How To Seduce A Sheikh

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Colette bit her lip, reminding herself of the many tales she had heard, of the fact that this man, no matter how civilised he may appear, was a desert sheikh who had bought her. Had she misjudged him? ‘You must understand, my experience of your countrymen has not exactly been pleasant,’ she said warily.

‘The men who captured you were Turks.’

Another faux pas, obviously. ‘I would find it easier to trust you if you would tell me what you intend to do with me.’

‘That very much depends on whether you trust me or not.’

‘My papa would call that a non sequitur. It means—’

‘I know perfectly well what it means.’

‘I beg your pardon. Your command of my native language is most impressive.’

‘For a barbarian, you mean.’

‘For anyone, I mean!’ Colette snapped. ‘You are determined to put the worst interpretation on everything I say.’

‘And you are determined to put the worst interpretation on everything I do,’ Prince Zafar snapped back.

‘It is surely understandable, given the circumstances.’

‘You think so, Madame Beaumarchais? Have you actually considered the circumstances? We make camp in an hour. I would advise you to spend the time contemplating your situation most carefully.’

* * *

The night sky was inky blue, littered with stars which seemed to hang much lower than they did at home. There was a vastness about the desert sky that made Colette feel insignificant and utterly alone. Roused from a light doze as the camel came to a halt, she looked around her in astonishment. Enormous sand dunes spread out into the distance in soft folds and sharp ridges. A half-full moon cast its eerie light over the oasis, where the caravan had drawn to a halt. A cluster of goatskin tents stood on one side of the glittering water, while a much larger tent was pitched under the shelter of a group of palms.