeth gave that soft chuckle that made her insides quiver. Margaret heard the soft thud of his boots as he moved to the bench to sit beside her. He tilted his head up to look at the stars, and she rested her head on his shoulder, her forehead barely touching the warm skin of his neck.

"Every night I thought of you," he said, his voice so quiet she barely heard him. "Every night I looked at the stars and saw your face."

She nodded against his shoulder, tears stinging her eyes as she remembered the heartbreaking nights in the garden. Forgetting what he looked like, the exact sound of his voice. She reached for his hand, to reassure herself that he was really there. He held it firmly, their fingers twining together.

"Until one night..."

Margaret's brow furrowed; her head lifted from his shoulder. "Until one night, what?" she asked, dread making its way into her heart. Had he met someone else while they were apart? Why hadn't he told her?

Ardeth reached into his robes then, and drew something from an inner pocket. It was a scrap of silk, which he unrolled carefully, never letting go of her hand. Soon, the object was laid bare on his palm. Margaret's pocket watch. He handed it to her, and she retrieved her hand to click it open. The hands were stuck fast at a quarter to seven.

"It stopped," he said. "I am not sure how it happened. But in that moment when I realized it no longer worked, I knew that I had lost you completely."

She shook her head, her forefinger tracing the minute hand. "No. It will work again. It's just sand in the gears, probably. It happened all the time before, when I lived here. There's a jeweler in town who has fixed it several times." She smiled then. "He knows this watch as well as I do." She reached up and laid a hand flat on his cheek. "You didn't lose me," she said. "I came home."

"Home." He smiled to hear her say the word. He cupped her cheek with one hand, echoing the way she touched him.

She nodded. "I'm with you," she whispered. "Wherever you are, that's home." And his lips were on hers, in a kiss that was not so much a kiss as a promise.

Ardeth smiled against her lips. "Welcome home," he murmured, as his lips moved softly against hers. Margaret sighed, her lips parting under his, her fingers playing with a lock of his hair. She was suddenly very much aware of his hand sliding across her back, to rest at her hip, pulling her a little closer. Of his other hand skimming over her cheek, stroking down her neck. A small shiver ran through her. She could hear his breath coming faster as his tongue darted into her mouth; she leaned into him and wrapped her arm around his waist, holding onto the thick leather of his belt, heedless of the watch as it fell with a quiet thump into the grass…

"Drop something?"

Rick's voice, though pitched low, sounded shockingly loud in Margaret's ears. She gasped and sprang up from her seat like a startled cat. Rick stood a little behind the bench, his eyebrows raised sardonically; in his hand he held her watch. Evelyn was beside him, trying vainly to hide a wide smile behind her hand.

Ardeth, apparently unfazed, merely sighed and got to his feet, giving Rick a small nod. "There have been times, O'Connell," he said calmly, "that I have been glad to see you appear beside me. This, however, is not one of those times."

"I'll bet," Rick replied, stepping easily over the bench to hand the watch to Margaret, who, instead of taking it, looked at it as though she had never seen it before.

"We just thought it was getting a little late," Evelyn said as she stepped neatly around the bench. She managed to take the watch, press it into Margaret's hand, and turn them all back toward the hotel entrance in one quick, smooth movement. "We didn't want Margaret catching a chill." Margaret felt her momentary embarrassment melt away when Evelyn squeezed her hand and giggled, saying to Margaret under her breath, "Not much danger of that, I see." The two women walked arm in arm back into the hotel, their men following a couple of steps behind.

There was a subtle change in their relationship after that night. It took her a little while to articulate what was different, but soon Margaret was able to grasp the change. She glanced around as she sat knitting in a quiet corner of the spacious sitting room in the O'Connell's hotel suite. Ardeth sat near her knees on a low chair, toying with the finished edge of Alex's omnipresent, nearly completed sweater. Rick stood talking to a couple of Ardeth's men, while Jonathan entertained himself by trying to teach Evelyn and Hamid the intricacies of cheating at poker, "just for fun, of course." Margaret smiled ruefully to herself.

"Why do you smile so?" Ardeth asked her.

She laughed quietly. "It's just that I feel like a debutante, surrounded by chaperones."

One eyebrow went up. "You do not enjoy this time spent with your family and friends?"

