Lost to the Desert Warrior Page 2

  ‘The only option available.’ Raz cut him off, hearing the hardness in his own tone. It was the same hardness that ran right through him. Once, he’d been capable of warmth, but that part of him had died along with the woman he’d loved. ‘We have considered every other option, and—’ He broke off as he heard a commotion in the darkness and then lifted a hand as his bodyguards emerged silently to flank him.

  They were men who had followed him for fifteen years, since the brutal slaying of his father. Men who would die for him.

  Abdul thrust himself in front of Raz and that gesture touched him more than any other, because his trusted advisor was neither physically fit nor skilled with weapons.

  Gently, but firmly, he moved him to one side, but Abdul protested.

  ‘Go. Go! It could be the attempt on your life we have been expecting.’

  Aware that Salem had his hand on his weapon, Raz fixed his gaze on the slim figure of a boy whose arms were gripped by two of his men. ‘If my death were the objective then surely they would give the responsibility to someone I could not so easily crush.’

  ‘We found him wandering in the desert along the border with Zubran. He appears to be alone. He says he has a message for Raz Al Zahki.’

  Knowing that his men were protecting his identity, Raz signalled for them to bring their captive forward.

  His hands were tied and as they released him the boy stumbled and fell to his knees. Raz stared down at him, noticing absently that his robes swamped his thin body.

  It was Salem who spoke. Salem, his brother, who rarely left his side. ‘What message do you have for Raz Al Zahki, boy?’

  ‘I have to speak to him in person.’ The words were mumbled and barely audible. ‘And I have to be alone when I do it. What I have to say is just for him and no other.’

  The guard closest to him gave a grunt of disgust. ‘Someone like you wouldn’t get close enough to Raz Al Zahki to wave from a distance, let alone be alone with him, and you should be grateful for that. He’d eat you alive.’

  ‘I don’t care what he does to me as long as he hears what I have to say. Take me to him. Please.’

  The boy kept his head bowed and something in the set of those narrow shoulders drew Raz’s attention.

  Ignoring Salem’s attempts to hold him back, he stepped forward. ‘So you’re not afraid?’

  There was a brief pause. The wind blew across the desert, whipping up sand and catching the edges of the boy’s robe. He clutched it desperately.

  ‘Yes, I am afraid. But not of Raz Al Zahki.’

  ‘Then you need to be educated.’ The guard dragged his captive to his feet and the boy gasped in pain. ‘We’ll keep him here tonight and question him again in the morning.’

  ‘No!’ The boy struggled frantically in the man’s grip. ‘By morning it will be too late. I have to speak to him now. Please. The future of Tazkhan depends on it.’

  Raz stared at the boy, half shrouded by robes that were too big for him. ‘Take him to my tent.’

  Salem, Abdul and the guards looked at him in disbelief.

  ‘Do it,’ Raz said softly, but still the guards hesitated.

  ‘We’ll strip-search him first—’

  ‘Take him to my tent and then leave us.’

  Abdul touched his arm, his voice low. ‘I have never before questioned your decisions, Your Highness, but this time I beg you, at least keep the guards with you.’

  ‘You think I can’t defend myself from someone half my height and weight?’

  ‘I think Hassan will try anything at this late stage in the game. He is frightened and desperate and a desperate man should never be underestimated. I think it could be a trap.’

  ‘I agree.’ Salem’s voice was hard. ‘I’ll come with you.’

  Raz put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. ‘Your love and loyalty means more to me than you can possibly know, but you must trust me.’

  ‘If anything happened to you—’

  Raz felt the weight of it settle onto his shoulders. He, better than anyone, knew that there were some promises that shouldn’t be made. ‘Make sure I’m not disturbed.’ He dismissed his bodyguards with a single movement of his hand and strode into his tent.

  He closed the flap, muffling the sound of the wind and protecting them from prying eyes.

  The boy was on his knees in the furthest corner of the tent, his hands still tied.

