скачать книгу бесплатно
He knew Abdul-Hafiz was dead, and the people of his mother’s tribe now supported him as the rightful ruler of Kadar. Yet though they’d even named him as Sheikh of their tribe, he hadn’t been back yet to receive the honour. He couldn’t face returning to that barren bit of ground where he’d suffered for three long years.
His stomach still clenched when he looked at that corner of the map, and in his mind’s eye he pictured Abdul-Hafiz’s cruel face, his thin lips twisted into a mocking sneer as he raised the whip above Khalil’s cringing form.
‘The woman is asking for you.’
Khalil turned away from the map to see Assad standing in the doorway of his tent, the flaps drawn closed behind him.
‘Queen Elena? Why?’
‘She claims she has information.’
‘What kind of information?’
Assad shrugged. ‘Who knows? She is desperate, and most likely lying.’
Khalil drummed his fingers against the table. Elena was indeed desperate, and that made her reckless. Defiant. No doubt her bid to speak to him was some kind of ploy; perhaps she thought she could argue her way to freedom. It would be better, he knew, to ignore her request. Spend as little time as possible with the woman who was already proving to be an unwanted temptation.
‘It is worth investigating,’ he said after a moment. ‘I’ll see her.’
‘Shall I summon her?’
‘No, don’t bother. I’ll go to her tent.’ Khalil rose from his chair, ignoring the anticipation that uncurled low in his belly at the thought of seeing Queen Elena again.
The wind whipped against him, stinging his face with grains of sand as he walked across the campsite to Elena’s tent. Around him men hunkered down by fires or tended to their weapons or animals. At the sight of all this industry, all this loyalty, something both swelled and ached inside Khalil.
This was, he knew, the closest thing he’d had to family in twenty-nine years.
Dimah was family, of course, and he was incredibly thankful for what she’d done for him. She had, quite literally, saved him: provided for him, supported him, believed in him.
Yes, he owed Dimah a great deal. But she’d never understood what drove him, how much he needed to reclaim his inheritance, his very self. These men did.
Shaking off such thoughts, he strode towards Elena’s tent, waving the guards aside as he drew back the flaps, only to come up short.
Elena was in the bath.
The intimacy of the moment struck him like a fist to the heart: the endless darkness outside, the candlelight flickering over the golden skin of her back, the only sound the slosh of the water against the sides of the deep copper tub as Elena washed herself—and then the hiss of his sudden, indrawn breath as a wave of lust crashed over him with the force of a tsunami.
She stiffened, the sponge dropping from her hand, and turned her head so their gazes met. Clashed. She didn’t speak, didn’t even move, and neither did Khalil. The moment spun out between them, a moment taut with expectation and yet beautiful in its simplicity.
She was beautiful, the elegant shape of her back reminding him of the sinuous curves of a cello. A single tendril of dark hair lay against the nape of her neck; the rest was piled on top of her head.
As if from a great distance Khalil registered her shuddering breath and knew she was frightened. Shame scorched him and he spun on his heel.
‘I beg your pardon. I did not realise you were bathing. I’ll wait outside.’ He pushed outside the tent, the guards coming quickly to flank him, but he just shook his head and brushed them off. Lust still pulsed insistently inside him, an ache in his groin. He folded his arms across his chest and willed his body’s traitorous reaction to recede. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he could not banish the image of Elena’s golden perfection from his mind.
After a few endless minutes he heard a rustling behind him and Elena appeared, dressed in a white towelling robe that thankfully covered her from neck to toe.
‘You may come in.’ Her voice was husky, her cheeks flushed—although whether from the heat of the bath or their unexpected encounter he didn’t know.
Khalil stepped inside the tent. Elena had already retreated to the far side, the copper tub between them like a barrier, her slight body swallowed up by the robe.
‘I’m sorry,’ Khalil said. ‘I didn’t know you were in the bath.’
‘So you said.’
‘You don’t believe me?’
‘Why should I believe anything you say?’ she retorted. ‘You haven’t exactly been acting in an honourable fashion.’
Khalil drew himself up, any traces of desire evaporating in the face of her obvious scorn. ‘And it would be honourable to allow my country to be ruled by a pretender?’
‘A pretender?’ She shook her head in derisive disbelief, causing a few more tendrils of hair to fall against her cheek. Khalil’s hand twitched with the sudden, absurd urge to touch her, to brush those strands away from her face. He clenched his hand into a fist instead.
‘Aziz is not the rightful heir to the throne.’
