Dread welled in her. There was only one way this could end.
Strong and powerful as Rafiq was, he’d be no match for a man built like the side of a house. A man, moreover, armed with a wicked blade, when Rafiq had no weapon and no shield.
The seconds ticked by in agonising slowness as the two men faced off. Then, without warning, there was a flurry of movement. They closed together and she saw the blade arc down with deadly intent.
She couldn’t prevent a gasp of sheer horror as she watched the point aim for Rafiq’s heart. But once more he somehow shifted his weight at the right moment, toppling his adversary and falling with him to the floor. For a moment Rafiq was on top, his whole body straining against the power of the man below him. Then, abruptly, their situations were reversed, and it was Selim’s crony using his full weight to subdue Rafiq.
Frantic, Belle swung round, surveying the tent for something she could use as a weapon. But the icebox was too heavy, and she could hardly batter the goon with a cushion.
There was a loud thump, followed by a hiss of indrawn breath, and she spun back to see them tumbling together, rolling across the floor. As they moved she saw, barely visible against the stained glass colors of the carpets, a trail of bright blood.
The two men, locked in a merciless embrace, heaved together near her feet. She heard a dreadful cracking, as if of bone on bone, and remembered, sickeningly, the way this brutal attacker had broken Duncan’s leg. She’d never felt more helpless, more utterly useless than now, as she watched the man she loved battle against unwiNnable odds for his life.
She was trying to anticipate the next move of their writhing bodies, intending to throw herself on Rafiq’s attacker, when she saw the pair of them jerk, heard a low moan, and felt all the blood rush from her head as she knew the worst had happened.
Belle stared at the abruptly still tangle of bodies on the floor, and knew that when they separated everything would change for ever.
She tried to imagine a world without Rafiq filling her life. But her mind rebelled, refusing to accept such an impossible reality.
Numbly she stood, barely aware of the tremors that racked her body, waiting for the inevitable.
Endless seconds passed before there was any sign of life. Aghast, her mouth filled with the metallic taste of despair, she watched as the bodies heaved, limbs scrabbling. She squeezed her eyes shut, postponing the moment she dreaded.
He’s dead, she told herself. But still the words made no sense. Her brain refused to accept it.
She heard Selim burst into rapid speech. But she was so overcome it took her a moment to realize he sounded shocked, not satisfied.
`Belle: It was Rafiq’s soft whisper that snapped her eyes open.
He was on his knees, blood streaming from a wound at his side, his throat reddened with the imprint of large, encircling fingers. He swayed unsteadily as he staggered to his feet.
And on the floor beside him lay his attacker, sprawled on his stomach. A telltale pool of blood spread out from beneath him across the fine silk carpets.
`Rafiq!’ It was a strangled sob, her voice choked by the raw emotions that constricted her throat. She took a step towards him, her arms outstretched. And out of the corner of her eye she saw movement. It was Selim’s other henchman, raising his gun slowly, deliberately, to aim at Rafiq.
`No!’ Belle flung herself forward, knocking Rafiq off balance.
There was an explosion of deafening sound, and the world spun away into searing blackness.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Wearily Belle surveyed the familiar hospital room. What a coincidence that they’d put her in the same room. Déjà-vu. Only this time she wasn’t nearly so eager to leave.
Last time she’d wanted to escape the fussy hospital routine and get on with her life, eager to put the trauma of abduction behind her.
She’d been sure that immersing herself in work would be the perfect antidote to the stress she’d been through.
Her lips twisted in a sad smile. How differently things had worked out. Now she’d be leaving the quiet safety of her hospital bed not as a nine day wonder, a foreign marine archaeologist who’d been held to ransom, but as the wife of Sheikh Rafiq Kamil Ibn Makram al Akhtar, Sovereign Prince of Q’aroum.
Her destiny wasn’t her own any more. It was inextricably bound to Rafiq and to his country.
Somewhere deep inside her rose a tiny bubble of emotion. So deep she couldn’t identify it. She wondered if she should feel excited or pleased maybe even nervous about what the future held. But she felt nothing. Or almost nothing. It was as if she’d been sealed into a cocoon, separated from everyone else by an invisible barrier. One that somehow obliterated the stronger emotions that she knew she should be experiencing.