The Sheikh's Desert Bride (Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 8)

by Albany,Cara

  When he'd learned that, he'd come to the only one conclusion. There was only one person who would do such a thing. Lucy.

  Descriptions which had made their way back to Azim had only confirmed his suspicions.

  She'd come back. Lucy was back in Qazhar, for the first time since they'd ended their all too brief, passionate affair two years before.

  But, what a way to come back, he said to himself. Secretly. Quietly. Without telling Azim.

  Had she really thought he wouldn't find out?

  But there was one thing he knew about Lucy Hunt. She was the embodiment of defiance.

  Just thinking about it made rage twist inside Azim. How could she do such a thing? How could she be so careless with her personal safety.

  "You know where the American wishes to go," Azim said.

  Jawad nodded. "Apparently she is under the mistaken belief that there is something important to be seen up at the far end of this range of valleys," he said looking off toward the north. It would be dark soon, Azim realized. There was no way Lucy was going up there on her own. Not if he had anything to do with it.

  "You said mistaken belief?" Azim asked.

  Jawad shrugged. "There is nothing there now," he said.

  Azim frowned. "What do you mean? What about the carved statuary?"

  Jawad cocked his head to one side. "Gone."

  Azim leaned forward and saw the tribesmen take a few steps closer. Azim halted. "Have they been destroyed?" Azim asked breathlessly, reluctant to hear the answer from Jawad's lips.

  Jawad sighed resignedly, but Azim could tell that the gesture wasn't sincere. People like Jawad cared nothing for history. They hardly cared for tradition, let alone preserving relics of the past. For people like Jawad artefacts were a means to financing their rebellious, dissident lifestyle. Azim had no illusions about just how much danger he and Lucy were in by coming here. Not any longer, now that he knew that the damage had already been done.

  Azim felt a momentary sickness in his stomach at the thought that one more valuable piece of his country's past might have been destroyed. He thought about how Lucy would feel about that and felt the nausea intensify.

  "Are you certain about that?" Azim demanded. He could see that the other man seemed to be relishing Azim's sudden reaction.

  Jawad nodded. "The statues were blown out of the rock weeks ago."

  "Who did it?" Azim asked trying to contain his rage.

  Jawad shrugged. "You know what it is like around these mountains, sheikh. This is a treacherous area. Many strangers come into these parts."

  Azim wasn't buying any of it. Jawad reeked of insincerity. "No-one comes into these mountains without you knowing about it, Jawad. Isn't that right?"

  Jawad shrugged. "Perhaps." He sighed slowly and rolled his eyes. "I know nothing of what happened," he added.

  Azim knew he was being lied to. He could feel it in his bones. He wanted to rage at the man, call him out on his lies, but one look toward the armed tribesmen told him any impulsive action would be sheer folly.

  Right now, all that mattered was getting Lucy out of here. That was the real reason he'd come. He hadn't had any time to make proper plans. Getting here had been an urgent priority and he'd had to make the best of what had been available. He'd driven most of the way, as far as he could. Then he'd obtained a horse and basic supplies at one of the oasis settlements. He hadn't wanted to bring anyone with him, mainly because of his selfish need to be alone with Lucy.

  But all of that assumed that he was going to get her out of this situation with little trouble. And, right now, with the way the tribal leader and his men were behaving, there was no guarantee of that.

  He needed to see Lucy, had to make sure she was unarmed. A woman like Lucy would have been a major temptation for men in these parts. Azim was under no illusions about that.

  "I must speak with the woman," Azim stated firmly starting toward the adobe building.

  Jawad hesitated. "If she is to be released to you..." he started to say.

  Azim rounded on Jawad. "What do you mean? You will release the woman to me, or face the most serious consequences."

  Jawad scowled. "And just what might those be, Sheikh Al Mahrez?"

  Suddenly the man looked too confident, Azim said to himself.

  Azim glanced toward the tribesmen and then back at Jawad. "Are you threatening a member of a Qazhar royal family?" he growled.

