by Kim Lawrence
‘Dad,’ she whispered in a stricken voice, her eyes widening in horror.
‘Your father?’
She nodded. ‘My dad has a heart condition. He’s waiting for bypass surgery—if he finds out I’ve gone missing it will kill him.’
‘Of course it will.’
She looked at him in total disgust. ‘You callous bastard!’
He gave a fluid shrug. ‘Possibly, but not a gullible one, though I have to admit you are good. Have you thought about writing fiction?’
‘But it’s true!’ she protested, tears of frustration standing out in her eyes as she struggled to convince him of her sincerity.
‘Dad had his first heart attack when he was forty! Then last week—’ She stopped and gulped as the memory of that phone conversation the previous week came rushing back.
A conversation that had begun with the words ‘Don’t panic but’ had never been one she was going to enjoy.
She hadn’t.
Molly had listened with a knot of apprehension like a boulder lodged behind her breastbone as her dad had explained that he’d had a few twinges recently.
‘Define twinges or, better still, get the doctor to define them. You have to promise me to make an appointment right now.’
‘No need. Actually I was out cycling the tow-path the other day and I had a slightly bigger twinge and a chap passing by called an ambulance.’
‘You mean you had a heart attack.’ By this point Molly was already mentally booking her flight home.
‘Not a heart attack, just angina.’
‘Just angina?’ she echoed, wanting to scream with sheer frustration. ‘Oh, well, that’s all right, then.’
His sigh vibrated gently down the line. ‘I told your sisters you’d react this way but they made me ring you.’
‘I’m coming home right now.’
‘Look, Molly, there is absolutely no point you coming home now. They won’t be doing the bypass until next month or most probably the month after—the waiting list is huge.’
Molly, who had been pacing the room, sat down with a bump. ‘You need a bypass?’
‘Didn’t I say?’
‘Well, heart surgery is something that could slip a person’s mind, isn’t it, Dad?’ she said bitterly. ‘You’re impossible!’ And the possibility of not having her impossible parent around to drive her crazy filled her with gut-churning terror. ‘I’m coming home.’
‘The doctors have told me to avoid stress and if you come home now because of me I’m going to feel stressed.’
Molly hadn’t been convinced by this argument, but after she had spoken to her sisters she had realised there was a grain of truth in it. Now she knew it was the biggest mistake of her life. If she had gone home when she should have she wouldn’t now be in a plane with a certifiable lunatic.
She took a deep breath and reached out, her fingers curling around Tair’s forearm as she levelled her gaze with his. ‘Look,’ she said, pointing at her face. ‘Do I look as though I’m lying?’
He looked bored and said, ‘This is old ground.’
‘You don’t understand. If my father hears about this…’ She clamped her quivering lips tight as she added in a fearful whisper, ‘It will kill him. He needs heart surgery, you see—he’s not supposed to be stressed.’
‘That is very inventive.’
Her fists balled in frustration. ‘It’s not an invention, it’s the truth.’
His lip curled. ‘Do I look like a gullible idiot?’
‘Look…I’m wasting my breath, aren’t I?’ She fixed him with a glare of sheer loathing as she added, ‘If anything happens to my father you’ll be responsible and I’ll make you pay if it’s the last thing I do.’
She turned her head sharply so that he couldn’t see the tears that welled up in her eyes, and she missed the flash of uncertainty in his face.
‘There are not going to be any alarm bells ringing to alert your father. You haven’t vanished. Being a considerate friend you have decided not to impose on Beatrice’s hospitality at a moment that is essentially a family time. You left a note.’
Molly closed her eyes. She could only imagine Tariq’s face when he read that note. A laugh escaped her dry lips.
‘You’re not going to have hysterics again, are you?’
Molly just stared. ‘Won’t they think it odd that I didn’t write personally?’
‘You’re avoiding an embarrassing scene.’
‘But why in this alternative universe am I embarrassed?’
‘You have accepted an invitation from a man you have just met…’ He stopped as the gulping sound of a strangled sob escaped her throat.
He looked at the tears sliding down her cheeks and was irritated to feel an irrational stab of guilt. This woman is a born manipulator, he reminded himself.
‘Do you actually have a father?’ he wondered harshly.
‘I do and I also have brothers…Tariq…’
‘Is your brother, I suppose?’ he drawled.
Molly’s shoulders relaxed. ‘Yes…but it isn’t public knowledge and I’d prefer it stayed that way.’
‘I imagine you would.’ He smirked as he scanned her face. ‘I’m disappointed,’ he admitted.
‘Disappointed?’ she echoed, wishing she’d come clean straight off and avoided this journey. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t start some sort of diplomatic incident by telling everyone about this.’
‘Disappointed,’ he corrected, ‘because I had thought your powers of invention were limitless, but apparently not. Let me offer you a word of advice. The thing about lies is that one needs to keep them this side of reality. The “seriously ill father” story was far more convincing.’
Her horrified eyes flew to his face. He thought she was lying.
‘He is!’ Even as she spoke she knew that there was not a chance in hell of convincing him. It was all about timing and hers stunk!
