Jabril watched Ilara carefully, saw the way her hands clenched into white knuckled fists. She was hurt and angry…at herself? Or her uncle for lying to her and causing this destruction? He didn’t know her well enough to tell, but he could sense her fury.
Driving down the rutted streets that were pocked with holes, he contemplated how to help her, how to get her to understand that this wasn’t her fault. Unfortunately, in a way, it was. She’d ignored Ditra, abandoned her responsibilities while her uncle had lied to her and ruined the country, hurt the people, and destroyed a once thriving economy.
“Where is everyone?” she whispered as they passed by several other burned out shells, all that remained of houses and barns.
“I don’t know, actually,” he admitted honestly. “I knew your uncle bombed the farms, but where the people went, I just…” he trailed off and swallowed hard. Then he continued, “I haven’t received word that your uncle killed them.” He wasn’t sure that was a huge consolation to her. In his mind, it was. If they were still alive, that meant that they were still trying to survive. And that meant that he could stop Kasim, get rid of his violence prone mercenaries, and start the healing process for the country.
She nodded silently, still staring out at the destruction. They continued to drive, occasionally passing someone farming off in the distance. But they didn’t stop, still trying to get to the town. It was nightfall before they reached the small village. It was mostly abandoned with several of the buildings burned down as well.
“We’ll stop here,” he announced, pulling up to one of the few buildings that wasn’t completely demolished.
Ilara looked around, her eyes almost frantic. “Why? Why would we stay here? We should push on! I need to find people. I need to know what happened.”
She started to go around him, determined to leave him here if he wouldn’t continue.
Jabril grabbed her upper arms but she fought him, furious that he would slow down her progress towards the villain in this mess. Which he knew she thought was herself.
“Let me go!” she yelled, pushing at him and, when that didn’t work, pounding her fists against his chest. “I have to go! I have to fix this!” she cried.
He grabbed her more tightly, pulling her against his chest. “Stop,” he soothed. “It’s going to be okay.”
He turned so that his soldiers couldn’t see her. Jabril was fairly sure that she’d be embarrassed to have lost control. She had more pride than the normal person, he’d discovered over the past several hours. But at the moment, her pride wasn’t as important as fixing the problem.
She struggled, but when she realized that he wasn’t going to release her, Ilara collapsed, her sobs increasing. He absorbed her pain, holding her close and trying to comprehend what she was going through.
“We’re almost out of gas, Ilara,” he explained when she stopped crying. “And we need some sleep. You only got about two hours last night and I had none. We’ll keep going tomorrow and intersect with two towns that I know have some people.”
She sniffed and pulled back, bowing her head as she wiped the tears away. When she had herself under control, she nodded. “How are we going to refuel?” she asked, thinking of the first obstacle.
“I’ve already radioed my commander. He’s sending supply trucks this way. They’ll drive through the night and get to us by tomorrow morning.”
She nodded again. Her lower lip trembled, but she asked the horrible question anyway. “And what will we find ahead of us?”
He sighed, pulling her in close once more. If they were going to fix the problem, she needed to understand the extent of her uncle’s abuse. “More of the same. But my sources tell me that there’s an enclave of people about fifty miles south of here that we can talk to. We’ll get more information once we meet up with them. Maybe they can tell us where the residents of the last several hundred miles have gone.”
She nodded forlornly, looking out at the mess of what had once been a very picturesque village. “I didn’t know, Jabril. I swear, I didn’t know.” She fought, and won, the battle to keep back the tears this time.
He pulled her close again, kissing the top of her head. He wasn’t sure why he kissed her. It just felt right at the moment. “I know. But now that you do, what…?”
“I’m going to fix this,” she interrupted. “I’m not sure how, but this is a mess I created.”
“No,” he told her, pulling back. Holding her upper arms, he looked down at her. “No, Ilara. You didn’t do this. Your uncle did.”
Her chin went up slightly and he could see the determined burning in her pretty eyes, even as the sunlight faded quickly away. “I allowed it to happen through my negligence.”
“There’s a difference in being negligent and trusting someone else. You trusted your uncle because you had no reason not to. Then he abused your trust and lied to you. As soon as you heard that something was wrong, you jumped to fix it. I admire that,” he told her softly. Reluctantly. “But now that you know, what are you going to do?”
She looked up at him and his body reacted quickly when her beautiful, still-wet eyes dropped to his lips. Thankfully, she pulled out of his arms, putting some space between them. Temptation was easier to resist when she wasn’t in his arms, he thought.
“I don’t know exactly. I need more information.” She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. “Tell me what you know. Don’t hold back. Give me everything.”
He nodded, thinking that her response meant progress. She wasn’t ready to accept the inevitable, and that being that the two of them must marry, but she’d made progress and that was good. “Let’s set up camp and then we’ll talk, okay?”
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. The warmth of the late afternoon sunshine was fading quickly and they needed to get their camp established. “I’ll set up the tent. You can…”
“I’ll help you,” she asserted firmly.
He chuckled. “I’m not trying to be sexist, Ilara. Normally, I’d be happy with your help. But you have no idea how to set up these tents, so why don’t you grab the bins from the back of that truck. They’re filled with food. We’ll need that next.”
