Desert Destiny

by Sarah Holland

  Her mouth tightened with grim determination. Moving silently among the horses, she found the honey-gold horse that Suliman had given her to ride here with him. OK, she had no saddle, but she did have reins, she did have courage, and she did have a very good reason for getting away from here! If Suliman took her to his palace in the Sahara tomorrow he would have her in his bed before sunset, and she could not let that happen.

  Bethsheba led the honey horse out and across the sand at a very slow pace. She could not risk waking the douar guard or causing any kind of commotion. Once she was a good six hundred yards from the edge of the camp she took a deep breath, stepped back a few paces, then ran at the horse as she had done as a child in Bahrain, and leapt on to its back.

  Joy flooded her as she landed perfectly astride the horse. Excitement flashed in her eyes as she took the reins, nudged the horse straight into a fast trot, then slid it effortlessly into canter and felt the wind in her hair.

  It felt so good to ride bareback! The slits in the sides of her gold caftan bared her long legs as they gripped the horse, her body moving in perfect harmony with its long-legged strides. The goat-hair tents of the sheikh’s douar receded into the night behind her, and she went into gallop.

  A fast gallop. The wind was in her hair, the time flashed by, and still she rode, sweat dewing her cool skin as she bent to the horse and miles were eaten up by the fast, beautiful stallion.

  She rode for hours. Dawn began to seep across the landscape, turning the sands lilac. She checked her water-bottles. The dawn was moving relentlessly, and the sands were fast turning pale gold as warmth seeped into the desert.

  Soon it was sunrise: and sunrise brought danger. The sun was burning on her golden head now, sweat covering her flesh and that of the horse as they galloped into the furnace-heat of the desert morning. Sand flew from its hoofs, the shadow of a hawk soared in a piercingly blue sky above, and a sand-cat slunk out from beneath the shade of animals’ bones.

  She was tiring; so was her horse. It was so hot, the sands so endless. Bethsheba knew she would have to stop and rest at the next opportunity—she didn’t want the horse breaking down in exhaustion.

  When she saw the shimmer of green on the horizon she gasped in relief, then told herself it was a mirage. But, as the horse headed instinctively for the waters of an oasis, Bethsheba realised it was no mirage: she had found sanctuary.

  After riding like mad towards it she leapt off her horse as they reached the lush waters and greenery. The horse drank greedily, thirstily, and Bethsheba slithered, trembling, to the water’s edge, sinking her face and hair into the water, drinking thirstily, gasping for breath as the cool clear water drenched her burning head and hair and cooled her.

  When she had drunk her fill she slumped, exhausted, against the rough-diamond bark of a palm tree. It was so beautiful here. Her wet lashes closed lightly…she was so tired. But she must not rest! She had to reach a town, a telephone, and safety!

  Glancing at her horse, she saw it rested quietly in the shade of a cactus. A sigh broke her lips. They were both exhausted. Perhaps it would be best to stay out of the dangerous sun until later.

  Slowly, sleep began to claim her, though she fought against it…

  CHAPTER FIVE

  HORSES’ hoofs woke her. Jerking awake, Bethsheba stared across the gold sands as though in a dream to see a thunder of desert warriors approaching on horseback.

  In a flash, she leapt up, running for her horse. It whinnied and danced away from her, leaving her crying out in fear, her gold hair flashing in the sun as she turned to see the warriors and see, suddenly, with heart-stopping fear, excitement and relief, their leader.

  Suliman’s white robes gleamed in the sunlight, the white head-dress and gold iqal symbolising his authority. He rode with his men, and there were twenty of them, all in dark robes and turbans, carrying spears and guns, their horses black, brown and dun.

  Suddenly, his men halted. Only Suliman himself galloped up to the oasis, and his dark eyes flashed in his hard, arrogant face as he bore down on her in a storm of sand.

  ‘You ran from me!’ he bit out under his breath, and the stallion danced beneath him, sand kicking up from its hoofs.

  ‘I had to!’ Bethsheba raised her head with courage, trembling before him but refusing to show it. ‘I had to run, and I will do it again if you take me back!’

  He took the long black whip from his saddle. ‘You leave me no choice, then!’

  She stared, taking a step back. For God’s sake!’

