The Sheik and the Bought Bride

by Susan Mallery

  They walked through the palace, heading for the back. When they stepped outside Victoria saw several large trucks in the rear courtyard.

  “I don’t have that much luggage,” she said, wondering what they were for.

  “We are taking supplies,” Kateb told her. “The desert people trade for what they need. You will travel with me.” He pointed to a Land Rover parked on the side.

  “The SUV of kings,” she murmured. Didn’t the British royal family also use Land Rovers? But she didn’t ask. Speaking suddenly seemed difficult. Despite the bright sun and warm temperature, her body felt stiff and cold. The closer she got to the SUV, the harder it was to move. Fear clawed at her throat. Panic made her stomach clench.

  She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t go out in the desert with a man she didn’t know. What was going to happen? How horrible was it going to be? Her father didn’t deserve her sacrifice, she thought bitterly. He certainly didn’t appreciate it.

  But she hadn’t done it for her father, she reminded herself.

  “Victoria?”

  A guard held open the passenger door. She sucked in a steadying breath and slid onto the smooth leather. The car door closed next to her. The sound seemed unnaturally loud—as if she’d just been cut off from everything safe and good.

  Her luggage had already been loaded into one of the trucks. She was the only woman in a sea of workers and guards and drivers. There was no one to appeal to, no one to protect her. She was truly on her own.

  Kateb drove the familiar road into the desert. For the first day, they would see signs of villages and small towns but by this time tomorrow, all civilization would have been left behind.

  Victoria was mercifully silent. After a restless night, he wasn’t in the mood for inane conversation. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t have blamed her for his lack of sleep, but he’d spent the hours of darkness tossing and turning in his bed, trying not to think about her. An impossible task, given that he’d seen her nearly naked the day before.

  It was as if the image of her body were imprinted on his brain. He didn’t have to close his eyes to see her pale skin and full breasts. The vision taunted him, reminding him how long it had been since he’d been with a woman. And the wanting made him angry.

  He knew the anger was more about himself than her, but she was easy to blame. If he’d had less self-control, he would have pulled over and taken her right there, on the front seat, the men with them be damned. But he wouldn’t. Not only because he would never force her or put on a show for his men, but because the need was too specific. He wanted Victoria, not a faceless woman to satisfy himself, and that bothered him.

  It had been five years since Cantara had died. Five years during which he’d mourned her loss. There had been times when desire had driven him to someone’s bed, but those brief hours had been about physical need. The woman herself had been a means to an end. Nothing more. He refused to have Victoria be different.

  She was nothing like Cantara. His beautiful wife had been desert born, a laughing, dark-haired beauty. They’d grown up together. He’d known everything about her. There had been no surprises, no mysteries, and he preferred that. She had understood him, his position, his destiny. She had been proud, but never assumed they were equals. She had been his wife and that had been enough for her.

  He glanced at Victoria, taking in the perfect profile, the fullness of her mouth. This woman would not be content to be anything but a man’s true match, he thought. She would expect her opinion to matter. She would want to talk about everything. Her feelings, her plans, her life. It was more than a prince should have to bear. She would—

  He glanced at her again and noticed the slight tremor in her cheek. As if her teeth had been tightly clenched for some time. She was pale and had her hands tightly clasped. He caught it then, the bitter scent.

  Fear.

  The knowledge made him weary. He was not cruel enough to allow her to terrorize herself with her concerns.

  “Nothing will happen until we arrive at the village,” he said sharply.

  Her breath caught. He felt her glance at him. “H-how long will that take?”

  “Three days. Very few people know the place. It’s beautiful, at least I find it so. Like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

  He hoped she wouldn’t ask what would happen when they did finally arrive. He had no answer for that. He had taken her because she had offered herself in exchange for her father and the desert law respected a noble sacrifice. But to what end? Did he really plan to take her for his mistress?

  He looked at her again. She wore jeans and ridiculous boots with high heels. The shirt was made of some clingy fabric that seemed to hug her breasts. He forced himself to return his attention to the road.

  He found her attractive and would enjoy her in his bed, but he was reluctant to commit to longer than a single night. Which meant he was going to have to find something else for Victoria to do.

  “I, uh, thought the people of the desert were nomadic,” she said.

  “Many are, but many also enjoy life in the desert and do not feel compelled to move from camp to camp. The village provides the best of both worlds.”

  “I hope I brought enough sunscreen,” she murmured.

  “We will send for more if you did not,” he told her.

  “So you don’t plan to stake me out in the sun and let the ants eat me alive?”

  “This is not the Old West,” said Kateb, bemused.

  “I know, but it’s still a pretty gruesome punishment. Hanging would be faster.”

  “There is less opportunity for a rescue with a hanging.”

  “Good point.”

  The fear had faded. Now he could smell her perfume, or maybe just the scent of her body. Either way it pleased him and in being pleased, he was annoyed.

  Kateb sighed. It was going to be a long six months.

