Stolen by the Sheikh

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Stolen by the Sheikh Page 9

by Trish Morey


  ‘Our nanny used to take us all to one of the beaches every year for an outing and we’d have a ride together. Opal, our older sister, loved the ponies the best. But with Ruby, my twin sister, and me, it was always the camels.’

  ‘I’m impressed,’ he said, a note of approval creeping into his voice. ‘You’re quite a multi-talented woman.’

  She pressed her lips together and shook her head. ‘Okay, you can laugh. But it was fun anyway.’

  ‘Who said I’m laughing?’ he said with all seriousness. ‘You just never know when a skill like camel riding will come in handy.’

  Behind her sunglasses she rolled her eyes, before turning them back to the endless dunes. ‘Sure,’ she said, dismissing him yet secretly pleased that in just one small way she’d managed to surprise him. He seemed a different person when they could touch on neutral topics, when whatever grievances he brought to their other dealings could be put aside.

  It was at least twenty minutes before either of them spoke again. The road had all but disappeared under the drifting sands and her seat was getting less comfortable, the bumps were getting more pronounced and she was generally sick of the vehicle’s grinding progress through the dunes.

  She reached for her bottle of water and took a swig. ‘How far now?’

  ‘We’ll be stopping soon.’

  ‘We’re nearly there?’

  ‘Wait,’ he said, the unexpected smile on his face warming her. ‘I think you’re going to like this.’

  It wasn’t long before she found out what he meant. They pulled into a relatively flat area, really no more than a space between dunes and dominated by an ancient and squat mud-brick building. It was the end of the road, literally, and what there was to like about it was anyone’s guess.

  The vehicles parked side by side under a lean-to and men started unloading the supplies.

  ‘You might want to take this opportunity to freshen up,’ Khaled suggested. He reached behind the front seat. ‘And here, you might want to put this on. It will protect you from the sun and the sand.’

  She took the bundle he held up to her. ‘Why should I need this now?’ she asked.

  ‘Our journey is not quite over,’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He focused on something behind her. ‘See for yourself,’ he said.

  A protesting bawl told her what she’d see before she turned.

  ‘Camels!’ she cried.

  The man leading the first camels, his coiled-turban-framed face all leathery wrinkles from years of exposure to the desert sun, broke into a wide grin at her delight, revealing just three remaining teeth.

  She reached up and stroked the nose of the first camel. It looked down at her, its thickly lashed, doe-like eyes considering her briefly, before lifting its head and letting out another loud bawl.

  ‘You weren’t kidding,’ Khaled said, suddenly appearing at her side, his hand low on her back, the other stroking the neck of the camel. ‘You really don’t mind camels. Many people are not so keen, even afraid.’

  ‘Camels get bad press,’ she said, trying to ignore the pressure of his hand. He was barely touching her yet all her senses seemed to focus on that one point of contact, the warmth that built deep inside, pooling into longing. It was a struggle to pull herself back to the topic.

  ‘But I’ve learned,’ she continued, licking lips already losing moisture to the arid conditions, yet more so, as if edged with the heat emanating from him, the heat flowing from his gentle touch, ‘that once you get to know them a little, it’s clear their reputation has been unfairly earned.’

  ‘Indeed? And do you think that observation might have its parallel with the human species? Do you similarly find that there are those people whose reputation has been unfairly attributed?’

  He had to be kidding. She paused momentarily, considering him carefully and wondering if he was ever going to remove his hand. ‘Your actions to date go far beyond mere reputation, Sheikh Khaled.’

  ‘And does that then render me beyond redemption in your estimation?’

  ‘When compared to camels, you mean?’ She allowed herself a smile at his arrogance and shifted sideways out of his reach. ‘Let’s just say you’re starting off from a much lower base.’

  He threw his head back and laughed, the sound rich and mellow. She liked the sound of it when he laughed; she liked the effect it had on his features and the warmth it stirred inside her. Something let go in the muscles of his face and the harshness softened, the angles smoothed. She liked him like this, when he seemed less autocratic, more human.

  A feeling akin to regret spiked her consciousness. If only things were different…

  The camel bawled into her ear, spiking her out of her thoughts. What the hell was she thinking? Things weren’t different. This guy had all but dragged her off to his desert kingdom with the intention of making her his wife. She was glad things weren’t different. Now there was no way she could possibly like him.

  So what that she’d had to accompany him out here? After tomorrow it wouldn’t bean issue. She’d be gone. Long gone. He wouldn’t see her for sand.

  She felt his gaze settle upon her, hot and expectant, and she deliberately avoided it, focusing instead on the camels. She needed a distraction. She needed to think about something safe. Camels were just the ticket.

