Lost to the Desert Warrior

by Sarah Morgan

  ‘Because this union was never about trust.’ He towered over her, powerful and imposing. ‘Most of them understand why we did this. They know it is the right thing.’

  But not all of them.

  Layla thought about the hatred she sensed in Nadia and wondered again if the cause of it didn’t go deeper than dismay at seeing the Sheikh marry the daughter of his enemy.

  ‘So what happens now? You have a daughter. Are you saying you don’t want me to meet her?’

  ‘For the time being, no. She is already having night terrors. I don’t want to risk making those worse by introducing you to her.’

  His belief that she might make it worse hurt more than she would have thought possible, but how could she, of all people, blame a man for wanting to protect his child?

  She’d never had that and she felt the loss of it keenly.

  ‘Of course, if that is what you prefer.’ Layla’s jaw was stiff, her thoughts a mess of pain as she thought what she would have given to have a father who fought so fiercely to protect her from harm. ‘But I don’t think it’s the right decision.’

  ‘You think you know better than me what is right for my child?’

  ‘No, what I think is that you don’t know me at all. You married me with a set of preconceived ideas of who I am, and I don’t blame you for that, but we’re married now and for this to work you have to start seeing me. The real me. I may not be able to swim or ride a horse, but I am good with children. I think if we are to become a family we need to start somewhere.’

  ‘We have started somewhere.’

  His gaze shifted to the rumpled sheets and then back to her and she felt a tiny shiver run through her. Right now he was distant and intimidating but she knew it wasn’t fear that made her knees weak. Looking into those brooding black eyes, gazing at the dangerous curve of his sensual mouth, all she could think of was how it felt to have those lips on her body, how it felt when he filled her, possessed her, drove her mindless. Her skin still burned from his touch. Her head was dizzy with the memory of how he made her feel and she slid her fingers into her hair and shook her head in frustration.

  ‘A relationship cannot just be about sex.’

  His eyes held hers, hard and unsympathetic. ‘It has to be, because I can give you nothing else.’

  * * *

  In the morning he was gone again.

  If she’d thought their shared confidences would have moved their relationship forward, she was disappointed.

  And this time when she heard children laughing she knew one of the voices belonged to his daughter.

  It felt unnatural not to approach her and build a relationship, but he’d made his wishes clear on that matter so Layla sat in the shade on a smooth rock by the oasis and forced herself not to initiate contact with the little girl. And she seemed happy enough, playing with her friends, laughing as a child should laugh. Laughing without fear that the sound might draw unwanted attention.

  The child laughed until darkness fell over the desert.

  And then the screams started again.

  Instinct drove Layla from her bed. Heart pounding, she came to a screeching halt outside the entrance to the tent.

  He didn’t want her near his daughter, did he?

  Unless she wanted to create a rift between them she had to respect that decision.

  Torn, she stood there, waiting for the child’s screams to settle, telling herself that Nadia was there and would comfort the girl.

  The screams grew louder and more desperate.

  Sweat beaded on Layla’s forehead. Just listening to it stressed her so badly her heart raced. The sound reminded her so much of Yasmin in the early days, and to stand there and do nothing demanded a self-control and thick skin Layla didn’t possess.

  Pressing her palm to her forehead, she breathed deeply and tried to calm herself. She told herself it wasn’t her concern, that if she suddenly appeared in the tent it would probably just frighten the child even more. But none of that reasoning did anything to ease her urge to do something.

  Why didn’t someone else go to her? Where was Nadia?

  Her will-power stretched taut, she lasted another five seconds before giving in. If Raz never spoke to her again, so be it. He hardly spoke to her anyway so it wouldn’t be that much of a loss.

  As she pushed aside the flap she expected to see Nadia, but the tent was empty apart from the little girl who sat alone in the enormous bed, shuddering and screaming at some imaginary terror. At her feet lay the two Saluki, whimpering and looking at the child in alarm and confusion, as if they sensed a threat but couldn’t identify it.