"Well, it's just…" She leaned forward, her head bending closer to his. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Evelyn glance their way, and she straightened up again with a sigh. "I feel like we're being watched," she said, pitching her voice lower so it only reached his ears. "Like we're going to misbehave or something." She directed her attention again to her knitting needles, but briefly tossed her eyes in his direction. "I'm far too old to be a debutante," she said. "And it's a little too late for chaperones." Her lips twitched in a wicked little smile. "I'd say we're far past the courting stage."

His small smile answered hers. "There are proprieties, my love. And we are not yet wed."

She exhaled a small puff of air, rolling her eyes. "We were not wed a few nights ago, either," she said. "When you spent nearly twenty-four hours in my room. And what about…" Her face colored slightly at the memory, but her voice didn't falter. "What about the first time? In Alexandria? I don't recall any lectures on impropriety then."

His eyes softened as he remembered. "We were together for a very short time then," he said. "It is possible that we allowed ourselves to be swayed by our passions. But that is no reason to act in such a manner now."

"Why not?" Margaret frowned. "Why should we have to act so differently all of a sudden?"

"So. You do not care for my company if I am not in your bed?" he asked her teasingly.

Margaret flushed pink, her eyes widening. "You're deliberately misunderstanding me," she said in a whisper, harsh with embarrassment.

"Things have changed." His voice sounded conciliatory. "We had not announced any intention to marry."

Her eyebrows shot up, and she lowered her needles to regard him. "So you're saying that it would be all right to spend the night with me if I were just your mistress or…or something, but not now that you want to marry me?"

He considered for a moment before nodding his head. "I believe that is exactly what I'm saying."

"That's ridiculous." Margaret's brow furrowed. She turned her work in her lap, ending one row and beginning another. Her needles stabbed into the yarn as Margaret vented her frustration.

Ardeth caught the end of her work again, running the wool through his fingers. "True," he chuckled. "Traditions often are."

"Yet we must adhere to them?" Margaret clearly wasn't going to let this issue rest. "It's just silly, after we've already…I mean…" She cast around for the right words. Finally she gave a little sigh."I miss you."

Ardeth leaned in toward her, lightly resting his hands on her knees. At his touch, she looked up, her knitting falling forgotten into her lap. "Margaret," he said with a small smile, "how can you miss me? I am here beside you."

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do." He gazed at her for a moment, then gently picked up one of her hands, holding it in both of his. "I miss you as well."

His hands were warm, and Margaret felt her shoulders relax, and a smile drifted back over her lips. "You'd better be careful," she warned him. "Evelyn is watching us like a hawk."

"Is she?" His voice was very soft, tinged with a seductive, singsong quality. He brought her hand up to his mouth, barely grazing the back of it with his lips. "And what is she doing now?"

"She's…um…" Margaret suddenly found speaking difficult. Not to mention breathing. "She's smiling."

Laying her hand back down in her lap, he covered it with one of his own. "It makes her happy to see us observing the conventions. I know my men prefer to see that I treat you as a lady of the Medjai, and not as a paramour." He reached out then, taking a lock of her hair, letting its length slide through his fingers. "Margaret," he whispered, "we have had very little time together. Do not so easily dismiss the ritual of courtship."

She had regained the ability to breathe; her breath now came quickly, and she swallowed as she looked into his eyes. "I was raised by nuns, if you recall," she murmured. "I know nothing about courtship."

A slow smile spread across his face as he leaned infinitesimally closer. "Then it will be my honor to teach you."

Margaret stared silently into his eyes, momentarily entranced by what she saw in them. She had nearly worked herself into a temper only a moment ago, but now she could barely remember why. She smiled, delighting in how her smile made his widen just a little. A burst of laughter from Rick and the Medjai across the room made them both look around, and when Ardeth was called to them a moment later to settle some silly dispute, she was able to let him go with good grace. After all, he would return to her.

***

The next few days settled into a comfortable routine. Ardeth visited Margaret daily, arriving at the hotel in the afternoon or evening. They continued to spend most of their time together in Evelyn and Rick's large sitting room, where all the family would gather, as well as the occasional Medjai guests. At times they would manage to find a quiet corner, and talk over everything that was to come in their lives. But usually the evenings would pass away in quiet chat or amusing stories. It all reminded her of nothing so much as a scene from a Jane Austen book.

