Breaking the Sheikh's Rules

She sat tensely in the plush confines of Nadim’s Jeep, with his big body far too close for comfort, and blurted out, ‘Why are you bringing me with you?’

He turned his head to look at her, and the breath shrivelled up in her throat. In his turban and traditional robes he looked so…exotic and other-worldly.

He quirked a small mocking smile. ‘I’m bringing you along because I value your opinion, of

course.’

Iseult all but snorted inelegantly, and partly to escape his dark penetrating gaze said, ‘I doubt that. You probably just don’t trust that I can be left to my own devices for a weekend.’

‘You’re right about that.’

Iseult turned to look at him again, full of chagrin and fire, but before she could speak he was saying, ‘But I also do happen to wonder what you’ll make of the horses we’ll see here. Most are not worth bothering about, but sometimes there are some fine pure-blood Arabians.’

Slightly mollified, but still feeling very confused and out of her comfort zone, Iseult nevertheless felt a spark of interest pique her. She asked him about the Arabian horses, and before she knew it she had twisted fully in the seat to face him. They were talking so intensely that she didn’t even notice when they’d come to a halt.

The driver opened Iseult’s door, and she got out to see the most magical sight laid out before her. They were high in the mountains in an ancient-looking village—a cluster of buildings nestled around them. They all seemed to be made out of hard-packed red clay. Men, women and children had come to a standstill to see the Sheikh—their Sheikh—arrive.

One of the men, with a white skullcap on his head, darted forward to greet Nadim, who had come around to Iseult’s side of the Jeep. Nadim gestured autocratically for Iseult to follow him, and with the bodyguards crowding around her and Nadim she had no choice.

With wide eyes she took in the scene: tall palm trees swayed in the light breeze, and beyond the village she could see that there was a flat lush greenness all around them, surrounded by craggy mountains. In the distance she could see a large area which had huge crowds milling around and tents erected.

Iseult caught up with Nadim. ‘What is this place? Where are we?’

He cast her a quick glance. ‘This is al Sahar, the tribal home of my ancestors. These are my people…literally. The al Saqrs are descended from the Bedouin warrior people who roamed this land for hundreds of years. It’s a mountain oasis, fed from the springs that are abundant after the monsoons.’

Iseult could see that they were approaching some lavish-looking tents, and saw too that Lina was entering a small tent with Iseult’s things. Nadim stopped and Iseult nearly ran into his back. She stepped back hurriedly, her face flushing.

He gestured to the small tent Lina had just disappeared into. ‘That is your lodgings. I have business to discuss with village leaders and Bedouin visitors. Someone will bring you to the horse enclosure where the sales and races are going on. I’ll meet you there later.’

And with that, and a flick of his robes, he was gone, taking his whole retinue with him, leaving Iseult standing there stupidly.

Lina popped her head out of the heavily draped velvet curtains. ‘Miss Iseult…’

Iseult went in, and her eyes had to adjust to the dim light after the bright sunlight. And then her eyes widened. She’d walked into a scene straight out of One Thousand and One Nights. Richly embroidered carpets littered the floor in a haphazard clash of luxurious colour, and dominating the small space was a bed which seemed to be made entirely out of sumptuous velvet and silk cushions. Beautifully intricate chairs and a table were in another corner, and Lina was showing her where a softly draped curtain hid a changing and washing area.

Once again she felt like asking if they were in the right place, but Lina was already busy unpacking Iseult’s things. Iseult couldn’t have felt more out of place in her dusty jeans, T-shirt and scuffed riding boots.

Lina hurried to the opening of the tent and said to Iseult, ‘Jamal is here now. He will take you to the horses…’

Almost glad to get away from the slightly oppressive feeling of being hemmed in by such opulence, Iseult hurried out to where a shy young man waited. He led her towards where the crowds were milling. She could see that it was mainly men, and they turned to look at her curiously as she came through. Many more tents had been erected nearby, although none as lavish as hers and what she assumed to be Nadim’s. In clusters around the tents she saw women, busy preparing food and washing.

There were many enclosures. Some with horses, some with camels. In the distance she could see that a camel race was taking place. Jamal, her guide, seemed to be happy for her to wander around, so she did so for a couple of hours. Interspersed with the horses and camels were some women selling colourful pottery and jewellery. Iseult smiled apologetically, because she had no money, and vowed to come back and buy some things later or the following day.

Moving away, she came to a few enclosures that held just one or two horses with serious-looking men discussing them. She could see instantly that these were a superior breed to the other horses and her heart quickened. All the modern thoroughbred horses around the world were supposedly descended from three Arabian stallions, and looking at these particular horses now Iseult could see why.

There was one in particular which caught her eye, on its own. She could sense that it was a little wild. She’d seen some of the men trot horses bareback around the enclosures, so Iseult didn’t think much before she was about to climb over the fence and have a closer look at this stallion.

Just as she was about to lift her leg over she felt herself being pulled back. Knowing it couldn’t be the shy Jamal, and knowing full well who it was just by the way his touch seemed to sear right through her, she swung back down to see Nadim glaring down at her.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

Iseult squared up to him. ‘I was just going to take a closer look at a horse—that’s why you brought me here, isn’t it?’

He seemed to look at her for a long time, and then a muscle twitched in his jaw. ‘He’s not saddled.’

‘I was riding horses bareback before I learnt how to ride in a saddle.’

Another long moment passed, and then he said, ‘Very well. But you don’t go in there without a hat.’