Marrying Her Enemy & Stolen by the Desert King

by Clare Connelly

  He dipped his head forward in acknowledgement.

  “And you married her before he could?”

  Khalifa didn’t particularly feel like discussing the details of his behavior. The fact he’d flown halfway around the world to seduce a virgin simply to wave the fact under another man’s nose. He was hardly proud of his actions, though he still felt they were justified. He knew Selena would not agree.

  “Yes.”

  “He must have been livid.”

  “I paid him for the privilege.”

  “Fayez doesn’t need money,” Selena moaned. “He’s going to be furious, Khalifa.”

  “I am aware of that.”

  “No, you don’t understand.” She swallowed, gnawing on her lower lip in a manner that reminded him of Kylie. Then again, what didn’t remind him of his wife these days? “He’s not a man to let this kind of thing go.”

  He shrugged. “He seems to have.”

  “Seems being the operative word in that sentence.” She ran a finger over her necklace, playing with the jewel at its centre. It had been a gift from Khalifa. For her eighteenth birthday? Nineteenth? He didn’t recall. “Trust me. I know Fayez. He will be biding his time, waiting to hurt you somehow. He will make you regret this.”

  “You think he can touch me?”

  “I think he is a man without fear, with nothing to lose. I think you need to watch your back, Khal.”

  Kylie read the email from Mel with a smile on her face.

  The weather is disgusting. Rain, rain, rain, as though the sun has finally decided it’s sick of shining altogether. Will I ever see it again? I got waterlogged just walking to work the other day and had to hole up under a bakery awning which, of course, led to a need to buy… and the donuts were out of this world. When you come home, we’ll go there. I’ll fight you for the cream filled cinnamon twists, though.

  Kylie’s smile dropped slightly, as her eyes shifted from the iPad to the scenery passing her window. Home.

  Such a strange word.

  She was Australian; born and bred. So were her parents. And yet something about Argenon had crept into her blood, settled around her heart and given her a new sense of self. A sense of self that was inextricably tied to this land and its people.

  The limousine weaved through the streets, and she leaned closer to the window, studying the architecture with a sense of appreciation before sitting back against the leather chair.

  Let me know when you’ve found your feet and I’ll come for a visit. I might even bring a donut or two. Lots of love.

  She’d love to see Mel again. The very idea made her heart soar. Mel was a huge part of what she loved about Sydney. She blinked back at the emails again and saw a new one swish in, this one from her old boss at Little Minds, Jack Shaw. Curiously, she opened it.

  Hey! So, you’ll never guess what! The other day I got to work to find a rather hefty donation sitting in our fundraising account. By ‘rather hefty’ I’m talking SEVEN DIGITS, baby! I have absolutely no idea who the benefactor is – the money was wired in anonymously – but I have confirmed our charity was on all the paperwork. It’s no accident! I’m putting together some thoughts on how best to use the money. And I know it’s cheeky of me to ask, but apart from me, no one knows and loves this place like you do… any chance you’d like to weigh in on the budget I’m drafting up? Feel free to say ‘no’, of course. Hope your new life is everything you’d hoped. JS.X

  Kylie’s heart was pounding in her chest.

  Was it a coincidence?

  Could it possibly have been Khalifa?

  She thought of the brief conversation they’d had about the charity and almost completely dismissed the idea. He’d told her that her focus needed to be on Argenon. It was unlikely he’d have gone against that advice and propped up her old workplace.

  Still… it was an unprecedented donation.

  The mystery sat in her brain like cotton candy, and it was still there when the car pulled to a stop, so that at first she didn’t notice the incredible beauty of the precinct.

  But then, her eyes blinked towards the window and she let out a gasp of excitement, her hand lifting to the glass.

  The library was one of the oldest buildings in the country, she knew. The ancient walls were made of enormous stones and in some parts there was still lime coating on their edges, giving them a marbled sheen. Over time, changes had been made, more modern gardens had been incorporated and there was signage on one side, advertising the building.

