by Valerie Parv
Her blood turned to ice. The man wore dark trousers and a white, open-necked shirt instead of desert robes, but there was no mistaking his identity. Although he was too far away to hear her, she felt compelled to whisper, “It’s Jamal.”
Chapter 11
She saw Tom assess the man standing with Horvath. If ever the description tall, dark and dangerous fitted a man, it was Jamal. He’d been a champion runner in his youth, and he was still superbly fit. There wasn’t an ounce of spare flesh on his six-foot, well-muscled frame. Not a man to be trifled with, and she saw Tom’s expression harden as he reached that conclusion.
“He hasn’t seen you yet,” Tom said. “Stay put until this group moves out. When they do, we’ll go with them.”
It took all her courage to remain still, not a dozen yards away from Jamal, willing the tour group to move.
Glancing out of the airport, she saw what she had been unconsciously looking for, the private jet painted with the standard of the Q’aresh royal family standing on the runway. Hope sent her spirits soaring. If she could only get to the plane and find the tape, this might all be over. She might not be forced to leave Tom.
She couldn’t remain still a moment longer. “Can you create some kind of diversion?”
Tom nodded, having no idea what was in her mind. “As soon as I do, you head for the car. I’ll be right behind you. Got it?”
She had no intention of running for the car, but doubted if Tom would approve of her plan. So she inclined her head in apparent agreement. He approached the tour leader. “Tom McCullough, shire ranger,” he said, offering his hand.
The man shook hands. “I didn’t know anyone from ranger headquarters was meeting us.”
“It isn’t standard procedure,” Tom said smoothly. “I’ve had a report that a rare snake was spotted around the bags belonging to this group. I’d like you all to check your belongings carefully. Or I can take a look if you’re squeamish about snakes.”
“What kind of snake is it?”
“A Jamal viper,” Tom improvised. “A bite from one can be nasty.”
“Can’t say I’ve heard of it, but it’s rare, as you say. We’d better all do as the ranger asks,” the leader urged.
“You only need to worry about open bags,” Tom said hastily. If he had to examine everything they carried, he’d be here all day.
The members of the group immediately dropped their belongings as if the bags themselves could bite. A few, mostly the men, began gingerly to examine their possessions. The rest flatly refused to touch anything without Tom’s help. As he searched for the nonexistent snake, he made sure to spread the group out and create as much chaos as possible.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Shara start to move. Then he suppressed a curse. Instead of heading for the parking lot, she ran out onto the tarmac where he saw her approaching a parked plane. As she reached it, she swept the ranger’s hat off her head.
What the devil was she doing? Surely not surrendering to Jamal’s people in some kind of misguided notion of self-sacrifice? The thought was like a knife in Tom’s gut. She must know they wouldn’t honor any agreement she tried to make with them.
He also saw the moment when Jamal recognized her. He spoke urgently to Horvath and they started to move. Tom’s trick had left bags strewn everywhere, with members of the tour group still delving into them. When one man was roughly pushed aside, he pushed back, sending Horvath cannoning into Jamal.
This could get rough. He had to get these people out of harm’s way. “My assistant just signaled to me that he’s found the snake in the baggage-claim area, so I needn’t detain you any longer. Thank you for your cooperation. Enjoy your visit,” he said in a rush.
The tour members gathered up their possessions, some still handling their things reluctantly. Tom felt badly for worrying them unnecessarily, until he reminded himself what was at stake.
Looking even more bemused, the tour leader started to herd his group toward the entrance, right across the path of a fuming Jamal and Horvath. This time they didn’t try to shoulder their way through, but Tom could see they were simmering with rage.
He had only minutes. Without hesitation he headed after Shara.
Shara’s heart thundered and the fingers she wrapped around the strap of her satchel were white at the knuckles. Tom’s offer to create a diversion had cemented the merest hint of a plan into reality.
She knew the guard standing at the foot of the steps. “Hello, Talib,” she said in the Q’aresh language, sweeping the ranger’s hat off her head so her raven hair cascaded past her shoulders.
The guard’s jaw dropped a mile as he beheld his princess dressed in male clothing. She knew she couldn’t have shocked him more if she’d appeared before him naked.
He recovered quickly and snapped to attention. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I was told you were ill.”
“Or off my head,” she said with a sweet smile. “Neither is true. I’m merely taking some time to myself before my wedding to Prince Jamal. The disguise is so I can move freely, without ceremony.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” His tone said whatever royalty did was fine with him, even if it made little sense.
Thanking her stars for loyal servants, she said, “Your service will be rewarded. Now kindly take a break.”
“A break, but—Your Highness, I cannot leave the plane.”
“Even if your princess orders it?” Her tone brooked no further argument.
“As you wish, Your Highness. Prince Jamal is inside the terminal. I will inform him of your presence.”
“You will inform him of nothing. I wish to surprise him. Go now. Have some coffee and keep what you have seen to yourself for the moment.”
The man reacted as if her father, the king, had spoken. Where did he think she’d learned the tone of royal command? “As Your Highness wishes,” he said with a bow.
