Captured by the Sheikh

Glancing behind him, Khalil pointed to a towering, needle-like boulder in the distance that Elena knew must be the finish line. She nodded back and crouched low over the horse as the wind whistled past. She was only a length behind him, and in the last dash to the finish line she made up half a length, but Khalil’s horse still crossed a beat before hers.

Laughing, she reined the animal in and patted his sweat-soaked neck. ‘That was close.’

‘Very close,’ Khalil agreed. His teeth gleamed white in his bronzed face. He wore a turban to keep out the sun and sand, and somehow it made him look more masculine. More desirable. ‘Foolish, perhaps, to race,’ he continued. ‘There is a small oasis here. We’ll let the horses drink before we continue.’

‘A small oasis? I’d thought the next one was a day’s ride by camel.’

Khalil just shrugged and Elena let out a huff of indignation. ‘So you lied to me?’

‘I wanted to discourage you from doing something foolish, something that most certainly wouldn’t end well.’

‘I could have escaped now,’ Elena pointed out. ‘I was on a horse, with water and food in my saddlebags.’

Khalil gazed at her evenly. ‘I know. But you didn’t.’

‘No.’ She hadn’t even thought of it, hadn’t been remotely tempted. The knowledge should have shamed her, but instead she felt almost ebullient.

They led the horses to the oasis, and as the animals drank Khalil gazed at the horizon with a frown.

‘What’s wrong?’ Elena asked.

‘It looks like a storm might rise.’

‘A storm?’ She gazed up at the endless blue sky, hard and bright, in incredulity. ‘How on earth can you tell?’

‘Look there.’ Khalil pointed to the horizon and Elena squinted. She could see a faint grey smudge, but that was all. If Khalil hadn’t pointed it out, she wouldn’t have noticed it.

‘Surely that’s far away.’

‘It is now. Storms in the desert can travel all too quickly. We should ride. I want to get to the camp before the storm gets to us. We’ll need to meet up with the guards as well.’

They saddled up once more and headed off at a brisk canter. The sun was hot above, the sand shimmering in the midday heat. Elena kept her gaze on the horizon, noticing with each passing hour that the faint smudge was becoming darker and wider. The stiff breeze she’d felt at camp had turned into a relentless wind.

After several hours of tense riding, Khalil guided them to a grouping of boulders. ‘We will not be able to outride the storm,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to shelter here for the night and try to meet up with my men in the morning.’

Elena slid off her horse, glancing at the forbidding-looking rocks with some apprehension. ‘Where are we, exactly?’

Khalil gave her the glimmer of a smile. ‘In the middle of the desert.’

‘Yes...’ Standing there next to her horse, the desert endless around her, the sky darkening rapidly and the wind kicking up sand, she suddenly felt acutely how strange this all was. How little she knew Khalil, even if her heart protested otherwise.

‘Elena.’ Khalil stood in front of her and she blinked up at him, nearly swaying on her feet. ‘I will keep you safe.’

She believed him, Elena knew. She trusted him, even if it was foolish. When had any other person been concerned for her safety? Paulo had said he had, but he’d been lying. Her father had, but only for the sake of his country, and he’d paid with his life.

Looking up at Khalil, Elena was struck as forcefully as a fist with the knowledge that he would keep her safe because he cared for her as a person, not as a pawn, or even as a queen. Simply because of who she was—and who he was. The knowledge nearly brought tears to her eyes.

‘You look as if you are going to collapse,’ he said gently. ‘Come. I have food and drink.’ He took her by the hand, his warm, callused palm comforting as it closed around her own far smaller one, and led her towards the group of immense black boulders.

He was clearly familiar with the territory, for he led her with confidence through the maze of rocks, coming to a stop in front of a large, flat rock sheltered by a huge boulder above it.

He drew her underneath it and she sat down with her back against the boulder, the overhanging rock providing shelter from the rising wind and swirling sand. He removed his turban so she pulled off her headscarf and ran a hand over her dishevelled hair.

‘Drink,’ he said and handed her a canteen of water.

She unscrewed the top of the canteen and took a much-needed and grateful sip of water.

