by Sarah Morgan
She wanted to ask where they were going, but knew the question was not only superfluous but also potentially hazardous because the hooves of the horses sent sand flying into the air and she only had a thin layer of scarf protecting her. So she kept her mouth closed and tried to remember what she’d read about riding, and then realised it didn’t matter because he knew and was driving the horse forward, controlling the animal with one hand on the reins while the other remained firmly locked around her waist.
She was aware of the dull thud of hooves on sand, of the feel of Raz’s thighs pressed hard against hers and the brush of the cool night air on her face. A sensation tore through her that she didn’t recognise and it took her a few moments to realise it was exhilaration. With the responsibility for controlling the horse in someone else’s hands, the ride on the back of this powerful animal was the most exciting, breathtaking experience of her life. In her restricted, regimented life this was the closest she’d ever come to freedom, and it felt so good she smiled behind the protective covering of the scarf. She couldn’t remember when she’d last smiled, but she was smiling now as each pounding stride of the horse took her further away from Hassan. It felt like the end of something—and then she remembered that Hassan was unlikely to give up that easily.
And Yasmin was out in the desert alone and lost.
Her smile faded.
She hoped Salem’s knowledge of the desert was as good as it was reputed to be and that he’d find her sister quickly.
They rode for several hours, until time blurred and sleep overcame her. Several times she was jarred awake as her head hit his shoulder, and eventually he shifted position to give her somewhere to rest her head.
‘Sleep, Princess.’
And she did, because her body gave her no choice, exhausted by the exertions of the past twenty-four hours. Her last coherent thought before her brain shut down was that sleeping against his chest like this was the safest she’d felt in her life.
CHAPTER FOUR
SHE WAS SNUGGLED against him, lulled to sleep by the movement of the horse.
The closeness of her disturbed him as much as the realisation that she was nothing like he’d imagined her to be when people had spoken her name. He’d visualised someone pampered and privileged. Someone spoiled and entitled. When he’d first seen her in his tent he’d assumed she was an opportunist, switching sides to protect herself before the inevitable shift in power.
At some point from her arrival in the camp to her falling asleep against him his view on her had become clouded, and now he was forced to admit he didn’t know what he was dealing with.
Dawn rose over the desert, and in the distance he saw the familiar shape of trees and tents clustered around the small, lush oasis that marked one of his favourite places on earth.
His heart clenched as it always did when he arrived here.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have brought her, but what choice did he have?
Alerted to their presence, people emerged from tents. The rising sun glinted off the dunes and Raz brought his horse to a halt.
‘Princess?’ He spoke the word softly and she stirred against him, her hand locked on the sleeve of his robe.
Raz looked down at that hand. Her fingers were slender and he realised this was the first time he’d seen any part of her other than her face. ‘Layla!’ He used her name for the first time and she came awake with a start, her eyes blurred with sleep as she tried to focus and orientate herself.
‘I fell asleep?’
‘For several hours.’ He held the stallion steady and then dismounted in a smooth movement. ‘Swing your leg over the saddle and I’ll help you down.’
She did it without fuss, but the moment her feet touched the ground she winced and gripped the horse for balance. They’d ridden for hours and she was already aching and bruised from her ride from the Citadel. He knew virtually nothing about her but suspected only dire need would drive her to steady herself against his horse.
The stallion gave a snort of disapproval and threw up its head in disgust.
Raz put his hand on his horse’s neck and spoke calmly. ‘Your muscles will soon become accustomed to riding.’
‘I’m fine, really.’
‘You are hoping never to see another horse in your life,’ he said dryly, ‘but horses are an essential part of my life. I own several stud farms. Two in the US, one in England and one here in Tazkhan.’
‘I know. Your aim is to promote the highest standards in breeding. You specialise in endurance and racing. People send mares from all over the world to be covered by your stallions. You rode in the endurance team on your favourite horse, Raja.’
He hid his surprise. ‘You know a great deal about my horses.’
‘I know nothing about your horses.’ This time she was the one to speak in a dry tone. ‘But I will try very hard to learn.’
‘Is that what you want?’
She hesitated. ‘Of course. Although I can’t promise I’ll show any aptitude. I’m not very coordinated and I’m not sure animals like me much.’ Hesitant, she reached out and patted the stallion’s neck. ‘Is this Raja? I’m incredibly grateful to him for not throwing me off.’
‘I bred him. He was sired by my father’s stallion.’
‘He’s beautiful. But big.’
Presumably her legs had steadied because she stepped back and looked around her for the first time.
‘Where are we? We can stay with these people? In their homes? Will we be welcome?’
There wasn’t a place in the desert where he wasn’t welcome, but he didn’t say that to her.
‘The Bedouin pride themselves on their hospitality. A visitor may stay three days and three nights, after which he is considered sufficiently refreshed to be able to continue his journey.’
‘Is that what we’re going to do?’
