by Various
What sort of a man was he?
The girl was unconscious.
She was half dead, and he was thirsting for her as she was no doubt thirsting for water.
Dehydration, he thought savagely, holding her easily as he walked back to his stallion and removed a bottle from his saddlebag. He’d seen it before, too many times.
‘Drink,’ he ordered harshly, but she gave no sign that she was able to obey his command.
Questioning what crime he’d committed to be saddled with an unconscious girl at a time when he was supposed to be enjoying solitude, Zafiq splashed a small amount of water over her lips and watched with grim satisfaction as her tongue flickered out. At least he wasn’t dealing with a corpse.
He wanted her to live so that she could face justice for trying to steal his horse. She would pay the price for her crime.
In order to keep her alive, he needed to get her out of the sun and cool her down. And the only place he could do that was in his own camp.
Resigning himself to the inevitable, Zafiq swung her limp body onto his horse and supported her while he vaulted on behind her. Drawing her lifeless body against the power of his own, he closed his legs on the stallion’s flanks and urged him forwards, glancing over his shoulder to check on the mare.
It took less than twenty minutes to reach the shelter of his remote desert camp—twenty minutes during which he discovered to his frustration that he was able to become aroused by an unconscious woman.
Dismounting in a fluid movement, Zafiq gritted his teeth as he lifted her once again into his arms.
Perhaps he should have left her in the desert.
Turning the horses loose to find shade and water in the small oasis, he carried the unconscious girl towards his tent, breathing through his mouth in order to block out the tantalising floral scent of her hair. He dumped her gently on the mat that served as a bed and frowned impatiently as she lay still, not moving.
Torn between concern and exasperation, Zafiq leant forward and placed his fingers on her forehead. Registering the dry, burning heat, he realised that if he didn’t cool her down, he was going to have a serious problem on his hands.
‘I don’t know who you are, but you clearly have more beauty than sense,’ he growled, striding across the tent to fetch a bowl of tepid water and a piece of cloth.
So much for a week of peace, solitude and quiet reflection.
Zafiq dipped the cloth in the water and bathed her face and neck. Knowing that her recovery was dependent on cooling and rehydration, he reluctantly unfastened the buttons of her long sleeve shirt. Peeling it away he bathed her slender arms, keeping his eyes averted from the pretty lace bra that was now the only barrier between him and her body. He left her arms and body damp, allowing the water droplets to cool her overheated skin.
At this rate he was going to need the cool water himself, he thought, seriously unsettled by the effect she had on him. With haste and clinical efficiency he tugged her white cotton trousers past the curve of her hips and down her long legs.
‘Atif?’ She murmured a man’s name and Zafiq frowned sharply, wondering whether there had been someone else out in the desert with her.
Of course. She must have had an accomplice. A plan to kidnap his horse couldn’t have been executed by one lone woman, could it?
Wondering what had happened to his usual clarity of thought, Zafiq dropped the cloth back into the bowl and raked her flushed cheeks with an impatient gaze, but this time his impatience was directed towards himself. Since when had he ceased to think logically?
Driven by concern and the pressing need to extract information, he scooped her up and pressed the cup of water to her lips. ‘Drink,’ he ordered, and although her eyes remained closed she obediently parted her lips and swallowed. ‘And more.’ He continued to encourage her to drink and then laid her gently back against the pillows and bathed her once again.
Shaded by the tent and cooled by the water she started to revive.
Only when he judged that she was able to answer, did Zafiq scoop her up once again and voice the question that was troubling him.
‘Who was with you?’ His voice was rough—rougher than he intended—but even so she didn’t respond. Trying to ignore the softness of her skin against his arms, Zafiq tried again. ‘Were you alone?’
Her eyes slid to his and she looked at him with those stunning blue eyes that were undeniably designed to drive a man to distraction.
‘Horse—’ she croaked, and Zafiq felt the tension ripple across his shoulders.
‘I know about the horse. What about humans?’