She shook her head and narrowed her eyes. ‘Tariq is my brother and he will come looking for me…and then you’ll be sorry,’ she promised, sheer will-power holding back the tears that threatened to fall from her glistening eyes.
His lip curled. ‘I think you overestimate your value to Tariq. As far as he is concerned you got a better offer and are with me.’
‘He will come,’ she said, fixing him a glare of complete loathing.
‘I can’t decide if you actually imagine you’re in love with Tariq or if it was a harmless flirtation that went too far, and quite frankly your motivation doesn’t interest me.’
Despite this declaration of disinterest he immediately began to speculate. ‘Is this pay-back time for all the years you must have stood in Beatrice’s shadow? It must have been frustrating—with Beatrice around nobody was going to look at you, were they?’ His burning blue eyes slid with dismissive contempt over her slender body.
‘Who could blame you,’ he continued, ‘for being tempted when the opportunity arose? Someone was looking at you, not Beatrice.’
‘You seem to be managing it.’
The observation brought a flash of anger to his lean face. ‘Did it not even occur to you that you were hurting people?’
‘Did it occur to you that you’re wrong?’
CHAPTER SIX
‘SILLY question, of course it didn’t. But you are wrong about everything. Tariq will come and when he does you won’t look so smug and self-satisfied.’
It was hard to tell how long the uneasy, hostile silence had lasted before Tair finally raised his voice and called out.
‘Fasten your belt—we’re going to land.’
Molly, who had taken a seat in the rear of the plane as far away from him as possible, did as he requested. Rebellion for rebellion’s sake was not going to achieve anything. She had to plan her strategy and in the meantime she could only hope that her brothers would have the sense to shelter her dad from the truth for as long as possible.
‘It might be a little rough.’
Molly considered this an understatemen
t, but when she looked out of the window and saw where they had landed she was amazed that they were still in one piece.
It was, quite literally, the middle of nowhere.
Her plans of being noisy and hoping someone would rescue her disintegrated. He sauntered down the plane looking so relaxed that she felt like screaming in frustration.
She resisted the temptation, realising her best bet was to lull him into a false sense of security by letting him think he was in charge, and that she was beaten.
He’s not? You’re not? she wondered.
‘Right, I am glad you are being sensible.’
Carry on believing that, you rat, she thought, catching the piece of white garment he threw at her.
‘Put it on.’
Without waiting to see if she did, obviously taking obedience as a given, he turned and walked back to the cockpit. When he returned a short time later his hair was concealed in a traditional white desert headdress, and Molly felt a quiver run down her spine. The covering emphasised the perfect bone structure and hard sculpted contours of his sternly beautiful face.
It also revealed the primitive quality that she found disturbingly compelling. The veneer of civilisation he cloaked himself in was paper-thin as he looked at her.
‘Are you ready?’
Tair watched as she removed her hands from the armrests without saying a word. Fingers stiff, she unfastened the clasp of her belt and got to her feet.
Though she purposefully did not look at him, Molly was very conscious of his brooding presence towering over her. She lifted her lashes and when she saw his face again she lost her balance. As she took a staggering step back he reached out and grabbed her while saying something harsh-sounding in his own tongue.
A second later the breath left her lungs in a soft whoosh as she was brought into direct contact with the iron-hard surface of his chest.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked again.
Molly struggled to catch her breath and fought even harder against the paralysis that caused her to lean into him, not because she had to, but because she wanted to.
Now that was scary!
One of his arms was wrapped around her ribs, but not so tightly as to confine her. It was her own starved senses that held her there as she drank in the male fragrance of his warm body.
Taking a deep breath, she managed to gain enough control to push away. His hands went to her shoulders and stayed there.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ he asked again.
Molly nodded, feeling uncomfortably exposed as his blue eyes scanned her face. Glaring up at him, she breathed hard to drag air into her lungs.
‘Let me tell you what will happen next.’
‘I already know what will happen next,’ she snapped, twisting away from him. The sound of his grunt of pain as her wild kick made contact with the most vulnerable part of his anatomy, delivered more by luck than skill, gave her a surge of satisfaction as, yelling at the top of her lungs, she flung herself towards the door.
She had not reached the opening before a hand looped around her waist. Her feet left the floor as she was pulled back against his hard physique. An adrenaline rush gave her strength and fear fuelled her desperation as she flailed out at him, her fists hammering into his chest. She was literally sobbing in frustration as he restrained her with insulting ease.
‘Let me go, you…Help!’
‘Nobody can hear you.’ Through her pants of exertion his voice sounded calm. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t.’
‘My,’ she sneered. ‘Aren’t you the big man?’
‘Aren’t you the little wild cat?’ he countered, looking at her with an expression that made her stomach flip. The fight drained out of her quite abruptly and if he hadn’t been holding her she would have slid to the floor. ‘Do not waste your energy.’
What energy? she thought, suddenly feeling as weak as a kitten and a harsh word away from humiliating tears.
‘There is no one to hear you and nowhere to run. Do you understand?’
She nodded and he released her. Molly pushed a hank of hair from her face with her forearm—the last of her hair pins had been lost some time earlier—and fixed him with a steady unblinking regard.