  Her door opened and she stepped out without taking her eyes from the impressive façade.

  Cameras exploded in her face, and it took Kylie moments to recollect that this was one of her first public outings. That people were more curious than ever about the woman their Sheikh Sultan had married. She stood taller, straighter, her shoulders squared and her face wearing a small, calm smile as she turned to the crowds that had assembled and lifted her hand in a wave.

  Aïna had travelled in the limousine behind her. She stepped out and approached Kylie, her manner practiced. Then again, she’d done this before. Kylie hadn’t.

  “The curator is waiting,” Aïna said.

  “Should I go to the crowds?” Kylie murmured without letting her smile slip by even a hair’s width. “They’re standing in the full sun…”

  “Perhaps afterwards. For now, protocol dictates that you will stick to your appointment.”

  Kylie, of course, had no idea that she would be in no state to greet them afterwards and so she nodded in agreement. She moved towards the enormous doors, turning once more and giving a final wave before stepping into the building. The temperature dropped appreciably, by at least ten degrees. The floors were marble, the walls dark stone and the ceilings high, so that, Kylie presumed, the hot air had risen to the top, leaving only a cool breeze.

  There was a smell she couldn’t place – it wasn’t unpleasant, but, if she’d had to guess, she would have said it was a mix of dust and decomposing pages, of ancient sweat and grit. A wiry old man moved towards them, wearing a ceremonial robe that was a dark grey in colour with beading at the sleeves.

  “Welcome, your highness,” he bowed low, speaking in English.

  Kylie responded in Argenese, “Thank you for inviting me to your library.”

  “My library,” he nodded, a small smile on his aged face. “It is like my library. I have worked here since I was a boy.”

  The personal recollection softened Kylie, putting her immediately at ease. “Have you?”

  “It has changed a lot since then. Or perhaps it is just that I am now taller.” He winked. “Would you like to begin your tour in the parchment wing?”

  Intrigued, Kylie nodded, and fell into step beside him, conscious of Aïna and her maids following behind. The parchment wing was perfectly named – it was brimming with preserved scrolls, most stored between very thin plastic so that they could be handled and read. A few of the more valuable ledgers were held behind thick glass. She leaned over one, and caught a hint of her reflection which almost knocked her breath away. How had she forgotten that she was wearing the damned tiara? And a dress that had probably cost tens of thousands of dollars? She lifted a hand self-consciously to the blonde hair that had been styled into a chignon and tried to ignore the strange sense of being someone else altogether.

  The scroll beckoned.

  It was a tax account, from what she could tell. Numbers in one column, then corresponding numbers beside with names and a tick or a cross.

  “The cross meant expulsion,” the librarian explained.

  “Expulsion? What from?”

  “The country. Or death.”

  He spoke the words so simply but Kylie shivered. How barbaric!

  They moved on, and each room offered more fascinating objects for her to study. It was overwhelmingly interesting and beautiful and she knew that she would come back again and again, to enjoy the secrets this building boasted.

  “We have prepared a morning tea in the pavilion for yo
ur highness, if there is time,” he said as they reached the final room of the library – books from the mid eighteenth century, many of them from Europe.

  “Oh, yes,” she nodded without deferring to Aïna. “I’d like that very much. I have so many questions!”

  Her enthusiasm brought a communal smile to the group and she suspected it wasn’t particularly regal to enthuse so openly. But how could she not? Millenia of thoughts and wisdoms were crowding around her, filling her with wonder and mystery.

  She tilted her head towards Aïna and whispered, “May I freshen up before hand?”

  “Of course. There is only one facility for women,” Aïna said. “It is back near the entrance. Come.”

  “You don’t need to trouble yourself,” Kylie said with a laugh.

  But Aïna shook her head. “Let me show you the way.”