  Jawad shook his head slowly. "Of course not. It would be dishonorable for me to even attempt such a thing."

  Azim grinned at Jawad. "Of course it would be dishonorable. And also foolish."

  Azim gazed around the small collection of roughly constructed buildings. "It would be a shame to put in jeopardy the life you have worked so hard to create here."

  Jawad's eyes narrowed. Azim could tell the man knew when he was being threatened. He no doubt understood that the full force of Qazhar authority would put a stop to his life here in in the mountains. These tribal rebels had been a thorn in Azim's side for longer than he cared to remember. Maybe this was a chance to draw a line, make sure at least one of the rebel tribes knew that their attempts to undermine everything Azim and his family stood for would have consequences.

  Azim and Jawad stared at each other for a long time. All Azim could hear was the sound of the wind easing up the valley. The air was cooling fast as the sun was sinking behind the mountains. He needed to act fast.

  "Do we have an agreement?" Azim asked sharply.

  He could see Jawad measuring his reply, running over the options in his mind. The man's face was weathered and coarse, no doubt the result of years living in rough conditions. His beard was already beginning to turn white. The creases around his eyes betrayed cunning and suffering, as well as firmly held beliefs, none of which Azim shared. But, Jawad was still a Qazhar man, and as such this situation called for Azim to act with honor and firm resolve.

  After a few moments, Jawad nodded slowly. He extended a hand. "We have an agreement, sheikh. You may take the woman with you."

  Azim felt a flash of indignation, but it was quickly tempered with relief. He shook Jawad's arm, clasping it high up near the elbow in the traditional style.

  "We will leave immediately. Before sundown," Azim announced.

  "Perhaps you would be better remaining here overnight, sheikh," Jawad suggested.

  Azim shook his head firmly. "No. We leave now," he said emphatically. Azim knew he and Lucy would have immediate problems once they'd made it down the valley and back toward the desert. But he'd deal with that later. Right now, all he wanted was to get Lucy to safety. And that meant as far away as possible from Jawad and his tribesmen.

  Jawad extended a hand toward the building inside which Lucy was waiting. "After you, sheikh," he said.

  Azim started toward the building restraining the urge to race to the door, kick it down and seize Lucy and carry her to her horse.

  Jawad jammed a large key in the door and turned it. He pushed the door open and Azim rushed inside the room. He gazed around the room and felt a surge of anger.

  "Where is she!" Azim roared turning on Jawad.

  The other man followed Azim into the room and gazed at the wooden furniture and the very empty room.

  There was no sign of Lucy.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lucy heard the voices from inside the adobe building as she leaned against the exterior wall. Now that she was outside, there was only one thing that she had to do. Get to her horse and make her escape.

  She pushed her back hard against the corner, gazing across at her horse. If she moved really quickly she knew she could probably make it to the horse. It wouldn't take more than a few moments to get astride it, and make her way quickly out of the settlement.

  She brushed some of the loose material she had accumulated during her climb out through the small hole she'd discovered in the corner of the roof. At first she hadn't believed her luck at seeing the rotted, loose panel that revealed a sliver of light from outside.
But she'd pushed hard and clambered up, using of the wooden trunks as leverage to haul herself up. It hadn't been easy to get through, but she'd pushed hard and managed to squeeze her way out and clamber down the outside of the building.

  Now she was free. For the moment.

  All she needed to do was put as much distance between herself and her captors. On top of that, she knew she couldn't face Azim. Not now. Not like this. She wasn't ready for that.

  She could hear Azim and the tribal leader arguing inside the building. Azim sounded furious. She shook her head and tried not to smile. She hadn't heard his frustrated tones for a long time.

  Lucy knew she only had moments to take action.

  Over by the other buildings, she saw a group of tribesmen squatting in a circle. They were all intent on discussing something, probably what was taking place right now in the adobe building.