  Mouth dry, Layla stared at the dogs. Nothing but a screaming child could have propelled her forward.

  Her heart was kicking at her ribcage—not just because to get to the child meant stepping over fur and teeth, but because the sound of the screaming brought back so many memories of Yasmin, terrified and clinging to her.

  She threw one last glance over her shoulder, in case there was someone else who could do this, but there was no sign of Nadia or the bodyguards who were supposed to be in attendance.

  Trying to look confident, she stepped over the Saluki as gracefully as a ballerina, braced to feel those sharp teeth close around her ankle.

  The dog closest to the bed growled, a menacing rumble low in its throat, but it didn’t move from its position.

  Taking that as a good sign, Layla crawled onto the bed and snuggled down with the child, stroking her back and talking to her, hoping desperately that the tone of her voice would do the trick and the child wouldn’t wake and realize that the comfort came from a stranger.

  ‘There, you’re safe now—and you need to go back to sleep.’ She talked nonsense, and then decided a story might help. ‘Once upon a time...’ She told the same stories she’d told her sister at the same age, remembered them word for word, and the familiarity of the ritual soothed her as well as the child. She talked quietly until the little girl’s breathing suggested she was deeply asleep while all the time the two Saluki lay by the bed, heads on paws, watching her.

  Afraid that if she moved she’d wake the child, Layla stayed still, her fingers tangled in the dark curls that belonged to Raz Al Zahki’s daughter. Looking down at that sweet, vulnerable face, now smeared with tears, she felt her heart twist.

  What had she been through?

  What had she suffered?

  She’d stay just a while. Until she was sure the girl was asleep.

  Then she’d return to her bed and he wouldn’t be any the wiser.

  * * *

  The red ball of the dawn sun was rising up behind the mountainous dunes when Raz rode back into the camp two days later. His eyes were gritty from lack of sleep, his head pounding following long days spent in meetings with senior tribal members.

  He needed sleep, but nowhere near as much as he needed a swim.

  It was still early and everything was quiet and still. No one was stirring.

  Having handed over his stallion to one of the waiting grooms, he made straight towards the tent where his daughter slept, noticing with a frown that there was no sign of the guard.

  Fear for his daughter fuelled his stride.

  Entering quietly, he stood for a moment on the threshold, his eyes adjusting to the dim light, relieved to see the dogs sprawled protectively at the foot of the bed.

  The familiar sight of the lump in the bed brought relief rushing down on him—and then he realised that the lump was bigger than usual.

  Stepping closer, he saw that there in the bed, with her arms wrapped around his daughter, was Layla.

  Shock and surprise were replaced by anger, and then another, darker emotion he didn’t dare examine too closely.

  The dogs sensed the change in his mood and growled, and those growls woke the
child. Her expression brightened as she saw her father and she sat up sleepily, the movement waking Layla.

  Her eyes opened and her gaze met his, blank at first and then alight with consternation.

  Sitting up, she clutched at the sheet. ‘We weren’t expecting you so early.’

  ‘Evidently.’ His tone was silky soft and he saw the colour return to her cheeks as she met his hostile gaze.

  ‘I’m pleased you’re early.’ Zahra slid out of the bed, paused to hug and kiss the dog closest to her, and ran across to him, arms outstretched. ‘Has Shakira had her foal?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Raz scooped her into his arms. Her hair brushed against his jaw and he felt his insides knot with love. It was a love that overwhelmed every emotion he’d ever felt. A love that made a strong man vulnerable. And he felt that vulnerability now as he held her and felt those slender arms tighten around his neck.

  ‘When can we go and see her?’

  ‘Soon.’ He hugged her protectively, his eyes still on the woman in the bed. ‘Zahra, I want you to play with your toys for a minute while I speak to Layla.’

  ‘Can’t she stay?’ Zahra was openly disappointed. ‘She hasn’t finished the end of the story. We both fell asleep.’

