When he screamed, Bedelia had a moment where she thought that she was going to get away all, but then the bald man caught up with her. To her dismay, she could see that while his eyes were read and weeping, it was his companion who had borne the brunt of the spray.
"You little dog," he snarled, and she was too slow to stop him from latching a powerful grip around her arm. She tried to raise her pepper spray again, but he knocked it from her hand, and when he raised his hand to strike her, she knew there was nothing she could do about it.
Bedelia raised her free arm to try to cushion the blow, but it never fell. Instead, a dark shape seemed to blot out the sun, and she looked up to see that a man astride a tall horse had captured the man's arm in a grip that looked as solid as iron.
"I would not do that if I were you," the man said calmly in Arabic, and in a strange moment of shock, Bedelia recognized the man's copper eyes. It was the same man who had calmed the black earlier, and it was that same black that he was riding now.
She was surprised, but that was nothing compared to the shock on the face of the bald man. He went ashen, and he started speaking in such a torrent of Arabic that there wasn't a chance in hell that she could understand him.
More importantly, however, his grip on her arm went limp, and she was able to twist away. The man on the horse started to say something to her, but she was too smart to push her luck. Bedelia pulled away, narrowly missing tripping over the man who had gotten the worse of the spray, and was off through the crowd.
She thought she could hear the man with the copper eyes calling after her, but she would not stop for anything.
Chapter Two
Jahin saw the girl sprint off in a swirl of unfashionable clothing, and he swore in three different languages. He looked down at the man he held in disgust, releasing him so that the man fell back on the ground with his still-groaning friend.
"Great Lord, you have misunderstood everything," the bald man whined. "The girl, she is a prostitute, nothing more. She made deals with us, and then she went back on them--"
"You are a liar," Jahin said coldly, "and I have a feeling that if I asked the men around us what happened, they would agree with me and not with you."
He had seen the commotion from two rows over, and when he had seen that ugly floral headscarf, he knew at once who was involved. Navigating the lines on his new mount had been a slightly dicey business when he and the black were still so new to each other, but the horse had obeyed, and they were on top of the situation before anything terrible could happen.
He had just gotten close enough to rescue the girl when she’d pulled out that pepper spray and seemed more than capable of rescuing herself.
A man with an official's badge pinned to his tunic appeared.
"Great Lord, your pardon," he said, bowing low. "These two are known troublemakers, and we have been searching for them for some time. Do we have your permission to take them?"
Jahin nodded, his face dark. Muneazil was modern, or at least the city was. Here in the more obscure corners of his emirate, however, banditry, robbery and worse was still more than prevalent, as was the respect his people had for him. In the city, he was a civic leader, a celebrity and a sheikh. Here, his word was law, and sometimes the weight sat heavily on him.
The girl had disappeared by the time the men were in shackles, and he had a feeling that he should find her. Jahin tried to tell himself that it was foolishness, that of course a girl that quick and smart on her feet would be fine. But there was no changing the fact that she was a foreigner in a strange place. If she’d had a local guardian, she would never have been allowed to wander off unattended.
It is my duty to find her and make sure she is well, he tried to tell himself, wheeling his horse around with nothing more than a click of his tongue.
But even as he made his way towards the direction she had been fleeing, a part of him wondered at that. He was a man whose life was directed by duty, but it had never called to him like this before.
***
BEDELIA FELT AS if everything was too bright, but her head was so light that she could barely stay on the ground. Her encounter with the two men seemed like a dark and shadowed thing, something more like an encounter with monsters than a real thing that had happened. Had it really happened? Had she really pepper-sprayed one man and led him to be stomped on by a horse?
If she thought about it too long, her heart seemed to beat too quickly, and for some reason, tears threatened. All she could do was run until she was too tired to run anymore, and then with some frantic sense of irony, she realized that she was exactly where she wanted to be...the vendors area. There were other women here, walking about, doing their business, and for a moment, she felt so safe that she could have cried.
In a heartbeat, however, that sense of safety was ripped away, replaced with a sense of fear. Would the man on the horse simply let her attackers go? Would they come looking for her? She started to shake, but she knew if she let that go on too long, she would freeze up.
Bedelia stumbled towards a small tavern, one where she saw a woman leaving. When she got inside, it was cool and dark, and to her relief, there was a small nook off to one side, a place where she could squeeze herself in and be small and unnoticed.
The friendly waitress came over, and for a moment, Bedelia thought she had lost all of the Arabic she had been so careful to learn. She stumbled over a few English words, and then she finally managed to say that she wanted a soda. The waitress nodded, looking at her a little nervously, but she went away, which Bedelia wanted far more than she wanted a soda. The only reason she had been able to come up with it at all was because it was a line from one of her language modules.
You're fine, you're safe, nothing terrible is going to happen to you, she repeated to herself. There's nothing wrong right now, you're safe, you're safe.
She was almost on the verge of believing it herself when the door opened and in walked a man who looked shockingly familiar, even from the side and with his face turned away. Bedelia was confused by her sense of recognition at first, but then he turned towards her and there was no mistaking those eyes.
