by Cara Albany
She wasn't a complete fool. She'd seen the way men looked at her before. Especially in recent times when her fame had made her such a focus of attention. She knew men found her attractive, and that was fine.
But, she wondered if she could really trust this man, this near stranger. She'd done crazier things in her life than accept an invitation like the one he'd just made to her.
Maybe there would be something interesting in spending a day or two with this mysterious, attractive sheikh. It wasn't every day that a girl had a chance to do something like this, she told herself.
For a moment she paused, hardly believing what she was about to do. But there had been times in her life when she'd had to take a step into the unknown, and this looked like another one of those.
She took in a deep breath and narrowed her eyes at him. "Okay," she announced. "I'll go with you."
His eyes widened. He looked pleased.
"On one condition," she added abruptly.
His eyes narrowed and she was sure she saw a hint of concern there. "What is that?"
She cocked her head to one side. "You say you'll give me the privacy I need."
He nodded. "Of course."
"Then, if I stay in your encampment for a day or two, you'll agree to leave me to myself for however long I want."
He smiled, and seemed to suppress a laugh. "You make it sound like I'm making you my prisoner."
She didn't find that comment one bit funny, and she gave him a stern look to make sure he knew it.
"You know that's not what I meant."
He touched a hand to his chest, a natural gesture of deference she'd seen many people make since she'd arrived in Qazhar. "You will be my honored guest, Gemma. You have my word."
Was he being sincere? Gemma asked herself one last time if he could be trusted. She gazed into his eyes, searching, as before, for any sign of him lying. But, just like before, she couldn't find anything which would give him away, or suggest that he had any other desire than to be courteous and generous to her.
Maybe he was just trying to be the genuine article, she thought. A sheikh who was a man of honor. A man of integrity.
Back home, that would have seemed like a novelty, something scarcely to be believed. But somehow, out here, in this vast wilderness, so far from everything that she was used to, his promise seemed genuine, something she could trust.
"Is that enough?" she snapped.
The second she'd said that, she realized she'd misjudged the moment. His gaze was suddenly stern. "My word is sacred to me," he declared. "I have not been known to break a single promise I have made."
She shrugged. "I wouldn't know anything about that," she said. "After all, we've only just met."
"Perhaps the next day or two can convince you of my sincerity. After all, I have caused you enough embarrassment already. I feel it is my duty to correct that oversight on my part."
She waved a dismissive hand. "It wasn't really your fault. Probably I should have known better than to get into your limo. But you kinda left me with no choice."
He frowned. "A choice I truly regret," he said.
He did sound sincere, she told herself.
"Okay. So what say we get going," she said.
He smiled and turned to his horse, which had settled slightly, and was now standing calmly awaiting its master. Ahmed gestured with a hand toward the horse. "Your transport awaits," he said and grinned.
Gemma lifted a brow at him. It was going to be a very interesting nighttime journey across the desert.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ahmed lifted Gemma up onto the horse. As he did so, he couldn't help noticing the feel of her hips through the fabric of her dress, the same dress that made her look so much like a woman of his own kingdom.
Her body felt so warm and so full beneath the dress. Desire flamed within him, urgent and welcoming. As she lifted herself onto the top of the horse she glanced down at him, her eyes suddenly full of curiosity. He was sure that she had taken note of the way he had held her as he'd helped her up onto the horse. He wasn't sure whether she disapproved or not, but he liked the look in her eyes. He liked the fire that appeared in her gaze from time to time.
"I told you that I don't know how to ride a horse, didn't I," Gemma said. "I haven't been on that many."
"It doesn't matter," Ahmed said. "You'll be safe with me. "
She responded to that statement with a slight arching of her brow. "Really?" She paused as if awaiting a smart comeback from him. But, instead he gazed steadily at her, wanting her to know that his next statement was heartfelt and true.
"Of course you'll be safe," he declared. "Haven't I already told you that?"
She seemed to weigh up those words carefully, the same way she'd done it moments ago when they'd been bargaining and negotiating whether she should go with him. "How far did you say this encampment of yours was?" she asked.
"About an hour," he replied tightening the saddle and taken note of the length of her leg as it hung down by the side of the horse. He could tell that she had very fine legs. Beautiful, in fact, just like everything else about her.
Why did he feel the need to take in the sight of every part of her body, to savor every casual look, every accidental touch, now that she was so close to him, now that they were alone out here?
Last night in the limo, something had awakened in him, an instant desire for this woman. And now that she was by his side, that desire was beginning to bear fruit in the form of a need he was struggling to disguise.
There were no stirrups in the saddle. He never used such a thing, not here in the desert. He was too experienced a horseman to need anything like that. He had been riding in the desert for years and was comfortable without such useless equipment.
He liked to ride raw and rough and fast.
He had loaded the contents of her small bag from the car into the sidesaddle. He noted that she had only brought a few things, and concluded that she had not been planning to stay too long out here.
