by Diana Fraser
Her thoughts tumbled with speed as she went over her movements. She’d only stepped out onto the balcony for a few moments, not long enough for someone to enter the room. And they couldn’t besides, because she’d locked it.
She was going crazy. Nothing was different. And yet still she had a prickled sense up her spine that something was wrong. Something had shifted in the room. Her mother used to say that she had a sixth sense about these things. It wasn’t something she liked and she’d done her best to ignore it, but now she couldn’t.
She sighed and sat on the bed and rubbed her eyes. She put her head in her hands and then she saw it out of the corner of her eye. A piece of paper was neatly folded and placed on her pillow. She froze and the sickly chill returned. It hadn’t been there when she’d first entered the room a few hours ago. She’d have noticed because she’d slipped off her watch and placed it beside the bed, beside where the piece of thick cream paper now lay like a serpent, coiled and ready to strike.
If it hadn’t been there when she’d entered her room, how had it gotten there?
Her mind raced over what she’d done since she’d retired to her bedroom. She’d been about to shower and undress when the call had come from Xander. She looked at the small alcove where she’d talked with him. She’d have easily seen if someone had entered the room, but the door was locked and no one had passed through it. But… Her gaze rested on the french windows, still open to the night air. It was always the first thing she did when she entered the room—opened them wide to allow in the air. Hot or cool, she hated being cooped up without fresh air. After opening them, she’d gone directly to the computer where she’d sat, with her back to the open windows.
She licked her lips and walked over to the doors and looked out. Whoever had placed the letter on her pillow must have entered the room from the balcony. She looked around but saw no evidence of entry. Then she looked down the long drop to the garden below but it was too dark to see anything. She went inside, grabbed her phone and switched on the torchlight. With a trembling hand she shone it onto a tree, whose branches reached over the balcony. Immediately she saw a broken branch. Cautiously she took a step closer. The bark had been worn away in two places, as if something of pressure had rubbed against them. She shone the light to the ground, and her fledgling thoughts were confirmed. The undergrowth was trampled and there were two clear indentations in the springy grass to show where a ladder had been placed.
Terror filled her. She withdrew immediately and closed the french doors. With fumbling hands she pulled the curtains together and leaned back against them and closed her eyes. Her quarters and the garden lay at the center of a heavily guarded palace. No one could enter it without authority, without being known to the guards. That meant only one thing—whoever had left the message was known to the guards and, most likely, to her. The guards had either allowed the person to enter, or else they’d been dismissed. Either way, she was vulnerable.
With trembling hands she opened the letter.
I will take you to my bed, with or without your consent, because you need me as much as I need you, my love.
It was far more explicit than the other notes she’d received. The trembling in her hands carried on to the rest of her and she had to sit down to fight the weakness and nausea. Someone had been in her room and left a threat to rape her. But not any someone, someone who must be within her elite cadre of officials.
She picked up the phone and a voice answered, asking how they could help. She froze. Was it him? She cleared her throat and said that it was her mistake. She’d be retiring now, and no one was needed.
Who could she trust?
With a start, she turned to the computer. There was only one man who wanted nothing personal from her, which made him trustworthy. Xander wanted nothing from her and he was outside her ring of people she could not trust.
She turned on the radio so no one could hear her and quietly tapped in his contact details, her eyes scanning the room as she typed. It took him a long time to answer and when he did, she didn’t recognize him for a moment. Gone were the sharp clothes and western suit, his shirt was half-undone, revealing a chest which was hairier and more muscly than Elaheh had imagined. She was surprised at herself for imagining anything. Then the paper in her hand scrunched, reminding her of why she’d called him.
“Xander,” she said her voice hoarse. “I have no one else I can turn to.”
* * *
Xander listened to Elaheh—her voice hoarse with fear, her face white. He could see her hand was shaking as she shifted her hair away from her face. Two things struck him. One, her hair—it was lustrous and beautiful, and loose. He’d never seen it loose before. If she did take off her hijab, her hair was always pulled back sleekly from her face into a tight knot as if she were scared of letting anything out of her control. It always pulled at her skin which was already tight, making it tighter, and her almond eyes lifted a little at the corners. It was like a mask. But that mask had dropped now and it had an electrifying effect on him.
Then she spoke and her usually firm and clear voice was shaky. He forgot his instant attraction and focused on her panicked eyes.
“What’s happened?” he asked, seating himself at the computer, all attention.
She pushed her hair from her face again and poked her head forward to the computer, her eyes large as they searched his. They were all he could see and he saw in them far more of the real Ela than he’d ever seen before. It caused a jolt which created a seismic shift in him. “I…” Her voice caught and so did his heart.
“Take a deep breath,” he instructed gently.
To his surprise she did as he said. “Right.” She nodded her head, opening her eyes wide as she struggled to take control. “I finished talking to you, went outside briefly, and then came back to my bed, and there was a note there which wasn’t there before I spoke to you. Someone had lain a note on my pillow while I was talking to you.”