She helped unload the cartons. They were heavier than she’d expected, but she didn’t complain, just hauled them over to the small campfire. The men worked quickly and efficiently, setting up camp and a security perimeter. Two men worked with a lantern on a folding table, talking quietly as they came up with a plan.
Then the six men, plus her and Jabril, surrounded the fire while she handed out packaged meals.
The eight of them tossed around ideas on how to move south and what they knew of the people in the various villages. Ilara blinked quickly as they talked, trying to listen and absorb everything. But she’d only gotten two hours of sleep over the past forty-eight hours and she was wiped out.
“Sounds good,” Jabril’s firm voice announced.
Ilara jerked upright, realizing that she’d fallen asleep, her head resting on Jabril’s shoulder. She pulled away, but didn’t get far because she found his arm around her waist, holding her steady. Probably a good thing since she was right on the edge of the makeshift bench.
“Careful,” he murmured.
“Thank you,” she whispered back, shockingly aware of him as a man now. Her skin fizzled with awareness.
“Ready for sleep?” he offered.
Ilara nodded and leapt to her feet, relieved to have a chance to move away from the enticing heat of his body. “Goodnight,” she called to the other men, each of whom nodded respectfully as they too stood up and headed towards the small tents that were set up away from the fire. She noticed that the tents weren’t near the fire and they weren’t in a circle.
Any other time, she would have questioned the pattern of tents, but she noticed that the men headed to six of the tents, leaving one behind her. A bigger tent. The others all seemed to be one person tents, but the one behind was big enough for two. Why did she…?
Jabril
took her hand and led her to the bigger tent. “For security,” he told her. With that, he pulled the zipper up on the tent and held it open for her. Sure enough, two sleeping bags were neatly spread out inside. She stared at them for a long moment, then looked up at Jabril.
“We can’t sleep together, Jabril,” she told him firmly, ignoring that stupid, trembling awareness of his height and the scent of him. Even after driving all day, he smelled delicious. How was that possible? She probably stunk to high heaven but Jabril, he smelled…mouthwatering.
He continued to hold the tent-flap back, watching her. “Well, there aren’t any other tents, Ilara. And I’m not sleeping outside. I’m not interested in finding a bear or a cougar licking my face in the middle of the night.”
Ilara shivered, then turned to peer into the inky blackness surrounding their camp. They’d put out the fire, not wanting to be seen from a distance. Fires could be seen a long ways away at night.
“You ready?” he asked when she continued to hesitate. “You can sleep with one of the other men if you’re too nervous to sleep with me. I know that there is a pretty intense chemistry going on between us but…”
Her eyes stopped moving around the camp and flashed up to his, horrified by where his statement was heading. “Stop! There’s nothing happening between us except you showing me how stupid I was to trust my uncle,” she snapped, and dove into the tent. She grumbled, irritated with the small space, but her feigned anger was simply a front for her nervousness as he followed her in.
The tent had felt small when she’d stepped inside, crouching low so that her head didn’t knock the fabric “roof”. When she’d sat down on one of the sleeping bags to take off her boots, the tent had shrunk even more. Add in a huge man with broad shoulders and an even bigger personality and the tent seemed miniscule!
“Sorry,” he muttered when his shoulder bumped into her arm. “It’s small, but I promise the fabric and the close confines will keep in the heat overnight. The material is a special polymer that retains heat.”
She shivered and nodded, pretending as if she was more concerned about the dropping temperatures overnight than the fact that she was inside a small, confined space with her enemy. Or the man she’d thought was her enemy. Or…the man she’d thought was her enemy and was now her friend.
Was he her friend? Ilara refused to look over her shoulder at him, not wanting to see him getting undressed, even if that only meant his boots. Which, technically, boots weren’t shoes. Or were they?
Ilara realized that she was focusing on an irrelevant detail in order to avoid her attraction to the man. And defining her relationship to him. He’d held her in his arms so carefully when she’d had her embarrassing meltdown. But…no longer! She was strong and confident that she could get through this. Although, how she was going to get through this, Ilara wasn’t exactly sure. The idea of marriage to Jabril seemed so…extreme! He was a stranger!
Okay, not a complete stranger. An acquaintance perhaps.
And….again with the defining of their relationship! Why couldn’t she just get through this moment by moment?!
Because he is a huge, attractive man with an intriguing scar across his face and beautiful eyelashes. The two sides of his face didn’t match. One made one think of violence and anger. The other indicated a softer, gentler side.
Plus, he was truly concerned for the people of Ditra. He’d traveled all the way to California just to convince her to take her place as leader of her country. Jabril could have simply invaded Ditra and taken the territory by force, damn the consequences.
Something had changed inside of her.
Darn it, she thought and stuffed her legs into the sleeping bag…she didn’t want to be attracted to the man! It made no sense! For most of her life, she’d thought of Jabril al Mustar as her enemy. He was her real life boogey man. The stories she’d heard growing up from her father and, later, from her uncle, had taught her to despise this man. So, why was she rolling away from him? It certainly wasn’t so she could fall asleep! She might be exhausted, but the real reason she’d turned away was so she wouldn’t see him undressing! Not that he was. Undressing, that is. Was he? Why would he?
