Lost to the Desert Warrior

by Sarah Morgan

  Her voice was muffled against his chest and Raz stared up at the ceiling, the scent of her hair winding itself around his senses.

  ‘It’s what we do that matters, not where we live. We will sort something out that works for everyone. And in the meantime I’m going to make you forget that life. This is your life now and, yes, there is responsibility—but there should also be fun.’

  ‘Fun?’

  She sounded unsure, doubtful, as if she had no idea what he meant, and he realised how little thought he’d given to her life and just how wrong he’d been in the few thoughts he’d had.

  ‘Dancing? Talking to new people? Wearing nice clothes?’

  ‘I’ve never danced. I’m not sure I’d be very good at it if my experiences on a horse are anything to go by.’

  ‘You’ve never danced?’ His arms tightened around her. ‘Then that’s something else I need to teach you. Now, go to sleep. You’re safe now, I promise.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  SHE WOKE ALONE and the level of disappointment that followed that discovery was shocking. And then she heard the sound of the shower and realised he was using the bathroom.

  He hadn’t left.

  For once he hadn’t walked away once the sun had risen.

  Layla rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, her head full of the night before. And not just because of the discovery that she had an unsettling capacity to enjoy sex.

  He’d called her habibti.

  It was the first time he’d called her that. She subdued the sudden lift of her mood with cold, calm logic. She’d been upset. Whatever lay between them, Raz Al Zahki was a decent human being. The endearment had been spoken out of comfort, not affection, and she’d be deluded if she pretended otherwise.

  But it had been the first time in her life anyone had held her like that. The first time anyone had offered comfort.

  And it had felt good.

  And strange. She’d never shared her thoughts with another person. Not even Yasmin. Because her role had been to protect her sister, so she hadn’t wanted to frighten her by revealing her own fears. Part of her felt vulnerable that she’d shown him so much of herself, that he knew so much about her.

  ‘Layla?’ Zahra hovered in the doorway, clutching a book, unsure of her welcome.

  When Layla sat up and stretched out her arms the little girl bounded into the room, closely followed by the ever-protective Isis and Horus.

  Despite her best efforts Layla felt her throat close and the fear spark inside her.

  ‘Bas! Stop!’ Raz thundered the command from the doorway of the bathroom and the dogs skidded to a halt, crashing into each other like clowns in a circus. There was something almost comical about the dopey way they looked at him but he didn’t smile. ‘Sit and stay, or tonight you’ll be sleeping in the desert.’

  The dogs gave a whine and obediently sank down, heads on paws.

  Layla felt her heart-rate slowly normalise.

  Raz transferred his gaze to her and she knew he was thinking about her confession of the night before, so she smiled and tried to keep it light. ‘They know who’s boss.’

  ‘My dad is the boss. Everyone does as he says except me.’ Zahra climbed onto the bed, still holding her book. ‘Can we finish the story you started last night? You stopped at the exciting bit.’

  Layla shifted across in the bed, relieved she’d thought to put her nightdress on in case Zahra woke in the night.

  She was desperately conscious of Raz watching her, his bare chest still damp from the shower, a towel knotted around his waist.

  ‘You can read for a while but then you need to pack.’

  ‘Pack?’ Zahra lost interest in the book. ‘We’re going on a trip? Can we ride?’

  ‘Not this time. We’re flying to Zubran for a party tonight.’

  Zahra’s face fell. ‘A party? That means I can’t come.’

  Raz strolled across the room and scooped his daughter into his arms. ‘You can’t come to the party but you can come to Zubran. I need you there. I want your opinion on a mare I’m thinking of buying.’

  Watching the two of them together, Layla felt something soften inside her. The fact that a father could care so much about his daughter’s feelings and opinion was a revelation. It was something she hadn’t witnessed before because she’d had no relationship with her own father.

  Aware that Raz was looking at her with question in his eyes, she smiled. ‘You are buying another horse? How many animals can one person ride?’