  ‘I can finish it later.’ Without meeting his eyes, Layla slid out of the bed.

  He saw her hesitate before allowing her feet to touch the ground and saw her hold her breath as she stepped carefully over the dog blocking her path, as if doing so required nerves of steel.

  Oblivious to the atmosphere, Zahra smiled at her. ‘When you’ve finished talking, can we play in the sand like yesterday?’

  The news that she’d been spending her days with his daughter was the final straw. ‘No, you cannot, because we are going riding.’

  ‘Together?’

  ‘Together.’ Touched by her expression of delight, he put her down gently. ‘Play with Isis and Horus for a moment.’

  She needed no encouragement to play with the dogs, and they in turn fussed around the child, proving themselves better guards than the people he’d paid to stand over her and keep watch in his absence.

  Keeping his anger in check, he left the tent, noticing that one of the guards assigned to watch over his daughter was now standing outside, having no doubt taken a badly timed bathroom break.

  Deciding to deal with him later, Raz followed Layla to the edge of the oasis, noticing that she stopped a safe distance from the water’s edge.

  ‘You deliberately went against my orders.’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  She turned to face him, her expression calm. She made no excuses. Nor did she apologise and that surprised him.

  ‘I thought I’d made my wishes clear on this matter.’

  ‘Would you rather I’d left your daughter to scream, Your Highness?’

  The news that Zahra had been screaming again sent ice down the rigid length of his spine. ‘If she was screaming then it would have been better for someone familiar to comfort her. That was your advice.’

  ‘And I stand by it. But there was no one familiar. She was alone.’

  ‘My daughter is never alone. She is under twenty-four-hour guard and Nadia is with her at all times.’ Even as he said it he remembered that the guard had not been present when he’d arrived, and her next words confirmed that.

  ‘She was alone last night. And the night before. And the night before that. There was no guard and there was no Nadia.’ She seemed more annoyed than intimidated. ‘You weren’t here. I made the decision I thought was best, Your Highness.’

  ‘My name is Raz,’ he said tightly. ‘I think we are now sufficiently well acquainted for you to use it.’

  ‘Evidently not, since you don’t see me as fit company for your daughter.’

  Raz breathed deeply. ‘Nadia is supposed to stay with her at night.’

  ‘Then no doubt that is something you will wish to explore with her.’

  Listening to that calm appraisal, Raz realised just how much he’d underestimated her. He’d mistaken silence for a lack of opinion, and shyness for a lack of forcefulness, but it seemed his new wife had a layer of steel, visible only if someone pressed hard enough. On this she wasn’t budging.

  ‘Nadia would not have left her alone.’

  ‘Are you accusing me of lying?’

  ‘Perhaps it was a simple misunderstanding. Perhaps she went to fetch Zahra a drink or something to eat.’

  ‘There was no sign of her at any point during the night, nor of the guard. I understand that as her nanny you believe Nadia to be the best person to care for her, but I’m providing you with evidence that she left the child alone. Why would you doubt me?’

  ‘Because Nadia isn’t Zahra’s nanny. She is her aunt.’ That confession was met by a tense silence.

  For a moment she said nothing and simply stared at him. Then her mouth moved and finally words emerged.

  ‘Her aunt?’

  Raz stayed perfectly still. ‘Nadia is my late wife’s sister.’

  ‘S-sister?’ She stammered the word, visibly shocked. Again she said nothing, and then she shook her head briefly. ‘And you didn’t think that was worth mentioning? You let me turn up here in my wedding dress and you didn’t even warn her or tell me who she was?’

  ‘When would I have had the opportunity to warn her? We were married only hours after you appeared unannounced at my desert camp. Then we arrived here and she came out of the tent before I had a chance to speak to her privately.’

  ‘It is no wonder she can barely look at me.’ Her words were barely audible. ‘It explains so much.’

  ‘It does not explain why she would leave Zahra unattended.’

