Zadir grabbed his arm. “Don’t go after her. You’ve already scared her off. Stay away from her. Give her time to miss you.”
“But she’s getting on a plane tonight.”
“Yes. But next week or the week after, you too can get on a plane. You can approach her with flowers and smiles and take your time getting to know her. Then gradually, bit by bit, she’ll realize you’re the one.” He frowned. “Or you’ll realize that she isn’t the one. Either way, things will work out.”
“She’s the one.” He said it with conviction that burned in his soul.
“Then prove it to her by respecting her need to get to know you.”
Osman swallowed. “Am I really like our father?”
“Yes.” Zadir punched him in the chest. “You’re a handsome son of a bitch and bossy as all hell.” Then he frowned. “But your natural ruthlessness is tempered by compassion based on your life experience. Our mothers were killed to satisfy our father’s whims. You and I both know the pain such heartless actions caused, and we’ll never knowingly hurt anyone in the same way.”
Osman nodded. “True. I could kill him with my bare hands for what he did.”
“But you wouldn’t, because you’ve learned to use your brain and heart instead of your anger to govern your life.”
“You’re a wise man, younger brother.”
“Not nearly wise enough, but at least I have some perspective on what’s going on here. You’re so sure of what you want that you can’t even see the big picture. Step back and take a breath and approach Samantha slowly like the queen that she is and one day will be.”
Osman embraced his brother in a big bear hug. How had he managed the last ten or more years with barely any contact with his siblings? They’d all gone through similar struggles and dealt with the burden of their ancestry alone. He still didn’t understand why his father had chosen to reunite them, but at least that was one thing the old bastard had done right.
Zadir slapped his back. “Go home, brother. Leave now. I’ll make sure Samantha gets to the airport safely and with you in her mind and heart.”
“I trust you will.” He managed to keep emotion out of his voice. Damn, it was hard to leave the marketplace with the festival in full swing, couples pledging their lives to each other in every direction. He tore the blue cloth from his head and bowed to his brother, bareheaded. “I’ll take your advice and return to the palace.”
“Good. Get some exercise. Go for a ride or something. I’ll see you later.”
Clutching his blue head wrap in his hand, along with the rejected coin necklace, Osman strode for the stairs to the balcony. On reflection, he turned toward the main gate of the city. He didn’t want to sit behind the wheel of a car. What he needed was a long gallop, and doubtless there was some savvy businessman willing to trade a necklace of pure gold for a fine horse.
He approached a man leading a gleaming chestnut mare in green-and-gold tack. “Is she for sale?”
The man bowed low. “To you, your majesty, she is. I bred her myself and trained her with my own hands and legs. She’s the equal of any horse in the land.”
“Perfect.”
Less than five minutes later he was astride the powerful mare, trotting through the main gate out of the city and onto the road. He guided her off the road onto the soft sandy ground and opened her up into a canter. Filling his lungs with the desert air he let out a yell of frustration and hurt that spurred his mount faster. He patted her neck to soothe her and told her it wasn’t her fault. Then he promised to treat her like the queen that would one day ride her. One day soon but not today. And, pacing himself in the heat and dust of the afternoon, he rode for home.
Sam tried to stay focused on filming the betrothals around her, with their hopeful grooms and teary-eyed brides. She watched a couple nearby, the bride smiling shyly at her handsome groom, the gaudy necklace of coins around her neck. Their family gathered close as they exchanged the ritual words, pledging themselves to each other for the rest of their lives. The groom looked so proud, the bride bursting with happiness, and the bride’s and groom’s parents clutched each other’s hands as they watched their offspring follow a tradition they must have once shared. It would have been rather wonderful to participate in such an ancient rite, especially when you felt that tug in your gut that told you this was the right person for you.
At last they kissed, hesitant and hopeful, ready to embark on a great adventure together. And all Sam planned to do was go get on a plane back to New York with a man she knew she didn’t love. That she’d never truly loved. She’d been ready to spend the rest of her life settling for a pale imitation of the romance and joy that most people hoped for. Now that would have been foolish!
And Osman had shown her another side of herself. He’d really listened to her. And now she was wondering if she was the one who’d made a big mistake.
Five loud cracks filled the air, making her jump. “What was that?” She said aloud, not expecting anyone to understand or answer.
“Gunshots.” Ahmad’s deep voice behind her made her spin around. His eyes scanned the plaza as he moved her behind him. “Let’s take cover.”
“I didn’t know you were there.”
“Just making sure you’re okay.”
All over the square people rushed toward the edges, where shady colonnades provided shelter. No more shots came. Ahmad dialed someone, then hung up in frustration and dialed someone else. “No answer from Osman,” he said gruffly.
She couldn’t hear the response. Did he think the shots had something to do with Osman? That someone had made him a target once he was outside the guarded walled city?
“Where is Osman?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking.
“He left for home.” He hesitated. Then dialed a number. “And he’s not answering his phone.”
“Maybe he has it turned off.” She bit her lip. Fear poked her in the gut. He’d been a target before, so why not now? “Did he have guards to escort him?”
“They just told me he gave them the slip and left the city by himself. On horseback.”