Ardeth was right, Margaret discovered. The ritual of courtship was a marvelous thing. Their time together was relaxed, and they were able to get to know each other more innocently, more thoroughly than they ever had before. And although they were never left completely alone, he often left her breathless. She had probably never been so aware of him before. Of the warm murmur of his voice in her ear, the quiet strength of his hands barely touching hers. At times, his warm brown eyes would capture hers, she could feel his breath across her cheek as he whispered...something. She would be so caught up in the nearness of him that she didn't even understand what he had said. He smiled a slow smile at the effect he had on her, but she could see in his eyes that she affected him the same way. The thought made her shiver inside.

Before long, the doctor came to visit, and pronounced Margaret to be fully recovered. She was glad to hear the news; she could sense that the O'Connells missed the children and were restless to get home, and had only been lingering in Cairo to ensure that she was healthy. Rick made arrangements for them to leave, and Margaret helped Evelyn pack her things.

The night before the O'Connells' departure was spent like all the others, in what had become a nightly little party in their hotel suite. Margaret finished the collar of Alex's sweater with lightning speed, and presented it to Evelyn with a flourish and a laugh. As the women withdrew briefly to the bedroom to pack it away, Rick caught Hamid's arm and jerked his head to the side. The Medjai nodded, following Rick to a quiet corner where they could speak in relative privacy.

"Look, I need you to tell me something." Rick's eyes were very serious. Hamid raised his eyebrows and waited for him to continue. "It's about Meg. Is…is she going to be okay? With Ardeth, I mean?"

"Of course," Hamid replied. "He is our leader, and he is a good man. He would never harm her."

Rick shook his head. "Of course he wouldn't. That's not what I mean." He sighed, trying to put his fears into words. "It's just that…well, Meg's not one of you. I'm worried that she's setting herself up for a miserable life. And I'm not sure if I can go home without knowing that she's going to be okay."

Hamid considered his words for a moment. "The leader of the Medjai chooses his own wife," he said. "It is not for his people to decide whom he marries." He thought for a few more moments before he spoke again. "She is no mere western woman. She was held hostage, beaten by her captors, yet she spied on them without them knowing she understood their language. She was able to learn information from them that led to their defeat at our hands. One morning, not long ago, she put her own body between our leader and someone she thought would harm him, with little thought for herself." He shook his head. "Her birth matters not. She is already one of us."

"Okay." Rick let out the breath he'd been holding. "I just want her to be happy, and it's obvious that she'll be happiest if she stays here. But I'd hate to get home and leave her here, and then have things not work out…" He shook his head.

"Of course," Hamid replied. "You are her family. But you have no need to fear. There is little that our people could do to prevent them from marrying." He turned his head to look across the room at the couple, who now chatted together with Evelyn and Asim, unaware that their future was being discussed. He was silent for a moment, his brow furrowed just a little in thought. "Of course," he said slowly, "if they were already wed, there would be nothing at all to say about the matter. A marriage vow is a sacred bond that cannot be broken."

Rick watched as Margaret laughed quietly at something Evelyn said, hiding her smile behind her hand. He was really going to miss her; he'd enjoyed being a brother again these past couple of years. He thought about Hamid's last words, a small smile coming to his face. "You mean present the people with a done deal. Of course." His smile widened. "I bet I could scare up a priest or something by tomorrow morning. You think that would work?"

Hamid's smile echoed Rick's. "I believe that it would."

"Great." Rick clapped his hands, rubbing them together as he crossed the room. Standing behind Margaret, he grasped her shoulders. "So," he said, "What are your plans for tomorrow?"

She looked up at him, arching an eyebrow. "Well, I believe seeing my brother and his family off to England was the main thing on my agenda."

"Yeah, but that's not till one in the afternoon. Nothing till then?" She shook her head, looking more confused by the second. "Good. Great. Then right after breakfast, you're getting married."

This did not dispel Margaret's confusion. She stared up at him like he'd just sprouted wings. Glancing around, Rick saw that Evelyn and Ardeth were now looking at him in the same way. Doubt crept into his gut for the first time. Confident attitude gone, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Uh, that is what you wanted, right? I mean, you two were planning on…"

"Yes," Ardeth answered carefully. "Of course. But…" He looked past Rick to his lieutenant, a question in his eyes. Hamid spoke a few sentences in Arabic, outlining the reason for the expediency. Ardeth, Margaret, and Asim all smiled when he finished speaking.

"Rick, that's a fantastic idea," Margaret said. "Brilliant."

