Sheikh's Temptation. ALEXANDRA SELLERS
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shrouded by the storm and cloaked in night, the ruin made her shake her head in sorrow. It must have been a beautiful place, built on several terraced levels up the hillside.
As they walked she saw the intricately patterned paving stones under her feet, broken now, and a dry channel said that a spring had once made its way through the garden. There were the remains of delicate archways and, just visible on the far side of the flat roof, an intact dome.
Although there were some signs of industry—a neat pile of new bricks, some boarded-up windows—no extensive repair seemed to have begun.
Arash led her towards a doorway and pushed open the door, and she followed him inside, out of the wind’s icy blast.
He shoved the door shut against the wind. They stood for a moment in total darkness. Catching her breath, she felt him fumble with something.
“Didn’t we bring a flashlight?” she asked, and found that she was speaking in a whisper.
“One moment,” Arash said, in a normal voice, and just then a match flared and she saw his hand reach for the glass chimney of an oil lamp on a small shelf just above her eye level at the doorway.
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