  ‘She won’t be for riding. She’ll be for breeding,’ Zahra told her seriously. ‘I’m going to have a foal of my own to take care of. I’m going to pack right now.’ Squirming out of her father’s arms, she sped from the room.

  Overwhelmed by emotions so intense and uncomfortable she could hardly handle them, Layla rescued the book from where it lay as the little girl had left it, in danger of snapping its spine.

  ‘Layla?’ His voice was soft. ‘Talk to me.’

  What was there to say? ‘You’re a good father.’ The words were thickened by the lump in her throat. ‘And she adores you.’

  ‘You think that’s a bad thing?’

  ‘Oh, no! How could I? A little girl should adore her daddy.’

  There was a tense silence. ‘But it doesn’t always happen that way, does it?’

  ‘No. But life is full of things that shouldn’t happen—as we both know.’ She closed the book carefully. ‘If you want me to encourage her to read, it’s probably best not to mention the word horse while we have a book open.’

  ‘I know, but in this case it was intentional.’ The corners of his mouth flickered. ‘I wanted her out of the room. I need to talk to you, habibti.’

  Habibti.

  Her stomach flipped. What reason did he have to call her that this morning? Or did he think she still needed the comfort? ‘What about?’

  ‘I want to make sure you are comfortable about tonight.’

  ‘The party? What exactly does it involve?’

  ‘It is a fundraiser for a children’s charity supported by the Sultan of Zubran and his wife, Avery. I think you’ll like her. She used to run a highly successful party planning business and her events are always spectacular. This one promises to be no exception.’

  ‘A fundraiser?’ Layla felt no excitement. Just pressure. ‘What exactly is my role at an event like that?’

  ‘Your role is to enjoy yourself. Something I suspect you haven’t done anywhere near enough in your life.’ Droplets of water clung to his powerful shoulders and his hair was still sleek and damp from the shower. ‘Did you never attend formal functions at the Citadel?’

  ‘Never. My father never raised funds for anyone except himself and neither did Hassan.’ Thinking of Hassan made her feel sick, and this time her concern wasn’t just for herself and her sister. ‘If you appear in public at a high-profile event like this one, won’t you be a target?’

  ‘The only people who know in advance that we will be there are the Sultan himself and his wife. I would trust them with my life. Have trusted them with my life on more occasions than I care to count. And although I take sensible precautions I don’t live my life in hiding. I am easy enough to find if someone knows where to look.’

  As they both knew.

  Their eyes met briefly and she felt a new intimacy—and something she hadn’t felt before. A warmth. A new level of understanding.

  And something else. A chemistry so intense it thickened the air and created a tension that unsettled her. They were talking about serious issues and yet part of her just wanted to place her hand on the hard swell of his biceps and her lips on the dark haze of hair at the centre of his chest.

  ‘What about Zahra?’ Somehow she managed to speak. ‘What will she do while we’re at the party.
’

  ‘She will be safe in Zubran. She has been there many times and it is sufficiently familiar that hopefully her night terrors will not return.’ His gaze lingered on her face. ‘Since you started reading to her at night and settling her down there have been no more bad dreams.’

  ‘I know. And I’m pleased.’

  ‘I can’t thank you enough.’

  ‘No thanks are needed.’

  ‘And now it is your turn,’ he said softly. ‘We need to replace those bad dreams of yours, and those memories, with something much happier. Starting with this party.’

  ‘But if Hassan guesses where you are going—’

  ‘I don’t anticipate that Hassan will pay us a visit, but if he does then it will save us the bother of finding him.’ His gaze held hers for a moment. ‘So, how do you feel about the party? I don’t want to overwhelm you, and I know how anxious you are for news of your sister, but I would very much like you to have fun and enjoy yourself.’

  Layla couldn’t imagine enjoying herself in the company of a large number of strangers but she didn’t want to say so. ‘I’m already looking forward to it.’

  ‘I’ve promised to take Zahra riding this morning. Will you join us?’

  Was it her imagination or had those dark shadows she saw in his eyes lessened? Was it wishful thinking on her part to think he seemed happier and more relaxed?