  Raz studied him for a moment and then strolled over to him and cut the rope with a swift movement of his knife. ‘Stand up.’

  The boy hesitated and then stood in a graceful movement, only to fall again a moment later.

  ‘I don’t think I can stand—’ The words were uttered through clenched teeth. ‘My legs are stiff from riding and I injured my ankle when I fell.’

  Raz looked down at the slender body bowed at his feet. ‘Tell me why you’re here.’

  ‘I’ll talk to Raz Al Zahki himself, and no one else.’

  ‘Then speak,’ Raz commanded softly, and the boy lifted his head in shock.

  Under the concealing robes, dark eyes widened. ‘You’re him?’

  ‘I’m the one asking the questions.’ Raz sheathed his knife. ‘And the first thing I want to know is what a woman is doing creeping around my camp in the middle of the night. What are you doing walking into the lion’s den unprotected, Princess?’

  * * *

  Layla was in agony. Physical agony from her fall from the horse, and emotional agony from the knowledge that her sister was missing and alone in the vast emptiness of the baking desert and it was all her fault.

  She was the one who had suggested this stupid, crazy plan. She, who never did anything stupid or crazy. She, who studied all available evidence before she made a decision, had acted on impulse. Which just proved that a cautious nature wasn’t to be mocked.

  It would have been better had Hassan sent Yasmin to America. At least then Layla would have known she was alive.

  As it was, Yasmin was lost, and she was now a captive in the desert camp of Raz Al Zahki, a man who had more reason to hate her than any other.

  A man who knew who she was.

  Staring into those cold black eyes, she suddenly knew the meaning of the phrase ‘between a rock and a hard place.’ If her cousin was the hard place then this man was the rock. He stood legs spread, handsome face unsmiling as he stared at her. His body had the muscular structure of a warrior’s, his shoulders broad and hard. She knew he had suffered terribly and yet there was no sign of suffering in face. This man wasn’t broken, he was whole and strong—at least on the outside. There was nothing soft about him. Nothing vulnerable. Even before he’d revealed his identity she’d sensed his place at the head of the pack. He had the confidence and authority of a man born to lead others, and even though Layla had expected nothing less still he intimidated her.

  ‘You knew who I was the whole time?’

  ‘Within five seconds. You have a memorable face, Princess. And very distinctive eyes.’

  It was the first personal comment anyone had ever made to her and it took her by surprise.

  She’d studied him on paper and committed all the facts to memory, from his year and place of birth to his impressive military career and his degree in engineering. She knew he was a skilled rider and an authority on the Arabian horse. She knew all that, but was only just realising that facts could only tell you so much about a man.

  They couldn’t tell you that his eyes were darker than the desert at night or that the power he commanded on paper was surpassed a thousand times by the power he commanded in person. They couldn’t tell you that those eyes were capable of seeing right through a person to the very centre of their being. They couldn’t tell you that meeting those eyes would make your heart thunder like the hooves of a hundred wild horses pounding across th
e desert plain.

  She was fast realising that a list of dates and qualifications didn’t convey strength or charisma.

  Unsettled that the facts had given her such an incomplete picture, Layla remembered what her sister had said about the rumours. That Raz Al Zahki was a man who knew women. Before he’d fallen in love he’d been wild, and afterwards he’d locked it all away. Every emotion. Every feeling.

  ‘How do you know me?’

  ‘I make a point of knowing my enemy.’

  ‘I am not your enemy.’ And yet she could hardly blame him for thinking that, could she? His family had suffered terribly at the hands of hers. They stood on opposite sides of an enormous rift that had divided their families for generations.

  ‘Which brings me to my second question—where is Hassan? Or is he so lacking in courage he sends a woman with his messages?’

  Layla shivered, but whether it was his tone or his words that affected her she didn’t know.

