The Sheikh's Reluctant American (The Adjalane Sheikhs 3)

“Relax,” he said, and his breath brushed her cheek. “I’ll keep you safe.” He tapped the camel again with the long stick that seemed made for this purpose. It rose—front first then the hind end coming up. Nigella clung to the wood in front of her. Her heart was pounding now, and she swallowed hard. She did not want to look weak, but right now that helicopter was sounding pretty good.

Malid took up the reins in one hand and wrapped his other arm around her waist. “Hold on.” Suddenly, everything was shifting, and the camel was moving, and Nigella wondered if she could possibly turn and simply bury her face in Malid’s broad chest. Instead she closed her eyes and the camel lurched forward into a bouncing trot.

***

Malid could feel the tension in Nigella’s slim shoulders. Gradually, it eased. The Bedouin encampment became a dot on the horizon and the desert began to work its magic. The sounds of the city had long ago vanished. The distant cry of a hawk hunting a meal carried to them. A light breeze brought the dry smells of the desert plants—faint aromas that promised an oasis ahead. The mountains—purple and jagged—rose before them, still distant but in the desert one could see for miles. The ground shifted from rocky to sandy, but Malid knew this track well, even though it was poorly marked.

This was his homeland, and it was as beautiful as it was dangerous, which was probably why it appealed so much to him. The rocking gait of the camel meant Nigella had to lean against him—he liked the motion, and the feel of her body against his. In general, he did not care to mix business with complications—however, Nigella seemed to him an exception to any rule. The truth was he wanted her—and he saw no reason they could not make the next few days a pleasure. And she might also then be more willing to make a deal that pleased him fully.

Leaning forward, he asked Nigella. “Well, what do you think?”

Nigella turned her head slightly and met his eyes. “This is all…just—”

“New? Exciting? Exhilarating?” Malid gave her a grin. “You smell as sweet as an oasis, you know.” He used the arm around her waist to pull her closer to himself. “Look to your left.”

A plateau rose up from the small rolling hills around them. “There are many parts of the desert that are nothing but dunes, but in this part of Al-Sarid, the land varies.”

“How do you navigate all this?” She waved a hand at the open space around them—at the rocks and sands and distant hills.

“You should learn land marks—that plateau, the sun’s position, where the moon rises. The day’s heat is fading and the stars will help as well.”

“Just where are we headed? I mean, we’re not going to spend the night under the stars, are we?” Nigella asked.

He heard the slight quiver in her voice and frowned. “What—you would miss having a bed and a four-star hotel?”

“It’s just…well, okay, I have to admit I ended up getting lost in Jamaica for a couple of days.”

He gave a laugh. “That doesn’t sound a hardship.”

She stiffened and slanted a glare at him. “It is if it’s jungle, wet, horribly humid with very large bugs. I’m still sure some kind of big cat was looking to make a meal of m

e.”

“And where was your father?” Malid asked. “Hunting for you and worried?”

Nigella let out a breath that was more of sigh. “In negotiations. He was trying to mix a vacation for me with work, and my nanny at the time quit without notice. I got bored and started chasing butterflies and succeeded in getting utterly lost.”

“Ah, then you should like the desert. The sky is always visible and can always guide you safely. But since you have told me your dark secret, I will tell you mine—my father intentionally took me into the desert when I was eight to teach me the old ways, and on the fourth morning I woke to find myself alone with a tent, two skins of water and a knife.”

Nigella turned halfway around to face him. “Oh, my god—how long were you out there?”

“Three of the longest days of my life. But I never forgot the lessons I learned during those three days—never to trust my father again and that I could handle whatever was thrown at me. The desert became my sanctuary.”

She shifted in the saddle, her hips rubbing against him in a distracting way. He glanced at her, but she was staring out at the horizon now, where the sun was starting to dip behind the mountains. “Myself, I was left with a profound desire to stay far from any jungle. That’s a huge advantage you have here. And is that…okay, is that a real oasis or a desert mirage.”

He leaned closer. “That, Nigella, is one of the many blessings of Al-Sarid. We have springs across much of the land—including several that would be near where your pipeline would be built. These are what make travel in Al-Sarid possible.”

The camel seemed to know they were nearing water, for it quickened its speed. Malid let the camel—and the second one whose reins were tied to back of the saddle—pick up speed. As per his orders, tents had been made ready for their arrival. An older man in traditional garb, but in loose white robes—met them, taking charge of the camels and unloading their supplies.

Malid offered up greetings, and he could smell a meal cooking. Malid turned to escort Nigella to their tent, only to find that she had wandered off. She was ambling around the spring that watered the date palms here and the grasses.

He followed her, watching as she gently touched a flower petal, and bent to smell their fragrance.

She must have heard his boots on the sand, for she turned and smiled. “This place is like paradise. Why would you ever leave here to live in a city?”

Malid shook his head. “You are seeing it at the perfect time of day—with the cool of evening and a full moon. But in sandstorm season, it is not so pleasant.” He took her hand. “Now, do you want to stay to admire the night or would you prefer to dine?”

Chapter 6