That would be fine, he reflected. He was just glad that he would have a chance to spend that time with her. This was going be a completely new experience for him, having a woman like her so close, out here.
He'd never brought a woman here. She would be the first he'd allowed into his private sanctuary. But, somehow, she seemed like the right kind of woman to be granted such a privilege. Because that was what he regarded it as. A privilege. He was sure she would treat it like that.
Now he was ready, so he lifted himself up onto the horse holding onto the reins. He sat behind her on the wide saddle onto which they both comfortably fit.
He felt her hips shift slightly as he found his position at her back. Ahmed extended his arms around her body on both sides and gripped the reins. The scent of her perfume was suddenly intoxicating and the feel of her warm body against his torso was just as difficult to ignore.
"You comfortable?" he asked quietly.
Gemma didn't turn to look at him. He felt her body tighten slightly as if she was taking a few moments to get used to this. Almost as if she was considering one last time whether this whole thing was a good idea. Whether they could even spend the next hour or so like this, their bodies pressed hard against each other.
One thing was for sure, the next hour or so was going to take a whole lot of getting used to as far as he was concerned.
Gemma nodded. "Feels okay," she said abruptly. He could tell from her voice that she was a little uneasy.
Of course she was uneasy, he told himself. She had agreed to something that not many would have consented to. She was about to ride across the desert with an almost complete stranger, someone who had already caused her enough trouble.
He wondered why she was willing to do such a thing and then realized that it fit into the kind of person he thought she was. She was someone who liked an adventure, liked to take risks. She couldn't have achieved what she'd done without taking chances. They were both about to take a big chance, he reflected as he tugged o
n the reins.
The horse responded, starting to move across the sandy ground. Ahmed held onto the reins with one hand and with his other he pulled Gemma closer against him by placing his hand across her middle.
He waited for her to respond with some kind of objection, perhaps push him away, and he was pleased when she didn't do so immediately. Instead, he felt her body tense for a few moments and then, just as quickly, relax.
"Okay?" he asked.
"Yup," she said. "This should be fun," she added.
He smiled. The way she'd said that made her sound so American, so confident, he told himself.
The horse moved across the desert out past the western edge of the town and along the long spread of the valley floor. They rose up and across a ridge and out onto a flat, dune-covered plain that stretched away into the distance. The moonlight cast silvery light across the landscape.
Ahmed drew in a long appreciative breath and felt instantly at home. Ahmed loved this time of night. He'd spent many nights riding in the desert.
Alone.
It filled his soul, connected him to this place in a primal way. It gave him a necessary peace which he could never find back in the city.
The horses hooves were sure footed even in the soft sand as they began to navigate their way through the dunes.
Ahmed knew the safest way away from town and negotiated the narrow passes through the desert dunes with an expert eye. He had an inborn sense of the desert, something he felt in his blood. It was like a compass that never failed him.
Gemma continued to press gently back against him. His body responded to the proximity of hers with a treacherous hardening, over which he had virtually no control.
Not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable, he shifted slightly backwards so that she would not be able to tell how she was affecting him. It had been a long time since a woman had had such an instant effect upon him, Ahmed reflected.
He had realized last night, upon meeting her for the first time, that she was no ordinary woman. And that had nothing to do with her celebrity or fame. He had no interest in such things.
That was where he and Rashid differed. Rashid's idea was to use Gemma as some way of connecting with the outside world, of making Qazhar seem more modern, more contemporary. As far as Ahmed was concerned, that was a project that was doomed to failure.
Rashid thought Gemma would provide him with a role model for young women in their region. That they would see in Gemma something to be emulated.
But, Ahmed already knew something that Rashid didn't. Gemma was so much more than that. She had qualities that took her far beyond Rashid's trivial ambitions. Ahmed had seen those qualities, even if Rashid's narrow vision had blinded him them.
But she wasn't with Rashid now. She was with him.
While she was with him, the only thing Ahmed was interested in was being as close to Gemma as possible. He wanted to find out everything about her. He needed to get to know if his instincts about her were real. Or whether he was simply fooling himself.
One thing was for sure, she affected him physically like no other woman. The scent of her hair; the feel of her blonde locks as they fluttered against the side of his face caused pleasure to sweep through his body. Her heat was so tempting and the feel of her body against his hand settled at her middle just caused firmness to swell in him.
Ahmed was suddenly glad he'd come all this way on the off chance of finding her. It had been a gamble which had paid off handsomely.
They began to move quickly across the desert landscape. The scent of her body wrapped itself around him like a warm blanket.
She didn't say much the first ten or fifteen minutes as they rode across the desert. Perhaps she was just trying to get used to the whole idea, he told himself. Maybe now that she was riding across the desert, with him at her back, she realized just what she'd agreed to.
He would have given anything to know what she was thinking, what she was feeling, but he didn't want to intrude on her private reflections.