He frowned. “And you’re sure it wasn’t there before our call?”
She bit her lip and shook her head. “Definitely not. I took off my watch and picked up my robe which lay across the pillow. I would have noticed it then. My sheets are black silk, the note was white.”
He was momentarily distracted by the thought of her lying upon black sheets. He hadn’t imagined her sleeping against black sheets. It suggested a sensuality which she hid so effectively he’d only suspected it was there. “Okay. So it was placed there when we were on our call.”
“I had my back to the bed.”
“Was the door locked?”
She nodded. “I always lock it.”
“Is there any other way in?”
She glanced anxiously toward the now closed window, and nodded. “The only other way someone could have got in is from the balcony. The doors were open to the night. I’m on the first story, but there are trees and climbers.” She glanced at the note she’d dropped on the table in front of her. “Whoever placed the note there, must have climbed in while I was talking to you.”
“Is the door locked now?”
She nodded again. “Both doors.”
“Right. So, what does the note say?’
He listened as she re-read the note twice. But he didn’t need to hear it a second time to understand what was in the mind of the man—for there could be no doubt that it was a man—who wrote it.
“So,” she said, after he was silent for a couple of seconds. “What do you think?”
“The same as you, I imagine. If the man who wrote that could enter your room, unseen, then you are in danger and you need to get out of there as soon as possible. Who have you told?”
“No one.” She blinked. “Only a few people would be able to enter my chamber. And those few people are the people closest to me. There is no one else I can trust.”
“You can trust me.” The words escaped his lips before he’d thought them through. But as he played them back in his mind while he registered the shock and relief which sh
owed on her face, he knew he was correct. She could trust him. And he was probably the only one.
She nodded. “I know. I thought of you straight away. We may have had our differences, but I feel I can trust you—even, perhaps, because of our differences, I feel I can trust you. You are an outsider, with nothing to gain by hurting me.”
He winced at the thought of anyone wanting to hurt this woman who was more vulnerable than he’d ever imagined.
“So, I trust you,” she continued. “And that’s why I called you. Because I don’t know what to do. I’m at risk from the very people who are charged with protecting me. And I’m scared. Really scared,” she said in a husky undertone which tore at his heart. She didn’t need to have added those words because he could see it in her eyes.
“You’re probably only at risk from one of those people,” he reminded her gently. “But until you know which one, you’ll have to treat everyone with suspicion. And,” he said, leaning close, echoing her stance, trying to reassure her before he dropped the bombshell, “you’ll have to leave. You’re not safe there, Ela.”
She swallowed and then the unsureness dropped away and she sat back in her chair, her beautiful lips a straight line of intent. “You’re right. But how?”
“Silently, without anyone knowing.”
“In disguise?”
“Can you do that?”
She looked at him with a level and fiery gaze. He was relieved to see the stroppy Ela return.
“Of course. I’ve spent my life in the desert with my people, with only me and my horse. I know how to be ordinary, to fit in, believe it or not.”
He didn’t, but he had no choice but to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Good. How will you leave?”
She nodded toward the window. “The same way the message was left. Through the window. No one would imagine I’d do that. I can climb down the tree—as a child I always did.”
“Is that how you believe the intruder gained access?”
“No. It’s not strong enough. I believe he used a ladder. I could see the marks it made. I can use the same tree except I’ll drop down into the outer garden.”
“Good. Leave quickly, Elaheh. No delays.”
“But where shall I go?”
“To me. You’ll come to me. And I’ll keep you safe until we can work out who is trying to—” He hesitated, not wanting to say the word.
“Rape me,” she said coldly. “Rape is control and someone wants to do both to me. And I cannot protect myself physically. All I have to rely on is my mind and that won’t protect me from this threat. You’re right, I have to leave.”
“You said once you’re a good horsewoman?”
She nodded. “Of course. I was raised on a horse in the desert.”
“Then I suggest you get yourself to the stables, saddle up a horse and ride out toward the mountains, toward me.”
“It is too far.”
“I’ll meet you on your way there.”
“There is no village, no oasis, nothing…”
“I will be there.”
She opened her mouth to speak but no word came out. But he knew what she was thinking for once, her thoughts were clear in her eyes.
“I promise,” he continued. “The important thing is for you to get out of there. You’re trapped, a sitting target. Will you come?”
She gave one brief, sharp nod. “I have no choice. I’ll change, gather some supplies and water and slip out to the stables and take my horse.”
“Can you do it without being seen?”
“I think so. I have no choice but to try.”
“Keep on the ancient Bedouin trail toward the mountains and I’ll find you in a few hours.”
“You’d better be there.” It was the last thing she said and he almost chuckled at the return of her assertive self. And for the first time since his instinctive offer to rescue her, he wondered what he was letting himself in for.
