Captured by the Sheikh

‘Is it very private? I’d love to have a swim some time, if I could.’

The woman smiled. ‘If Sheikh Khalil approves, then I’m sure you could. It is lovely for swimming.’

‘Thank you.’ Elena didn’t know if the oasis might provide her with an opportunity either to escape or attempt some kind of distraction to alert anyone who might be looking for her, but at least it was an option, a chance. Now she just had to get Khalil to agree to let her have a swim.

‘When you are ready, you may break your fast outside,’ the woman said. ‘Sheikh Khalil is waiting.’

That was the second time the woman had called Khalil ‘sheikh’. Was he a sheikh in his own right, Elena wondered, or did she already consider him as having the throne of Kadar? She wanted to ask Khalil just what made him feel so sure of his position, but she knew she wouldn’t. She didn’t want to know more about this man or, heaven forbid, find some sympathy for him. Her physical awareness of him was alarming enough.

A few minutes later, dressed in a pair of khakis and a plain button-down shirt that had been provided for her, her hair neatly plaited, Elena stepped out of her tent.

The brilliance of the desert sun, the hard, bright blue of the sky and the perfect clarity of the air left her breathless for a moment. She was dazzled by the austere beauty of the desert, even though she didn’t want to be. She didn’t want to feel anything for any of it.

Khalil was eating by himself under an awning that had been set up above a raised wooden platform. He rose as she approached.

‘Please. Sit.’

‘Thank you.’ She perched on the edge of a chair and Khalil arched an amused eyebrow.

‘Courteous today, are we?’

Elena shrugged. ‘I choose my battles.’

‘I look forward to the next one.’ He poured her coffee from an ornate brass pot; it looked thick and dark and smelled of cardamom. ‘This is Kadaran coffee,’ he told her. ‘Have you ever tried it?’

She shook her head and took a tentative sip; the taste was strong but not unpleasant. Khalil nodded his approval. ‘Would you have taken on Kadaran ways, if you’d become Aziz’s bride?’

Elena stiffened. ‘I could still become his bride, you know. He might find me.’

The look Khalil gave her was arrogant and utterly assured. ‘I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Your Highness.’

‘Yours certainly seem high enough.’

He shrugged, one powerful shoulder lifting slightly, muscles rippling underneath the linen thobe he wore. ‘As I told you before, the people of Kadar do not support Aziz.’

Surely he was exaggerating? Elena thought. Aziz had mentioned some instability, but not that he was an unpopular ruler. ‘Outside of Siyad, you said,’ she recalled. ‘And why wouldn’t they support him? He’s the Sheikh’s only son, and the succession has always been dynastic.’

Khalil’s mouth tightened, his tawny eyes flashing fire before he shrugged again. ‘Maybe you should take my advice and brush up on your Kadaran history.’

‘And is there a book you suggest I read?’ She raised her eyebrows, tried to moderate her tone. She was not doing herself any favours, arguing with him. ‘Perhaps one I can take out of the library?’ she added, in a poor attempt at levity.

Khalil’s mouth twitched in a smile of what Elena suspected was genuine amusement. It lightened and softened him somehow, made him even more attractive than when he was cold and forbidding. ‘I have a small library of books with me. I’ll be happy to lend you one, although you won’t find the answers you’re looking for in a book.’

‘Where will I find them, then?’

He hesitated and for a moment Elena thought he was going to say something else, something important. Then he shook his head. ‘I don’t think any answers would satisfy you, Your Highness, not right now. But when you’re ready to listen, and consider there might be more to this story than what you’ve been told by Aziz, perhaps I’ll enlighten you.’

‘I should be so lucky,’ she retorted, but for the first time since meeting Khalil she felt a flicker of real uncertainty. He was so sure. What if his claim had some legitimacy?

But, no, he was an insurgent. An impostor. He had to be. Anything else was unthinkable.

To her surprise Khalil leaned forward, placed his hand over hers. Elena stiffened under that small touch and it seemed as if the solid warmth of his hand spread throughout her whole body. ‘You don’t want to be curious,’ he murmured. ‘But you are.’

‘Why should I be curious about a criminal?’ she snapped, and he just smiled and removed his hand.

‘Remember what I said. There is another side to the story.’ He turned to go and Elena stared at him in frustration; she’d completely missed her opportunity to ask him about the oasis.

‘And what am I meant to do for four days?’ she called. ‘Are you going to keep me imprisoned in my tent?’

‘Only if you are foolish enough to attempt to escape.’ Khalil turned to face her, his voice and face both hard once more.

‘And if I did?’

‘I would find you, hopefully before you were dead.’

‘Charming.’

‘The desert is a dangerous place. Regardless of the scorpions and snakes, a storm can arise in a matter of minutes and bury a tent, never mind a man, in seconds.’

‘I know that.’ She pressed her lips together and stared down at her plate; Khalil had served her some fresh fruit, dates, figs and succulent slices of melon. She picked up a fork and toyed with a bit of papaya.

‘So I may trust you won’t attempt an escape?’ Khalil asked.

‘Do you want me to promise?’

‘No,’ he answered after a moment. ‘I don’t trust promises. I just don’t want your death on my conscience.’

‘How thoughtful of you,’ Elena answered sardonically. ‘I’m touched.’

To her surprise he smiled again, revealing a surprising dimple in one cheek. ‘I thought you would be.’

‘So, if I’m not stupid enough to try and escape, may I go outside?’ she asked. ‘The woman who brought me water said there was an oasis here.’ She held her breath, tried to keep her face bland.

‘You mean Leila, Assad’s wife. And, yes, you may go to the oasis if you like. Watch out for snakes.’

She nodded, her heart thumping with both victory and relief. She had a plan. She could finally do something.

‘Are you going somewhere?’ she asked, her gaze sliding to the horses that were being saddled nearby. If Khalil was gone, all the better.

‘Yes.’

‘Where?’

‘To meet with some of the Bedouin tribes in this area of the desert.’

‘Rallying support?’ she queried, an edge to her voice, and he lifted his eyebrows.

‘Remember what I said about arguing?’