  ‘My men are watching!’ he bit out, lips drawing back in a snarl. ‘Do you want me to be humiliated before them?’

  ‘But you can’t——’

  He raised the whip in one savage hand. It cracked the air as it soared in a vicious arc before lashing the sand by her bare feet. ‘I will teach you obedience, Sheba!’

  ‘No!’ Breathless, she turned to run, but he followed her, and that long black whip cracked curled out again and again as his horse rode after her while she ran for her own horse a few feet away.

  ‘Don’t get on that horse!’ the sheikh bit out. ‘Don’t, you little fool!’

  ‘I’m not staying here to be whipped into obedience by you!’ Bethsheba broke out furiously, gasping as her sweaty trembling hands fumbled with the stiff mane and lost their hold.

  ‘Don’t get on it!’ The sheikh circled her, whip raised. ‘You’ll force me to really use the whip on you!’

  ‘Go to hell!’ Bethsheba hauled herself on to the gold horse.

  But her balance was shot to pieces, and she slipped, falling to the ground, heart pounding as she found herself lying on her back in the sand staring up at Suliman.

  He dismounted. Oxblood leather riding boots sent sand flying as he landed, white robes billowing out, to stride towards her like a legend, the whip in his right hand.

  ‘Don’t…!’ Bethsheba begged hoarsely, barefoot, on her back, one slender thigh bared by the slits in the gold caftan.

  He towered over her, his face implacable. ‘Scream!’ he bit out thickly, and the whip lashed the sand inches from her bare thigh.

  She wriggled away from the stinging tip, gasping, ‘Please…!’

  ‘Scream!’ he commanded, and the whip cracked again, missing her thigh by a hair’s breadth, and, when she stared into his face and the whip cracked again, she suddenly understood.

  She screamed.

  Suliman’s hard mouth flickered with a smile. His eyes flashed with satisfaction as the whip rose and fell for all to see while Bethsheba screamed and writhed in simulated pain.

  Suddenly the whip was thrown aside.

  ‘Enough!’ Suliman said under his breath and stepped forward, going down on one knee to slide strong arms around her. She went into his arms without a struggle, burying her face in his strong neck and breathing in the scents she had longed for even as she’d fled: the scent of his skin, his maleness, the scent of horseflesh and leather and the East.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said huskily into his throat.

  ‘You should not have fled,’ he said deeply, and drew back to look at her with hard dark eyes, ‘I would not have forced you to make love with me. Did I not make that clear, bint?’

  ‘Never!’ she said, meeting that dark gaze with courage. ‘But I did make it clear that I wanted to be returned to my home. And that I did not want to make love with——Oh!’ She broke off with a gasp as his strong hand curved over her breast.

  ‘But you do want to make love with me,’ he said under his breath, one finger stroking the erect unfettered nipple beneath the gold silk, enjoying the dark flush that stole into her cheeks. ‘Admit it and find fulfilment.’

  ‘Admit it and find myself used!’ she said hoarsely, heart hammering at his touch. ‘You don’t care about me, Suliman! You only want to——’

  ‘So do you, bint!’ he said thickly, and suddenly his hard mouth was covering hers, silencing her with a kiss that made her blood sing and her body weaken with dark heat, passion stirring a r
esponse in her that was terrifyingly wanton.

  Distant laughter and a ripple of applause reached her ears, and pride rose angrily in her, making her fight him, hands pushing at his broad shoulders. He trapped her struggling arms behind her back easily, and his mouth ravaged hers, pushing her body back against the sand, his own body pinning it there as he kissed her to within an inch of her life, leaving her shuddering with excitement and anger.

  When he raised his head he studied her flushed, fevered face with satisfaction and said thickly, ‘I will conquer you, she-cat, and turn your bites and scratches into the marks of love!’

  ‘Never!’ she breathed thickly, hating him, eyes wild in her fevered face. ‘Never!’

  ‘Your passionate refusals only stir my blood more,’ he said under his breath, and then he was lifting her, standing straight and tall as he swung her into his arms and strode towards his horse, amused by the mocking laughter of his men who acknowledged his very obvious success with this gold-skinned she-cat who was his to tame.

  Bethsheba could do nothing but fume with silent rage as the sheikh lifted her on to his white stallion and mounted behind her. His strong arms held her in front of him as he took the reins and nudged the powerful steed into a fast canter.