In any case, that was part of the deal. He had agreed that by bringing her to his encampment he would be giving her a chance of some solitude.
And he was going to keep that agreement, because that with the kind of man he was. A man who kept his promises.
But it was not going be easy.
Suddenly she spoke. "This is so amazing," she said. Her voice was filled with wonder as she gazed out across the moonlit landscape. "I've never seen anything like this in my life."
"I told you it was special, didn't I" he said.
She did not respond, instead turning her head and gazing out across the vista.
"Can I ask a dumb question?" she asked a few moments later.
"Sure," he replied.
"How do you know your way? I mean, how come you don't get lost?"
He laughed quietly. "I suppose you could call it some kind of innate sense of direction. Maybe it's in my blood."
"That makes sense, I suppose," she said tentatively. "Although, I can't say I understand it."
"Why would you? You didn't grow up in this place, like I did."
"I guess not," she replied.
Ahmed felt she needed some kind of explanation. "My family goes back many generations. We are a family of great tradition and that includes everything that we used to treasure, including the desert life."
"So the people back in the village, they know this? They understand that your family has some kind of special privilege in this area?" she asked.
He could tell that she was trying to understand the kind of life that could be lived out here. It must seem so completely alien to her, almost incomprehensible.
But, he realized, he wanted her to understand. For some reason it was important to him. Perhaps because she was so much of an outsider, and the world that she had come from was a world where tradition had become almost meaningless.
At least that was how he saw her world. Maybe he was wrong, and perhaps over the next day or two she would show him he was mistaken in making that judgment.
But it was just the way he saw things. The world she existed in seemed to only value what was happening today or tomorrow, but no further than that. The world she had come from was a world of instant gratification. A complete contrast to this, he reflected.
This was eternal. Timeless.
Her fame was merely something which fanned a desperate need for temporary satisfaction. If that was the case, he understood why this place would affect her so instantly, so viscerally. This was nothing like what she was used to.
"Maybe you can find something out here that you can use when you go back," he suggested, thinking he was trying to be helpful.
He felt her body stiffen suddenly ,and immediately knew he'd stepped over an unspoken boundary. "What are you suggesting?" she asked sharply.
"Nothing. Merely that this is something new for you," he replied. "I've caused you so much trouble in the first place. You could say that it might be my way of repaying you."
She twisted slightly in the saddle and then her eyes were gazing at him. He could see a hint of indignation in those piercing blue eyes. He liked how it felt when she looked at him like that.
"You don't have to repay me for anything," she declared harshly.
"It is merely my way of trying to put right what has been damaged."
She squinted at him. "Nothing has been damaged," she snapped. She was really getting angry now, he told himself.
He tilted his head and tightened the grip of his hand around her waist. She seemed to notice the movement of his hand, because her eyes narrowed slightly and her gaze intensified in response.
Was she thinking about the way he was holding her against him? Did she realize how her closeness was affecting him? Was she feeling anything like the these confusing yet exquisite sensations?
"I know that I must have inconvenienced you," he stated. "Perhaps I shouldn't have offered you that ride home in my limo."
"You saw the photos, didn't you?"
<
br /> He nodded. "To me, they looked perfectly innocent. But, perhaps that's not the kind of world we live in any more." he said.
"What are you suggesting?" she asked.
"Nothing. Perhaps old-fashioned values are no longer appreciated," he said.
"I think it's about a lot more than just old-fashioned values, as you put it," she declared.
She turned away from him and leaned slightly forward, but he maintained his grip around her waist. She seemed to think for a few moments before replying.
For a while all he could hear was the thundering hooves of the horse as it raced across the sand.
"In any case, I think you're wrong," she said, sounding slightly petulant now. She glanced at him. He'd hurt her feelings with that remark, and he immediately regretted doing that.
Gemma paused before turning her face away from him and continuing. "I think people still appreciate the kinds of things you're talking about. It's just that, with the speed of everything these days, they tend to forget. They lose sight of things that are important."
"Like what?" he probed, speaking quietly into her ear which was resting next to his mouth.
She hesitated, and he knew she trying to think carefully about what to say next. "I don't know. Maybe things like tradition, or family or the kind of values that bind people together," she said thoughtfully.
He was impressed. She'd obviously been giving this subject some thought, he told himself.
"Why would they forget things which are so important?" he asked.
"There's just so much to pay attention to these days," she said. "Everything moves so fast. I guess they just don't have the time." She sighed and gazed out across the landscape. "Especially for something as primitive as this. Something this beautiful."
"Primitive?" He said sharply. He was unsure whether to take that as a mild insult.
Perhaps she didn't really know how important were the things she'd just mentioned so casually, so dismissively.
"That's not what I meant," she said quickly almost as if she realized she may have caused offence. "I mean something so basic and beautiful as this is not a part of people's everyday life back home. You are so lucky that you have this. But, I guess you already know that, don't you?"
