Hostage of the Hawk

by Sandra Marton

  Wildly, she’d glanced about, measuring her surroundings. There was a small copse of trees just off the trail. Desperate, she’d taken refuge in it only seconds before the riders had come thundering past. She’d been about to move out after them, seeing no choice but to play the risky game of following her followers, when she’d spied what had seemed to be a parallel path on the far side of the trees. Joanna had gritted her teeth and decided to go with the unknown.

  For a while, her choice had seemed a good one. The path was narrower than the first and it twisted and turned like a snake, but it did lead down—only to suddenly peter out on the edge of a dizzying cliff.

  A stone, dislodged by the mare’s delicate hooves, had gone tumbling down into oblivion. Heart racing, Joanna had edged the animal away from the precipice but she hadn’t gone all the way back up the trail for fear of losing too much time. Instead, she’d cut through the trees, pausing only long enough to dismount and rip the telltale bells from the mare’s bridle. Then she’d ridden on until, at last, she’d come out in a narrow gorge.

  Now, as the sun dropped a crimson mantle over the surrounding mountain peaks, Joanna was trying to decide what to do next. She stared up at the sky. If the setting sun were there, ahead of her, then east was directly behind her, and north and south were—they were...

  A little sob of despair burst from her throat. What did it matter? The points of the compass didn’t mean a damn if you were trapped in a cage and didn’t know the way out.

  An owl hooted mournfully in the trees. Joanna shuddered and burrowed more deeply into her jellaba. The night was cool, and steadily growing cooler. The mare was exhausted, head drooping, legs wobbly. She’d been wonderful and courageous, running like the wind after the first shock of being asked to do so, but for the past hour she’d moved at little more than a walk.

  Except for the crescent moon hanging like a scimitar over the trees, the darkness was complete. The owl’s cry came again and just after it came another cry, that of some small creature which had evidently met the owl and lost the encounter.

  Joanna shuddered again. She had to do something, but what? Should she ride on, without any idea of where she was going? In the dark, the horse could easily mis-step; they’d both end up at the bottom of some abyss, breakfast for the vultures she’d seen circling on the warm thermals of morning.

  She could stop, give herself and her horse a rest. But if she did, she would lose whatever time she’d gained, perhaps give Khalil’s men just the edge they needed to pick up her trail.

  The mare lifted her head and snorted.

  Joanna sat up straight, eyes wide as she peered into the darkness. Had the animal heard something?

  Sidana snorted again and pawed the ground with a hoof. Joanna bent over her neck, patted it soothingly.

  ‘What is it?’ she whispered. ‘Is there something out there?’

  The horse took a tentative step forward. Joanna hesitated, and then she loosened her hold on the reins and gave the animal its head. Wherever the mare was leading had to be better than this.

  Sidana’s pace quickened. She was almost trotting now, and all at once Joanna understood. Ahead, just visible in the pale wash of moonlight, a spring bubbled from a rocky cairn and trickled into the trough-shaped depression it had worn into the rock over the centuries.

  Joanna smiled. ‘Good girl!’

  She slid carefully to the ground, groaning. Muscles she hadn’t known existed ached. She had not ridden bareback since a childhood summer spent on a Montana mining property.

  The mare buried her nose in the shallow water and Joanna squatted beside her, sipping from her cupped hands, not caring that she and the horse were sharing their drink. Thirst had become a growing discomfort; she’d known it might be, but how could she have stolen a Thermos of fruit juice from her meal tray without drawing Rachelle’s attention?

  The horse, replete, lifted her head and whinnied softly.

  ‘It does taste good, doesn’t it?’ Joanna murmured. ‘I’m glad I gave you your head, girl, otherwise—’

  What was that? Joanna stiffened. She could hear something. Voices. Male voices, low-pitched but carrying clearly on the still air, and now the sound of hooves and the creak of leather.

  Khalil’s men! They’d picked up her trail! Joanna snatched up the mare’s trailing reins and led her back into the trees.