  They walked together in a silence befitting the grandeur of what they’d just seen, until they reached the entrance foyer. A small staircase led downwards and there was a golden door on one side.

  “I’ll be just a moment,” Kylie murmured, the tiara heavy on her head. She placed one foot on the top step and then a loud noise called her attention. She turned towards it, and had the briefest impression of two dark shapes moving towards her, and something in the eyes of one struck fear in her heart. A piece of fabric was tossed over her head; it smelled metallic. She opened her mouth to cry out but the taste of the material restricted her wind pipes and instead she coughed. Every breath was painful.

  What was happening?

  Strong arms lifted her as though she weighed nothing and deep in her heart she longed for Khalifa and his arms, knowing that safety lay within his strength.

  Khalifa was far away.

  Chapter 13

  KHALIFA SURVEYED THE PALACE in the distance as his plane approached it. The natural beauty of Argenon sat sweetly in his soul. Satisfaction settled upon him, but it had more to do with the expanse of sand beneath him and the sun that glistened on the horizon. He was going home. To his palace, and his wife.

  His body stirred as he thought of Kylie and a smile twitched at the corners of his lips. Had she enjoyed her day? He knew she’d been looking forward to touring the ancient library – he wondered if it lived up to her expectations, knowing that it must have. It had always been one of his favourite places and he couldn’t have explained why but he wanted her to share that sentiment.

  The plane pitched a little as it moved determinedly lower and Khalifa’s anticipation increased hungrily. A week away had been too long. He’d needed time and space to think; but not this long.

  “Sir,” he looked up as Thaida approached, his expression somber. Khalifa nodded, silently imploring his Principal to continue.

  “There’s been an incident.”

  Khalifa couldn’t stand statements like this. He had no patience for the vagary of a suggestion that hinted at a groundswell of news. He wanted the bulletin, rather than the hints.

  “Yes?” His mind naturally turned to the fourteenth precinct and the arrangements he’d made there. The idea of a return trip being necessary so soon after leaving frustrated him. He wouldn’t leave Kylie this time. He’d bring her with him and show her the caves of Adroïni. She’d love them for their beauty, but also their secrets. The tunnels that smugglers had used to hide their loot. As a child he’d run their lengths and found ancient coins squirreled beneath the sand.

  “Your Highness, it is...” Thaida paused, an unusual act for a man as him.

  “Yes,” Khalifa prompted with obvious impatience.

  “Her Royal Highness,” Thaida said on an exhalation.

  “What is it?” Khalifa was instantly tense and alert, every cell in his body vibrating in expectation. “Spit it out, damn it.”

  “She was attacked.”

  “Attacked?” He stood, simply because he couldn’t sit still. He looked towards the window – the palace was still in the distance. “Attacked? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I have only the briefest security wire, I’m sorry.”

  “At the library?” He shook his head. It wasn’t possible, surely? “The library was closed to the public. And her security team… she had …” He closed his eyes, outrage warring with concern. “Is she … how is she?”

  “Your Highness, I’m sorry. She’s been taken.”

  “What the hell do you mean, ‘taken’?”

  “She and Aïna Mistress were moving towards the foyer of the library. The staff of the library were gathered for a morning tea. Her Highness’s security detail had secured the building and were at the main exit, but…”

  “No one was with her when it happened?”

  “The building was secure,” Thaida pointed out, earning a look of angry rebuke from The Sheikh Sultan.

  “You are telling me someone has kidnapped my wife?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Khalifa’s blood went from boiling to frozen in the space of a second. He jackknifed away from the seats, moving into the aisle of the plane, his bearing one of fearsome fury.

  He is dangerous, Khal. He will not let this go.

  Selena’s wise words of counsel flashed into his brain. Though there were many possibilities in play, he knew on some cellular level who was responsible for this. Who would have the gall, the motivation, the rage and stupidity to do something so preposterous.