  ‘I’m not here because of Hassan. I was with my sister, Yasmin, but I fell from the horse.’ She saw his beautiful mouth tighten. ‘I’m sorry—I—you have to help me find her. Please. She’s alone in the desert and she won’t have a clue how to survive.’ The thought filled her with despair but still he showed no emotion. No sympathy. Nothing.

  ‘So where is Hassan?’

  ‘He could be back at the palace, or he could be out there looking for us. I don’t know.’

  ‘You don’t know? And yet this is the man you’re supposed to be marrying in a matter of hours.’

  And if Hassan found Yasmin first—

  His words slowly seeped into her numb brain. ‘You know about the wedding?’

  ‘I know everything.’

  ‘If you think I want to marry Hassan then clearly you don’t know everything.’ The tent was dimly lit, but there was enough light for her to see the flash of surprise in his eyes.

  ‘How did you leave, if not with his consent?’

  ‘We escaped. My sister loves horses. She took the fastest horse in the stables. Unfortunately she omitted to tell me she couldn’t control him.’ Layla rubbed her palm across her bruised back. ‘He proved too much for both of us.’

  ‘Both of you?’ A dark eyebrow lifted. ‘You rode one horse?’

  ‘Yes. We’re not that heavy and we didn’t want to be separated.’ Layla didn’t tell him that she’d never ridden before. This man was renowned for his horsemanship. She had a feeling he wouldn’t be impressed by the fact she knew everything about the breeding history of the Arabian horse, but nothing about the reality of riding one. ‘Something scared him and he reared up. I fell and he bolted with Yasmin on his back. She won’t be strong enough to stop him. She’s probably fallen, too.’ Panicking, she tried to stand up again, but her body protested so violently she sank back onto her knees just as two large dogs bounded into the tent.

  Terror sucked the strength from her limbs. She was at eye level with the two beasts as they came to a standstill, teeth bared.

  Raz said something to them and they whimpered and sank down to their bellies, huge eyes fixed on him in adoration.

  ‘Saluki?’ The fear was so sharp Layla could hardly breathe. ‘You own Saluki?’

  ‘You recognise the breed?’

  ‘Of course.’ Her mouth felt as if she’d swallowed all the sand in the desert. If dogs could smell fear, she was doomed. ‘The Saluki is one of the oldest breeds in existence. They have been found in the Pyramids of Egypt, mummified alongside the bodies of pharaohs.’ She didn’t reveal that her familiarity with the breed came from a darker, more personal experience. An experience she’d tried to block from her mind.

  ‘You said you were escaping. What was your destination?’

  ‘You. You were my destination.’ Reminding herself that the dogs were unlikely to attack without provocation or command, Layla kept utterly still, watching the animals. ‘We were trying to find you.’

  ‘On the night your father died? From the lack of tears it would seem you have inherited his lack of sentimentality.’

  Was that what he thought?

  Shocked, Layla almost corrected him, but she knew this wasn’t the right time. Misunderstandings could be corrected later. Or maybe they didn’t even matter. ‘It was my father’s dying wish that I marry Hassan.’

  The darkening of his eyes was barely perceptible. ‘So why come looking for me?’

  She’d practised a hundred alternative ways to say what she wanted to say but every word vanished under that icy scrutiny. ‘You are the rightful ruler, but if he marries me that weakens your claim and strengthens his.’

  There was a sudden stillness about him that suggested she had his full attention. ‘That still doesn’t tell me why you’re here.’

  Only now did Layla realise just how much she’d been hoping he’d be the one to say it. He was praised for his intelligence, wasn’t he? Couldn’t he see for himself why she was here? Couldn’t he see the one solution that would solve this once and for all?

  But perhaps he could see and chose not to look.

  ‘I don’t blame you for hating us.’ The words tumbling out of her mouth weren’t the ones she’d rehearsed but when she looked at him all she could think of was the loss he’d suffered. ‘If I could change who I am then I would, but I’m asking you to put that aside and do what needs to be done.’