Her tongue moistened her lower lip, slowly, as if speaking were the hardest thing she’d ever done. ‘Is the horse OK?’
She was lying half dead in his arms and yet she was asking about the horse?
Momentarily thrown by that surprising fact, it took Zafiq a moment to realise that she obviously had a vested interest in the animal’s welfare. ‘She is fine, although no thanks to you. You will not be profiting on this occasion.’
‘Profiting?’
‘There are many questions which you will answer in time, but first tell me about Atif. Who is he?’
Her eyes closed again but not before he’d seen tears glistening and the dull sheen of despair.
‘Please don’t make me go back.’
‘Go back where?’ Accustomed to receiving an immediate answer to any question he posed, Zafiq found this laborious process of dragging information from her unspeakably tedious.
What sort of man would leave it to a woman to steal a horse?
Or had she seduced someone to achieve her objective?
Irritated by his thoughts, he pressed the cup to her lips again. Her hand closed over his wrist as she drank and the burn of her fingers against his skin induced a reaction so shockingly powerful that Zafiq almost dropped the cup.
‘How could you have done this without help? There must have been someone with you?’
‘No.’ Her voice was faint. ‘On my own.’
As he laid her back against the pillows, Zafiq pondered why a horse thief should be working alone and unsupported. All the intelligence he’d received on the threat to his valuable mare had seemed to point to a group of people. ‘Sleep.’ He rose to his feet swiftly, needing to distance himself. Needing to regain control. ‘I must check on the animals.’
No one would be touching his horses again, he promised himself fiercely as he strode towards the entrance of the tent.
‘Wait—’ Her soft croak stopped him. ‘Who are you?’
Zafiq gave a cynical smile.
Never before had anyone asked him that question. He eyed her blonde hair and fair skin thoughtfully. It was entirely possible that this uninformed, naive woman, who thought she could kidnap a valuable animal without detection, genuinely had no idea who he was.
Which suited him.
His exact location was a secret. And he wanted it to remain a secret, particularly as he now had Amira’s safety to think about.
‘I’m your nemesis,’ he purred, his voice lethally soft as he lifted the flap of the tent. ‘And you are going to live to regret the day you stole my horse.’
Everything had shifted from gold to white.
Had she died and gone to heaven?
Bella blinked several times and realised that she was staring up at canvas. She was inside a tent. And it was hot. Stiflingly hot, like being trapped in an oven on full heat with the door closed. Her head throbbed, her mouth felt parched and she had no idea what she was doing here. Memories flickered through her head—a strong male voice ordering her to drink, firm, decisive hands stripping her of her clothing…
Stripping her of her clothing?
Realising that she was naked apart from her underwear, she was about to find something to cover herself with when the flap of the tent was pushed aside and a man strode inside. Stripped to the waist, his muscular bronzed shoulders glistened with water, as though wet from a dip in the pool. He was naked apart
from a towel tied loosely around his lean hips.
For a moment she thought she must be hallucinating because he was indecently, impossibly, handsome.
‘OK, maybe I have died and gone to heaven,’ Bella croaked humorously but there was no answering smile from her rescuer. Eyes as dark as jet scanned her with arrogant appraisal and unconcealed disdain.
‘You have a strange concept of heaven. Or maybe you don’t realise how much trouble you’re in.’
‘You are my kind of trouble—’ Feeling weak and dizzy, Bella eyed his powerful physique and started to laugh. ‘You have to see the funny side—all those hours I’ve spent at parties hoping to meet a spectacular-looking man and he turns up here in the desert—’ The desert.
Oh, God, she was still in the desert.
Catching the flare of shock in his eyes, she sighed as everything rushed back to her. ‘Look, I’ve no idea where I am, but just tell me you’re not going to make me drink herbal tea and search for the meaning of life. Otherwise I’ll have a relapse.’ Conscious of the contrast between his striking good looks and her dishevelled appearance, Bella surreptitiously slid her fingers through her hair, wincing as she encountered a dry, matted mass. ‘Ugh. Sand. There’s sand everywhere.’