Hamid nodded. "O'Connell's plans are much better when he does not try to say them in French," he said with an easy smile.

"Enough of that," Rick said, turning to Hamid with a mock glare.

"Well, how about in English, then?" Evelyn asked, her brow still furrowed. "If my husband's being brilliant, I'd like to know why."

***

Margaret had never been a particularly romantic person. She had never been one of those girls prone to daydreaming, wondering what her wedding would be like. She never had childhood visions of long white gowns, gossamer veils, or massive churches with stained glass windows.

This was probably for the best.

She had barely rubbed the sleep from her eyes and tied her dressing gown on when there was an urgent knocking at her door. She opened it, and Evelyn bustled in, followed closely by a waiter from downstairs, bearing a pot of coffee and breakfast on a tray. Evelyn headed immediately for Margaret's bedroom, throwing open the door to her wardrobe. Margaret thanked the waiter, closed the door behind him, then followed her sister-in-law into the bedroom, watching a little bemusedly as Evelyn selected a dress, regarded it critically, and tossed it onto the growing pile on the bed.

"Evy?" she finally asked. "What are you doing?"

"Oooh, I could strangle that husband of mine," Evelyn said under her breath, not answering Margaret's question. She glanced over her shoulder at Margaret. "Just like a man, isn't it? To just decide that something as important as a wedding should happen with, what, twelve hours' notice? No time to get you something nice to wear, no time for anything, really. It's just ridiculous."

Margaret shook her head. "No, it's not." She crossed the room then, taking the dress from Evy's hands. "It doesn't matter. As long as the people I love are there to see it, I don't care if I get married in my nightgown, downstairs in the front lobby." She gripped Evelyn's hands tightly, trying to get the older woman to stop worrying. In fact, Margaret was amazed at how calm she felt. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary to her at all. Everything felt normal; everything felt right.

Evelyn snorted, sounding alarmingly like her husband. "Well, if we don't hurry up, that's exactly what will happen, knowing Rick." She turned back to the wardrobe, pulling out another dress. "What about this one? The blue?"

Margaret smiled. "Yes. Perfect." She remembered her blue silk gown at the reception in Alexandria. Ardeth had liked her in blue. Very much.

It was a most unorthodox wedding.

The bride didn't wear a white satin gown, trimmed in lace. There was no church, and no rings were exchanged. But none of that was important, really. All that mattered to Margaret was the man who stood at her side, pledging himself to her, as she pledged herself to him. And all that mattered to everyone else, besides the couple's happiness, were the two black-robed Medjai who witnessed the vows, rendering them indisputable. Within a few minutes, Ardeth and Margaret were wed, and there was no one who could question the validity of that marriage.

After a quick round of congratulations, the wedding seemed all but forgotten. The rest of the morning passed in busy confusion. Evelyn, Rick and Jonathan were sailing early in the afternoon, and there was still much to do. Margaret did what she could, helping with last minute packing, directing couriers with the luggage, trying to keep tabs on Jonathan, to make sure he didn't get left behind. Sooner than Margaret could have imagined, she found herself standing next to Ardeth at the teeming and bustling docks, hugging Evelyn and trying to find the right words to say.

Evelyn tried her best to smile, though her eyes were quickly filling up with tears. "I can't believe that we're leaving you here," she told Margaret. "I feel like you've always been in our family. I…I don't know what we'll do without you."

Margaret was still able to smile, although it was proving difficult. "It'll be all right. It's not as if we'll never see each other again, right?"

"Right." But Evelyn's voice was choked off. She pulled Margaret close into another hug. "What will I tell Hannah?"

Margaret immediately burst out with a sob at the mention of the little girl. She laid her head on Evelyn's shoulder, trying to stop her tears. "Tell her she can have my lipsticks. All of them."

They were hugging each other tightly now, laughing and crying at the same time. "You'll visit us," Margaret choked out, "and we'll visit you…Somehow…we'll find a way…"

"And promise you'll write…"

"I will, I will. And you too. I want to know every little thing that happens…"

At the sound of a throat clearing, they looked up to see Rick regarding them with an uncomfortable look. Margaret thought that perhaps he would have liked to shed a tear or two as well, if he weren't a man. With watery smiles, she and Evelyn attempted to pull themselves together, dabbing at their eyes with their handkerchiefs.

