"My beautiful, wondrous Eve,"Sinjarsaid, sifting her silken hair through his fingers. "Ihave found my dearest treasure in you." He kissed her soundly, thenbrought himself up on an elbow and gazed into her eyes. "I want to giveyou a gift. A marriage gift."
Eve shook her head gently, though she was touched byhis offer. "No, my lord. I have riches enough. You have been more thangenerous with me, even adopting my daughter as your own and promising her aneducation that would be unheard of in my country." Her voice softened withwonderment. "I still cannot believe it, the possibility of training Leilaone day to follow in your footsteps as a physician—"
"Tell me what you want, Eve." He interruptedher so firmly that she knew he would not be swayed. "And if it is withinmy power, I will give it. Allah has blessed me; I am a wealthy man. What can Igive you? Jewels? If you wish for a sparkling diamond as large as that fig oreven larger, you shall surely have it! I could build you a country villa, withfragrant rose gardens and tiled pools, and a pavilion with a gilded roof thatwill shine in the sun like beaten gold . . ."
Eve listened quietly as his fantastic list grew longer,her heart thudding painfully in her chest.
Dare she ask him?
There was something he could give her that was moreprecious than gold or silk or the rarest jewels, something they had touchedupon only briefly in the past. WhenSinjarhad toldher he wished for them to marry, he said Moslem men were allowed to takeChristian women as wives, though he hoped she would one day accept his faith.She had said nothing, and had been grateful when their conversation had driftedto other topics. But now . . . did she dare?
"Th—there is something,my lord," she began hesitantly.
"Ask and it is yours, my beloved."
Eve met his gentle gaze fully, hoping against hope thathe would understand and not take offense at her request. "The greatestgift you could offer me is a simple one and costs nothing, my lord, save thegenerosity of your heart. I . . . I want to remain a Christian" —shealmost faltered as his expression hardened, but rushed on recklessly— "andI want to raise my daughter in the faith of her homeland."
There, it was said and she didn't regret it, thoughfrom the angry look flaring in his eyes, she feared he would deny her requestat once. Yet no words came as his mouth drew into a thin, tight line.
She waited for long moments andSinjar,now lying on his back and staring blindly at the muted colors on the ceiling,still said nothing. The salon was so quiet she could hear the stream rumblingoutside in the courtyard and the haunting trill of a caged nightingale from adistant corner of the harem. When her hope had all but faded, he spoke.
"You have requested a hard thing of me, Eve,"he said, turning his head to look at her. "A very hard thing."
"I know this, my lord."
His voice fell to a solemn whisper. "You and I . .. we shall never be together in Paradise."
"That only God may judge."
Again he was silent, and she could sense him wrestlingwith himself until finally he reached for her hand and gently squeezed herfingers. Her heart began to soar before he even said the words.
"You are fortunate that Islam is tolerant of otherfaiths, though the same cannot be said for the Christian crusaders whoterrorize and rape our land and our cities. To them, we are the infidels, theunfaithful, and no better than dogs."
Eve did not respond, for she knew he spoke the truth.She kept silent, waiting.
Sinjarsighed heavily, histone resolute. "If it is your greatest desire," he began,thenpaused as he searched her face.
"It is."
"Very well. Then I must grant it."
Tears of gratitude sprang to Eve's eyes and she huggedhim, but he did not return her embrace. She remained undaunted, knowing he washurt, and hugged him more fiercely, as if she would never let him go.
"I will never leave you, my lord, save in death,for today you have truly won my heart. This I promise."
Sinjar'sarms wrapped aroundher so suddenly, clasping her tightly against his chest, that they took herbreath away. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her sweet perfume and murmuringher name over and over like a fervent prayer. She felt a hot wetness on herneck . . . his tears.
Eve smiled through her own tears as a strange lightnesswashed over her, releasing her. It was dizzying and wonderful, and she knew atlast that she was free.
Goodbye, William. Sleep in peace, my love.
Chapter 1
Damascus, Syria
LateSummer, 1272
"I shall lead, mistress."