“On horseback? He’d be totally exposed as a target to whoever wanted to pick him off.”
“I know. We need to go after him.” He spoke rapidly in the local dialect into his satellite phone, while tugging her by the hand under the colonnades towards the private entrance they used. Most of the crowd had already started to relax and move out into the square again, as the festivities and music continued.
“He’s probably fine,” she said, to reassure herself as well as Amahd. “Maybe someone just fired shots to celebrate something.”
“It is a tradition to do that, but we have a firearms curfew in place, forbidding their use outside of hunting, since the latest spate of attacks. That’s why we haven’t heard any shots so far during the festival.”
Sam’s heart beat uncomfortably fast. “Someone visiting from outside the area might not know that. I didn’t know it.”
“True.” Amahd didn’t sound reassured. By the time he ushered her through the door in the outside wall, the cars and several guards were waiting for them. They sped across the desert in a caravan of luxury sedans, to where the open terrain met the main road into the city. Her phone rang as they picked up speed. This was the first time it had worked since she came to Ubar, and likely involved a miracle. She answered it, praying that it was Osman, before she realized he probably didn’t even have her number.
“Where are you?” It was Allan.
“Did you hear the shots?”
“Yes. Where are you?”
“Looking for Osman. He left the city on horseback.” The countryside flashing outside the window was empty and forbidding. And riding a horse in the heat of the afternoon seemed like a terrible idea even if there weren’t rocket launchers aimed at you from the mountains.
“Of course you are. Have you forgotten that we have a plane to catch in four hours? We need to leave now to get there in time. God only knows what obsta
cles we’ll run into in this hellhole.”
“You can go without me. The car keys are in the camera bag.” There was no way she could leave without making sure Osman was okay.
“Sam, listen to yourself. Do you really want me to leave you here without any means of escape?”
“One of Osman’s men can drive me to the airport tomorrow.”
“If he lets you go.”
“He’s not the tyrant you assume.” He’d proven that to her this afternoon. He’d promised so much to her, and she’d rejected him so coldly. Actions that now seemed foolish. The car screeched off the road, lurching her into her seat belt. “I’ve got to go.”
She dropped the phone on the seat, and jumped out of the car, following the driver and Amahd. When she rounded the car, the sight she saw made her gasp. Osman lay facedown on the sandy soil, blue robes spread out around him, dust settling into their folds as if he was already dead.
Horror snapped through her and she wanted to scream, but managed to stop herself. The men were shouting to each other, and she couldn’t understand a word they said. Amahd knelt and felt his pulse. “He’s alive.”
Alive but not moving. “Should we turn him over?” she asked, heart pounding. Amahd consulted with the other men. They seemed uncertain about whether to risk moving him. “Has an ambulance been called?” Her voice was squeaky with terror. Did they even have such a thing as an ambulance or an EMT in Ubar?
One of the men was on the phone right now. She couldn’t even imagine how far away the nearest hospital was. She didn’t see any blood, but at the very least Osman had fallen from his horse and been knocked unconscious. What if he bled to death from internal injuries before help arrived?
The men were still blabbering nervously away and not doing anything. She’d taken a first aid class in college, and she decided to take charge. She checked his limbs to see if anything was broken and was relieved that they all seemed okay. It felt utterly wrong to be touching him without his consent, but surely he’d understand. His back rose and fell with the rhythm of his breaths, which was hugely reassuring, but what if he had a brain injury?
There was no way to tell if his spine was hurt since he wasn’t conscious so she couldn’t ask him to move anything. She hated to see him lying here, prone on the ground, and she didn’t want to turn him over, but what if he had broken ribs? What if there was a bleeding gunshot wound in his chest?
Frustration made her want to growl. “How long will it take help to get here?”
“Twenty minutes at least,” Amahd said grimly. He knelt on the ground near Osman’s head.
She crouched close and gently stroked his cheek. Panic filled her chest and a tear dripped from her eyes onto his cheek. “Please, Osman, wake up!”
He didn’t move.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sam knew that the voices of loved ones could wake people from a coma. Still, she was hardly a loved one on three days’ acquaintance, even if Osman had apparently wanted to marry her this afternoon. “Osman, it’s me. Samantha. Please come back to us!” She felt like an idiot in front all these big men, but they weren’t doing anything. Frustration and fear made her reckless, and she leaned closer. “Osman, I need you…I…I…have feelings for you.”
She glanced at Amahd, who kept his gaze tactfully averted. She looked around. The men were still talking and most of them probably didn’t understand English anyway.
“I love you.” She whispered it softly, admitting the words to herself for the first time. Was it possible to love someone after such a short time? All she knew was that the prospect of him being taken away from her made her head pound and her chest ache with terror. It was terrible to see such a lively and powerful man silent and still, the sun beating down as flies gathered around him.
She swatted at the flies with her hand. Then she leaned in and whispered. “If you wake up, I’ll marry you.”
Disappointment crushed her chest when he remained motionless. “I think he’s badly hurt.” She said to Amahd, who must have heard all her embarrassing confessions. “We need a helicopter.”