‘That’s why it’s called the desert.’
‘Yes, but it’s even in my hair—’ Her trademark silky mane had the texture of sandpaper and Bella shuddered.
No wonder he wasn’t looking at her the way men usually looked at her.
‘A few hours ago you were staring death in the face and now you are worrying about your hair?’ The contempt in his tone added insult to injury.
‘Look, do you have any idea what it’s like to be stranded in this red, gritty wilderness without so much as a bottle of decent conditioner?’ Bella pouted at him and then lifted her fingers to her mouth in horror. ‘My lips are cracked—’
‘That’s what happens when you trek across the desert without appropriate protection.’ He was as harsh and blistering as the desert sun and Bella’s spine stiffened defensively.
‘I hadn’t planned on getting lost!’
‘That tends to happen when you point your horse in the wrong direction.’ His sardonic tone was the final straw and Bella felt her cheeks redden.
‘Your bedside manner needs work.’
‘The quality of my bedside manner,’ he drawled, ‘depends on who is lying in my bed.’
A stranger to masculine indifference, Bella was appalled to feel a lump settle in her throat. She reminded herself frantically that red tear-stained eyes in a sandblasted face would make her look like a gargoyle and swallowed hard, refusing to give in to an emotion that would make her even less physically appealing.
Give me half an hour in that pool he’s just swum in, she thought to herself, and I’ll knock him dead. Even without the aid of a mirror.
‘Are you always this preoccupied with your appearance? One would have thought you had more important issues on your mind. Like humility. You should be dwelling on the lesson the desert has taught you.’ The slow-burning anger in his eyes made her wonder what she’d done to offend him so deeply.
‘The desert has taught me never to leave the city again.’ Feeling sicker by the minute, Bella stretched gingerly and discovered that she ached from head to toe. ‘You don’t seem very pleased that I’m alive.’
‘I was not expecting to spend my first night in the desert with a half-dead female.’
‘You prefer completely dead females? I suppose at least they don’t answer back.’ Sneaking a look at his unsmiling face, Bella decided there was no point in asking if he had a mirror. ‘Look, I’m sorry I’ve messed up your plans, OK? Just give me something for my headache, point me towards the city and I’ll get out of your way.’
He muttered something in a language she didn’t understand and this time his glance was both fierce and contemptuous. ‘Have you learned nothing from your escapade? This is the desert, not the English countryside. You don’t just go for a walk. Or even a ride.’
Bella remembered the dark shadow emerging from the haze of sunlight and realised that it must have been him. ‘You do.’
‘I was born in this country. I understand every movement of the sun and every shift of the sands and yet even I would not set out on a journey as lamentably ill equipped as you. Next time you decide to commit a crime I suggest you spend more time on the planning. You had no map, no spare clothing and no water.’ Incredulity and disgust radiated from his expression and his tone. ‘What were you thinking?’
‘I suppose I wasn’t really thinking,’ Bella admitted, chastened by his harsh words and distracted by the word crime. ‘I just wanted to get to the city. I misunderstood the distance.’
‘And that one small error would have cost two lives if I hadn’t arrived when I did.’
‘Two?’ As she absorbed the meaning behind his statement, Bella struggled to a sitting position, guilt sharpening her anxiety. ‘Wait a minute. The beautiful horse—is she all right? You said—’
‘She will survive, but no thanks to you. That mare is a valuable animal.’ His smile was cynical. ‘But you know that, don’t you? That’s why you took her.’
‘I took her because she was so friendly.’ Bella was tortured by the horror of what might have happened. She’d almost killed a horse. She’d totally and utterly messed up. Again. But no one would be surprised to hear that, would they? Everyone expected her to mess up. ‘She’s full Arab isn’t she? They have such distinctive features.’
‘And I’m sure you were well acquainted with her distinctive features. How else would you be sure of stealing the right animal?’