  ‘Shh,’ she whispered frantically, holding the animal’s bridle with one hand and stroking its nose with the other, ‘shh!’

  She couldn’t let them find her now, not after she’d come so far. Even if it took her until dawn to find the path that would lead her down the mountain, she wasn’t going back, she couldn’t go back, she—

  There! She could see them now. They were heading for the spring. A dozen men, not any more than that—but—but—

  But who were they? Surely, not Khalil’s followers. She had never seen their faces before, and their clothing was all wrong.

  The men dismounted, all but one obscenely fat man who she knew instinctively must be their leader and who barked out commands. One man scurried to the spring, dipped a cup into the water, hurried back and offered it with downcast eyes. The fat man drank thirstily, tossed the cup into the dirt, and slid clumsily from the saddle to the ground.

  Joanna’s gaze flew over the other men. They were heavily armed and had a grim, ugly look to them. And you didn’t have to understand their words to shudder at their tone of voice.

  The fat man snarled another command and one of the men bowed and answered. His answer meant nothing to Joanna, except for the last words and the fearful respect that laced them.

  ‘...Abu Al Zouad.’

  Joanna’s breath caught. Of course! The fat man was Abu Al Zouad! Her father had described him to her. Abu was a big man, he’d said, grossly overweight and clumsy, given to expensive Italian suits and too much gold jewellery.

  What would he say now, if he saw him dressed in a greasy jellaba, his chest bristling with bandoliers of ammunition?

  The men were clustered in little knots, smoking cigarettes and murmuring quietly to each other. Abu clapped his hands and they looked up as he began to speak. It was a long speech, and again incomprehensible to Joanna, except for two simple words that were repeated over and over.

  Joanna Bennett.

  Abu was talking about her! Had he come to free her? This looked more like a raiding party than a rescue mission, but Joanna wasn’t a child. It wasn’t only the good guys who wore white hats.

  But why would her father authorise a risky attempt at rescue instead of negotiating for her freedom? Joanna blew out her breath. Perhaps—perhaps Khalil had not told her the truth? For all she knew, Sam might have made every possible effort to gain her release, only to be rebuffed by Khalil. In desperation, he might surely send men to find and free her.

  It was reasonable, even logical—but if it were, what was keeping her from stepping out into the clearing and yelling, hey, here I am, Abu? Why was she still hiding, still praying that her horse would not suddenly whinny and give away her position?

  Abu finished speaking. One of his men said something; she heard her name fall from his lips, and the others chuckled. Abu shook his head and pointed to himself, and their laughter grew.

  There was something in the sound of the laughter, in the way her name had been used and in the way Abu had stabbed that pudgy finger at himself, that sent a chill along Joanna’s spine.

  She swallowed hard. The men were mounting up. In another moment, they’d ride out of here and she’d be alone again, and just as lost as she’d been before they arrived.

  Now was the time to step forward, to call out Abu’s name and identify herself. Determinedly, before she could lose courage, Joanna began rising slowly from her crouched position—

  A hand clamped over her mouth and an arm, powerful and hard as steel, closed around her. Joanna cried out soundlessly and began to struggle, but she was helpless against the strength of the man holding her.

  ‘J
oanna!’ Khalil’s voice whispered into her ear. ‘Stop it, Joanna! It’s me.’

  She almost sobbed with relief. She went still, and Khalil lowered her slowly to the ground, his arm remaining around her waist.

  ‘You mustn’t make a sound,’ he said softly. ‘Do you understand?’

  She nodded and he took his hand from her lips. Beyond the trees, the little group of riders was just vanishing into the night.

  She swung around and looked at Khalil. In the moonlight, she could see that he was unshaven, that there was a grim set to his mouth and that lines of weariness fanned out from his eyes, and yet she had never seen a man so beautiful. She had escaped his silken prison, she thought with a sudden catch in her breath, but how would she ever escape the memory of him?