Suiting word to deed, the man hurried toward the airport building. Shara had already wasted enough time. She vaulted up the steps and straight into the cockpit of the plane.
She almost screamed as someone slid into the copilot’s seat while she was trying to locate the switch that locked the door of the plane. Relief swept through her when she saw it was Tom.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.
“Taking off,” she said, not looking at him as she went through the motions. Behind her she heard the steps stow themselves in the body of the plane. Nothing could stop them now.
Tom watched her, his expression grim. “How many hours’ flying time have you had?”
“Two,” she said with scrupulous honesty.
“Two hundred?”
“No, two. My brother was the one taking lessons. I merely observed until the instructor saw how keen I was, and started to teach me himself. When my father found out, he put a stop to the lessons. He thought flying a plane was unfeminine.”
Tom muttered an Australian colloquialism she was sure wasn’t used in polite society. She wondered if he objected to her father’s actions or her own inexperience. “I’m taking over.”
Aware of her own limitations, she didn’t argue. “Go ahead,” she agreed, irked that he wasn’t giving her a choice. “But I do know what I’m doing.”
“You don’t know how to do what you’re told,” he snapped, his hands busy with preflight routine. “I told you to head for the car.”
“The plane was closer,” she said mildly. And the tape incriminating Jamal was on board.
“Stealing it is going to put both our butts in a sling.”
“I didn’t ask you to follow me, and in any case, I’m not stealing it.”
“What do you call it?” he demanded.
“Reclaiming my property,” she said. “The plane was a gift from my father on my eighteenth birthday. Jamal is the one with no right to it.”
Tom flipped switches and she heard him talk to the control tower. His use of her name and rank and her confirmation put an end to any objections the
air traffic controller might have made, and they were quickly cleared to proceed.
Only as they headed for the runway, did she allow hope to bubble up. They were going to make it. Jamal was not only going to be cheated of his unwilling bride, he was also going to pay for his crimes.
Justice was sweet indeed.
She had allowed herself to hope too soon. Before they could reach takeoff speed, she saw a Jeep slam into a gate separating the runway from the surrounding land. The gate flew open. Without pausing, the Jeep headed right for them. “Jamal is trying to stop us,” she warned.
Tom had seen the car, too. “Not if I can help it.”
He got them airborne only seconds later. She looked down to see Jamal beside the Jeep. They were still close enough to the ground for her to see his twisted expression. He looked murderous.
“He’s shooting at us,” she said on a shocked gasp as bullets ripped through the air around them. She hadn’t heard any explosions and thought the engine must have muffled the shots, until she saw the silencer on the gun in Jamal’s hand.
Tom kept his attention on gaining altitude. “I noticed. Luckily he isn’t the world’s best shot.”
“I could always beat him at trapshooting,” she agreed, trying to match his calm demeanor.
He sent her a wry glance. “Is there anything you can’t do, Princess?”
She couldn’t resist. “What I’m told, evidently.”
“We’ll discuss that later. In the meantime—” he swore as the plane jolted under his hands “—your prince just hit something. We’re out of range now, so you can breathe easier.”
It would be a long time before she could do anything like breathing easier, she knew. Her heart thumped against her ribs, her pulse was erratic and she felt nauseous. As a child she had dreamed of escaping her sheltered life and having adventures, but the reality wasn’t glamorous at all. It was downright terrifying.
“So you still intend to take me to Derby,” she said, having heard him give the control tower that destination. If Jamal asked around the airport, he would soon learn where they had gone, but by then they’d be well away. She wished she could make herself feel better about it.
He nodded. “I would have preferred a less dramatic exit, but the result will be the same.”
“You will be rid of me.” Why was she surprised? He’d made no secret of his wish to wash his hands of her. But somehow she’d hoped, now she had access to the plane and it’s precious evidence, things would change.
“Oddly enough, it’s not a priority,” he said. “In the last few days I’ve grown used to having you around.”
The admission made her look at him in amazement. “I’ve endangered your life.”
“When you have a crocodile hunter for a brother, your life is often in danger. You just don’t think about it.”
“So having me around is like hunting crocodiles?”
“Let’s say it brings the same adrenaline rush, but for different reasons.”
From what she knew of crocodiles, they were dirty, dangerous creatures who preferred their meals long dead. And they were unbelievably ugly. “I’m relieved to hear it.”
“Thought you might be. Uh-oh.”
Her heart missed another beat. “What’s uh-oh?”
“From the look of these instruments, Jamal may have hit something vital after all.”
“Will we make it to Derby?”
“We’ll be lucky to make it over the next rise. Hang on, it’s going to get bumpy.”
Typical Australian understatement, she discovered a few minutes later as the plane bucked like an unbroken stallion. She was thankful Tom was at the controls, keeping them airborne. He seemed to be doing it by willpower alone.
The plane tilted and she fought the urge to scream, until she saw that Tom was steering them into a banking turn. Afraid to distract him, she chewed her lip, wondering where on earth he planned to set them down in this featureless wasteland.