‘You’re right to be angry with me.’ Bella was genuinely contrite and more than a little puzzled by the venom in his tone. ‘I’m angry with myself. I would never intentionally have put the mare in danger. I love horses—much more than humans actually,’ she said humbly, ‘but I honestly thought it would take me less than an hour to get to the city.’
‘Was that where they were waiting?’
‘Who?’
‘Your accomplices.’
‘I didn’t have any accomplices.’
‘Then how did you plan to sell her?’
‘I wasn’t going to sell her!’ Bella sat up straight, offended by the suggestion. ‘I was going to send her back to the stables.’
Exasperation mingled with incredulity. ‘You expect me to believe that you stole a horse with the intention of returning her?’
‘I didn’t steal a horse!’ Bella’s voice was an outraged squeak. ‘I—I just borrowed her. For a short time…’ Her voice trailed off, her pathetic defence squashed by the satanic blaze of his beautiful black eyes. ‘I’m not a thief!’
‘You were in possession of an animal that does not belong to you. Had she escaped from her stable?’
Bella shrank slightly. ‘Er, no.’
‘So you physically took her?’
‘I borrowed her—’ Seriously worried now, Bella wished she had a weapon so that she could defend herself. And then she remembered he was a man. And she had big blue eyes. What better weapon could a girl ask for? She angled her face and looked directly at him. ‘I can explain…’
One eyebrow raised, he folded his arms. ‘Rarely have I been so intrigued to hear an excuse.’
Perhaps he hadn’t looked at her properly. Bella widened her eyes slightly but his hard gaze didn’t flicker.
She must be too far away from him. Still, there was always her hair. Her long, blonde hair. Bella tried to flick her hair over her shoulder but it was so stiff with sand it barely moved.
Realising that she was going to have to rely on her wits, not her looks, she felt her insides quail. ‘I was stuck in this place in the middle of nowhere—’
‘What was it called?’
‘The Retreat.’ Bella shuddered. ‘It’s an alternative, yoga…thingy—a drive-you-mad place—’
‘It is a world-renowned centre for contemplative meditation.’
&
nbsp; ‘That too.’ Bella discreetly removed some sand from inside her nails and grimaced with distaste. ‘Anyway, there was sand everywhere—sand, sand and more sand.’
‘In the time it is taking you to voice your excuse, the entire landscape of the desert will have altered,’ he drawled, and Bella glared at him.
‘You’re so unsympathetic. I suppose you’re going to tell me you love the sand.’
‘I have too little time to enjoy it.’
‘How much time is too little? A nanosecond? I don’t think I ever want to see a grain of sand again. And that’s why I borrowed the horse. I just had to get out of there! I doubt I’ll ever be able to look at a beach again. I’ll be taking city breaks from now on.’
His gaze hardened. ‘So you just walked into a busy stable and helped yourself to a horse.’
‘Actually, that was really weird.’ Bella wrinkled her nose as she remembered how odd it had seemed to her at the time. ‘The place was deserted. A bit spooky actually. No one around. It was as if something was about to happen—’ she gave a shrug ‘—but that was probably wishful thinking. Nothing ever happened in that place, I can tell you. My imagination must have been playing tricks.’
‘It’s heartening to know that you are capable of imagination—’ But he seemed distracted, as if something she’d said had captured his attention. ‘So you are saying that no one was there? That you simply walked into the yard, took the horse and rode into the desert?’
‘Yes. Whoever is running that stable should fire some of the staff because they were really lax. I mean, what if one of the horses was sick or something?’
‘Indeed.’
‘Anyway, so I rode into the desert, following the track to the city. Except it obviously wasn’t the right track. It all looks the same. And then I realised I was lost. If you hadn’t come along when you did—’
‘You would be dead.’ His blunt appraisal made her shiver.
‘Yes. Very probably. So, thanks again. I’m lucky you found me.’
He watched her for a long moment, as though he were making his mind up about something, and then he strode across the tent, pulled open a canvas bag and removed a robe. Intercepting her stare, his mouth tightened. ‘You might want to look away.’
