“You’re so stubborn.”
“Yes.” She looked right into those mesmerizing olive-green eyes and defied them to work their magic on her. “I am stubborn. And sensible. And you’ll thank me for it later.”
His pupils darkened with desire. “Later, when you’re in my bed.”
Heat surged through her, making her sweat. How did he do this to her? Indignation flared in her chest at the effect he had on her without even lifting an eyebrow. “Would you stop! I’ve already told you I won’t marry you.” She glanced around, hoping she hadn’t raised her voice too loud. “You said that your father had women killed when he got tired of them—or at least you’ve implied that—and I wonder if you aren’t more like him than you think. You don’t think about anyone’s feelings but your own, you’re single-minded in the pursuit of what you want, and you won’t take no for an answer. Today you want to marry me and you apparently won’t quit until you break me down. Ten years from now—or two—you’ll wonder what you were thinking and decide to get rid of me just as quickly. Listen to yourself!”
Her hands shook and she realized she was still recording, even though she was no longer pointing the lens at anything. She fumbled with the on-off switch on the camera as she certainly hadn’t meant to record such a personal moment.
Osman stood rooted to the spot, eyes dark and features hard. Was she finally going to see the ruthless despot—whom he claimed to despise—in him? He blinked, as if the sun hurt his eyes, then he drew in a deep breath and slowly released it.
“See, Samantha? This is why you are the perfect woman for me.” She watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. “You are strong enough to hold your own opinions in the face of mine and challenge me to examine my thoughts and actions. My brothers and I already intend to make divorce legal, so that men and women can choose for themselves how to spend their lives.”
He clutched the coin necklace in his fist, gathering it out of sight into his palm. “I have no intention of being like my father, I promise that to you.”
“You say you like my independent spirit and that I speak my mind, but you’re not listening to me. It might be Ubarite tradition to marry on two days’ acquaintance, but I’m not Ubarite. If you keep trying to force me into marrying you—today!—then I can only assume you will be a ruthless dictator like your father in the future, too.”
A pained expression crossed his face. “I hear you and I understand you.” She watched his chest rise as he drew in a long breath. “And I will never be like my father. I beg your forgiveness for offending you.” He bowed low, turned and strode away through the crowd, his oddly formal words still ringing in her ears.
Sam stared after him, an odd sense of urgency swelling in her chest. She wanted to run after him, tell him to wait, because….
Because she wasn’t ready to let go of him. She could go find Allan, gather up their gear and head for the airport pretty sure of a job well done. People were getting toasted on a local brew made from fermented fruit, and the crowd had grown raucous. Music from the wandering musicians clanged against her eardrums, rattled her nerves. Her chest ached as she looked around, unable to even see him in the thick crowd of revelers.
Osman’s hell-for-leather courtship scared the heck out of her, but the prospect of never seeing him again suddenly scared her even more.
Emotion burned in Osman’s heart, hotter than the blazing sun, as he pushed through the throng of people.
“What’s the matter?” A hand clapped on his arm, and he looked up to see Zadir.
“My brother. Samantha has turned me down and with good reason.”
“What? You were sure she’d say yes.”
“I was sure I would marry her. I didn’t much care if she said yes.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “She’s pointed out that’s exactly what our father would have done.”
“I warned you to take it slow with her.”
“You were right. She’s right. I’m too impatient and insistent. When I know what I want it’s hard for me to stop until I achieve it. What sensible woman would trust her life to a man like that?”
Zadir gestured around the marketplace. Pretty young girls all around them looked shyly at him. Osman scowled back at them. Couldn’t they tell what kind of man he was? They were so blinded by his title and his wealth that they just didn’t care. He felt disgust for them and for himself.
“So you blew it.” Zadir lifted a brow. “And now we all have to sit around waiting for you to make it right.”
“How can I make it right? She thinks I’m a despot!” His voice cracked with distress.
“You’ll talk her around, but not today. American girls are taught to consider all the angles and to get to know a guy—even to sleep with him before marriage to test him out. Did you really believe she’d leap at the chance to marry a foreign stranger she’s just met?”
“I felt the pull of destiny.” He pressed a fist to his chest. “Surely she can feel it, too.”
“Calm down, brother.” Zadir placed a soothing hand on his upper arm. “You need to date her.”
“Take her out for dinner?” Osman scoffed. Zadir probably didn’t know they’d already shared the most intimate act there is.
“Yes. Take her out for dinner. Or maybe even start with coffee. Approach her with caution and deference, neither of which comes at all naturally to you.”
“Or you,” he retorted.
Zadir shrugged. “True. We’re both rather challenged in that department, but I’m learning from my mistakes and so can you.”
Osman stared back at where they’d stood together in the marketplace. When he didn’t see her he felt panic race through him. “Where is she?”
Zadir grabbed his arm. “Don’t go after her. You’ve already scared her off. Stay away from her. Give her time to miss you.”
“But she’s getting on a plane tonight.”