  The realisation was as stunning as it was bewildering. She whispered his name, but he shook his head, the stony expression on his face unchanging.

  ‘There will be time for talk later.’

  Najib stood just behind his master, ears pricked forward. Khalil took the animal’s reins and set off through the trees, in the opposite direction from the spring with Joanna and her mare following after him.

  A ten-minute walk brought them to what looked like a labyrinth of giant boulders and, at its end, the yawning, dark mouth of a cave.

  Khalil tethered the horses in a blind passageway among the boulders, where no casual observer would see them, and then he took Joanna’s hand and led her through the maze up into the cave.

  ‘I played here often, as a boy,’ he said, his voice echoing off the stone walls. ‘It’s deep enough for safety, and there’s even a narrow cleft in the rocks at the cave’s end that we can use to get out, if we should have to.’

  Within minutes, he’d swept together a small pile of kindling and brush and lit a fire deep in the cave’s interior. Joanna held her breath as he turned towards her. They had been alone before, but this time was different. She had been running away from him, it was true, but now, seeing him again, being so close to him, she felt—she felt—

  ‘What the hell did you think you were doing?’

  She blinked. Khalil’s face was taut with barely contained fury.

  ‘I don’t—I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he mimicked. His mouth tightened. ‘For a woman who always has a clever answer at her fingertips, that one is pathetic!’

  Her spine stiffened. ‘It is not!’

  ‘If you behave like a fool, I’ll treat you like one.’

  She stared at him for a moment, and then she whirled around and started towards the mouth of the cave. His hand fell on her shoulder.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he growled.

  ‘Where I should have gone in the first place. With Abu. If you hadn’t come along and ruined things—’

  Khalil spun her towards him. ‘You gave me your word, Joanna! But I should have known that such a simple pledge was beyond you.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘You promised you would not ride alone!’

  Joanna tossed her head. ‘But I didn’t promise I’d willingly remain your prisoner.’

  ‘You little idiot! I’m not talking about escape. I’m talking about danger.’

  ‘The danger of disobeying the rules of a petty dictator, you mean!’

  ‘It is dangerous for anyone, but especially for a woman, to ride these mountains alone.’

  ‘You never said that.’

  ‘I didn’t think I had to,’ he said, glowering at her. ‘Anyone with half a brain—’

  ‘Stop it! I’m tired of your insults!’

  ‘Then don’t set yourself up for them. If you’d used your head, you’d have realised I gave you those instructions to keep you safe.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Joanna’s voice shook, and she could feel the sting of tears in her eyes, although there was no reason to want to cry. ‘Yes, you’d want me kept safe, wouldn’t you? If I were hurt or damaged, what sort of bargaining chip would I be?’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Bargaining chip?’

  ‘What’s the matter? Isn’t your English good enough to understand a simple phrase? A bargaining chip is what a hostage is. It’s—’

  She cried out as he swept her into his arms and kissed her, his mouth taking hers with a passion so urgent it stole her breath away, and then he clasped her face in his hands and drew back just enough so he could look into her eyes.

  ‘You cannot be so blind,’ he whispered. ‘Surely you see that you have become much more than my hostage.’

  ‘No,’ she said shakily, ‘no, I don’t see.’

  He smiled, and suddenly his eyes were tender. ‘Let me show you, then,’ he said softly, and slowly, his head descended to hers.

  He kissed her gently, his mouth moving softly against hers, his hands spreading under the hood and into her hair. A tremor went through her, but she didn’t respond.

  ‘Joanna,’ he said, his lips still clinging to hers, ‘Joanna, Joanna...’

  And suddenly a wave of emotion, as unexpected and as fierce as a tidal wave, swept through her. She began to tremble.

  ‘Khalil?’ she whispered, and the question inherent in the single word was enough. He caught her in his arms and kissed her insistently. Her lips parted beneath his, her arms stole around his neck, and she clung to him and knew she would never, not in a thousand lifetimes, want to let him go.