  ‘I think the two of you should ride together.’

  ‘Join us.’ He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. ‘Abdul will stay with you and we will all ride slowly.’

  But of course he didn’t know the meaning of slow, pushing his animal to the limit as he sped into the distance in pursuit of his young daughter, who seemed to embrace their extreme ride with the same enthusiasm as her father. The horse’s tail was lifted high and trailed like a banner in the wind, his curved neck betraying his enviable lineage. Even Layla, whose knowledge of horses came entirely from books, could see the animal was beautiful.

  It made her sick with nerves just watching, but she had to admit it was good that Zahra didn’t seem afraid either of horses or the Saluki who ran next to them.

  If her childhood had been different would she have been the same?

  Would she be the one galloping across the sand and whooping with excitement?

  ‘You are doing so well, Your Highness.’ It was Abdul, as kind and solicitous as ever as he rode by her side as Raz had instructed.

  ‘We both know I’m not, but thank you for the encouragement.’ She stared enviously at Raz and Zahra, now just specks in the distance.

  ‘We are all born with different gifts,’ Abdul said quietly. ‘His Highness has a particular gift with horses, but he has also had the benefit of many years of experience. He was virtually raised on horseback. The moment he could sit unsupported he was put on a horse—I think he was about six months old. He rode with his father every day until he could control the animal himself. Then he rode alone. And he has a tendency to take what many would see as appalling risks, so I would beg you do not aspire to emulate him.’

  ‘Not much chance of that.’ She felt a pang that she wasn’t confident enough to share that interest with him, but she knew that even if she rode each day and every day for the rest of her life she’d never be as good as Raz.

  ‘You have your own gifts.’ Abdul reached across and showed her how to shorten the reins. ‘And those are to be valued every bit as much as His Highness’s skills with a horse. You have courage and patience, as you have shown on numerous occasions over the past week. His Highness is growing more relaxed by the day and we have you to thank for that.’

  ‘You think so?’ Perhaps it hadn’t been her imagination. ‘Will you be coming with us to Zubran?’

  ‘Yes, because His Highness will have talks with the Sultan.’

  ‘And will you be at the party, Abdul?’

  ‘Sadly, no, Your Highness. But I feel sure you will enjoy it.’

  ‘Will I?’ Layla wasn’t convinced. ‘I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear.’

  ‘On that topic I have taken the liberty of contacting Her Royal Highness the Sultana of Zubran. She has generously agreed to assist with your wardrobe needs as there has been no opportunity to provide what you will require for such an event.’

  ‘I don’t want to put her to any trouble.’

  Abdul cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps it is indiscreet of me to say this, but I can assure you that there is nothing Her Highness enjoys more than dressing people in clothes of her choosing. Zahra loves going to see her for that very reason. And you will find Her Highness to be a very warm and caring person once she has finished organising your life and telling you what you should be doing.’

  Layla was amused and intrigued. ‘So she isn’t dominated by the Sultan?’

  ‘It is very much a marriage of equals,’ Abdul said dryly, and Layla felt her heart squeeze as she watched Raz ride into the distance.

  Theirs wasn’t a marriage of equals, was it?

  She couldn’t ride. She couldn’t swim. She was terrified of his dogs. She had no idea what was expected of her at this party.

  What exactly did she have to offer him?

  The realisation that she was hopeless at all the things that were important to him disturbed her, as did the thought that tonight they would be making their first public appearance together.

  Never having been allowed to mingle with her father’s guests, Layla felt as if she were back in the oasis with the waters closing over her head.

  ‘I’d be delighted if Her Highness would help me with my wardrobe.’

  If it came to a choice between inconveniencing the Sultan’s wife and embarrassing Raz she’d pick inconvenience every time. But as it turned out Abdul was correct in his summation that their hostess would be only too delighted to take responsibility for her wardrobe.

  * * *

  ‘You’ve been hiding out in the desert together? I have never heard anything more romantic in my life! But romance can only take a girl so far and then she needs a decent spa day.’