  They were dromedaries, or one-humped, the same kind she was used to riding with her sisters on their childhood jaunts to the beach, but these wore different saddles. Instead of the double seat she remembered sharing with her sisters, this saddle was arranged over the hump, higher off the ground and more daunting. Not that she was about to admit that to Khaled.

  ‘Which one is mine?’ she asked, looking forward to the separation their mounts would bring. She could do with some distance from Khaled right now.

  ‘This camel seems to like you. I think we will take this one.’

  Wewill take this one? Impossible. That was so obviously a saddle built for one. If she had to share it with him, she’d be sitting literally in his lap, brushing against him, feeling his body rock against hers every step of the way. She swallowed.

  ‘You mean, this one is for me.’

  His lips curved in to agrin. ‘We’re one camel short. You’ll have to share with me.’

  ‘Can’t you get another one?’

  He looked up at the sky. ‘Too late. The track is steep. We must leave now if we are to make the meeting place by nightfall.’

  ‘But we won’t both fit. There’s nowhere for me to sit. It’s not fair to the camel.’

  ‘The camel can handle the slight addition of your weight. As to the rest, let me take care of that.’

  Suddenly she wished she’d stayed back at the palace. Even the sullen moods of Saleem were less threatening than the prospect of spending time within Khaled’s grasp.

  ‘Can’t I stay here? Wait for you to get back?’

  ‘And miss the experience of a lifetime? A meeting with one of the few remaining Bedouin tribes—you would never forgive yourself for that, surely.’

  Was he being obtuse or was he just teasing her? It wasn’t missing the experience she was worried about. Couldn’t he see that? Or did he see it too well?

  She sucked in a breath, firing up her resolve. He hadn’t got the better of her yet and she wasn’t about to let him now. It would take more than a simple camel ride to make her change her view of Sheikh Khaled.

  ‘Okay,’ she said with a sense of bravado that surprised even herself. ‘Let’s do it.’

  As it turned out, a few minutes later when they were ready to disembark, there was nothing simple about it. From the moment she’d been hauled into Khaled’s arms she knew she was in for a rocky ride.

  ‘Hold tight,’ he warned her as the handler urged the camel upright, back legs first, threatening to plunge her forward into the sands if not for the steel-like bands of Khaled’s arms surrounding her. Then the process was reversed as the camel raised itself on its front legs, forcing her bo
dily against him.

  Then the five camels set off, with Khaled in the lead, padding their way over the soft desert sands. The side-by-side motion of the camel was familiar. The feel of his body so close to hers was not. She was nestled into the space between his thighs, pressed close to the wall of his chest, her head perilously close to his shoulder, feeling the friction between them increase with every step. His scent, woody and masculine, surrounded her, spiking subtly with the motion, adding to the cocktail of sensory impressions.

  And there was no way she could hold herself aloof. There was no way she could keep her distance. If she wanted to stay on she had to cling to him, and cling tight.

  Not that she was likely to fall off, not with the band of his arm circling her waist. Every breath she took, every rise of her chest brought his arm closer, tighter. But she dared not squirm. Already heat gathered low inside her, alluring, seductive. To wriggle in the cradle of his thighs would be to invite disaster.

  ‘Are you not comfortable?’ he asked, bending his head low to her ear. ‘Maybe you should try to relax.’

  Relax?Like that was on the cards. ‘Why couldn’t we take the cars? I would have thought that with four-wheel drives and helicopters, camels would have been a thing of the past.’

  ‘Out here they still have some uses. There’s an escarpment coming up. We could drive around but the camels will take the most direct route and save us hours of travel.’

  ‘And helicopters?’

  ‘Not half as much fun, wouldn’t you agree?’

  Her dark silence seemed to amuse him and his chuckle welled up, rippling through his chest. ‘Besides, have you forgotten? The airport is closed. Such a shame.’

  She gritted her teeth. ‘A damn shame,’ she muttered.

  The ground became rockier. Pebbles took the place of sand and she became aware they were climbing, gradually at first, until they reached the escarpment and began the steep climb up the ancient track. Now she could see why they couldn’t bring the cars. The narrow path was barely wide enough for a man, let alone a camel. A vehicle had no hope.

  Below them the desert sands were spread out like a golden blanket, rippled and shadowed, warm and seductive in the fading light. It was beautiful and already she felt her life enriched, more textured by the experience.

  The camel’s movements became less rhythmic, more unpredictable as it ascended. Somewhere near the top of the escarpment, one plate-sized foot slid sideways on loose gravel and the camel lurched, jarring her out of Khaled’s lap and threatening to launch her over the side, but his strong arms only tightened around her, reeling her back in close to him again.

  She huddled close to his chest, waiting for her breathing to calm, her heart still racing from her narrow escape, but it was another rhythm that caught her attention. Outwardly he was so composed, so in charge. Yet inside she could feel his heart thumping wildly.

  Had he been taken by surprise as well?