  ‘How did you find me?’ she sighed, while he pressed little kisses to her temples and eyelids. ‘And where did you come from? You were gone—’

  ‘I was drawn away deliberately by Abu. It was a clever scheme, but there are few secrets that can be kept in this part of the world. I turned back when the information reached me, contacted my men, told them to put you under armed guard.’

  ‘Abu was coming to free me, then?’

  Khalil hesitated. ‘It might be better to say that you were all the excuse he needed to ride against me.’

  ‘But—what will happen when he reaches your village? Will your people be safe?’

  He smiled grimly. ‘He’s riding into a trap. My men are waiting for him.’

  ‘But how...?’

  ‘Joanna.’ He stroked the hair back from her face. ‘I don’t want to talk about Abu now,’ he whispered.

  His mouth took hers again, this time in a deeper, more passionate kiss. Joanna moaned softly, and he lowered his head and put his mouth to her throat, as if to measure the racing pulse beating in its hollow.

  She whispered his name as he eased the jellaba from her shoulders. His eyes burned into hers as he undid the buttons of her shirt. When it fell away, he drew back and looked at her with such hunger that she felt her breasts lift and harden under his gaze.

  ‘You are so beautiful.’ He reached out slowly and stroked his fingers across her nipples. ‘You are more beautiful than any woman I have ever seen.’

  ‘You’re beautiful, too,’ she whispered. The skin tightened across his cheekbones as she slid his jellaba from his shoulders. Her fingers trembled as she undid the buttons on his shirt. She slid her hands under the soft cotton, exulting in the feel of his silken skin, his taut muscles, and in the hiss of his breath when she touched him.

  He caught her hand in his, carried it to his lips and pressed a kiss into her palm.

  ‘I want to see all of you, Joanna.’

  She stood still as he stripped away her shoes, her trousers, and, finally, her panties. Colour raced up under her skin as she watched him look at her, not from embarrassment but from the sweet pain of wanting him. Her body was already damp, ready for his, and although he had barely touched her so far, her blood was at a fever pitch.

  ‘Now you,’ she whispered.

  She lifted her eyes to his as she reached out to his belt buckle. He made a sound in the back of his throat as she opened it. She swept her hand lightly down the length of his fly, her breath catching when she felt his arousal. His fingers curled around her wrist and he smiled tightly.

>   ‘Be careful,’ he said. ‘If you go on playing this game, the night may end before it begins.’

  A smile curved across Joanna’s mouth. ‘Am I to obey you, my lord?’

  He laughed as he caught her up in his arms, snatched up Najib’s saddle blanket, and walked deeper into the cave, to where the fire’s glow was only a soft reflection.

  ‘We will obey each other on this night, my beloved.’

  Slowly, he eased her down on the blanket, laid her back, and bent over her, his face shadowed and mysterious in the firelight.

  ‘I wanted you from the moment I saw you,’ he whispered.

  Joanna laughed throatily. ‘I thought you wanted to throttle me from the moment you saw me.’

  Khalil chuckled. ‘You are right. There have been times I didn’t know which I wanted to do more.’ His smile faded as he looked at her. ‘But tonight—tonight,’ he whispered, ‘there is only one thing I wish to do tonight.’

  He touched her with his fingertips, slowly following the curve of breast and belly, then moving lightly against her thighs. She whispered his name, held out her arms to him, but he ignored her, bending over her body so that he could trace the same path again, this time with his mouth. She moaned softly as his lips closed first on one breast, then on the other. When he drew back and bent again to kiss her thighs, her voice rose quavering into the silence of the cave. And when, finally, his mouth closed on the sweet centre of her, Joanna cried out his name in ecstasy.

  The stars were still tumbling from the sky when he rose over her.

  ‘Look at me,’ he said. Joanna opened her eyes and he smiled down at her, a sweet, fierce smile of possession and dominance that made her heart seem to stop—but when he entered her, slowly, so slowly, with his eyes never leaving hers, she knew that her possession of him, her dominance of him, was as complete as his was of her.