  ‘Maybe it does. Maybe...’ She frowned slightly and then stared at the still surface of the oasis. ‘You should have told me. There is so much you should have told me.’

  ‘Why would I tell you?’

  ‘You really have to ask me that?’ Her head was turned towards him, pain and accusation in her eyes. ‘Because keeping secrets is doing nothing but harm. I understand that this is hard for you, I understand that you have to make love to me in the dark because touching me makes you think of your wife and that makes you feel guilty, and I understand that you don’t want to be here during the day because it’s like a slap every time you look at me. I understand that, given the way you feel about my family, you are reluctant to trust me with your child. I don’t blame you for that. But it wasn’t Nadia who comforted Zahra in the night, Your Highness. It wasn’t Nadia who read to her and played with her. For the past two days it hasn’t been Nadia who has cared for your daughter. It has been me.’

  Raz was stunned into silence by her interpretation of the facts, but before he could respond she took a step closer to him.

  ‘Do you think I’m not a caring person? Is that what you think?’ Her voice vibrated with tension. ‘Do you think I would have crossed a desert I didn’t know, on a horse I had no idea how to ride, to find a man who hates me, if I weren’t a caring person? Just in case the facts don’t speak for themselves, let me tell you I’m a very caring person—and if you looked at the facts you’d be able to see that. And, yes, I was thinking of my sister and my future, but I also care about the people of Tazkhan. And before you dismiss that, based only on my bloodline, let me remind you that we can choose many things in life, but whom we are related to isn’t one of them. I chose to go to your daughter in the night because I couldn’t sit there and listen to her distress. And I chose to step over those horrible, scary dogs in order to comfort her. So never imply I’m not trustworthy enough to care for you daughter.’

  The stillness of the baking desert heat intensified the silence.

  Raz stood still, her words stinging as they sank into his flesh. ‘Why do you find the dogs scary?’

  ‘After everythi
ng I just said to you, that is the question you choose to ask?’ She gave a choked laugh—a sound loaded with disbelief—and he frowned.

  ‘Layla—’

  ‘No. Enough.’ Her voice was shaky as she backed away from him. ‘This conversation is going nowhere. You don’t want to come anywhere near me and you can’t bear it when I come anywhere near you, so just leave me alone.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LAYLA PACED THE width of the tent and back again, so upset she didn’t know how to calm herself. Once again she was ripped apart by emotions new to her and she tried desperately to rationalise them.

  Why would he trust her? He didn’t know her. Of course he’d be reluctant to allow her near his child—a child whose existence he’d taken great care to keep secret from her family. It was a sign of his love for his child, and she was the last person ever to criticise a father for loving his child.

  So why did his attitude towards her hurt so badly?

  And why couldn’t she share the same space with him and not think about sex?

  Hyped up and unsettled, she picked up a ripe peach from the bowl on the table and then put it down again, knowing that she was already in possession of the answer. And the answer was that it hurt so badly because it felt as if he cared. When his mouth was on hers, when his hands were holding her face and his body was buried deep in hers, it felt as if he cared. And it felt incredible. So incredible she wanted more. And in wanting more she also wanted it to mean something.

  The whole thing was turning her brain into a churning mess. She was used to using logic, but the feelings inside her defied logic.

  With a murmur of frustration Layla turned and paced back again, trying to filter out the facts, but even the facts were confusing. To be so intimate in bed and so distant out of bed was muddling her brain. In bed, the signals were that he cared. Out of bed, it was clear he considered her on a level with the life forms occupying the bottom of the oasis.

  Having admitted that to herself, it horrified her when he strode into the tent and closed the flap between them and the rest of the world.

  ‘Go away—’ Her voice cracked and she stepped back from him, still reeling from their conversation and feelings that were new to her. She wanted to turn them off and had no idea how. ‘Don’t say anything else. I can’t take any more right now. I got the message. If you really don’t want me near your daughter I won’t go near her, but please make sure that someone does because I can’t lie here listening to her screaming.’