"What is it, Rashid? What has happened?" she asked hurriedly.

"I have something for you, Christina. It is from Abu."

She ran to Rashid and quickly took the piece of paper he held out to her. But she was afraid to open it. Why did Rashid look so nervous, and why had Philip left her a note? But she was being silly. This was probably some kind of surprise or perhaps an apology for leaving her so quickly this morning while she was still half-asleep.

Christina walked over to the couch and sat down, still holding the note clutched in both hands. Slowly she opened it and began to read.


Christina,

I have asked Rashid to take you back to your brother. I did not think it would happen, but the fires have died and there is no point in going on. I am setting you free, which is what you have always wanted. I wish you to be gone before I return. It will be better that way.

Philip


Christina shook her head slowly, staring at the note in disbelief. No—this wasn't true! It was some kind of cruel joke. But why did she feel so sick inside? She wasn't even aware of the tears that had come to her eyes, but she felt a choking lump swelling in her throat and a tightening in her chest. Her hands felt cold and clammy as she crumpled the piece of paper and squeezed it tightly in one hand.

"Dear God, why—why would he do this to me now?" she whispered hoarsely.

The tears flowed freely down her cheeks, and her nails dug deeply into her palm as she squeezed the piece of paper that had shattered her life. But she felt nothing but the anguish that consumed her.

Rashid stood before her and rested his hand gently on her shoulder.

"Christina, we must leave now."

"What?"

Christina looked up at him as if she didn't even know who he was. But life returned to her, and she suddenly felt angry at Philip. How could he so callously dispose of her?

"No!" she said quickly, her voice filled with emotion. "I am not leaving. I will not be cast aside like an old shirt. I'll stay here and face him. Let him tell me himself that he wants me to go. I'll not make it easy for him."

Rashid looked at her in surprise. "But I thought you wanted to go back to your brother. You told me yourself that things were not well between you and Abu."

"But that was a long time ago. Everything has changed since then. Rashid, I love him."

"You did not tell him of this?"

"No," she whispered. "How could I tell him when I didn't know how he felt? But now I do know."

"I am sorry, Christina. But you cannot stay here. He ordered me to take you away before he returns."

"Well, I won't go. Let him tell me to my face he doesn't want me."

Rashid looked desperate. "Christina, we must go! I did not wish to tell you this, but you have forced me. Abu does not desire you any longer. He wants you out of the way so he can marry Nura when he returns."

"Did he tell you this?"

"Yes," Rashid said quietly, with his eyes downcast.

"When?"

"This morning—before he left. But he has spoken of it before. It was always expected that he would marry Nura. Now we must go. I will help you get your things."

There was no point in staying to be tortured further. Christina went to the bedroom and opened the curtains. She wanted to have one last look at the room where she had spent so many happy nights. Why did she have to feel this way—why had she fallen in love with Philip? If she had continued to hate him, she would be happy at this moment. Instead, she felt as if her life had ended.

Then she remembered that she couldn't ride through the desert as she was dressed now. She walked to the chest that contained all her clothes, took out her black velvet robe and kufiyah, and donned them quickly.

She would take nothing with her except the clothes she wore—not even the ruby-studded comb in her hair. She remembered how surprised she had been when Philip gave it to her for Christmas. She tossed it on the bed, for she wanted nothing that would remind her of him. But when she saw the looking glass that Rashid had given her, Christina thought of Amine. She picked it up and left the bedroom.

"Christina, we must get your things."

She turned to face Rashid.

"I will take nothing that Philip has given me. I just want to say good-bye to Amine—and give her this," Christina said, holding up the mirror. "I don't want anything that will remind me of this place. But Amine has been a good friend to me, and I'd like to give her something. You understand, don't you?"

"Yes."

After looking once more around the main room, she left it quickly. Christina stopped in front of Amine's tent and called her. A few moments later, Amine came outside, and Christina started crying again.

"What is wrong?" Amine asked as she rushed to her friend's side.