“One’s on its way, but it has to come over the mountains.”
“What can we do?”
“I think I need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”
Osman’s voice, halting and raspy, made her jump.
“You’re awake!”
“Am I? I was beginning to wonder if I was dreaming.”
She wanted to ask if he heard her whispered profession of love but decided it was better to be practical. “Can you move your legs?”
She saw his robes shift. “Yes,” he croaked.
“How about your hands?” She watched his fingers flutter.
“Can you turn yourself over?”
“I have to do everything for myself?” She saw that wicked gleam of mischief in his green-gold eyes.
Her eyes narrowed. “How long have you been awake?”
“I’m still not sure I am.” A smile tugged at the side of his mouth that she could see. The other was pressed against the sandy ground.
He wasn’t going to admit he heard her, so she decided to act as if he hadn’t. No sense in him knowing how much power he had over her. Amahd exclaimed his relief while Osman rolled himself gingerly on to his back, and she felt his ribs through the long robe. “I don’t think anything’s broken. How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been shot from a cannon. What happened?”
“I was going to ask you the same.” She glanced around, wondering if there were snipers training their sights on him. “Apparently you were last spotted riding a horse out of town.”
“The chestnut mare! Where is she?” He eased himself painfully to a sitting position, and scanned the almost-empty road.
“I haven’t seen a horse. She probably ran for home.”
“And I have no idea where that is.” He let out a colorful ancient curse. “But her owner recognized me so maybe he’ll do me the favor of bringing her back. I hope she doesn’t get injured. I can’t believe I fell off.”
“We heard gunshots from Nabattur, maybe that startled her.”
“An Ubarite horse would never shy at gunshots.” He said dismissively. “They are trained to handle all situations. Though I suppose I did buy her without trying her. What a fine mare, though. I’ll put out a reward for her return.”
“Never mind the horse right now. We need to get you back to the palace.” And a nasty thought crept over her. “And I have a plane to catch.”
Osman’s expression darkened. She watched him inhale. He looked like he wanted to say something but wouldn’t let himself. He must be furious with her for accusing him of being like his despotic father. For a second she wanted to apologize for the accusation, but then she decided now was not the time to bring that up. “My injuries don’t seem serious.” He was still sitting and attempted to rise to his feet, a cloud of dust flying up from his robes, but failed.
“Is it your legs?”
“I don’t know.” Concern furrowed his brow. She held out her hand for him to grab and together they managed to get him to his feet. “My head’s throbbing.”
“You could have a concussion! You shouldn’t ride without a helmet. Your brain could be swelling. Where is that helicopter?”
“Helicopter? I don’t need to go to a hospital. I just need to get home and rest. Maybe take a couple of aspirin.” He signaled to his men to get the car ready.
Was he really going home without getting checked out?
Would he let her go without even asking her to stay and take care of him? What if he did have a concussion and became seriously ill later on? Perhaps she should stay with him to check his pupils and make sure he was able to talk and think normally.
“My plane ticket can be rescheduled as long as I’m on another flight within twenty-four hours.”
“That’s settled then. You’ll come home with me tonight, and you’ll fly tomorrow.” His face was expressionless.
“Okay.” She agreed so quickly that
it must be obvious to him she didn’t really want to leave. But it was the least she could do after he’d done so much to help her and Allan. She’d be on a plane tomorrow and back on track, as soon as she made sure Osman was okay. She wasn’t going to whisper sweet nothings or even apologize for her earlier accusations. She was simply going to make sure that a friend was okay.
She helped him to the car, where for once he didn’t insist on driving. In the back seat, she took the first solid breath since Amahd had been unable to contact him by phone.
She’d learned one thing today. She cared a lot about Osman. More than she’d previously realized or admitted to herself.
And possibly he knew it.
Back at the palace Osman didn’t protest his men’s attempts to install him in his bedroom, though he did issue a lot of orders about finding out who fired gunshots during a curfew. Sam was guided to a different room—next to Osman’s. Her luggage was still in the Land Rover with Allan’s so she phoned him and asked him to leave it with the airline so she could pick it up at the airport the following day. He curtly agreed.
She asked if she could eat in her room as she was too wrung out by everything to make conversation, and one of the servants brought her a plate of tender meat that was probably goat and some spiced rice. She’d miss the food here. She and Allan used to go to Mustafa’s Mediterranean Restaurant at least twice a month, but that had nothing on the food she’d enjoyed in Ubar.
She felt a wave of sadness that her relationship with Allan and the entire future she’d imagined for them had evaporated like an oasis mirage. It was scary how wrong she’d been about the whole thing. Now she’d experienced true passion and arousal with Osman she knew she’d never be satisfied with a purely intellectual relationship again.
She liked the way Osman had backed off when she asked him to. Maybe they could build a relationship more organically? He could visit her in New York, take her on an ordinary date….
She glanced at the door in the wall that led to his room, and wondered if it was locked. Would he appear in the middle of the night, ready to take command of her body? Part of her hoped so. She scolded that part and told it to take a cold shower.
Desert Kings Boxed Set: The Complete Series Books 1-6 Page 21
