Lost to the Desert Warrior

Habibti.

Her stomach flipped. What reason did he have to call her that this morning? Or did he think she still needed the comfort? ‘What about?’

‘I want to make sure you are comfortable about tonight.’

‘The party? What exactly does it involve?’

‘It is a fundraiser for a children’s charity supported by the Sultan of Zubran and his wife, Avery. I think you’ll like her. She used to run a highly successful party planning business and her events are always spectacular. This one promises to be no exception.’

‘A fundraiser?’ Layla felt no excitement. Just pressure. ‘What exactly is my role at an event like that?’

‘Your role is to enjoy yourself. Something I suspect you haven’t done anywhere near enough in your life.’ Droplets of water clung to his powerful shoulders and his hair was still sleek and damp from the shower. ‘Did you never attend formal functions at the Citadel?’

‘Never. My father never raised funds for anyone except himself and neither did Hassan.’ Thinking of Hassan made her feel sick, and this time her concern wasn’t just for herself and her sister. ‘If you appear in public at a high-profile event like this one, won’t you be a target?’

‘The only people who know in advance that we will be there are the Sultan himself and his wife. I would trust them with my life. Have trusted them with my life on more occasions than I care to count. And although I take sensible precautions I don’t live my life in hiding. I am easy enough to find if someone knows where to look.’

As they both knew.

Their eyes met briefly and she felt a new intimacy—and something she hadn’t felt before. A warmth. A new level of understanding.

And something else. A chemistry so intense it thickened the air and created a tension that unsettled her. They were talking about serious issues and yet part of her just wanted to place her hand on the hard swell of his biceps and her lips on the dark haze of hair at the centre of his chest.

‘What about Zahra?’ Somehow she managed to speak. ‘What will she do while we’re at the party.’

‘She will be safe in Zubran. She has been there many times and it is sufficiently familiar that hopefully her night terrors will not return.’ His gaze lingered on her face. ‘Since you started reading to her at night and settling her down there have been no more bad dreams.’

‘I know. And I’m pleased.’

‘I can’t thank you enough.’

‘No thanks are needed.’

‘And now it is your turn,’ he said softly. ‘We need to replace those bad dreams of yours, and those memories, with something much happier. Starting with this party.’

‘But if Hassan guesses where you are going—’

‘I don’t anticipate that Hassan will pay us a visit, but if he does then it will save us the bother of finding him.’ His gaze held hers for a moment. ‘So, how do you feel about the party? I don’t want to overwhelm you, and I know how anxious you are for news of your sister, but I would very much like you to have fun and enjoy yourself.’

Layla couldn’t imagine enjoying herself in the company of a large number of strangers but she didn’t want to say so. ‘I’m already looking forward to it.’

‘I’ve promised to take Zahra riding this morning. Will you join us?’

Was it her imagination or had those dark shadows she saw in his eyes lessened? Was it wishful thinking on her part to think he seemed happier and more relaxed?

‘I think the two of you should ride together.’

‘Join us.’ He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. ‘Abdul will stay with you and we will all ride slowly.’

But of course he didn’t know the meaning of slow, pushing his animal to the limit as he sped into the distance in pursuit of his young daughter, who seemed to embrace their extreme ride with the same enthusiasm as her father. The horse’s tail was lifted high and trailed like a banner in the wind, his curved neck betraying his enviable lineage. Even Layla, whose knowledge of horses came entirely from books, could see the animal was beautiful.

It made her sick with nerves just watching, but she had to admit it was good that Zahra didn’t seem afraid either of horses or the Saluki who ran next to them.

If her childhood had been different would she have been the same?

Would she be the one galloping across the sand and whooping with excitement?

‘You are doing so well, Your Highness.’ It was Abdul, as kind and solicitous as ever as he rode by her side as Raz had instructed.