  ‘Do not be afraid,’ he whispered as she clung on to his arm. ‘I would never let you fall. I would never let you get hurt.’

  Tremors shook her body, though whether from relief or the impact of his words she couldn’t be sure. For somehow she knew what he said was true.

  ‘I’m okay,’ she replied, thinking he might release his tight grip a fraction once he knew she was all right. But his arms stayed vice-like around her, even after they’d reached the summit and were finally nearing the collection of tents that made up the encampment. She couldn’t wait to get down. The dust of a day’s travel had worn into her skin and she was sure the smell of the camel had done likewise. But now she wouldn’t have long to wait.

  Small dark-haired children ran towards them, smiling and laughing, their long robes flapping around their bare shins and feet. A herd of goats looked up momentarily, checking out the latest distraction before losing interest.

  A taller youth met the camels, his eyes alert and intelligent, his smile genuine. Excitement fired his features as he pulled on the nose ring of the lead camel and urged him to sit. Sapphy felt herself rocked forward as the camel dropped to its knees but Khaled’s grip never let her fall. Then the camel was down. He released his hold enough for her to slip out of his grasp and onto the earth before he, too, dismounted.

  ‘Majeed,’ Khaled said, embracing the boy.

  ‘Good day, Sheikh Khaled,’ he replied formally, obviously working hard at his English. ‘You have brought my new teacher?’

  ‘Of course, Majeed. Didn’t I promise?’

  Moments later she noticed the youth leading away one of their fellow travellers. She wanted to ask Khaled about the exchange—she’d assumed their several accompanying riders were all guards—but she was surrounded by the young children, hanging on to her hands and chattering non-stop.

  ‘You might want to clean up now,’ he suggested to her, ruffling the children’s hair as he steered her through the throng and towards the camp. ‘Your bag will have been delivered already. I will show you to your tent.’

  He turned back to the children and rattled off something fast in his language. They all scattered immediately, heading for the tents like shot from a gun.

  ‘What did you say to them?’

  ‘I told them to tell their mothers the doctor will be ready to see them shortly.’

  ‘A doctor came with us? I thought those men were guards.’

  ‘We had one guard with us, it’s true. But guards won’t do my people much good. They need practical help if they want to keep this way of life for as long as they can. They need medical help and immunisation clinics. It is much too far for them to travel into the cities for such luxuries.’

  ‘Is that why you brought the teacher?’

  He nodded. ‘Exactly. The boy, Majeed, is very bright. He has already surpassed his previous teacher’s level. He needs new challenges and to learn new skills.’

  ‘Couldn’t he go to school in Hebra? Don’t they have boarding-schools in Jebbai?’

  ‘Of course. But then how could he help his family? He will go to university, when it is time and when his brothers are older. But his father needs him now and this way he can both study and help with his family.’

  ‘I see,’ she said, even though she didn’t. Oh, it made sense all right. But this was a completely different side of Khaled. She was used to the ruthless, authoritarian side of him, the Khaled who acted out of anger, with no thought to the feelings of those he trampled with his unreasonable demands.

  This was a different man. A real leader of his people, who ensured their ongoing existence in the style of life they had been accustomed to since ancient times. He could have forced them to abandon their way of life and move to the cities in the name of progress, simply by not supplying them with modern medicine and education. Yet he was ensuring the continued existence and preservation of their separate and special way of life. And from his reception here he was clearly well loved and respected as their leader.

  How could someone who was so considerate and generous towards his people act so unreasonably towards her? It made no sense. No sense at all.

  In the gathering dusk she noticed the women emerging from tents, their long robes flapping in the light breeze, babies in slings on their backs, many with young toddlers following in their wake.

  They converged on a small tent set to one side, where one of the men who had travelled with them—the doctor, it was now clear—was setting up his equipment. It couldn’t be an easy life for these people, always wandering and rarely settled, but they looked happy and healthy as they collected outside the tent, waiting for the doctor to attend to them.

  ‘After you,’ Khaled said and she realised he was holding open the tent for her. She stepped inside. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the lantern-lit interior and then her first reaction was to gasp.

  The tent’s interior bore no relation to its plain exterior. The floor was lined with carpets, woven and richly coloured. Curtains lined the walls, silks and gauzes softly draped in vivid jewel sh
ades, and cushions lay scattered around, inviting and sumptuous. Perfumed candles scented the air, sweet and fragrant. Beyond an open silken partition she could just make out a large bed, presumably her bed, given what looked like her bag placed on top.

  It was every little girl’s fantasy. And despite all the dreams she’d had from way back to be a fashion designer, she could even believe it was hers. She’d grown up surrounded by luxury, been raised in the most exclusive boutique hotel in Australia, but this somehow went beyond mere fantasy. This was pure magic.

  ‘Will you be comfortable here?’

 

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