She was just beginning to wonder whether it was a strange coincidence when he spotted her and strode over. Her heart leaped up into her throat, and then he spoke.
"I just wanted to tell you that that was neatly done..." he started to say in English, but just about then, her overloaded nerves gave up their tenuous grip on control.
She couldn't help the tears that welled up in her eyes or the whimpers that came up her throat. Bedelia knew she was shaking as if she had a fever, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. All she could do was cover her face to hide her embarrassment, and hope against hope that he would go away.
Unfortunately, he swore instead, and then he slid into the booth next to her, murmuring something she couldn't understand. It might have been English, but right now, the release of panic and fear were so intense that she couldn't figure it out.
It should have been the wrong thing to do. After her encounter with the men at the horse fair, and after her desperate search to find a sanctuary, having a man there in her personal space should have driven her into a deeper panic.
Yet somehow...somehow it didn't.
Instead, the moment that Bedelia felt the warmth of this man's body next to hers, she found that she craved it, that she needed it. She turned to him immediately, burying her face in his chest. He smelled like sun, like horse, like sweat and underneath it, a warm cologne that surprised her.
He sat frozen for a moment, but then he pulled her in close for an embrace. Once again, it should have been all wrong, but in that moment, it was the best thing that could have happened.
She knew she was sobbing into the shirt of a stranger, but when he was murmuring soothing things to her, stroking her hair, just being a stable thing in a world that felt as if it were swinging out of control, she couldn't stop herself.
Slowly, slowly, her tears dried up and her
shudders started to smooth over and even out. For a long moment, she simply rested her face against him, and then reluctantly, Bedelia pulled away.
"I am so sorry about that," she said. "I don't know what I was thinking, and--"
"You were badly frightened, and I caught you while you were trying to compose yourself," he said with a slight grimace. "Truly, the fault is mine. Are you all right?"
Bedelia was relieved when his question didn't bring up a fresh tide of tears. "I'm fine. Just a little shaken up, I suppose. It's...it was a little unnerving, that's all."
He looked concerned. "Was it just their words and them grabbing you? They didn't do anything else?"
"No," she said darkly, "though I have the idea that they wanted to. Thank you for making sure that they wouldn't."
"Well, as far as I am concerned, you more or less rescued yourself," he said with a slight smile. When he smiled, she caught a glimpse of sharp white teeth, and for some reason, that made her shiver a little. "I merely came along for the ride."
Bedelia scrubbed her hand over her stinging eyes. It should have been embarrassing to be this disheveled in front of a man who was so handsome, but right now, that was the last thing she cared about.
"I'm the one who should have watched where I was going. I didn't even notice for a while that there were no other women in the lines of horses. Something worse could have happened much sooner. I got lucky."
To her surprise, he put his hand over hers. His hand was as warm as the rest of him, and she had to swallow before she could look up to meet his eyes.
"No. You might have been lucky, but it was certainly not your fault. Muneazil has...perhaps a long way to go when it comes to true equality, but it has never been appropriate or legal to touch a woman in a way that she does not welcome. You might have been unaware of how things are usually done, but they had no excuse."
She could see how intent he was about the situation, and she merely nodded at first. Then it occurred to her that they were speaking English, something she hadn't done since she had left the emirate's capital city.
"You speak English very well," she said. "Did you spend some time studying abroad, perhaps?"
He grinned faintly at her. "I did. I spent some time at Oxford before I decided it was not for me, and then I spent a year in Canada on a foreign exchange. The travel was exciting, and I will never regret learning a language that so many people in the world speak, but at the end of it, it was very good to be home."
"Muneazil is beautiful," she said, hoping she hadn't come off as if she were making fun of his home. "I...I'm from Iowa originally, in the United States, and I have never seen anything like this. This is one of the most amazing places I have ever been, and even what happened earlier...that will never make me regret coming here."
The man flashed her a smile that was as bright as the sun. "I am very glad to hear you say that. My country...well, it is my heart, and outsiders...foreigners...do not always have such a kind view of it. Thank you for restoring my faith a little."
Bedelia smiled, but her smile faded slightly when she thought of what Miller was likely going to do with the information that she gave him about Muneazil. Perhaps she simply wouldn't mention that to this man.
"I'm glad I could do something for you that didn't involve ruining your day," she said with a smile. "I’m Bedelia Lindow, by the way."
"I am very pleased to meet you, Bedelia. I am called Jahin."
He offered her his hand, and when she took it, instead of shaking it, he ghosted his lips over her knuckles. It was a strangely gallant, courtly gesture, and yet somehow, on a man like Jahin, it didn't seem that strange at all.
"That was an impressive stunt you pulled with the horse on the track," she said. "I heard someone saying that they might have to shoot to wound to get them apart."
Jahin's face darkened unexpectedly. "Fools. Even some of the so-called experts here. They are fools, and should never be allowed around horses of any kind. The black is nervy and more aggressive than he should be, this is true, but he is also very young. I found that out when I talked to the breeder. He is large for his age, and he lost his head, that is all."