Chapter 4
Elaheh landed silently in the flower bed. She wiped her hands down her plain black abaya beneath which she wore jeans and a t-shirt—a throwback to when she’d been a teenager. They fitted her still. She stayed only long enough to feel the atmosphere of the garden, to sense if there was anyone else there. It was a still night and her ears strained to pick up the slightest sound which was out of place. There was none. The moon had yet to rise to shed its light inside the courtyard. But it would soon, and then the place would be lit up like daylight. She had to leave before that happened.
Keeping to the path closest to the wall, protected by the trees which edged the garden, she walked quickly to the exit. She was like a shadow merging and drifting into other, darker shadows, until she reached the gate which would take her into yet another garden. The sequence of gardens eventually led to a side door where she could gain access to the stables. The place was deadly quiet. There were no CCTV cameras. Her father had refused to have any such modern intrusion into the palace, and she’d had no reason to believe she needed them. Until now. But there should have been guards. There had always been guards. But not tonight, it would seem. Whoever had placed her note in her room was more powerful than she’d imagined, if he’d had the authority to stand down her guards. Whoever he was, he was powerful, and he wanted her vulnerable. She quickened her pace.
With thudding heart and watchful eyes, she reached the stables. The smell of the place quieted her and she quickly placed a bridle on her horse, nuzzling him and stroking his nose to placate his grumpiness at being awoken. With the reins bunched in one hand she carefully opened the door to the rear exit of the palace. She closed it again and jumped onto her horse, keeping him walking in the shadows before they were sufficient distance to trot away. The trot soon turned into a canter, and then into a full-on gallop as they entered the trail which would take her on a direct route toward the desert castle.
She soon slipped into the rhythm of the rolling gait of her horse and, as the moon rose over the desert, her heart rose with it, despite the danger she was in. This place was her life; it was the desert where she felt most at home, not the palace, not as queen, but as a woman of the land—her land. The hijab slipped off her head and her hair flew behind her as she continued on the road to Xander. She dared not imagine him not being there because she had no back-up plan.
It wasn’t until she’d been riding for an hour and a half that she saw the tell-tale sign of sand rising into the moonlight. At first she was worried it heralded a khamseen wind which would bring fifty days of hot and dusty conditions. But the column of air was contained, narrow, and moving in her direction. It was Xander, she was sure of it. But then doubt filled her mind. What if someone had tracked her down and, instead of following her, had called on someone to head her off?
She galloped behind a clump of thorny trees and bushes and decided to wait to see who it was before making herself known. The quickening breeze hid the hoofmarks of her horse and she slid off him and brought him behind one of the trees from where she would have a good view of the approaching car.
It had no headlights which told her one important thing—it didn’t want attention drawn to it. It wasn’t until it drew closer and the moon rose higher that she realized it wasn’t an ordinary car, but a Land Rover pulling a horse box behind it. She exhaled heavily in relief and slumped against the tree. It must be Xander. Who else would be traveling over the desert with a horsebox? Her people would have followed her by horse and brought her back. But not Xander. She stepped out and flashed her torchlight at him.
He altered his course slightly and pulled up beside her. His window lowered.
“Your Majesty!” he called out, above the sound of the vehicle’s engine and her horse’s whinny. “I believe you’d like a lift?”
She laughed with relief. “Trust you, Xander,” she said, approaching his window. She thought she’d never been so happy to see someone in her whole life.
“I hope you do, Ela,” he said, jumping out the vehicle.
“You know what I mean.
I thought you’d ride out to meet me.”
“Me, ride a horse?” he said, unlocking the horse box. “No way. Besides, it’s quicker this way. Um, you might like to…” He gestured to her horse, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. Suddenly she understood.
“Don’t tell me you don’t like horses?”
“I don’t like horses.”
“Call yourself a desert sheikh?” she said, as she coaxed the horse into the box.
“I don’t. I’m sheikh and ruler of my people and I live, very happily, in the city.”
He closed the door after she’d made her horse comfortable with food and a drink.
“I don’t think we could be more different, you and I,” said Elaheh, getting into the Land Rover while he held open the door.
“Maybe,” he said, leaning in to pass her the seatbelt. “But fundamentally, Ela, I’m beginning to believe we have the same values. You do trust me, don’t you?”
She nodded. She’d been trying to keep brave, trying to respond to his light-hearted conversation, but she couldn’t keep it up. “I do,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “Now, let’s get out of here.” She glanced fearfully behind her where she visualized unknown assailants hunting for her, intent on returning her to a man to do whatever he wanted with her.
Xander must have caught her mood because he slammed the door shut, jumped into the Land Rover and turned it around carefully, before driving straight toward the mountains from where he’d come.
She couldn’t resist one last look at the haze of lights which indicated her land, her palace, her home. She stifled a sob before it could emerge but not before Xander’s quick glance caught it.
“What is it?” he asked, pressing his foot still harder on the accelerator.
She blinked, knowing that it was time for the truth. “When I looked back, I wondered…” She trailed off.