  He told himself she would be fine; that she was far too valuable to be in harm’s way. And with most people, this would be true. But Fayez Haddad was as wild as he was violent and he feared for his wife’s life. He feared for her body. For the first time in his adult life he was terrified and admitting that to himself scared him even more.

  His mouth was a grim line in his handsome face. “I want Police Chief Mahmood waiting for me when we land.”

  “Yes, sir.” Thaida spun, to make his way to the room of the jet he used as an office.

  Though they were only ten minutes from the runway reserved for his private use, it felt like hours. Impatience simmered inside of him. Khalifa strode the length of the plane as it moved lower and lower over Argenon and no one would have dared ask him to be seated for landing. Khalifa, always a brooding force, was downright terrifying in this frame of mind. He radiated a cold, boundless anger and it was so strong that it could have crippled anyone who accidentally threw themselves into its path.

  The moment the wheels had touched down he moved to the front exit and stood, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his eyes resolutely focused ahead. His servants formed a team at his back, a swarm of support, but Khalifa didn’t register them. His entire focus was on his wife.

  And as he stood there, he made a vow – he would find her. Wherever she was, he would find her… and never leave her again.

  Sandpaper had been dragged through her veins, over her tongue and behind her eyes. Or perhaps it was sand, just so much of it that it had the same effect. Kylie coughed, and even the simple involuntary gesture hurt. She blinked her eyes, but it didn’t help. The room was dim, and though the metallic smell from the library had abated, there was another odour – one that was equally unpleasant.

  She wrinkled her nose as she discerned body odour and old spices.

  It took several moments to piece together the hours she’d just spent. Several of them in a state of near unconsciousness, her mind heavy and her body limp, which left her in little doubt of the fact she’d been drugged. What was that chemical that rendered people inert? Perhaps her attackers had used that?

  The bag they’d thrown over her head?

  She stood and made to step across the room, but her leg pulled awkwardly and she realized she was tethered to the table. It had curly wrought iron legs and a marble table top. It must have weighed a tonne.

  With a groan of frustration, she crouched down and began to work at the tether, but it was no good. A padlock had been looped through the chain.

  She was a prisoner.

  A shiver of fear danced down her spine. She refused to l
et it spread through her body. Fear would be her undoing. If she was afraid then she would not be able to think clearly and whatever situation she had found her way into would be so much worse.

  A groan from the corner of the room called her attention lower. She blinked into the darkness and made a noise of surprise.

  “Aïna!” She took a step towards her and swore when the restraint squeezed her ankle once more. “Aïna! Are you okay?” She asked from where she stood.

  When her mistress didn’t respond, Kylie crouched down on the floor then lay on her stomach, snake slithering over the dirty concrete until she was close enough to Aïna to see her face. At full extension her fingertips could reach the other woman’s. She held her hand and squeezed it, saying Aïna’s name over and over and over as though it were an incantation.

  Which, she supposed, it was. She needed her mistress to wake up. To be there with her.

  “Please, Aïna, wake up. I need you.” The words were thick with the emotions Kylie was desperately trying not to feel.

  A groan again and Kylie squeezed her fingertips. This time, Aïna squeezed back and made to move, to sit up straighter. It was then that Kylie saw her friend had a bleeding scratch down the side of her face. How had it happened? Had someone done that to her? Or was it when they were being transported?

  More memories, this time of being in the back of a car, driving at speed, bumping roads, and then the heat of the sun.

  “I’m here, your highness,” Aïna’s voice was as croaky as Kylie’s own, but Kylie sobbed with relief. “Please, do not lie on the floor for me.”

  Kylie wrinkled her nose. “You think my lying on the floor is our biggest problem right now?” The joke made them both smile. “Are you tied up?”

  “No,” Aïna shook her head and then frowned. “Yes.” Her ankle was bound in a similar fashion to Kylie’s, but she was tied to a support beam in the back of the room. Neither of them could easily reach the other. It was an effective way to stop them from joining together to affect an escape.