Raz didn’t reply. He wasn’t used to sharing his plans with anyone, least of all the daughter of the man who had ripped his life into shreds. ‘The oasis here is famed for its beauty. You can relax here, knowing you are safe.’
‘And my sister?’
‘When I have news from Salem I will tell you. And now I have things I must do.’
She didn’t ask what things. She simply stared at the red-gold of the dunes as they rose against the sunrise as if she were seeing the desert for the first time, while Raz found himself looking at her profile. She had to be exhausted and in pain after the long ride, but she hadn’t once complained.
He wondered what she was thinking.
Was she still relieved not to have married Hassan?
Was she nervous? Regretting her decision to marry a man she didn’t know?
On impulse he reached out to touch her shoulder, and then changed his mind and withdrew his hand. ‘The waters of the oasis are good for muscle ache.’
‘I’ll remember that, thank you.’
A young woman emerged from one of the tents and Raz felt a sudden rush of tension. In an ideal world he would have prepared for this encounter with more care, but the world was rarely ideal.
‘This is Nadia. If there is anything you need she will help you.’
Nadia looked from him to Layla, unable to hide her dismay. ‘So it’s true? You married her?’
Her voice shook and Raz shot her a warning look.
‘Yes. And you will make her welcome.’
For a moment he thought she was going to refuse.
Their eyes met and suddenly he wondered whether her feelings about this development were more complicated than he’d imagined.
Nadia’s breathing was shallow, but she gave a brief nod. ‘Of course. Come this way, Your Highness.’ The correct mode of address was spoken through clenched teeth, but Raz decided to overlook that for now.
His sudden marriage would
have come as a massive shock to Nadia. It was fair that she be given time to adjust.
Raz saw Layla glance towards him and wondered if the other girl’s open hostility had upset her.
Or perhaps she was suddenly realising that this marriage was real.
Out of the frying pan into the fire?
‘Bathe, eat, rest,’ he told her quietly, ‘and I will see you later.’
* * *
Bathe, eat, rest.
All of it seemed to be leading to one thing. The night.
I will see you later.
Layla tried not to think about it. It was something to be done, that was all. She would endure it as she had endured the long gallop on the horse and a thousand other discomforts in her life. Really, how bad could it be?
‘His Highness gave instructions that you are to swim. He says it will ease the pain in your muscles.’ Nadia was barely civil as she led her towards the tents, but Layla was starting to get used to that attitude from everyone close to the Sheikh.
She felt as welcome as a scorpion in the heel of someone’s boot.
All the same, she wondered what the other girl’s relationship was with him. She’d seen the look they’d exchanged and it had been obvious to her that they knew each other well.
She wondered if the woman had been his lover, but told herself she had no reason to mind even if she had.
Baking hot under the desert sun, Layla removed her cloak. Nadia turned pale.
‘Where did you get that dress?’
Layla glanced down at herself and noticed that the silk was discoloured by sand and dust from the ride. ‘I was given it. Why?’
‘No reason.’ Nadia’s lips were bloodless. ‘I will leave towels on the rocks, Your Highness, and lay out clean clothes in the tent for you to change into when you have finished.’
‘I can’t swim,’ Layla admitted. ‘Is the oasis deep?’
Nadia led her along a narrow path. ‘Not if you enter the pool by the rocks on the far side.’
The rocks on the far side.
Layla committed that to memory because she didn’t want to get it wrong.
Nothing about her first glimpse of the camp had prepared her for the beauty of the oasis. Shaded by date palms, the still pool of water looked temptingly cool after the long, dusty ride.
This part of the pool was secluded, the view from the other tents obscured by palms and citrus trees. Just one tent stood close by and Nadia gestured with her head. ‘That is His Highness’s tent. I will leave clothes there and put food in the tent. If you need anything, just call, but the pool is safe in the daytime. I’ll go and fetch towels.’
Layla didn’t ask what happened at night. She was too busy wondering who had given up their tent for the Sheikh.
It was obvious it had prime position, set apart from the others and opening onto what effectively became a private pool.
But not that private.
Layla glanced around her, aware that anyone could walk past at any time.
Having only ever undressed behind a locked door, she decided to keep her dress on. It was ruined anyway, so she might as well get one last use out of it.
Removing the belt, she walked to the rocks at the far side of the pool, as Nadia had instructed, and slid into the water.
Stretching out her legs, she felt for the bottom with her feet—but there was no bottom.
Too late, she realised how deep it was and clung tightly to the slippery rock with her fingers, trying to pull herself out again. Just as the thought flashed into her head that Nadia had deliberately sent her to deep water she sank under the surface, dragged down by the weight of the saturated dress.
Trying not to panic, Layla attempted to haul herself up, but her fingers slipped and she sank under the surface, choking.
Water flooded through her mouth and her ears and she kicked hard, but the dress wrapped itself around her ankles, pulling her down.
Just when she’d thought there was no way she was ever going to get out of this alive she felt a disturbance in the water next to her and strong hands hauled her upwards, towards the light. Layla broke the surface of the water, gasping and coughing.