  Avery was the most elegant, capable, efficient person Layla had ever met, and within minutes they were curled up on a low sofa in an opulent room hung with beautiful tapestries and sipping tea.

  ‘Mmm. Whenever we’re in the desert Mal makes me drink the Bedouin variety, which is delicious, but you can’t beat Earl Grey. Now, tell me all the details and leave nothing out.’

  ‘Details?’ Layla sat stiff and formal on the edge of the sofa, but Avery slipped off her shoes and curled her legs under her.

  ‘I’m going to give you a tip, because once you and Raz are back in your rightful place in the palace at Tazkhan you’re going to be throwing open those gilded doors and entertaining the whole world and your legs will feel as if they’ve been trapped between clamps: whenever you can before a big event take the weight off your feet. And now tell me if it’s true that you escaped from the palace and rode into the desert on your father’s wild stallion? It’s too romantic for words.’

  ‘It wasn’t romantic. It was horrible in every way. And I don’t think the horse was wild, precisely—at least not until we climbed on its back. Then it was certainly less than impressed—’

  After a moment’s hesitation Layla told Avery the whole story, and by the end of it she felt so relaxed she’d even removed her shoes.

  ‘So you married for the good of Tazkhan, but now you’re in love? That is the happiest ending I’ve heard in a long time.’

  ‘Oh, no, that isn’t true!’ Startled, Layla stiffened. ‘I’m not in love.’

  Avery’s brows rose. ‘No? So when you say “Raz this” and “Raz that” in every sentence it’s just because you’re—’ she waved a hand in the air ‘—sorry, but I only know one reason to mention a guy in every single breath and that’s l-o-v-e. Eithe
r that or obsession, and you don’t strike me as the obsessive type.’

  Love? Layla stared at her blankly. ‘I can’t be in love. I’m not that sort of person.’

  ‘Trust me, love is indiscriminate. It strikes all types without mercy. I didn’t think I was “that sort of person” either and now look at me. I’m someone who has to control everything around them, but take it from me that love can’t be controlled. Believe me, I’ve tried.’

  ‘That’s different. You and His Highness knew each other for a long time before you were together. Whereas Raz and I—’ Her skin heated as she thought about the intimacies they’d shared. ‘We are strangers. We have known each other only a few weeks.’

  ‘I actually find that quite erotic.’ Avery leaned back against the arm of the sofa. ‘Strangers forced together. I presume you’ve actually...?’ When Layla coloured Avery smiled. ‘Mmm, and I’ll bet it was good. Raz is super-hot. But don’t tell Mal I said that.’

  ‘He was so in love with his wife.’ The words fell from Layla’s lips before she could stop them and she saw Avery’s eyes narrow.

  ‘Yes, and that was tragic. But it happened. Stuff happens.’ The laughter had gone and her husky voice hinted at layers of depth beneath the sophisticated social skills. ‘It’s called life. Sometimes life delivers a steaming pile of crap right in your lap, and when that happens all you can do is keep moving forward. You keep walking. You get out of bed, you move, and eventually you start living again. And that’s what he’s doing.

  ‘But this marriage wasn’t his choice. It was mine.’

  ‘Raz Al Zahki has never done anything that wasn’t his choice. He is tough, single-minded and as stubborn as his brother and my husband.’ Avery reached across and squeezed her hand. ‘And he made a good choice. I’m thrilled we’re going to be neighbours.’

  ‘I’m nothing like his wife. I can’t take her place.’

  ‘Would you want to? Personally, I’d hate to be a clone of another person. You probably don’t want my advice, but I’ll give it anyway because I can’t help myself: don’t try and replace her.’ Avery unfolded her long legs and slipped on her shoes. ‘Be yourself. Be you. If you want to learn to ride, then learn. But only if it’s what you want to do. You should probably learn to swim, but only so that his psycho sister-in-law can’t have the pleasure of drowning you. The point I’m making is that if you are you then any relationship you form together will be real.’