‘And there’s food,’ Khalil said, handing her a piece of flat bread and some dried meat. She ate both, as did he, both of them silently chewing as the wind picked up and howled around them.

After she’d finished eating Elena drew her knees up to her chest and watched Khalil put the remnants of their meal back in the saddlebags.

He was a beautiful man, she thought, not for the first time; his sculpted mouth and long lashes softened a face of utterly unyielding hardness. As he tidied up she saw several whitened scars on the inside of his wrist and she leaned forward.

‘How did you get those?’

Khalil tensed, his mouth thinning. ‘Rope burns,’ he said shortly, and Elena stared at him in confusion.

‘Rope?’

‘It was a long time ago.’ He turned away, clearly not wanting to say anything further, although Elena wanted to ask. She wanted to know. Rope burns on his wrists... Had he been tied up?

She sat back against the rock and watched as he settled himself opposite her. ‘Now what?’ she asked.

His smile gleamed in the oncoming darkness. ‘Well, I’m afraid I didn’t bring a chessboard.’

She gave a little laugh. ‘Pity. I’m actually quite good at chess.’

‘So am I.’

‘Is that a challenge?’

His gaze flicked over her. ‘Maybe.’

Excitement fizzed through her. Were they actually flirting? About chess? ‘Perhaps we’ll have a match some time,’ she said, and realised belatedly how that made it sound—as if they would have some kind of future beyond her time here. Even though she’d accepted she wouldn’t marry Aziz, it didn’t mean she had any kind of future with Khalil. She’d be deluding herself to think otherwise.

In two days he was going to let her go.

Why did that make her feel so...bereft?

‘What are you thinking about?’ Khalil asked quietly and she turned back to him, wondering if she dared to admit the truth.

‘That in two days I might never see you again.’ She took a breath, held it, and forced herself to continue. ‘I don’t like that thought, Khalil.’

She couldn’t make out his expression in the darkness. ‘Elena,’ he said, and it sounded like a warning.

‘I know this is going to sound ridiculous,’ she continued, needing to be honest now, ‘but you’re the first real friend I’ve ever had.’

She tensed, waiting for incredulity, perhaps his discomfort or even derision. Instead he looked away and said quietly, ‘That’s not ridiculous. In many ways, you’re the first friend I’ve had too.’

Her breath caught in her chest. ‘Really?’

He turned back to her, the glimmer of a smile just visible in the moonlight. ‘Really.’

‘Not even at school? In America?’

She felt him tense but then he shook his head. ‘Not even then. What about you? No school friends?’

‘Not really.’ She hugged her knees to her chest, remembering those lonely years in convent school. ‘I was terribly shy in school, coming to it so late. And, looking back, I think the fact that I was a princess intimidated the other girls, although at the time I was the one who was intimidated. Everyone else made it look so easy. Having friends, having a laugh. I envied them all. I wanted to be like they were, but I didn’t know how. And then later, after school...’ She thought for one blinding moment of Paulo and her throat tightened. ‘Sometimes it just doesn’t seem worth the risk.’

‘The risk?’

She swallowed and met his gaze unflinchingly. It was amazing how easy, how necessary, honesty felt sometimes. ‘Of getting hurt.’

Khalil didn’t speak for a long moment. Okay, so honesty wasn’t so easy, Elena thought as she shifted where she sat. She had no idea what he felt about what she’d said.

‘Have you been hurt, Elena?’ he finally asked, and in the darkness his voice seemed like a separate entity, as soft as velvet, caressing the syllables of her name.

‘Hasn’t everyone, at one time or another?’

‘That’s not really an answer.’

‘Have you been hurt, Khalil?’

‘That’s not an answer either, but yes, I have.’ He spoke evenly, but she still felt the ocean of pain underneath. ‘My father hurt me when he chose to disown and banish me.’

‘Oh, Khalil.’ She bit her lip, remorse rushing through her. ‘I’m sorry. That was a thoughtless question for me to ask.’

‘Not at all. But I want you to answer my question. What were you talking about when you said friendship wasn’t worth the risk?’

‘I had a friend once,’ Elena said slowly. ‘And he let me down rather badly. He—betrayed me.’ She shook her head. ‘That sounds melodramatic, but that’s what happened.’