  Excitement filled her as they rode across the desert, the sheikh leading his warriors. The cluster of Arabian horses thundered across the sands; spears raised, guns raised, a banner flying in scarlet and gold as the sheikh led them at a fast gallop, his white head-dress and robes flying behind him, and the honey-gold horse Bethsheba had escaped on alongside, riderless but still a member of the Auda Khazir.

  I’m almost pleased to have been caught, she realised with incredulity. Her excited eyes were flicking from side to side as the wind rippled the Audi Khazir banner, and she breathed in the scent of a warrior race and their sheikh.

  When the douar finally came in sight again, it was late afternoon. The heat shimmered on the horizon, making the goat-hair tents wave like a mirage.

  The sheikh called something in Arabic, laughing as he rode his horse up to the royal tent. His people clustered round, laughing, looking at Bethsheba knowingly, and she flushed with hot colour as she met their gazes, lifting her gold head proudly.

  The sheikh dismounted and turned, strong hands catching her waist as he lifted her down from the horse. He snapped his fingers, issued a command to a servant, and took Bethsheba’s arm to lead her forcibly into the royal tent.

  ‘Now, bint!’ he said tightly as he thrust her into the tent. ‘You will explain to me your reasons for leaving!’

  ‘But I thought I——’ she began, flustered, stepping back from him.

  ‘You ran from me!’ he bit out, dark eyes blazing suddenly with rage—the rage he had kept hidden from her in the desert but which now poured out in no uncertain terms. ‘You ran from me? From all of this? From the dream I brought to life for you!’

  ‘This isn’t a dream!’ she said hotly, struggling to cope with this new side of him, this hot black rage that made her heart stop beating as she faced him in the dim gold light of the royal tent. ‘I’m your prisoner, with no rights of my own and no hope of freedom!’

  ‘You want this!’ he said bitingly. ‘You want all of this!’ He gestured angrily around at the silk cushions, cassia lamps, shiraz rugs. ‘You want everything I can give you; from my love to my world and my desert!’

  ‘I don’t!’ she spat, hating him. ‘Not like this! Not kidnapped and held prisoner and whipped into obedience by you like a——’

  ‘The whip did not touch you!’

  ‘You humiliated me in front of your men!’

  ‘I am their sheikh!’ he bit out, striding angrily towards her, eyes flashing. ‘And you are my woman! In their eyes and in mine—you will obey me or pay the consequences!’

  She backed angrily. ‘I’m not your woman!’ she spat. ‘You had to kidnap me to get me here—that makes me your prisoner, not your——’

  ‘Little bitch!’ His hands shot out forcefully, gripping her upper arms and dragging her towards him even as she struggled. ‘So—you are not my woman! You are an innocent kidnap-victim! A poor helpless female being forced to respond to my un-wanted attentions!’

  ‘That’s right!’ she said bitterly, struggling, eyes flashing vivid gold as she fought him with fierce fury and hatred. ‘I am an innocent victim of your——’

  ‘And you don’t welcome my touch?’ he bit out thickly, pinning her hands suddenly behind her back, his fingers clasping them there like handcuffs.

  ‘You’re a barbarian!’ she flung hotly, shaking, fighting him even as her heart pounded with fierce arousal and excitement. ‘A savage! A vile, unspeakable——’

  ‘Yes?’ he cut in harshly, and tugged aside the bodice of her caftan to reveal her full, swollen breast, the rose-beige nipple engorged and erect.

  Take your filthy hands off me…’ she whispered thickly, twisting from that all-seeing gaze and the humiliation of having her fierce desire revealed to him.

  His eyes flashed with anger. ‘You want me, bint! Admit it or——’

  ‘Let me go!’ she burst out fiercely, fighting him.

  ‘Admit it!’ His nostrils flared. ‘Tell me what you feel! Say it out loud and have done with these lies!’

  ‘Never!’

  ‘You will say it, Sheba!’ he bit out roughly, and his anger vibrated between them, dominating her suddenly, even as she fought him, her heart thudding a powerful rhythm as she felt the power balance swing overpoweringly in his favour, as it had been from the beginning.

  He was pushing her backwards, on to the silk cushions, and as she fell with him she was breathing hectically, pushing at him, desperate to escape the fierce desire that clawed at her.