"Oh, I thought perhaps he was yours, that you were selling him."
Jahin flashed her a grin that was surprisingly boyish. He was a handsome man in general, but when he smiled, her heart beat faster.
"Quite the opposite, really," he said. "Immediately after the run, I went to find his breeder, and as soon as the bell rang, I paid full-price for him. Blood like that belongs in my family's horses, and I already have a few plans for him after he proves himself, which I am certain he will."
He paused for a moment, and when he spoke again, there was something cautious about his tone. "Would you like to meet him?"
There was honestly nothing that Bedelia wanted more. A part of her tried to say that it would be excellent research for Miller, but another part of her simply didn't want to let go of Jahin, not when she had just met him.
"Do you mean it?" Bedelia asked shyly. For some reason, she was suddenly nervous about it, as if a man like that could never ask her for something like this. "I mean, I feel like I have already taken up enough of your time..."
"Certainly, I mean it," he said, his voice firm.
Jahin climbed up from the booth, offering her his hand. "Come on."
It was on the tip of her tongue to question him again, but something held her back. There was something about this man that did not care to be questioned, and that meant he was a man who knew what he wanted, and as far as she could tell, he had told her what he wanted.
She took his hand, and with nothing more than that, he led her back out into the street.
Bedelia was startled at the difference that an escort made. Before, she had been almost painfully aware of being an outsider, of being someone who was not quite a part of things, who would never belong. On Jahin's arm, however, even with her pale skin and painfully unfashionable clothes, she felt like people simply looked over her, accepted her as a part of things. It was a strange lesson, and one that she was still thinking over when he led her to a trailer that had been staked out a little way apart from the rest of the fair.
There were plenty of people who were camping out and sleeping rough, but there was something distinctly luxurious about Jahin's camp. There was a yurt that looked as cozy as a real house might be, and there were two spacious horse trailers, which suggested that he was interested in bringing home more than one horse.
Tethered next to one of the trailers, placidly mouthing some hay that had been left out for him, was the black, whose small and almost delicately-shaped ears perked up at their approach. For a moment, Bedelia was nervous that she and Jahin would need to run, as the animal threw its head up and snorted. But then, without a trace of fear, Jahin stepped up to the stallion, offering it his hand.
Bedelia held her breath, and after a long, long moment, the horse nuzzled Jahin's hand in a surprisingly warm and friendly way.
"It's all right now," he said. "He's a little nervous, but sweet once you get to know him."
Bedelia came to stand next to Jahin, and then it was her turn to be inspected. Up close, the black looked somehow even bigger, even more imposing, and the fact that such an enormous animal could look at her so gently and nuzzle her hand with such affection startled her.
"He really is quite gentle," she said, stroking the velvet of the black's nose. To her surprise, there was a tiny patch of white under his chin, and when she tickled it with her fingers, the horse made a sound that was so close to a purr that she laughed.
"Oh, he wouldn't be if we were stallions who wanted his territory or an idiot groom who thought that a horse like this can be treated like a cow," Jahin said with a shrug. "But this is a horse who wants his own way, and as smart as I think he is, he might be right a high percentage of the time."
"So you need to respect his intelligence?"
"Exactly. When I am adding new blood to my stables, I look for intelligence
as well as strength and heart. This beauty seems to have all three."
"Lucky horse," she found herself saying, and she was startled when Jahin laughed.
"Why do you say that?" he teased. "You sound almost jealous."
"Oh...you, I was..."
Bedelia knew she was stuttering with a face that was likely bright red. There was nothing to do but to try to explain herself as best she could.
"Go on," Jahin said, a slight smile on his face. "Exactly what were you thinking of?"
"Oh, well, I guess among other things, I was thinking of what a good home he would have with you, and how few animals ever got a home that understood them that well. And I suppose I was also thinking while I was at it that precious few people ever did either, and if you have to really consider it, then heart, intelligence and strength wouldn't be terrible things to look for when you were looking for...for a partner...I suppose..."
She knew she was babbling, and when she realized that at no point was Jahin going to stop her, she trailed to a stop on her own. Her reward for her ill-advised little ramble, however, was a laugh from Jahin that seemed to warm her up from top to bottom, and he shook his head.
"You are truly a fascinating little thing, aren't you?" he asked. "I suppose you are not wrong, though I am certain that is not going to be what I am looking for when the time comes for me to wed."
There was a small voice in her head telling her that it might be a really good idea to get off of the topic of women and wives, but she couldn't help herself.
"I think that sounds like a fairly universal criteria for someone that you want to spend your life with," she hazarded. "I mean, what else could you ask for?"
Jahin gave the black one final pat, then led her away back to the bustle of the crowd. For a moment, it felt as if she were back in Iowa, walking through the county fair. Of course, back then, she had never been on the arm of a boy, let alone a man, let alone a man as handsome as Jahin.
Sheikh's Virgin Love-Slave Page 11