  They made two brief stops for water and bathroom breaks. Victoria was thrilled they used something very close to a rest area, although she had a bad feeling the amenities were going to get worse before they got better.

  Just before sunset they stopped for the night and made camp. Several tents were put up along with what looked like sleeping bags and bedrolls. Two men went to work over a large camp stove while another set up something that looked suspiciously like a gas barbecue.

  Kateb came up beside her. “You look concerned. Are the facilities not to your liking?”

  She guessed he was seeking information rather than offering to change anything on her behalf. She pointed at the stove. “I thought there would be an open fire and we’d be cooking food on sticks.”

  That single eyebrow raised again. “Where would we get fuel for the fire?”

  She glanced around at the campsite. They’d backed in the trucks, butting them up against a cliff. There were a few sad-looking shrubs, but nothing that could pass for logs or even sticks.

  “True.”

  “The stoves are more efficient. They heat quickly and there is little danger from fire.”

  “There’s not that much to burn.”

  “There is us.”

  “Oh. Right.” She looked at the men working quickly by the stove. “Should I offer to help? At the castle the chefs were very fussy about who they allowed in their kitchen. They let me rinse off berries once.” Which she’d apparently done incorrectly because one of the cooks had muttered something under his breath and grabbed the basket from her.

  “Why would you help?”

  “They’re staff, I’m staff. It’s polite to offer.”

  “You are not expected to cook the meal.”

  Right. Because she was expected to provide other services. Her stomach tightened, which she ignored, along with any thoughts about sharing Kateb’s bed. That was for later. When they arrived at the mysterious desert village. For now she was safe.

  She glanced at him, at the proud set of his head, at the deep scar on his cheek. Kateb ruled the desert. He could do what he would like with
her and no one would stop him. Which made safe a relative term. She took a step back.

  “I’ve never been camping,” she said. “This is nice. Desert life is more modern than I would have thought.”

  “This is not desert life. This is efficient transportation. To be in the desert is to be one with the land. It is to travel with camels and horses, bringing only what you need, knowing what you forget you do without. There is beauty deep in the desert, but danger as well.”

  Her gaze was drawn to his scar. She’d heard rumors that he’d been attacked as a teenager, but she never learned the details. Asking hadn’t seemed important. Her total knowledge about Kateb would barely fill a good-sized e-mail. If she’d known she was going to be spending some serious time in his company, she would have asked more questions.

  One of the men brought over two folding chairs, setting them in the shade. Victoria wasn’t sure of protocol, but she waited until Kateb was seated before sitting down herself. When the man returned with two bottles of water, she accepted one gratefully.

  “I grew up in Texas,” she said, more to fill the silence than because she thought he was interested. “A little town between Houston and Dallas. It was nothing like this, although it could get hot in the summer. There weren’t a lot of trees, so when people were outside, there wasn’t anywhere to go to escape the sun. I remember summer storms racing through. I would stand out in the rain, spinning and spinning. Not that the rain cooled things off very much.”

  “Did you like living there?”

  “I didn’t know anything else. My dad would disappear for weeks at a time. Mom missed him when he was gone, but I liked that it was just the two of us. It felt safer. Then he would come back, sometime with a lot of money, sometimes broke and driving on fumes. Either way she was happy—until he left again.”

  That was a long time ago, she thought sadly. But she remembered everything about those days.

  “When did she die?”

  “On my seventeenth birthday.”

  Victoria didn’t want to think about that. “She worked two jobs most of the time. She did hair during the day and worked at a bar at night. She used to talk about us opening a beauty shop together. I never wanted to tell her that I was just waiting to turn eighteen to leave.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “Dallas.” She smiled at the memory. “It was really the big city for me. I got a job, enrolled in community college and worked my butt off. I started off waitressing at a diner, then moved up to nicer places. I made a lot with tips and when I got my associates degree, I found a job as an administrative assistant.”

  “Why not a four-year degree?”

  “Have you priced college lately?” She shrugged. “It’s a lot more money. Working full-time and going to college isn’t easy. So I got a job working for an oil company.”

  “And through them, met Nadim.”

  She could hear the judgment in his voice. “Eventually.”

  “What about your father?”

  “I didn’t talk to him much. He came by a few times, looking for money.”

  “Did you give him any?”

  “The first time. Then I stopped.” She didn’t want to think about that, either. “So there’s probably not a shower in one of those trucks.”

  “No. You will have to wait until we arrive at the village.”

  Great. “And I’m going to go out on a limb and say you didn’t think to bring an extension cord. For my curling iron?”

  He stared at her. There wasn’t a hint of humor in his dark eyes or even a twitch of his mouth. “No.”

  “You don’t actually do the humor thing, do you?” she asked, knowing it was probably a mistake, or at least presumptuous.

  “Were you being funny?”

  She laughed. “Careful. You wouldn’t want to appear human.”

  “I am many things, Victoria.”