‘Are you trying to drown yourself?’ His black hair plastered to his head, Raz lifted her onto the rocks and then launched himself out of the water next to her, water streaming from the gleaming, pumped muscles of his bare chest. ‘What were you thinking, swimming in a dress?’
Layla couldn’t answer. She was too busy coughing and trying not to be sick.
Cursing softly under his breath, he smoothed her soaked hair away from her face. ‘You are all right now. You are safe. It was lucky I decided to come back and check on you.’
‘I went under—’
‘Because you chose to swim in your dress,’ he breathed, and she shook her head.
‘I never intended to swim. I can’t swim. I was just going to dip myself in the water.’
‘Fully clothed?’
It sounded ridiculous, spelled out like that, and her face turned fiery hot. ‘I thought someone might walk along and see me. The dress was ruined anyway so I thought I’d just keep it on and paddle.’
‘In the deepest end of the pool?’
‘I thought it was the shallow end.’ Layla glanced up at him, puzzled, and saw his eyes darken dangerously.
‘Why would you think that? Who told you it was the shallow end?’
She wasn’t going to tell him that when there was already friction. ‘It was my fault,’ Layla muttered ‘I should have checked for myself.’
Without speaking, he unfastened the back of her dress. ‘Take this off. Go to the other end of the pool where the water is only waist deep. You will be safe and undisturbed, I promise.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘There is a conversation I need to have and it would seem that it can’t wait.’ His voice vibrating with anger, he vaulted to his feet and strode back towards the tent.
Moments later Layla heard his voice and winced, because it was obvious to her that however much Nadia had loathed her before this, she was going to loathe her a thousand times more by the time Raz had finished ripping strips from her in that icy voice of his. She thought she heard muffled sobs and closed her eyes, because the whole situation was turning into a complex mess and without the facts she had no idea how she was supposed to handle it.
Taking refuge in the practical, she peeled off the soaked dress and forced herself back into the water again—more because she didn’t want to let fear beat her than because she wanted to wash. This time she was relieved to feel the bottom under her feet. As he had promised, the water only reached her waist and she washed herself quickly, still shocked by how close she’d come to drowning in this beautiful place.
The sun sent sparkles of light dancing over the still surface of the pool. Somewhere nearby she heard children playing, their laughter cutting through the stillness of the baking hot air, and the sound surprised her because she hadn’t expected to hear children.
She couldn’t think of the time she’d last heard children laugh like that. It reminded her of when Yasmin had been very young and Layla had been constantly putting her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles in case the sound drew unwanted attention. But here no one was trying to muffle the sound and the children played happily, unrestricted.
Thinking of her sister brought a lump to her throat.
Where was she now?
If only she were at least alive, Layla would never complain about anything ever again.
Listening to the children, she was tempted to go and watch them, but then decided she’d encountered enough hostility for one day. Instead she wrapped herself in the towels that had been left for her and walked the short distance to the tent, hoping that Nadia wouldn’t be there.
&nbs
p; Stepping inside, she stopped in surprise.
She’d expected something basic, but this tent was not only fully furnished but luxurious, decorated in rich reds and deep purples. There was a seating area piled with soft cushions and a low bed covered in silk sheets, with a thick cover for cold desert nights.
It was idyllic.
It was—Layla swallowed hard—it was romantic.
Someone had laid food on a low table near to the door, but Layla wasn’t hungry. She couldn’t even think about food after everything that had happened. Did Nadia really hate her so much she would want her dead? And what had Raz said to her that had caused her such distress?
Feeling sick from nerves and oasis water, she pulled on the clothes and sank onto the cushions.
Despite worry about Nadia, and anxiety for her sister, her mind was dominated by thoughts of the night ahead.
She would have spent the day reading, but her books had been left behind at the first camp so she had nothing but her imagination to occupy her time, and by the time Raz finally appeared she was so worked up she jumped out of her skin.
‘You startled me.’
His gaze rested on the untouched food and a faint frown touched his forehead. ‘You haven’t touched the food. Are you unwell after the incident earlier?’
‘No. I just wasn’t hungry.’
‘If you do not eat you will make yourself ill.’
She didn’t tell him that she already felt ill. That nerves had created an uncomfortable lump in her stomach, leaving no room for food. ‘I won’t be ill. I’m very fit.’
‘But you can’t swim?’
‘There is nowhere to swim in the palace so I’ve never had opportunity.’
‘Then that’s something we must fix.’ A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. ‘Swimming in the oasis is one of life’s pleasures.’
Her heart was pumping so fast she worried she was going to pass out, and when he took her hand and drew her towards him she stopped breathing.
‘I am sorry for what happened to you.’
‘Is Nadia—?’
‘I don’t want to talk about Nadia. She has no relevance to what is happening between us and I’ve dealt with her. Now you need to relax.’ His voice soft, he smoothed her hair back from her face. ‘You are very tense and there is no need to be.’