  Lucy took a deep breath and dashed out from the side of the hut. Her boots kicked up dust as she raced, bent down low, stumbling toward her horse. Her heart was hammering and she hoped the men a hundred yards away wouldn't take notice of her mad dash for safety.

  The horse seemed to notice Lucy's crouched, racing figure. It shook its head nervously, as if sensing the sudden urgency, the impending need to leave the settlement.

  Finally, Lucy reached the horse and she crouched alongside its flank, grasping the bulky pack hanging down the horse's side. The horse's hooves started to paw at the sandy earth, agitation seizing the animal. Lucy lifted her hand and stroked the side of the horse's neck, murmuring quiet, calming sounds. The animal responded and Lucy raised herself up and peered over the bulk of the horse's body.

  The men hadn't noticed her mad dash from the hut.

  Lucy turned and looked back at the hut, her former prison. She saw the open door, but there was still no sign of Azim or the older man. She could still hear the argument from inside, but she knew it would only be moments before Azim emerged searching for Lucy.

  Lucy grasped the saddle and lifted herself up quickly, sitting astride the horse and grasping the reins. The horse's neck twisted in protest, but then suddenly calmed as if sensing Lucy's need for co-operation.

  With one last glance over toward the hut, Lucy kicked her heels into the horse's side and tugged the reins. The horse responded instantly with a sudden, sharp and very unwelcome braying sound. Lucy felt a rush of panic as she saw the circle of men look her way, their eyes wide, rifles lifting.

  Lucy knew she didn't have more than a few short moments.

  The horse lurched forward and Lucy bent low as the animal started to pick up pace. Lucy guided the horse along the single track that served as a makeshift street between the crude, adobe buildings. She heard the cries of the men and feared there would be shots aimed at her. She crouched low across the horse's neck, tugging the reins hard, trying to put as much distance between her and the noisy, roaring men now starting to point rifles in her direction.

  Panic surged in Lucy and she waited for the sounds of gunfire above the pounding of her mount's hooves which hammered into the hard dirt of the track.

  She raced past the buildings and knew that the men were behind her now. A few stray tribesmen almost stood in her way, but they quickly leapt to safety as Lucy's mount barrelled down straight at them.

  She heard more cries from behind her, this time more fervent, more outraged. Then, as she made it almost to the last of the buildings she heard a single, loud roar that rose above the babble of tribesmen's voices. They suddenly quietened their outraged roars. The single, powerful voice yelled in the language of the Qazhar people. Lucy supposed it was the voice of the tribal elder. He must have emerged from the hut, seen Lucy racing off and thought his men had been contemplating the unthinkable.

  Firing on Lucy. The man's voice became quickly distant as she raced out of the settlement, but the intent of the man's words had been unmistakeable. To stop harm coming to Lucy.

  All Lucy could think of was that she was almost free, had almost escaped the clutches of the men who had imprisoned her all afternoon. The only thing she wanted was to get as far away from this place as possible. She realized she was headed north, deeper into the warren of mountain valleys.

  The trail cut and twisted through a narrow ravine. The narrow confines of the ravine meant that there was barely any space on either side of Lucy. More than a few times she felt herself scrape against the hard rocky walls.

  She held onto the reins, her knuckles white, the muscles of her arms straining to keep hold as she dashed along the trail. She daren't stop and check if she was being pursued. In her mind, she ran over the possibilities. The narrowness of the ravine would make it difficult for any pursuers. She also had a head start. But, then again, these men probably knew these mountains like the back of their hand.

  Determination surged inside Lucy, and she forced her mount onto greater speed, twisting and manoeuvring around perilous rocky outcrops.

  Then she was out into a wider open area that split the trail into two. On one side she saw the remnants of a dry riverbed heading to the northeast. She remembered that that had been her original direction. It was where the statuary she had come to see was located. But, right now, all she could think of was her safety. There might be time for other things later, but for now she had to get out of immediate danger.