‘I hate you,’ she announced shakily but with conviction, her golden eyes filled with loathing.
‘I’m not exactly a fan of yours either. You kick like a mule. Remind me not to leave any sharp implements around.’
He picked up the white cotton garment from the floor. ‘Now put it on.’
His lips tightened as she shook her head. ‘It’s just the sort of thing you like—baggy and shapeless. It will also protect you from the sun; it’s another two hours before dusk.’
‘Where are you taking me?’
‘Somewhere where you can’t do any harm,’ he said, and then, because he could see the next question and didn’t want to hear her voice again, added, ‘My grandfather has an encampment a few kilometres from here.’
She sniffed and tossed her head, starting off a rippling motion in her loose hair before it settled straight and smooth down her back. ‘So this abduction is a family business, is it? Your grandfather must be so proud of you.’
Tair watched her hair and thought about how it would feel brushing against his skin. Not that he intended finding out, but a man couldn’t help but wonder.
‘My grandfather won’t be there.’ His lips curved into an ironic smile as he imagined his grandfather’s response to him turning up with a golden-eyed captive in tow. Explosive would hardly cover it!
His smile faded abruptly. His grandfather’s reaction would not be any stronger than the desire that had exploded inside him when he had held Molly’s soft and trembling body in his arms. He had wanted to both comfort her and taste her—neither of which were appropriate responses.
‘He is attending a gathering…a race meeting.’
‘Horse racing in the desert?’
‘Camel.’
‘You race camels?’
‘It is tradition. The location varies but there is a large gathering every year.’
‘And when you don’t turn up?’
‘I will.’ He would regain a little perspective once there was a safe distance between them.
Molly couldn’t hide her surprise—although shouldn’t it be relief? ‘So you’re not staying with me.’
One corner of his mouth lifted in a taunting smile. ‘Will you miss me?’
The hot colour flew to her cheeks. ‘About as much as the flu.’
He laughed. ‘Come on—your carriage awaits.’
Only it wasn’t a carriage.
A few minutes later she stood looking at two camels, shaking her head. ‘You have to be joking?’
He didn’t respond, though he did crack a grin once or twice when she was attempting to get onto her camel with the assistance of one of the two men who had met them.
‘This animal smells disgusting.’
‘He probably thinks the same about you,’ he retorted, thinking not for the first time about the scent that clung to her hair.
She folded her arms and shook her head. ‘I can’t.’
‘Show a bit of backbone. It’s just like sitting in an armchair.’
‘Show a bit of backbone?’ she repeated, her voice rising an indignant octave. ‘I’d like to see how much backbone you’d be showing if the roles were reversed. I’ve been kidnapped, verbally abused, starved and now you expect me to ride a damn camel. Well, enough is enough!’ she said, sinking to the floor and proceeding to sit cross-legged.
The two men looked to Tair, who said something in Arabic that made them smile.
‘What did you say to them about me?’
‘I said that normally you have the sweet nature of a dove, but you’re having a bad day.’
She threw him an acid look, then let out a shriek when one of the men picked her up, put her on the camel, then urged the animal forward.
‘You’re doing ver
y well.’
‘Save your words of encouragement. If I fall off and break my neck you’ll have it on your conscience for ever.’
‘You won’t fall off—you’re a natural.’
She grunted something indistinct and slung him a murderous glare. He grinned and urged his own mount ahead, leaving her precious little choice but to follow. She didn’t know where they were or where they were going to. All around was an undulating vast expanse of nothingness.
Either the camels knew their way home or Tair was one of those people who possessed an inbuilt compass.
It was dusk when they reached the top of a rise and saw the encampment spread below them.
Molly caught her breath—it was amazing!
The clusters of tents were pitched around what must be an area that possessed a natural water supply, because as well as the palm trees swaying overhead she could hear the faint but distinctive sound of falling water above the buzz of people moving about their business. Fires had been lit, sending sparks into the velvet smoke-filled evening air.
Despite the fact she was hot, tired, uncomfortable and mad as hell, Molly was enchanted by the scene.
‘It’s beautiful.’ Aware of Tair’s eyes on her face, she added tetchily, ‘I don’t suppose anyone here is going to help me if I tell them you’ve kidnapped me?’
‘Are you sure you want them to listen?’
Molly’s cheeks scored with angry colour as she turned her head and nearly lost her balance in the process. ‘Are you suggesting that I like being forced to endure your company and your insults just because you have a pretty face?’
She knew straight away that her words were a mistake and the speculative gleam that entered his eyes confirmed this.
‘I wasn’t thinking of my face particularly, I’ve never been called pretty before, but I’m naturally relieved that it meets with your approval, Miss Mouse.’
Molly gritted her teeth and refused to respond to the taunt.
‘I was thinking that if I didn’t know better…’ His dark head, tilted a little to one side, subjected her face to a narrowed-eyed scrutiny until Molly could bear it no longer and snapped.
‘If you didn’t know better what?’
‘If I didn’t know better I’d say that you were enjoying your adventure.’