  ‘No…’ she was whispering thickly. ‘No…no…’

  But her body told a different story, and as his hard mouth closed over hers, as his hands pinned her wrists above her head, she heard herself moan in helpless arousal.

  He was pushing her lips apart, and as his tongue slid in to meet hers she closed her eyes, opened her mouth beneath his and dark passion flooded her.

  ‘You want me,’ he taunted softly, his eyes mocking as he ravished her mouth with expert sensuality, and as his strong hand moved back to cover her bared breast she sucked in her breath, arching against him as his fingers found her erect nipple, and her blood-pressure rocketed through the roof.

  ‘Don’t…’ she was breathing thickly, twisting beneath him, heart hammering as she struggled to retain consciousness, ‘don’t…don’t…’

  ‘Tell me yes!’ he bit out, and bent his commanding head. As his hot mouth fastened over her nipple she heard herself draw in her breath like a drowning woman, struggling against those iron hands that held her, her heart drumming ferociously.

  ‘Stop it!’ she whispered thickly, hating him, loving him, excited beyond bearing by that hard, hot mouth. ‘I hate it when you——’

  ‘You will tell me, Sheba,’ he cut in raggedly, and bared her other breast with a swift, ruthless hand, covering it, watching her flushed and excited face as he stroked her to fever-pitch, ‘or I will have you now!’

  ‘No!’ she denied hotly, then gasped on a hoarse note of intolerable excitement as his strong hand moved down, moved to her thigh bared by the slit in her caftan.

  ‘Tell me you want me!’ he said hoarsely, and covered her mouth in a draining, drugging kiss. His strong hand pushed at the caftan while she writhed beneath him. ‘Tell me you want me!’ he said against her throbbing throat. Tell me this is what you long for too! Tell me! Tell me…!’

  ‘Oh, Suliman, please…please!’ she begged hotly, and cried out in hoarse pleasure as his strong hand pushed the silken golden caftan up to her waist, sliding his strong thigh between hers and making her arch against him in hot, molten desire.

  Tell me you want me!’ he bit out thickly, his heart thundering like a hammer. ‘Tell me quickly, or I’ll take you, Sheba, I swear I’ll take you…’

 
‘Yes!’ she whispered in terrified excitement, clutching his muscled shoulders, her mouth moving hotly against his. ‘I’ll say anything…’

  ‘The truth!’ he said hoarsely, desire like black fire in his eyes. ‘Tell me the truth! That you wanted me when you first saw me! That you wanted this to happen!’

  ‘Yes!’ she moaned, throbbing like wildfire as she lay sprawled beneath him. ‘Yes!’

  ‘Say it out loud for me to hear clearly!’ he bit out thickly.

  ‘I wanted you when I first saw you!’ she whispered against his hard, hot, insistent mouth. ‘I wanted this to happen! I wanted it…oh, yes…yes…and I still want it!’

  With a hoarse cry of triumph he captured her mouth again, and this time the kiss he gave her was so passionate that she almost blacked out with pleasure.

  Blindly, she clutched at his muscled shoulders with shaking hands, and suddenly the desire overwhelmed her as she allowed herself to touch his chest, to touch him at last, to feel the heartbeat that pulsed blood around his body, to push the dark jerkin aside and touch the thick black hairs on his chest, and heard his fierce, rough sounds of pleasure as he shifted above her, his body passionate.

  Suddenly a commotion outside began to filter through to them.

  Breathing raggedly, the shiekh lifted his head.

  ‘What is it?’ Bethsheba whispered jerkily, blinking, reluctant to leave that honeyed, vibrant intimacy.

  They could hear the men shouting outside, running about as horses whinnied, and the sound of…

  ‘A helicopter!’ the shiekh bit out under his breath.

  She met his startled gaze with a jolt. ‘Chris!’

  ‘Damn him!’ Suliman swore thickly. ‘He’s come for you! Will you go with him?’

  Unable to breathe or speak, she just stared at him, confused.

  ‘Will you go with him?’ he demanded fiercely, gripping her shoulders and staring down at her with blazing eyes.

  What choice did she have? Of course she would go with Chris! but she knew better than to tell Suliman that! He would rage and try to re-kidnap her. So she just looked into those dark, powerful eyes and said nothing.