  She drew the horse to a halt and twisted in her saddle, listening for the sound of any pursuit from back in the direction she'd just travelled.

  All she could hear was the soft sound of the wind that sighed through the ravine. She felt her heartbeat and ran her hand down the side of the horses neck, feeling the moistness there.

  It was darker here in the depths of the ravine than it had been back in the settlement, and she realized it would be dark soon. She had to find somewhere to shelter for the night. She glanced in the direction of the fork in the pathway. She knew it would make sense to at least pursue her original goal, reaching the site of the statues.

  Lucy knew she wouldn't be able to reach the site before dark. At least if she made it there in the morning she might have a chance of finding an alternative way out of the mountain range which wouldn't involve going back in the direction of her captors.

  And Azim. There was still the problem of him. What was he doing? Was he the reason no-one had pursued Lucy? Had it actually been his voice she had heard ordering the tribesmen to hold their fire? What had he made of Lucy's behavior? Her escape must have seemed extraordinary under the circumstances. Did he still think she was as crazy and impulsive as he'd accused her of being such a long time ago?

  Lucy realized she hadn't had a drink of water since she'd been locked up earlier that afternoon. She took her water bottle from her pack and drank some slow, relieving sips of the cool liquid. Not too much, though. She had enough for a day or so. Probably enough to get back to the place a few miles out in the desert where she had picked up the horse. She'd have to make the water last, although she didn't plan on spending too long in these mountains.

  She was just about to prompt the horse toward the trail that followed the dried riverbed, when she heard a sound from behind her. She paused, straining to confirm what she'd heard.

  Anxiety twisted in her middle at what she heard.

  Hoofbeats. And fast ones at that.

  Someone was coming after her.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Azim leaned forward on his horse and gritted his teeth, trying desperately to avoid crashing against the walls of the narrow passageway. There was hardly enough space for his horse to twist along the narrow path, but he knew Lucy had already made her way safely through the same treacherous cutting in the rocks. These mountains were dangerous. Tales had been told to Azim when he'd been a child about the perils of entering this small, but dangerous mountain range.

  He kept up the pace, urging his mount to even greater speed. He had to catch up with Lucy. He couldn't think what would happen to her if she got lost in this place. Even though he knew just how resourceful she was, this was
still a whole new level of danger for the feisty American.

  His shoulders ached with the repeated collisions against the rocks, and he was sure the skin beneath his robes was broken, even lacerated. But it didn't matter. The pain wasn't important.

  All that he cared about was catching Lucy. He needed to prevent her getting lost in this maze of ravines. If she made one wrong decision, followed a false pathway, he'd never be able to find her. She wouldn't survive in these mountains. No matter how strong she believed she was; no matter how determined she was.

  This was one of the most dangerous places in Qazhar, and not just because of the rebel tribesmen who'd so nearly been Lucy's downfall. Azim shuddered to think what could have happened to her if he hadn't turned up in time.

  Azim gripped the reins and drove his horse to even greater speed. He raced past loose outcrops of fallen rocks, trying to make his way even in the increasing darkness. He felt the chill of the ravine through his robes. It would be dark soon.

  Lucy couldn't be far ahead of him. Azim was a far more skilled with horses than most people. He was certain he'd already made up most of the distance, but he was anxious that she wouldn't have the chance to make a choice amongst the warren of trails he knew snaked through this mountain range.

  Then he saw the end of the narrow passageway ahead of him. The light was brighter there, which told him there must be an open area ahead, a widening of the valley.

  He raced faster and emerged into a broader cutting. The flat ground spread out, dusty and dry, the remnants of a riverbed clearly visible.

  And then he saw her.

  Lucy.

  His heart leapt, his pulse racing in a determined rush.

  She was slowly guiding her mount toward the passageway through which the old riverbed had made a cutting. She was moving almost casually, her back to him. Here, in the depths of the ravine, the surrounding rocky cliffs that rose up high to the darkening sky made her seem so small, so vulnerable.