Christina took Amine's hand and placed the looking glass in it.

"I want to give this to you. Remember that I love you as a sister. I am leaving, and I came to say good-bye."

"Where do you go? You will be back soon?" Amine asked, but she had already guessed that she would never see her friend again.

"I'm going back to my brother, and I won't be coming back. I'll miss you, Amine. You have been a true friend."

"But why, Christina?"

"It doesn't matter. I just can't stay here any longer. Tell Syed and his brothers good-bye, and tell them I wish them well. Kiss little Syed and the baby for me. I would cry too much if I kissed them myself." She smiled weakly at Amine and then put her arms around her. "I will think of you often. Good-bye."

Christina ran to the corral where Rashid had the horses ready. He helped her mount Raven, and they rode out of camp together. When they were a little way down the hillside, Christina stopped and looked back at the camp. Through tear-filled eyes she saw Amine standing at the top of the hill, waving her hand with the mirror in it.

With a last glance behind her, Christina dug her heels into Raven's sides and urged him into a suicidal pace. Rashid called out behind her, but she didn't stop. She wanted to die. She felt she had nothing left to live for. If she died on Philip's mountain, he might feel guilty for the rest of his life. But why should she let him know she couldn't live without him? It wasn't his fault that he no longer wanted her. And she did still love him. She hoped he'd be happy with Nura if that was what he wanted.

Christina slowed Raven to a steady pace. She'd think of some other way to end her life. But she'd wait so Philip wouldn't find out about it. She thought of Margiana and how she had killed herself because of Yasir. Christina truly understood now the anguish and suffering a woman could feel.

The heat of the desert closed in, but Christina was oblivious to it. Her mind was so filled with misery that she felt nothing. She couldn't understand why this was happening to her.

Night approached and passed, and the sun came again, but Christina could find no peace.

Questions tormented her. She raked her mind to find the answers, but there were none. Why—why didn't he want her anymore? She was still the same person she had been four months ago. Her appearance was the same—only her feelings had changed. Why had Philip done this to her?

Was it because she had given in to him? Had he cast her aside because there was no longer a challenge? But that wouldn't be fair—besides, that couldn't be the reason, or he would have sent her away a month ago.

And what about this last month? It had been so beautiful—so wonderful and perfect in every way. Philip had seemed happy and content, just as she was. He had spent more time with her. He had taken her riding each day. He had spoken to her about his past, had opened up and given more of himself to her. So why was she here now? Why had Philip changed? Why? Why?

The questions would not let her sleep. She lay awake during the heat of the day while they rested, and thought, and thought, but could find no peace. She took the bread and water that Rashid offered and ate mechanically, but her mind kept working—turning everything over and over —trying desperately to find a solution. Dusk always came again, and they rode on.

Chapter Twenty-one

DAMN, but it's going to be another sticky day, John Wakefleld thought irritably as he sat at his desk sorting out the morning's correspondence. It was winter. It wasn't as hot as when he'd first come to this horrible land, but the days had been warm and humid this last week without rain. The bloody weather was getting under his skin.

At least he could look forward to seeing Kareen Hen-dricks tonight Sweet, lovely Kareen. John thanked his lucky stars he had let William Dawson drag him to the Opera House last week, otherwise he wouldn't have met Kareen.

A cold chill swept over John when he thought of the hell he had lived through during his first three months in Egypt. But everything had changed when he received Crissy's letter—including his luck.

The pounding on John's door broke into his wandering thoughts.

"What is it?" John snapped.

The door opened, and Sergeant Towneson walked into the sweatbox that was John's office. He was a portly man about twice John's age, with curly red hair and a bushy moustache of the same bright red.

"There's an Arab outside who wishes to see you, lieutenant. He said it's a matter of importance," Sergeant Towneson said.

"Isn't that what they all say, Sergeant? I understand we're here to keep the peace, but isn't there someone else these people can go to with their petty quarrels?"