Jonathan was the next to say goodbye. He didn't say much, just embraced her for a moment and kissed her on the forehead. "You'll be fine," he said softly. "We're going to miss you, but you're where you belong." Margaret nodded, feeling fresh tears come to her eyes. Had she really thought, only a few days ago, that she would never cry again? Jonathan smiled, clapped Ardeth on the shoulder, and walked his sister up the gangplank.

Only Rick was left. He and Margaret looked at each other for a long moment, not speaking at first. Finally Margaret took a deep breath. "We're a long way from the orphanage," she said.

"No we're not," he said lightly. "It's just a few blocks over that way." But the shine in his eyes, where tears threatened, belied the cheerfulness of his words. He stepped up to her to hold her tightly, and Margaret closed her eyes, memorizing the feel of her adopted brother. For although she had assured Evelyn that they would meet again, she couldn't be sure that it would happen.

"You sure you're going to be okay?" Rick looked down at her, but didn't let her go. He wiped at one of her tears with his thumb. "I feel like I'm just leaving you right where I found you. It doesn't feel right."

Margaret shook her head. "That's not at all what you're doing. You've done so much for me, you know that. You gave me a family, a home." She laughed, a little wetly through her tears. "You even gave me a life. If it weren't for you, I'd still be in that orphanage, too afraid to look outside."

"Yeah." Rick smiled then, remembering the mousy little woman who had greeted him in Cairo three years ago. "Look at you now; traipsing all over the world, going out to live God knows where in the desert." His face fell again, and the worried look returned. He looked over her shoulder to Ardeth, and stabbed his finger threateningly at him. "You," he said, his voice harsh with emotion, "you'd better take good care of Meg. No, better than good. Great care. Excellent care. Or I swear to God I'll…"

"I would expect nothing less from you," Ardeth answered with a smile. "You have no need to fear."

Rick nodded wordlessly and stuck his hand out. After a firm handshake, Ardeth stepped back to let Margaret have these last few moments with the man she thought of as a brother. Margaret looked up at Rick, tears still shining on her cheeks, and slipped her hands into his. "I'll be fine," she promised him. She kissed his cheek, and after one more fierce hug he let her go.

Margaret stood watching and waving until long after she could actually make out their forms on the ship. Her eyes were beginning to burn with tears again. In such a short time, the O'Connells had become so precious to her; they were the closest thing to family she had ever known, and she already felt their loss acutely. But then she felt strong hands on her arms, squeezing lightly. Ardeth said nothing; he simply offered her comfort with his presence, and she smiled as she leaned into him just a little. With all the chaos of the morning, she had nearly forgotten that she was married now, and about to start on another adventure, another life. How on earth could she have forgotten that? She turned her head and gave him a nervous smile. "I suppose we should go."

His smile was not nervous; it was content, mirroring the look in his eyes. "Yes, we should," he agreed. "We have a journey ahead of us as well. Come," he said, turning to escort her away from the docks. "Our horses have been readied for us."

"Horses?" Margaret stopped walking. She groaned. "I forgot I'd have to ride again."

Ardeth laughed quietly as his mind flew back to their first acquaintance, and their ride to Hamunaptra. "You will soon grow accustomed to it," he said. "You will not be sore for long."

Margaret sighed, her face doubtful, but her eyes teasing. "I don’t know. Are you sure the doctor said I was strong enough to ride?"

"He did," Ardeth replied with a smile. He thought for a moment, stepping a little closer to her. "But you have a point. We will be careful not to cover too much ground today, so that tonight you may rest."

"Rest?" Her eyes swiveled up to his without moving her head. The look in his eyes warmed her blood. "Are you sure that's all I'll do? Rest?"

Ardeth caught her hand, bringing it up between them to brush his lips across her knuckles. He bent his head to hers, his lips nearly touching her ear. "If we stop early enough," he murmured, "you will also have time to rest."

Margaret's eyes widened, and it felt as though her whole body flushed with heat. So much had changed today. She suddenly realized just how close her new husband was standing. And that it would no longer be improper for them to… Margaret shivered slightly, and Ardeth's smile took on a sly quality, knowing her thoughts.

"We should probably get going, then," she said, her voice little more than a whisper. "I can feel weariness creeping up on me already."

Ardeth placed a hand at the small of her back as they began to walk again. "Whatever my lady desires."

The End.

Really.

I'm Not Kidding.

I Mean It This Time.