“Yes. But next week or the week after, you too can get on a plane. You can approach her with flowers and smiles and take your time getting to know her. Then gradually, bit by bit, she’ll realize you’re the one.” He frowned. “Or you’ll realize that she isn’t the one. Either way, things will work out.”
“She’s the one.” He said it with conviction that burned in his soul.
“Then prove it to her by respecting her need to get to know you.”
Osman swallowed. “Am I really like our father?”
“Yes.” Zadir punched him in the chest. “You’re a handsome son of a bitch and bossy as all hell.” Then he frowned. “But your natural ruthlessness is tempered by compassion based on your life experience. Our mothers were killed to satisfy our father’s whims. You and I both know the pain such heartless actions caused, and we’ll never knowingly hurt anyone in the same way.”
Osman nodded. “True. I could kill him with my bare hands for what he did.”
“But you wouldn’t, because you’ve learned to use your brain and heart instead of your anger to govern your life.”
“You’re a wise man, younger brother.”
“Not nearly wise enough, but at least I have some perspective on what’s going on here. You’re so sure of what you want that you can’t even see the big picture. Step back and take a breath and approach Samantha slowly like the queen that she is and one day will be.”
Osman embraced his brother in a big bear hug. How had he managed the last ten or more years with barely any contact with his siblings? They’d all gone through similar struggles and dealt with the burden of their ancestry alone. He still didn’t understand why his father had chosen to reunite them, but at least that was one thing the old bastard had done right.
Zadir slapped his back. “Go home, brother. Leave now. I’ll make sure Samantha gets to the airport safely and with you in her mind and heart.”
“I trust you will.” He managed to keep emotion out of his voice. Damn, it was hard to leave the marketplace with the festival in full swing, couples pledging their lives to each other in every direction. He tore
the blue cloth from his head and bowed to his brother, bareheaded. “I’ll take your advice and return to the palace.”
“Good. Get some exercise. Go for a ride or something. I’ll see you later.”
Clutching his blue head wrap in his hand, along with the rejected coin necklace, Osman strode for the stairs to the balcony. On reflection, he turned toward the main gate of the city. He didn’t want to sit behind the wheel of a car. What he needed was a long gallop, and doubtless there was some savvy businessman willing to trade a necklace of pure gold for a fine horse.
He approached a man leading a gleaming chestnut mare in green-and-gold tack. “Is she for sale?”
The man bowed low. “To you, your majesty, she is. I bred her myself and trained her with my own hands and legs. She’s the equal of any horse in the land.”
“Perfect.”
Less than five minutes later he was astride the powerful mare, trotting through the main gate out of the city and onto the road. He guided her off the road onto the soft sandy ground and opened her up into a canter. Filling his lungs with the desert air he let out a yell of frustration and hurt that spurred his mount faster. He patted her neck to soothe her and told her it wasn’t her fault. Then he promised to treat her like the queen that would one day ride her. One day soon but not today. And, pacing himself in the heat and dust of the afternoon, he rode for home.
Sam tried to stay focused on filming the betrothals around her, with their hopeful grooms and teary-eyed brides. She watched a couple nearby, the bride smiling shyly at her handsome groom, the gaudy necklace of coins around her neck. Their family gathered close as they exchanged the ritual words, pledging themselves to each other for the rest of their lives. The groom looked so proud, the bride bursting with happiness, and the bride’s and groom’s parents clutched each other’s hands as they watched their offspring follow a tradition they must have once shared. It would have been rather wonderful to participate in such an ancient rite, especially when you felt that tug in your gut that told you this was the right person for you.
At last they kissed, hesitant and hopeful, ready to embark on a great adventure together. And all Sam planned to do was go get on a plane back to New York with a man she knew she didn’t love. That she’d never truly loved. She’d been ready to spend the rest of her life settling for a pale imitation of the romance and joy that most people hoped for. Now that would have been foolish!
And Osman had shown her another side of herself. He’d really listened to her. And now she was wondering if she was the one who’d made a big mistake.
Five loud cracks filled the air, making her jump. “What was that?” She said aloud, not expecting anyone to understand or answer.
“Gunshots.” Ahmad’s deep voice behind her made her spin around. His eyes scanned the plaza as he moved her behind him. “Let’s take cover.”
“I didn’t know you were there.”
“Just making sure you’re okay.”
All over the square people rushed toward the edges, where shady colonnades provided shelter. No more shots came. Ahmad dialed someone, then hung up in frustration and dialed someone else. “No answer from Osman,” he said gruffly.
She couldn’t hear the response. Did he think the shots had something to do with Osman? That someone had made him a target once he was outside the guarded walled city?
“Where is Osman?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking.
“He left for home.” He hesitated. Then dialed a number. “And he’s not answering his phone.”
“Maybe he has it turned off.” She bit her lip. Fear poked her in the gut. He’d been a target before, so why not now? “Did he have guards to escort him?”
“They just told me he gave them the slip and left the city by himself. On horseback.”
“On horseback? He’d be totally exposed as a target to whoever wanted to pick him off.”