“There. I’m ready,” he announced softly. A moment later, he laid back down but his shoulders were so broad, she had to edge closer to the tent wall. So close that her nose was almost touching the material. Great! This was going to be a long night!
With a sigh, she tugged the sleeping bag higher.
“This might work better,” he said, breaking the tense silence.
A heavy arm draped across her waist, pulling her back against a firm chest. Something strange was placed right by her stomach…where his hand rested.
“What’s that?” she asked, trying not to focus on the fact that the man was spooning with her. Didn’t men hate spooning? It was too close to snuggling and men hated snuggling. At least, that’s what she’d learned from the brief, frustrating relationships she’d experienced in California.
“That’s my pistol,” he replied easily, as if it was normal to sleep with a gun.
Ilara shivered, not from the cold, but because his lips grazed the shell of her ear.
“Cold?” he asked, pulling her even closer. “I promise it will warm up as our body heat warms up the air inside the tent.”
“I’m fine.” She wasn’t cold. Not at all! In fact, she was almost too warm! She stared at the tent wall, barely able to make out details. Nope, she wasn’t thinking about the seams of the tent or wondering about the heating capacity of her sleeping bag or the technology of the special fabric. She wasn’t even thinking about the horror of a loaded weapon right next to her stomach, although she really should nudge him and ask if the safety was on. Then again, the man was a seasoned military man. The reports of his exploits in various battles were well documented.
But nope. Her mind was completely occupied with the massive arm holding her against the equally impressive chest. Oh, and let’s not forget the strong legs that were pressed against her bottom!
Sighing, she accepted that this was going to be a long night. Ilara realized that she should have asked more questions before starting out on this grand adventure into hell. But she hadn’t believed what Jabril had told her about her uncle’s rule.
But why wouldn’t she? Thinking back to her childhood, were there any indications that her uncle could be this merciless? She remembered laughing with him during family dinners, the dollhouse he’d built and given to her when she’d been about eight years old. She’d played with that dollhouse for hours! And every few weeks, her uncle would either mail or bring her another adorable piece of furniture for the dollhouse. It had become sort of a ritual between them, to decorate it together.
Her father and uncle had been very close growing up. He’d been an almost constant figure in the palace throughout her teenage years. When her father had passed away from cancer, it had been her uncle who had flown to California and held her while she wept. Her uncle was also the man who had taken care of everything, giving up his position in the military so that he could be there for her, with her, holding her hand as the official burial ceremony had been broadcast live throughout the country and reported on throughout the world. Ditra was a small country without a lot of resources that the world might want. There was oil, but nothing along the scale of what countries like Piara could provide as exports. Ditra’s oil exports had subsidized many different government programs, but the citizens hadn’t relied on oil as their source of income. In fact, Ditra was a small, industrialized country that had many…
Or rather used to have many options. She didn’t know any more. How had she been so trusting? But again, why wouldn’t she trust Uncle Kasim? There had been no indications that would have warned her. Which brought her back to the question of reality. Who had done this to her beautiful Ditra? And why? She simply couldn’t believe that it was her uncle. Could he be unaware of what was going on here?
That was possible. Maybe he didn’t know. Perh
aps someone within the government, a military official or one of her generals, had done this. That would make more sense, she thought.
“Stop thinking,” Jabril whispered into her ear.
She shivered when his lips brushed her ear again.
“I’m not,” she lied.
“I can feel your mind working, Ilara,” he teased, his arm tightening around her waist. “If you don’t stop thinking, I’m going to make you stop.”
Ilara had no idea what he meant by that, but, she figured she didn’t want to find out. Sighing, she forced the muscles of her body to relax, trying to blank out the numerous questions swirling through her thoughts. She wouldn’t find the answers tonight, she thought. The next few hours would be better spent sleeping and building up her energy for tomorrow’s journey. But for some reason, her mind simply wouldn’t slow down.
Jabril knew the exact moment Ilara fell asleep. Her body went slack and her soft breathing slowed to a more rhythmic state instead of the frantic levels of moments before.
He told himself that he should do the same, but that order was hard to follow. There might be clothing and two thick layers of sleeping bag in between himself and Ilara’s soft curves, but Jabril swore that he could feel every inch of her. Every time she shifted, his body reacted until he was aching and ready to explode.
Gently, he shifted until he was on his back with her body pressed against his side and her head on his shoulder. Better, he thought. At least his erection wasn’t against her butt. That was progress.
But her soft hair fluttered around his neck and cheek, making him think about burying his nose in her soft tresses. She was shockingly beautiful and stronger than he would have thought. A lesser woman would have complained about the situation. But other than arguing against the problems in Ditra, denying that they were happening, Ilara hadn’t uttered a single complaint. In fact, just the opposite. She constantly uttered words of gratitude towards the men he’d brought along on this…incursion.
Resisting the Sheik's Commands (The Diamond Club Book 1) Page 4