Because they were going down. Despite his heroic efforts, she was aware that they were rapidly losing altitude. He informed her that he’d managed to get the landing gear down. Then she saw a group of buildings dotted beneath them. They looked familiar, and she recognized the old farmhouse at Diamond Downs where she’d spent her first nights in Australia. Tom steered for the cottage.
No, not for the building. For a barely discernible airstrip that must have served the farmhouse before the new homestead and larger airstrip were built. This landing strip was overgrown and looked as if it hadn’t been used in years. She had time to follow Tom’s instruction to brace herself, then they were down.
As landings went, it was hardly textbook but they made it, bouncing off rocks dotting the runway, and scraping against bushes until she was sure they must overturn in a fiery heap. But after what seemed an eternity, it was over. After their screaming progress out of the sky, the silence when Tom shut everything down was deafening.
She lifted her head from her arms and regarded him shakily. “We’re alive.”
He gave a shrug but she could see he was white to the eyes. “Piece of cake.”
She unsnapped her seat belt, knowing she would have bruises where the straps had bitten into her body. “This cake of yours. I don’t think I want the recipe.”
“Makes two of us.”
He freed himself and reached for her. Before their brush with death she might have hesitated. Now she went into his embrace willingly, needing to feel his heart beating in time with her own, needing to celebrate being alive.
He tasted of male sweat and heat. He tasted wonderful, she thought as his mouth moved over hers. When she parted her lips, she heard a small sound that might have been surprise, quickly overtaken by a hunger that more than matched her own.
Her heart thundered again, but with pleasure this time, as his tongue teased the corners of her mouth, then plunged deeper, taking her on a roller-coaster ride of sensation. The cheek he nuzzled against hers felt sandpapery, a new sensation to add to the dizzying assault.
Fire tore through her, more potent than Jamal’s bullets, each heat-seeking missile of a kiss finding a target deep within her until she was a roiling mass of heat and need.
As her breasts were crushed against him, thought and reason deserted her. Through the cotton of the ranger’s shirt, the slightly abrasive effect made her harden and ache. She yearned to tear the shirt away and feel him skin to skin, to have him caress her until she was his for the taking.
So close. So very close.
When he lifted his head, she almost wept with frustration. “Don’t you want me?”
“More than you can possibly imagine,” he groaned. “So much it hurts.”
“Then why?”
“You know why.”
“Because of some misguided idea that you aren’t good enough for me?”
He gestured savagely. “I’m not good enough for you. If I’d had any doubts before, this plane would have convinced me we’re worlds apart.”
“It doesn’t mean anything.” Her father had a fleet of them in Q’aresh. He had given her the plane when she turned eighteen rather than give her what she desperately wanted, the freedom to attend university in another country. Her brother had been sent to America, to Yale. She’d had to be content with a tutor within the confines of the palace.
Tom’s mouth thinned. “It may be nothing to you, but to me it represents the vast gulf between us.”
“If I’d known you’d feel that way, I’d have run for the car instead.”
He lifted her chin. “It wouldn’t change reality. But it would have saved me having to put you over my knee for disobeying me.”
Her gasp of shock changed to chagrin as she saw the sparkle in his eyes. “You wouldn’t. No one lays a hand on a royal princess and lives.”
“See?” he said, his expression sobering. “You turn back into the princess when it suits you.”
“Is it any wonder, when you switch from romancing me to threatening to spank me when it suits y
ou? I’d rather you refrained from both,” she asserted.
“You tempt me to put you to the test,” he said, smiling ruefully. “But first I’d like to get some camouflage over this thing, so the plane won’t be so obvious from the air.”
She masked her disappointment. He was right. Jamal wouldn’t know that one of his bullets had found its mark, or that they’d gotten no farther than Diamond Downs. When he made inquiries at the airport, he’d be told they were heading for Derby. They’d be safe from pursuit for the moment.
Tom had managed to steer the plane into the shelter of a group of trees. Now he snapped off branches and made a screen of them. She started to help but he lifted the branch out of her hands. “You’ll hurt yourself doing this.”
“I can help. You don’t have to pamper me,” she groused.
“Oh, no?” He took her hands in his and turned them palms upward. The contrast between her soft hands and his tanned, callused ones was immediately obvious.
He frowned over the scratches she’d already sustained while breaking off her sole branch. “These hands aren’t made for rough work.”
“Maybe it’s time they were toughened up,” she said in a strangled whisper as her eyes met his. “I want to earn my keep.”
“You earn it by simply being,” he murmured and lifted her hands to his mouth. The gallant touch of his mouth to her palm was so light, so unexpected and so arousing that heat arrowed through her.
When he released her she swayed, at first blaming his effect on her. But the dizziness continued. She steadied herself by gripping his arm.
Concern darkened his gaze. “The heat is getting to you. Go inside the plane and splash some water on your face and wrists, then lie down and rest for a bit. You’ll feel better.”
Developing heat stroke wouldn’t help him or her cause, so she nodded and made her way inside.
Out of the searing heat, her dizziness receded, although her thoughts were still in turmoil. Could she blame heat exposure for her response to Tom? Though sorely tempted, she settled for honesty. His every touch fired her with desire. If he stepped through the door now, her resistance would be zero.