‘I don’t care!’ she cried, her voice ringing out harsh and desperate. Khalil felt any soft longings in him harden, crystallise into determination. Of course she didn’t care.
‘I realise that, Your Highness,’ he answered shortly. ‘Although why you wish to marry Aziz is not clear to me. Power, perhaps.’ He let her hear the contempt in his voice but she didn’t respond to it, except to give one weary laugh.
‘Power? I suppose you could say that.’ She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them he was surprised to see so much bleak despair reflected in their grey-gold depths. ‘All I meant was, none of it really matters to me, being here. I understand this—this conflict is very important to you. But keeping me here won’t accomplish your goal.’
‘You don’t think so?’
‘No.’ Her mouth twisted in something like a smile. ‘Aziz will just marry someone else. He still has four days.’
‘I’m aware of the time that is left.’ He regarded her thoughtfully, the bleakness still apparent in her eyes, the set of her shoulders and mouth both determined and courageous. He felt another flicker of admiration as well as a surge of curiosity. Why had she agreed to marry Aziz? What could such a marriage possibly give her?
‘So why keep me here?’ she pressed. ‘If he can fulfil the terms of his father’s will with another woman?’
‘Because he won’t.’
‘But he will. We barely know each other. We’ve only met once before.’
‘I know.’
‘Then why do you think he would be loyal to me?’ she asked and he felt a sudden flash of compassion as well as understanding, because he’d asked that question so many times himself. Why would anyone be loyal to him? Why should he trust anyone?
The person he’d loved most in the world had betrayed and rejected him utterly.
‘To be frank,’ he told her, ‘I don’t think loyalty is the issue. Politics are.’
‘Exactly. So he’ll just marry someone else.’
‘And alienate his people even more? They love the idea of this wedding. They love it more than they do Aziz. And if he were to discard one woman for another...’ As our father did. No, he had no wish to divulge that information to Elena just yet. He took a quick breath. ‘It would not be popular. It would destabilise his rule even more.’
‘But if he’s going to lose his crown anyway...’
‘But he won’t, not necessarily. Did he not tell you?’ Uncertainty flashed across her features and Khalil curved his mouth in a grim smile. ‘The will states that, if Aziz does not marry within six weeks, he must call a national referendum. The people will then choose the new sheikh.’
She stared at him, her eyes widening. ‘And you think that will be you?’
He let out a hard laugh. ‘Don’t sound so sceptical.’
‘Who are you?’
‘I told you, the next ruler of Kadar.’ Her gaze moved over his face searchingly, and he saw despair creep back into her eyes.
‘But Aziz could still go ahead and marry someone else while I’m stuck here in the desert. What happens then?’
‘If he does that, it might lead to a civil war. I don’t think he wishes for that to happen. Admittedly, Your Highness, I am taking a risk. You are right in saying that Aziz could marry someone else. But I don’t think he will.’
‘Why not just meet him and ask him to call the referendum?’
He shook his head. ‘Because he knows he won’t win it.’
‘And if it comes to war? Are you prepared?’
‘I will do what I must to secure my country’s rule. Make no mistake about that, Queen Elena.’ She flinched slightly at his implacable tone and something in Khalil softened just a little. None of this was Elena’s fault. She was a casualty of a conflict that didn’t involve her. In any other circumstance, he would have applauded her courage and determination.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said after a pause. ‘I realise your plans to marry Aziz have been upset. But, considering how they were made so recently, I’m sure you’ll recover.’ He didn’t mean to sound quite so cutting, but he knew he did, and he saw her flinch again.
She looked away, her gaze turning distant. ‘You think so?’ she said, not really a question, and again he heard the bleak despair and wondered at its source.
‘I know so, Your Highness. I don’t know why you decided to marry Aziz, but since it wasn’t for love your heart is hardly broken.’
‘And you know about broken hearts?’ she answered with another weary laugh. ‘You don’t even seem to have one.’
‘Perhaps I don’t. But you didn’t love him?’ That was a question, of a sort. He was curious, even if he didn’t want to be. He didn’t want to know more about Elena, to wonder about her motives or her heart.
And yet still he asked.
‘No,’ she said after a moment. ‘Of course I didn’t—don’t—love him. I barely know him. We met twice, for a couple of hours.’ She shook her head, let out a long, defeated sigh, and then seemed to come to herself, straightening again, her eyes flashing once more. ‘But I have your word you will release me after four days?’