  His gaze was steady as he spoke. Steady and almost…predatory.

  No, she told herself. She was imagining things. He wasn’t actually interested in her. Keeping her around was all about her paying her father’s debt. But once the idea appeared in her brain, she couldn’t seem to push it away. It made her aware of him, sitting close to her. Of the way he dominated the space, despite the fact that they were outdoors.

  She shivered.

  “Do we, um, drive the whole way?” she asked, hoping a neutral topic change would make her feel better.

  “Not quite.” He looked away. “There is a road to the village. The last day I will ride. You may join me if you wish. Assuming you ride.”

  “Horses, right? Not camels.”

  “No camels.”

  “Then I ride.” She’d learned the first year she’d been in El Deharia. Having access to the royal stable was one of the perks of her job. Even the lesser horses the staff was permitted to ride were still amazing, purebred animals that ran like the wind.

  “I hope you have more sensible boots than those.”

  She glanced down at her fashionable boots with their four-inch heels. “These are stunning.”

  “They are impractical.”

  “They were on sale. You would seriously die if I told you how much I’d saved.” She looked at him, then away. “Or maybe not.” Something told her Kateb wasn’t the type to shop. Or care about a sale.

  She heard a sharp cry in the distance. A louder call answered nearby. Whatever made it sounded large and wolflike.

  Her instinct was to run for safety, but Kateb didn’t move and none of the other men reacted.

  “Is that something we should worry about?” she asked.

  “Not if you stay close to camp.”

  Suddenly their location seemed more thought-out than she’d first thought. With the cliffs at their back and the trucks forming a semicircle, it would be difficult for someone to attack from any direction.

  While she appreciated the planning, she hoped it wasn’t a necessary precaution. If they were attacked, she wouldn’t be good for much more than shrieking panic.

  What on earth was she doing here, in the middle of the desert with a man she didn’t know? What had she been thinking, throwing herself on Kateb’s mercy and offering to take her father’s place? Dean had earned some time in jail. He’d cheated at cards and offered her as payment. She shouldn’t care what happened to him.

  Only she hadn’t done it for him, she reminded herself.

  She looked at Kateb, wondering what he expected of her. What would he want her to do? Did he really plan to take her to his bed? Fear claimed her, making it difficult not to bolt for freedom. Not that the desert provided much more safety.

  “Is one of those tents mine?” she asked.

  He pointed to the one in the middle.

  “Excuse me,” she said, and walked toward it.

  Inside she found a cot with bedding. Her luggage had been piled against the other cloth wall. She supposed by tent standards, it was very nice. There was certainly enough room.

  But she didn’t care about any of that. Instead she sank onto the cot, then rolled onto her side and curled up in a ball. The unknown loomed like a circling vulture, ready to pick her bones clean.

  She sniffed. Okay, that was a bit melodramatic, but she was scared. Down-to-the-core terrified.

  Outside she heard the men talking. A while later, the tent flap opened and one of the cooks told her that dinner was ready.

  “Thank you,” she said as she pushed up on her elbow. “I’m not hungry.”

  He said something she didn’t understand and backed out of the tent. Seconds later Kateb stalked in.

  “What is your problem?” he demanded.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Are you pouting? I will not tolerate an emotional tantrum. You will get up and come and eat.”

  His obvious contempt drove her to her feet. She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

  “You don’t get to judge me,” she snapped. “I’m having a really bad day, okay? I’m sorry if that reality upset
s you, but you’re going to have to deal with it.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you do. You think I’m trash. Worse than trash, because you don’t think of me at all. I’m just an…I don’t know what. But from my perspective, I just sold myself to you. I don’t know you from a rock and I don’t know what’s going to happen. I sold myself for a man who doesn’t deserve it and now I’m here with you in the desert. You said I have until we get to the village. What happens there? What are you going to do to me? Are you going to…r-rape me?”

  Her voice started to shake and she could feel her eyes burning, but she refused to look away or back down.

  Kateb sucked in a breath. “I am Prince Kateb of El Deharia. How dare you accuse me of such things?”

  “It’s actually pretty damned easy. You won me in a card game and now you’re dragging me into the desert to be your mistress for six months. What am I supposed to think?” She glared at him. “Don’t you dare tell me not to be upset. I would think, under the circumstances, I get to be a little nervous.”

  He grabbed her arm. “Stop.”

  A single tear escaped. She wiped it away and was still.

  “I will not hurt you,” he said quietly.

  “How do I know that?”

  Their eyes locked. She wanted to see something on his face, something yielding or gentle. There was only the darkness and the sharp edges of the scar. Kateb turned and left.

  She stood alone in the center of her tent, not sure what to think. Exhaustion made her sit on the edge of the cot. Now what?

  Before she could figure out what to do next, he returned carrying a plate along with a bottle of water and an odd-shaped black box. It was about the size of a small loaf of bread.

  “You must eat,” Kateb told her, handing her the food. “You don’t want to get sick.”