How long would it take to get his ransom demand to her father? And how long after that for the money to reach here?
Khalil’s arm brushed lightly, impersonally, across her breast as he urged the horse on.
Not too long, she thought. Please, let it not take too long.
It couldn’t possibly.
Her father would want her back, and quickly, no matter how outrageous the Prince’s demands.
* * *
She had assumed the torchlight greeting had been ceremonial. It had been handsome, she’d thought grudgingly, even impressive, but a man who owned a private plane would not also be a man who travelled his country on the back of a horse.
But an hour or more of riding had changed Joanna’s mind. There was nothing ceremonial about riding a horse in terrain such as this, she thought, wincing a little as she shifted her bottom and tried to find a spot that hadn’t already become sensitised to the jouncing and bouncing of the saddle. The plane had landed on a plateau, but from what she’d seen so far that had probably been the only flat space in a hundred miles.
Ever since, they’d been climbing into the mountains, although calling these massive, rocky outcroppings ‘mountains’ was like calling the horse beneath her a pony. The resemblance was purely accidental. The moon had risen, casting a pale ivory light over the landscape, tipping the tall pines that clung to the steep slopes with silver.
How far up would they ride? It was probable that a bandit would want to have a hidden stronghold, but this was ridiculous! Only a mountain goat could possibly clamber up this high.
Suppose her father and the Sultan mounted a rescue mission? Could they make it? No. It was best not to think that way. She had to think positively, had to concentrate on how easily they’d find her. And they would. Of course they would. Khalil wasn’t invincible and his hideout, no matter how it resembled the eyrie of a hawk, would not be impregnable.
Her father would come for her. He would find her. He would take her back to civilisation, and all this would just be a dream.
A dream. Joanna yawned. She was tired. Exhausted, really, and the slow, steady gait of the horse, the creak of leather, the jingle of the tiny bells that adorned the bridle, were all having a hypnotic effect. She yawned again, then blinked hard, trying to keep her eyes open. It would be so nice to rest for a few minutes.
Her head fell back, her cheek brushed lightly against a hard, warm surface. Quickly, she jerked upright.
‘Joanna?’
‘Yes?’
‘Are you tired?’
‘No. I’m not.’
‘You must be.’ Khalil lifted his hand to her cheek. ‘Put your head against my shoulder, and sleep for a while.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous! I’d sooner—’
‘Sleep with a camel. Yes, I know.’ He laughed. ‘Just pretend that’s what I am, then, and put your head back and close your eyes.’
‘Please,’ she said coldly, ‘spare me this attempt at solicitude. It doesn’t become you.’
Khalil sighed. ‘As you wish, Joanna.’
The horse plodded on, its movements slow and steady. Up, down, up, down…
Concentrate. Concentrate. Listen to the sounds, to the clatter of the horse’s hooves, to the sigh of the wind through the trees.
Stay awake! Take deep breaths. Smell the fragrance of pine carried on the night wind, the scent of leather and horse…
‘Dammit, woman, you’re as stubborn as the wild horses of Chamoulya! Stop being such a little fool and get some rest.’
‘I don’t need rest. I don’t need anything. And I especially don’t need your help.’
‘Fine. I’ll remember that.’ He jerked her head back against his shoulder. ‘Now, shut up and stop fidgeting. You’re making Najib nervous, and—’
‘Najib?’
‘My horse. And the last thing I want is for Najib to be nervous on the climb ahead.’
Najib, she thought giddily. She was making Najib nervous. By heaven, this man was crazy! He had kidnapped her, carried her off to God only knew where without so much as giving a damn if she turned to stone with fright, but he was worried that she was making his horse nervous.
Joanna’s eyes flickered shut. Still, he was right. It would be stupid to upset the animal on a narrow mountain path. Closing her eyes didn’t mean she’d sleep. She’d let her other senses take over. Yes. That was what she’d do, she’d—she’d think about the coolness of the night air—and the contrasting warmth of Khalil’s arms, think about the softness of his robe on her skin and the contrasting hardness of his thighs, cradling her hips.
That was the word that best described him. He was hard. Powerful. That was how he felt, holding her—and yet she knew his hands were holding the reins lightly. Still, the black stallion responded readily to his slightest touch, to the press of his heel.
A woman would respond to him that way, too, Joanna thought drowsily; she would move eagerly to obey him, to pleasure him and to let him pleasure her…
A heat so intense it was frightening spread through her body. Her eyes flew open and she jerked upright in the saddle, steadying herself by clasping the pommel. Najib snorted and tossed his head, and Khalil caught her and pulled her back against him.
‘Dammit!’ he said tightly. ‘What did I tell you about making the horse nervous?’
‘I know what you said,’ Joanna snapped, ‘and frankly, I don’t much care if I make your horse nervous or…’
A whimper slipped from her throat as she looked down. They were on a ledge that looked only slightly wider than a man’s hand. Below, th
e earth dropped away, spinning into darkness.
‘Exactly,’ Khalil said gruffly.
Joanna didn’t have to ask him what he meant. She turned her face away from the precipice.
‘The stallion is sure-footed, Joanna. But I would prefer he have no distractions.’
She laughed uneasily. ‘That’s—that’s fine with me. Tell him—tell him to pay no attention to me, please. No attention at all.’
Khalil laughed softly. ‘I’ll tell him. Now, why don’t you shut your eyes again and sleep?’
‘I wasn’t sleeping,’ she said. ‘How could anyone sleep, on the back of this—this creature?’
‘I’m sure it’s a sacrifice when you’re accustomed to riding in the back of a chauffeured limousine.’
She smiled smugly. ‘No greater than the sacrifice one makes giving up the comfort of a private plane for the back of a horse.’
‘The plane is necessary,’ he said, so quickly that she knew she’d stung him. ‘My responsibilities take me in many different directions.’
‘Oh, I’m sure they do.’ Her voice was like honey. ‘They take you up mountains and down mountains—clearly, one needs a plane for that!’
He said nothing, but she had the satisfaction of seeing his jaw tighten. They rode on in silence while the moon dropped lower in the sky, and then, finally, Khalil lifted his hand and pointed into the distance.
‘There it is,’ he said quietly. ‘Bab al Sama—Gate to the Sky. My home.’
Joanna sat up straighter and stared into the darkness. There were smudges against the horizon. What were they?
‘Tents,’ Khalil said, as if she’d asked the question aloud. ‘Some of my people still cling to the old ways.’
Tents. Of course. His people lived outside the law. They’d want to be able to strike camp quickly.
But the tents were larger than she’d expected. They were, in fact, enormous. And what was that beyond them? Joanna caught her breath. It was a walled city, ancient and serene in the moonlight. A gateway loomed ahead and the horsemen filed through it, then stopped inside the courtyard of a stone building. The cluster of men dismounted, as did Khalil, and then he looked up at Joanna and lifted his arms to her.