Stolen by the Desert King

by Clare Connelly

  And her smile could have set the world on fire. His breath latched in his throat as he saw the way it transformed her face, and transformed a part of him. “Out here it is.”

  Her kiss was gentle and sweet. A kiss akin to a smile. He felt it wrap around him and returned it. A kiss; a smile; a wish.

  “I believe the universe is ordered and sensible. I have always felt that life could be explained with the right equation.”

  He frowned, remembering belatedly that she’d studied mathematics at university. Now that he knew his wife better, it was an odd-seeming degree for her. No, not odd. Just not what he would have picked if given the choice.

  “Perhaps it’s because so much of my life didn’t make sense. Losing my parents… I spent years trying to fathom how the world could be so cruel. Knowing myself to be promised to another man, to another family… you’ve wondered at why I would carry on with that? Why I wouldn’t have run away from the wedding my parents had organized?”

  He was very still. Watchful.

  “I lost my family. I was alone in the world. But I wasn’t. Not really. There were other people out there who wanted me, who were fighting for me, who were giving me everything I could ever want because they needed to know I was happy. I belonged to a family even when I had none of my own.” Her eyes were suspiciously moist but she blinked away the hint of tears. “You hate the Haddads, but for a long time, I’ve loved them. If only because they wanted me when I was alone in the world.”

  Everything about her statement set him ablaze. The betrayal of her parents. The way she was turning the Haddad’s ownership of her life into a positive.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because life is an equation and yet you didn’t have what you needed to make sense of me. I didn’t come here to marry Fayez because I felt obliged or because I’m weak or disempowered. I came because I have been desperate to belong to a family again.”

  He swept his eyes shut and his mind ran over the edges of her confession, moving quickly, decoding her algorithm, as she’d said. And everything about her explanation led him to one answer only.

  “Which perfectly explains why you believe yourself in love with me, azeezi. But it is just as much an illusion as the Haddads love for you. You are so desperate to belong that you are inventing something between us that isn’t there.”

  He could see that she hadn’t expected him to say that. Her face fell, the smile slipping for the tiniest fraction of a second before it was hoisted firmly back in place.

  “You’re wrong.”

  She dipped down and kissed him, and though he kissed her back, his mind was reeling.

  He wasn’t wrong; he never was. His wife, so strong and independent, had never seemed so vulnerable to him.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  HIS TRIP TO THE fourteenth precinct came at a perfect time.

  Though it had been amazing in many ways, like something out of the ancient fables that he’d grown up hearing, their night in the desert had also left him with a knot of uncertainty. He needed to clear his head and put space between himself and his wife – and the business to the south required his urgent attention, so it wasn’t as though he’d fabricated an escape.

  So why had he felt so strange leaving her in the small hours of the morning, three days earlier? He’d watched her sleeping and thought about waking her. About making love to her one last time before he left, as though he could imprint her on himself somehow. If only he loved her often enough, he could carry a small part of her with him.

  Odd thoughts that didn’t fit the truth of what they were, yet having spent four nights alone, his body was aching for her in a way that was making all rational thought impossible.

  “You had me sent for?”

  He blinked, his eyes blinded momentarily by the light that streamed into the parlour. His palace in the South was not large. Not, at least, compared to the principal palace. But it was beautiful and fine and the light fell through the door with a speckled pattern, courtesy of the ancient glass that was set in its frame.

  “Yes. Have a seat.” His eyes narrowed as he watched Selena walk across the room. She looked good. Not just good – well. Healthy. And happy. Her skin glowed and her hair shone. Her eyes too, if such a thing were possible.

  Out of nowhere he saw Kylie’s eyes, green like a cat’s and huge in her small face.

  His gut twisted.

  “Something bothers you,” Selena murmured, ignoring his instruction and crossing to him instead, placing a kiss on his cheek before kneeling at his feet. The greeting was one she didn’t need to observe. It was that of a servant to their master. It bothered him. He reached for her hand and tugged on it, encouraging her to stand.

  She smiled at him, a smile of warmth and friendship, and took the seat beside him. He didn’t immediately release his grasp on her fingers.

  “Yes.”

  She studied him thoughtfully; he felt the heat of her gaze on his profile and it only annoyed him more. He stood jerkily, crossing to the other side of the room and pouring a fragrant iced tea. “For you?”

  She shook her head, worry etched into her features. “Sheikh Sultan, you must tell me…”

  He laughed. “I know you’re cross with me when you use my title.”

  She batted her long, curling lashes and shook her head. “I could never be cross with you.”

  “Don’t be so certain.”

  “What have you done?” She pushed. “Is it the business here? I’ve heard about the gangs…”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I have a plan for that.” He thought of the chief of police he was going to relocate from the eighth precinct, confident that the right team would return civic safety to the streets. “This is a personal matter.”

  “A personal matter?” Selena pulled a face. “A personal matter for you?”

  He expelled a sigh. “It has to do with my … wife.”

  “Ah, yes, your wife. Tell me, Khalifa, how come there have been no receptions welcoming her to Argenon? Is that not the usual procedure?”

  “I’m giving her a chance to settle in,” he said without meeting Selena’s eyes. And then winced. He had ordered Selena to come to him, though it had meant two flights and a long drive. He owed it to her to be truthful. “I’m worried.”

  “What about? She’s your bride. What do you think can happen?”

  He dragged a hand over the back of his neck, easing aching muscles. Muscles that he wished in that moment Kylie was touching.

  He pushed the thought aside.

  “I haven’t told you everything about her.”

  “No, you’ve told me precisely nothing about her,” Selena agreed. “And I, one of your oldest friends.”

  He nodded slowly. “My wife is Australian,” he said jerkily, the words the beginning of a story he thought perhaps he should have spoken earlier. “And she was not intended to be my bride.”

  “But you fell in love?” Selena teased, clasping her hands in front of her neat chest, her eyes sparked by mischief. “And people say you’re not romantic.”

  “We did not fall in love,” he said, ignoring the lie that was implied by the words. After all, Kylie claimed to love him. Guilt whipped across his back. “I stole her.”

  Selena was very still, suddenly, as his words clapped around the room. She was a staunch advocate for women’s rights, for the advancement of women in Argenon society. “You cannot steal a person, Khalifa. Not if they do not wish to be stolen.”

  I wanted so badly to belong; to be a part of a family.

  “She wanted to be married,” he said awkwardly. “And was prepared to marry a man she didn’t know. A man I believe would have hurt her badly.”

  “So you played the white knight and carried her to your bed? What am I missing? You do not need to marry a woman to save her from a disastrous marriage. You are ruler of the country. Your word is law. You could have prevented the marriage with a single act.”

  “Preventing the marriage wasn’t enou
gh.” The words were a low growl. “I found myself wanting to do more. I knew that marrying her would be both an insult and punishment to the man’s pride.”

  “And you wanted to hurt him,” Selena murmured, a frown on her face slipping as realization dawned. “Who is the man?”

  Khalifa held his face expressionless with great effort. “You know.”

  “My God, Khalifa.” She stood uneasily, moving several paces towards the door and back again, her fingers lifting to her lips. “She was the bride intended for Fayez?”

  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 your 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.