“It will take me only a minute to change!” she exclaimed, then ran to the tent.
“You will have to ride without a saddle,” he called after her, for they didn’t use them here.
“That’s all right,” she yelled over her shoulder. “I’ll manage.”
Christina dashed into the bedroom and took out the loose-fitting breeches that she’d just finished making. She was glad that she’d decided to make a robe instead of a dress first.
Throwing her skirt onto the bed, she quickly donned the black silk breeches. She wrapped a black strip of material securely about her head, concealing her golden hair. She slid into the flowing black velvet robe, tied the robe about her waist with a wide sash, then put the black velvetkufiyahon her head, binding it around with a heavy black cord.
When she thought of what Philip would think of her riding outfit, she laughed. But she didn’t care, for she was gloriously happy.
Philip was surprised when he saw her come out of the tent. She looked like a young boy until she came closer and he could see her voluptuous curves enhanced by the soft velvet.
“I’m ready.” She turned to the horse, nuzzled his nose, and whispered in his ear. “We’re going to be fine friends, my black beauty, and I’ll love you as if you were my own. Does he have a name?” she asked Philip as he lifted her onto the blanketed back of the horse and handed her the reins.
“No.”
“I shall call you Raven,” she said gleefully, leaning over so the horse could hear her. “And we’ll ride the wind freely, like the raven.”
Philip mounted Victory, and they slowly walked down the hillside. He marveled at how gentle Raven was with Christina, after the trouble he’d had breaking the horse.
Christina quickly became accustomed to the feel of riding bareback. She managed Raven beautifully as they rode down the winding path.
When they finally reached the bottom of the mountain, Christina urged Raven into a slow canter, then a speeding gallop, leaving Philip behind. She raced across the vast expanse of desert without destination, feeling like a free spirit flying in the wind. Her troubles fled from her as she dreamed she was back in Halstead riding across her estate, but then Philip caught up with her.
He pulled up on her reins. “If you insist on racing me, Tina, perhaps we should wager on who the victor will be.”
“But I have nothing to wager,” she replied. But she would dearly love to beat him at something for a change.
“Then we’ll wager what we want from each other,” he suggested, his dark-green eyes piercing hers. “We’ll race back to the bottom of the mountain, and if I win, you’ll give yourself to me freely from now on.”
Christina thought about his wager for a minute. “And if I win, you’ll send me back to my brother.”
Philip looked at her curiously. She rode the horse well. She might beat him, and he couldn’t take that chance.
“You ask too much, Tina.”
“So do you, Philip,” she returned curtly. Turning her horse, she headed back toward camp.
Smiling, he shook his head as he watched her ride away. She’d known he wouldn’t accept her stakes. Well, it had been a good try. He caught up with her, and they rode back silently together.
The clouds came from nowhere, sending down a torrent of rain to wash away the heat. Christina and Philip were soaked through by the time they reached the camp. The men were working furiously to secure the tents so water couldn’t seep under them. Someone was sitting in the rain by the fire, fanning smoke out of the shelter that had been erected over it.
Philip dismounted in front of their tent and carried Christina inside. “Get out of those wet clothes and do whatever you have to do now. It will be dark soon, and there will be no fire tonight.” He set her down gently and added, “I have to see to the horses’ shelter, but I’ll be back shortly.”
As Philip left, Amine asked to come in. She had brought their dinner and some fresh towels. “You must change quickly, Christina. The rain brings the cold, and you will fall sick if you do not get warm now.”
“I was just wondering what to do with these wet clothes,” Christina replied, laughing. “I can’t very well hang them on a tree to dry.”
“Come,” Amine said, taking Christina into the bedroom. “Do you have needles that you sew with?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I will hang your clothes with them to the inside of the tent. It will take a few days, but eventually they will dry.”
While Christina took off her robe, Amine stared in wonder at her breeches. Christina laughed at the shocked look on Amine’s face. “I made them for riding. They let me ride swiftly without a skirt flying into my face.”
“Ah, but Sheik Abu, he must not like them,” Amine giggled as Christina handed her the breeches and then her blouse.
