Читать книгу Undercover Sheik - Dana Marton - Страница 10

“It’s amazing,” she shouted over the pounding of hooves.

He had thought she would be scared once they got up to full speed, but she seemed thrilled. By the ride, or simply happy to be alive. He had never ridden with a woman before and with a man only when he was a child. Camel saddles didn’t accommodate two people well. She was practically sitting on his lap. Nasir kept his eyes on the horizon.

“Do you ride horses?” she shouted back the question.

“Sometimes.”

His tribe bred some of the finest horses in the country. But there was a thrill in a good old-fashioned camel race that those who participated in found addictive.

The animals could take on long-distance races that lasted several days across the desert, arid terrains no horse could have handled. Not every contestant made it to the finish line, nor every animal. These races tried a man. There was something primal, uncivilized about them, and often made him imagine his grandfather racing madly on a raid.

And that image brought to mind the bandit camp and Umman, even though they were a far cry from the honest raiders of the past.

“Your people did not pay your ransom,” he said. “Why?”

“Policy. If one kidnapper got money, everybody would start hunting for Americans.”

He could see the truth in that. If someone close to him got kidnapped he wouldn’t pay, either. He would hunt down the kidnappers and kill them, take back what was his. “Your people are looking for you?”

“I’m sure they are, but Umman moved the camp after they took me. I kept hoping somebody would find me…”

“I found you,” he said. “You’ll be fine.” He would see to it.

Her body was covered in her black abayah, her head wrapped in his plain white kaffiyeh against the rising sun. When she half turned, he caught a glimpse of golden hair escaping at her temple. “Why are you helping me?” she asked.

He owed as much to his sister-in-law. Sadie was from the same country as Dara. “You are a woman in need, alone. In our culture, every man owes his protection to such a woman.” Both of those reasons were true, and yet even together they didn’t explain the protective urge he felt for her.

“Could have fooled me,” she muttered.

“Umman and his men are criminals.” He did not want her to think ill of the country and culture he was so proud of. He could explain, he supposed, about the honor of the Bedu, but he wasn’t sure she would care. “You do not have enough sick people in your own country?” he asked. “Why did you come to Yemen?”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Dangerous.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I underestimated that. I thought I knew the risks and that the probability that anything would happen was slim enough to be acceptable.”

“And your family?”

“No time for one. I don’t need a man to be happy,” she said.

Happiness was beside the point. “You need one to be safe,” he explained.

“Not in my country.”

That might have been the case, but she certainly needed one in this part of the world. He wasn’t married, but he had sisters. He knew what kind of responsibility that brought to a man. Sadie had no one in this country. “I will protect you while you are here.”

He should be able to do that—see her safe at a friend’s house while he hunted Majid. Then when he was done, he would come for her and take her back to the palace with him where she would be truly safe until her return to her own country. Dara would be happy to receive her, he was sure.

She stayed quiet for a long time before she said, “Thank you.”

He took a deep breath, satisfied in the knowledge that he was doing the right thing. For the next few weeks, Sadie Kauffman would be like a sister to him.

He fixed that thought in his brain and ignored the way her lithe body felt as she rode in the circle of his arms.

SADIE WATCHED THE CAMP and forced herself to stay on the camel that was taking her closer. Now that the tents were near, her euphoria of having been saved from sure death was wearing off quickly. Coming back went against all her instincts. She’d escaped. For a few hours, she’d been free.

And she would be dead by now if not for Nasir, she reminded herself. She had to trust him.

“We’ve got visitors,” he said and slowed Ronu to a walk.

A few seconds passed before she, too, spotted the beat-up Jeep that she hadn’t seen before. Once they were close enough, she could even make out the license plate—Yemeni.

She scanned the camp for strangers, but couldn’t spot any among the men who were out and about. One of them yelled over to Nasir.

She felt him stiffen in the saddle behind her. “What did he say?”

“The convoy is arriving today. A messenger rode ahead.”

The sudden hardness in his voice made her turn to him. He was looking toward Umman’s tent, the fierce intensity back on his face, darkness shadowing his eyes, tension tightening his mouth.

For a man who’d waited over a month for this very opportunity to gain information he needed, he didn’t look happy. Sadie, on the other hand, felt full of hope all of a sudden. As soon as he had his information, they could get the hell out of here. “You think we’ll be able to leave soon?”

“As soon as I can get my cousin’s whereabouts out of them.” Nasir made the camel lie down and slid off his back then helped her to the sand.

She stood aside, giving him room to unsaddle the animal. “How big do you think the convoy is?”

“I don’t expect more than a dozen men.”

She didn’t look forward to having more scary-looking, battle-hardened bandits and smugglers in camp. “Will they stay long?”

“A few days, probably. Long enough to rest for the return journey. It would be best if you stayed in my tent as much as possible while they are here.”

“No problem.” She wasn’t going to argue with that.

“Stay behind me,” he said, his voice laced with annoyance all of a sudden.

She soon saw the reason. Ahmed was strutting toward Nasir’s tent, derision on his face as he waited for them.

He said something in a hissing, hateful tone.

Nasir responded coolly and passed by him as if he weren’t even there.

“What was that about?” she asked once they were inside and Ahmed had strode off.

“Envy.” Nasir shrugged. “Because I have you and he can’t.”

She watched him in the dim light—his dark shape that dominated the tent, his noble features—and for a moment she wondered what it would be like to truly belong to a man like him. And then it occurred to her that there might be some woman somewhere who did belong to him.

“Do you have a family? Wife and children? Wives?” She corrected herself when she realized he might have more than one. The thought boggled her mind.

“I’m alone,” he said, and something in his voice made her think the statement went beyond his marital status.

“You have your sisters and your brother,” she said. At one point during the ride back, she’d asked him about the royal family.

“I have taken the path of revenge.” He tucked the saddle in the corner of the tent. “My brother will not understand it. He’s grown up with your western ideals, went to school in England. Forgiveness and reconciliation are his best friends, leaving the law to deal with the lawless.” He didn’t sound bitter as much as resigned.