‘My Prince.’ Jahmal’s gaze flicked to Olivia and then away again quickly. ‘Forgive my interruption, but a message has just come through.’
‘A message?’ Zayed tensed, wondering if Hassan had already heard, was already angry. If he broke the betrothal... Except, of course, Zayed had already broken it by marrying another woman.
‘It is Malouf.’
Olivia might not have understood the Arabic, but she clearly understood that name, for she gasped softly.
‘What has he done?’ Zayed demanded.
‘He sent some men to raid a village two hours’ ride from here. There are wounded.’
Zayed swore. Malouf wreaked his bloody war to no purpose and innocents paid the price.
‘Let us depart at once.’ He started to stride from the oasis when Olivia’s voice stopped him.
‘Wait!’ she cried, and Zayed turned around impatiently.
‘What is it?’
She stretched out one slender hand. ‘Take me with you.’
CHAPTER SIX
OLIVIA WATCHED AS Zayed’s eyes flared with both impatience and irritation and knew he would consider no such thing. She was a liability, a burden, in every possible way. He despised her, it seemed, for having given in to him...just as she despised herself.
And yet she didn’t want to be abandoned. Who knew when Zayed would come back? He might leave her here to languish; conveniently forget about her while he pursed his political destiny. And, more importantly, she wanted to do something, to feel useful, rather than sit and wait and worry. If she went with Zayed, she could help.
‘Take me with you,’ she said again, her voice stronger now. ‘I have training in first aid, and I can help if any women or children have been hurt.’ She pulled the towel around her more tightly, conscious of the other man’s carefully averted gaze. ‘I can be of use; I know it.’
Zayed’s lips thinned and his eyes narrowed. ‘But you don’t speak Arabic.’
‘I speak enough.’ Olivia lifted her chin, willing him to agree. She was afraid to be left here, alone with strangers. Zayed might hate her at the moment, but at least he knew her. He knew her all too well.
Zayed glanced at the other man, who was keeping a deliberately neutral expression. Then he gave a terse nod. ‘Very well. Suma will see you have the appropriate clothes. Jahmal will fetch you in five minutes.’
He strode away from the oasis, followed by Jahmal, and Olivia’s breath came out in a whoosh of both relief and trepidation. What had she just got herself into? Yet anything was better than staying here and waiting, wondering. The future seemed like so much fog, impossible to know...and yet terrifying at the same time.
Back at the tent Suma brought her some more clothes—desert boots and a headscarf to keep out the sand. Olivia finished dressing quickly, her fingers shaking as she did up the laces on her boots.
Zayed’s horrid accusation ricocheted through her brain, filling her with both shame and fury. How could he think she’d somehow planned this? But what was he supposed to think, when she’d fallen into bed with him so willingly, so instantly? Olivia didn’t know what was worse—Zayed thinking she was a scheming gold-digger or a wanton woman.
Exactly five minutes later Jahmal entered the tent and Olivia followed him out, her heart thudding in her chest.
Prince Zayed was waiting in front of a desert camouflage Jeep parked outside the camp, looking both fierce and royal in combat boots, loose trousers and a camouflage shirt that clung to the muscles of his chest and arms. His agate gaze swept over her, giving nothing away. With one brief nod he indicated she should get into the back of the Jeep, so Olivia did. Zayed climbed into the driver’s seat and Jahmal slid in next to him.
The sky was a hard, bright blue, the unforgiving sunlight illuminating the barren desert landscape Olivia had been unable to see last night. She’d glimpsed a bit of it on the way to the oasis but now, as the Jeep started away from the camp, she grasped something of the utter isolation of their location.
Undulating sand dunes swept to the horizon, interspersed with large, jagged-looking boulders. She felt as if they were a million miles from anywhere.
The Jeep jostled over the sand and Olivia leaned back, fatigue crashing over her now that the initial adrenalin burst of her confrontation with Zayed had gone.
What was he going to do with her? He’d mentioned sending an envoy to the palace and her writing a letter. But what on earth could she write? Would Sultan Hassan even employ her after hearing that she’d slept with his daughter’s fiancé? The thought of being out of a job, potentially without a reference, filled her with fear.
Even worse was the prospect of being without a home, which filled her with a worse grief. For years she’d called the palace on the outskirts of Abkar’s capital city home. She’d loved Sultan Hassan’s little daughters, had played with them and plaited their hair, taught them English and teased them about their future husbands. She’d felt part of a family for the first time in her life, even if it had been in a small way, as an employee. She would lose it all, she feared, when Hassan heard about what she’d done. Never mind that Zayed had abducted her; Olivia knew how these things played out in this culture. A woman would not be forgiven.
And now, in the hard, bright light of day, she wondered yet again how she had succumbed so easily. He’d been a stranger, a threat, yet when he’d touched her she hadn’t cared. She’d only wanted to feel more, to experience the wonder of desiring and being desired. It was as if her common sense, usually in such abundance, had abandoned her completely. She supposed she wasn’t the first woman to be in such a position, but it still smote her sorely.
Still, Zayed would annul the marriage on some obscure grounds, or else simply divorce her. They wouldn’t stay married and she would hopefully be able to find another position. The thought made her feel mixed up inside, a jumble of emotions she couldn’t let herself untangle quite yet.