‘Yes. You have my word.’ She relaxed slightly then, even as he stiffened. ‘You don’t think I’d hurt you?’
‘Why shouldn’t I? Kidnappers are usually capable of other crimes.’
‘As I explained, this was a necessary evil, Your Highness, nothing more.’
‘And what else will be a necessary evil, Khalil?’ she answered back. He didn’t like the hopelessness he saw in her eyes; it was as if the spark that had lit her from within had died out. He missed it. ‘When you justify one thing, it becomes all too easy to justify another.’
‘You sound as if you speak from experience.’
‘I do.’
‘Your own.’
A pause and her mouth firmed and tightened. ‘Of sorts.’
He opened his mouth to ask another question, but then closed it abruptly. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t need to understand this woman; he simply needed her to stay put for a handful of days. He was sorry, more or less, for her disappointment. But that was all it was, a disappointment. An inconvenience, really. Her future, her very life, was not riding on a marriage to a stranger.
Not like his was.
‘I promise I will not hurt you. And in four days you will be free.’ She simply stared at him and, with one terse nod, he dismissed her, leaving the tent without another word.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_ba31610b-cae7-52f9-b92a-f818d0415ad6)
ELENA WOKE SLOWLY, blinking in the bright sunlight that filtered through the small gap in the tent’s flaps. Her body ached with tiredness; her mind had spun and seethed all night and she hadn’t fallen asleep until some time near dawn.
Now she stretched and stared up at the rippling canvas of the tent, wondering what this day would bring.
She’d spent hours last night considering her options. She’d wondered if she could steal someone’s mobile phone, make contact. Yet who would she call—the operator, to connect her to the Kadaran palace? Her Head of Council, who would probably be delighted by the news of her capture? In any case, she most likely couldn’t get a signal out here.
Then she’d wondered if she could make a friend of one of the guards, get him to help her. That seemed even less likely; both of the guards she’d met had appeared utterly unmoved by her predicament.
Could she cause a fire, so its smoke might be caught by a satellite, a passing helicopter or plane?
Each possibility seemed more ludicrous than the last, and yet she refused to admit defeat. Giving in would mean losing her crown.
But the longer she stayed here, the more likely it was Aziz would marry someone else, no matter what Khalil said or thought. Or, even if he didn’t, he wouldn’t marry her. Maybe he would call this referendum and win the vote. He wouldn’t need her at all.
But she still needed him, needed someone to marry her in the next month as she’d promised her Council, someone she was willing to marry, to father her children...
The thought caused her stomach to churn and her heart to sink. Her plan to marry Aziz had been desperate; finding another groom was outlandish. What was she going to do?
Sighing, she rose from the bed. A female voice sounded outside her tent, and a second later a woman entered, smiling and bearing a pitcher of fresh water.
‘Good morning, Your Highness,’ she said, ducking a quick curtsey, and Elena murmured back her own greeting, wondering if this woman might be the ally she was looking for.
The sight of the water in the woman’s hands reminded her of her bath last night—and Khalil seeing her in it. Even now she felt her insides clench with a nameless emotion at the memory of his arrested look. The heat in his eyes had burned her with both pleasure and pain. To be desired, it was a fearsome thing—exciting, yes, but terrifying too, especially from a man like Khalil.
It had been foolish, she supposed, to take a bath, but when the two surly, silent guards had brought in the huge copper tub and filled it with steaming water, Elena had been unable to resist.
She’d been tired and sandy, every muscle aching with physical as well as emotional fatigue, and the thought of slipping into the rose-scented water, petals floating on top, had been incredibly appealing. A good wash would clear her head as well as clean her body and Khalil, she’d assumed, would not see her again that night.
And yet he’d seen her... Oh, how he’d seen her. She blushed to remember it, even though logically she knew he couldn’t have seen much. The high sides of the tub would have kept her body from his sight, and in any case her back had been to him.
Even so she remembered the feel of his stilled gaze on her, the heat and intensity of it and, more alarmingly, her own answering response, everything inside her tightening and tautening, waiting...
‘Is there anything else you need, Your Highness?’ the woman asked, her voice pleasantly accented.
Yes, Elena thought, my freedom. She forced a smile. She needed this woman to be her friend. ‘This is lovely, thank you. Were you the one who arranged the bath last night?’
The woman ducked her head. ‘Yes, I thought you would like a wash.’
‘It was wonderful, thank you.’ Elena’s mind raced. ‘Where do you get the water? Is there an oasis here?’
‘Yes, just beyond the rocks.’