“I know. We need to go after him.” He spoke rapidly in the local dialect into his satellite phone, while tugging her by the hand under the colonnades towards the private entrance they used. Most of the crowd had already started to relax and move out into the square again, as the festivities and music continued.
“He’s probably fine,” she said, to reassure herself as well as Amahd. “Maybe someone just fired shots to celebrate something.”
“It is a tradition to do that, but we have a firearms curfew in place, forbidding their use outside of hunting, since the latest spate of attacks. That’s why we haven’t heard any shots so far during the festival.”
Sam’s heart beat uncomfortably fast. “Someone visiting from outside the area might not know that. I didn’t know it.”
“True.” Amahd didn’t sound reassured. By the time he ushered her through the door in the outside wall, the cars and several guards were waiting for them. They sped across the desert in a caravan of luxury sedans, to where the open terrain met the main road into the city. Her phone rang as they picked up speed. This was the first time it had worked since she came to Ubar, and likely involved a miracle. She answered it, praying that it was Osman, before she realized he probably didn’t even have her number.
“Where are you?” It was Allan.
“Did you hear the shots?”
“Yes. Where are you?”
“Looking for Osman. He left the city on horseback.” The countryside flashing outside the window was empty and forbidding. And riding a horse in the heat of the afternoon seemed like a terrible idea even if there weren’t rocket launchers aimed at you from the mountains.
“Of course you are. Have you forgotten that we have a plane to catch in four hours? We need to leave now to get there in time. God only knows what obstacles we’ll run into in this hellhole.”
“You can go without me. The car keys are in the camera bag.” There was no way she could leave without making sure Osman was okay.
“Sam, listen to yourself. Do you really want me to leave you here without any means of escape?”
“One of Osman’s men can drive me to the airport tomorrow.”
“If he lets you go.”
“He’s not the tyrant you assume.” He’d proven that to her this afternoon. He’d promised so much to her, and she’d rejected him so coldly. Actions that now seemed foolish. The car screeched off the road, lurching her into her seat belt. “I’ve got to go.”
She dropped the phone on the seat, and jumped out of the car, following the driver and Amahd. When she rounded the car, the sight she saw made her gasp. Osman lay facedown on the sandy soil, blue robes spread out around him, dust settling into their folds as if he was already dead.
Horror snapped through her and she wanted to scream, but managed to stop herself. The men were shouting to each other, and she couldn’t understand a word they said. Amahd knelt and felt his pulse. “He’s alive.”
Alive but not moving. “Should we turn him over?” she asked, heart pounding. Amahd consulted with the other men. They seemed uncertain about whether to risk moving him. “Has an ambulance been called?” Her voice was squeaky with terror. Did they even have such a thing as an ambulance or an EMT in Ubar?
One of the men was on the phone right now. She couldn’t even imagine how far away the nearest hospital was. She didn’t see any blood, but at the very least Osman had fallen from his horse and been knocked unconscious. What if he bled to death from internal injuries before help arrived?
The men were still blabbering nervously away and not doing anything. She’d taken a first aid class in college, and she decided to take charge. She checked his limbs to see if anything was broken and was relieved that they all seemed okay. It felt utterly wrong to be touching him without his consent, but surely he’d understand. His back rose and fell with the rhythm of his breaths, which was hugely reassuring, but what if he had a brain injury?
There was no way to tell if his spine was hurt since he wasn’t conscious so she couldn’t ask him to move anything. She hated to see him lying here, prone on the ground, and she didn’t want to
turn him over, but what if he had broken ribs? What if there was a bleeding gunshot wound in his chest?
Frustration made her want to growl. “How long will it take help to get here?”
“Twenty minutes at least,” Amahd said grimly. He knelt on the ground near Osman’s head.
She crouched close and gently stroked his cheek. Panic filled her chest and a tear dripped from her eyes onto his cheek. “Please, Osman, wake up!”
He didn’t move.
19
Sam knew that the voices of loved ones could wake people from a coma. Still, she was hardly a loved one on three days’ acquaintance, even if Osman had apparently wanted to marry her this afternoon. “Osman, it’s me. Samantha. Please come back to us!” She felt like an idiot in front all these big men, but they weren’t doing anything. Frustration and fear made her reckless, and she leaned closer. “Osman, I need you…I…I…have feelings for you.”
She glanced at Amahd, who kept his gaze tactfully averted. She looked around. The men were still talking and most of them probably didn’t understand English anyway.
“I love you.” She whispered it softly, admitting the words to herself for the first time. Was it possible to love someone after such a short time? All she knew was that the prospect of him being taken away from her made her head pound and her chest ache with terror. It was terrible to see such a lively and powerful man silent and still, the sun beating down as flies gathered around him.
She swatted at the flies with her hand. Then she leaned in and whispered. “If you wake up, I’ll marry you.”
Disappointment crushed her chest when he remained motionless. “I think he’s badly hurt.” She said to Amahd, who must have heard all her embarrassing confessions. “We need a helicopter.”
“One’s on its way, but it has to come over the mountains.”
“What can we do?”
“I think I need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”
Hearts on Fire: Romance Multi-Author Box Set Anthology Page 56