The Treasure_ A Novel - Iris Johansen [101]
Tarik kissed her breast before whispering, “Will you wed me, Layla?”
She became still. “Marriage?” She raised herself on one arm and looked down at him. “You wish to wed me?”
He smiled. “Why are you so surprised? You know I love you.”
“Yes.”
“And you love me.”
She was silent.
“Layla?”
She nestled her head into the hollow of his shoulder. “Why do you wish to marry? We couple; we have joy.”
“Why do you not?”
She stared at the darkness beyond the window across the room. It was a hot, humid night, and she had left the woven shutters open. She smelled the scent of incense of palm oil she had burned to mask the stench of the streets. She knew those streets: the thieves who stole from the living and the dead, the beggars, the whores. She had forced herself to walk those byways and learn the wickedness that lay around every corner. But it was a world Tarik had never known behind the walls of the Great Library.
Until she had forced him to come out from behind those walls.
“Layla.”
“I’m . . . not like you.”
“Why should that matter?”
“I don’t meditate and worship at the feet of those great philosophers whose words you copy down in your scrolls. Most of the time I don’t think at all. I just do what seems best to do, what I want to do.”
“You think a great deal. You’re the most intelligent woman I know.”
“Of course I’m intelligent. That’s not what I meant.” She curled closer to him even as she formed the words that would distance him. “I’m not—I don’t—I should not marry you. You don’t know me.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Well enough. You’ve told me all I need to know.”
“You know nothing. I’m selfish and—Do you know why I first came to your bed? I thought your interest in finding the scroll was waning. I needed to hold you. From the first moment I saw you at the library, I intended to use you to get what I wanted.”
“I knew that.”
She sat up and looked down at him in shock. “You knew?”
He laughed. “You’re very bad at subterfuge, my love.”
“That’s not true,” she said indignantly. “I’ve done quite well at fooling the priests all these years.”
“Then perhaps I see more because I love you.”
“Why do you love me?” she asked wonderingly. “I look at myself and I see nothing to love. I’m selfish and sharp-tongued and I’ve never done anything but use you.”
“Yes, you’ve done something else.”
“What?”
“You’ve loved me,” he said simply. “Not at first. But gradually it came.”
“I do not—” She couldn’t finish. She closed her eyes. “I don’t know about this love. It’s been so long. . . . If I do love you, it feels very rough and strange and hurtful.”
“It will be better when you become accustomed to the idea. Will you wed me, Layla?”
She opened her eyes, but they were still dim with tears. “It’s foolish. You won’t be happy.”
“I won’t be happy without you. Will you wed me?”
She lay down beside him again. “You’re right, you wouldn’t be happy.” Her voice was uneven. “I’ve probably spoiled you for any other woman. Who could be as clever and witty and—” She had to stop for a moment. “So I suppose it’s my duty to marry you. We will do it on the morrow.”
He smiled. “And wear a blue lotus blossom in your hair.”
“Flowers don’t suit me.”
“It would please me.”
And she knew tomorrow the lotus blossom would be tucked in her hair.
“Layla.”
She looked behind her to see Kadar coming down the hall.
He was gazing at her quizzically. “You were lost in thought. I spoke three times to you.”
Memories, not thought, and it was just as well he had jarred her from them. “Yes, what do you want?”
“Truce. Even if we cannot agree on the grail, we need to work together.”
“You have Tarik.” She added ironically, “Why do you need the help of a mere woman?”
“Because that ‘mere’ woman can cause me innumerable difficulties, if she chooses.”
“That’s quite true. You’re wise to realize that fact and wiser to acknowledge it to me.” Her gaze narrowed on his face. “But I’ve always known you were clever. I just don’t know how self-serving you are.”
“As self-serving