  ‘And what,’ he prompted softly, ‘do you believe needs to be done, Princess?’

  No man had ever asked her opinion. Not once since the day she took her first step to the day she and her sister had slid out of the window of their father’s bedroom. Not once had anyone treated her as anything but a weapon in the considerable armory of the house of Al Habib.

  But this man had asked her.

  This man was listening to her.

  He was regal, she thought, proud and sure of himself. In that moment she caught a glimpse of why so many trusted him and protected him. He was as different from Hassan as the ocean from the desert.

  ‘You know what needs to be done. You have to take your rightful place. You have to end this before Hassan finishes what my father started. Before he ruins our country in the selfish pursuit of power...’ She paused, wondering whether to mention Yasmin again but deciding this man would be motivated more by his duty to his people than sympathy for her sister. ‘And to do that you have to marry me. Now. Quickly. Before Hassan finds me and takes me back.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  HE’D BEEN PLANNING to do whatever was necessary to prevent her wedding to Hassan taking place. Yet he had not considered the option of marrying her himself, nor had any of those surrounding him dared to suggest it despite the fact it was the obvious solution.

  The tactician in him could see the benefit. The man in him recoiled.

  He’d thought there was no price he wouldn’t pay to fulfil his duty.

  He’d been wrong.

  Tension rippled down his spine. He felt as if he were being strangled.

  ‘No.’ He’d trained himself to shut down emotion but that skill suddenly failed him and his refusal came from somewhere deep inside him. Some dark part of himself he no longer accessed. ‘I had a wife. I don’t need or want another.’ His voice sounded strange. Thickened by a hundred layers of personal agony. One of the dogs growled, a threatening sound that came from low in the animal’s throat. He saw her gaze flicker to the dog and sensed her fear although he didn’t understand it.

  ‘I know about your wife.’ Her brief hesitation suggested she was about to say something else on that topic, but then she gave a little shake of her head. ‘Obviously I’m not suggesting myself as a replacement. This would be purely a political arrangement, advantageous to both sides.’

  Raz tried to detach his mind from the pain he carried around inside himself. ‘Political?’

&n
bsp; ‘Hassan’s position is precarious. Marriage to me is his way of securing his place as my father’s successor. He has no support in Tazkhan and has never taken the trouble to earn it. For him, ruling is about what he can gain rather than what he can give and that approach makes him neither popular nor secure.’

  Raz hid his surprise. He’d listened to men talk for hours on the problems facing Tazkhan and yet this girl had summarised the situation in four blunt sentences, devoid of emotion, exaggeration or drama.

  ‘Perhaps he didn’t expect your father to die so soon.’

  Again there was hesitation, and it was obvious she was being selective about what she told him. ‘Hassan knows that the only way he will be accepted is to marry me, and he is willing to do anything to make that happen. Do not underestimate him.’

  Her words were like the scrape of a knife over an open wound because he’d done exactly that. In his righteous arrogance he’d thought himself untouchable and as a result he’d lost someone he’d loved deeply.

  ‘You seem very familiar with the workings of his mind.’

  ‘I’ve studied him. I think there is a strong chance he is clinically disturbed. He demonstrates some of the elements of a sociopath, shows no remorse or guilt for any of his actions.’

  Her words were serious, those beautiful, almond-shaped eyes steady on his.

  ‘He has no care for the feelings or opinions of others and an overinflated idea of his own importance. He is a dangerous man. But you already know that.’

  ‘Yes.’ He did know. What surprised him was that she knew.

  Raz realised he’d made assumptions about her based purely on her bloodline. He also knew she was right that the marriage had to be prevented. He didn’t reveal that he’d had his own plans for making sure it didn’t happen.

  There was no doubt her plan was better. Permanent.

  And safer for all concerned.

  Except for him.

  For him, it meant breaking a vow.

  His tension levels soaring into the stratosphere, Raz paced the length of the tent.