Читать книгу The Sheik and the Runaway Princess - Сьюзен Мэллери, Susan Mallery - Страница 6

K ardal kept his eyes closed, trying to ignore the squirming of the woman next to him. The ground beneath was hard, but not uncomfortable, although he doubted Sabrina would appreciate that fact. While he’d unbound her feet, he’d kept her wrists tied and connected to a rope anchored to the belt around his waist. He knew that without a deterrent of some kind she was impulsive enough to try to escape in the night.

She was less than amused by their sleeping arrangements.

“This is ridiculous,” she hissed, her words barely audible over the snores of his men. “It’s the middle of the night in the middle of the desert. Where exactly do you think I’m going to go? Untie me at once.”

“How imperious you sound,” he replied, not bothering to look at her. “If you continue to speak, I’ll put a gag in your mouth. I assure you, after a time it grows most unpleasant.”

He heard her sharp intake of air, but she didn’t talk anymore, for which he was grateful.

She shifted again, drawing her thick cloak more tightly around her. The night temperature continued to drop. Kardal knew that in time she would welcome the heat of his body next to hers. Left on her own, she would be shivering by dawn. But he doubted she would thank him. Women were rarely sensible creatures.

As for trusting her enough to release her—he would rather trust his fortune to a gambler. He couldn’t believe she’d been foolish—or foolhardy—enough to be traveling by herself in the desert. Didn’t she realize how dangerous the vast emptiness could be?

Obviously not, he thought, answering his own question. At first he’d been shocked to see a lone traveler in the distance. He and his men had quickly changed course to offer assistance. As they’d approached, he’d realized the traveler was a woman. And then he’d seen her face and known exactly who she was.

Sabrina Johnson—otherwise known as Princess Sabra, the only daughter of King Hassan of Bahania—was everything he’d feared. Willful, difficult, spoiled and lacking the intelligence the good Lord gave a date palm.

He supposed the sensible course of action would be to return her to her father, even though he knew the king wouldn’t do anything to mend her wayward ways. From what he’d heard, King Hassan ignored his only daughter, allowing her to spend much of the year with her mother in California. No doubt living in wildness as the king’s former wife did.

Kardal opened his eyes and stared up at the heavens. Stars twinkled down at him. He was as much a product of the new century as any man in his world could be. Trapped between tradition and progress, he attempted to find wisdom and act accordingly in all situations. But when he thought about Sabrina wasting her time in Beverly Hills, having affairs and living who knew what kind of hedonistic lifestyle…

He swore silently. She might be uncomprehendingly beautiful but she had the heart and soul of a spoiled and willful child. She was not a traditional desert wife, nor was she a sparkling gem of a woman produced by the best western culture had to offer. She fit nowhere and he had no use for her. If life were fair, he could simply return her and be done with her.

Unfortunately life was not fair and that course of action wasn’t open to him. The price of being a leader, he supposed.

Sabrina flopped onto her back, tugging at the rope that bound them together. He didn’t move. She sighed in disgust and was quiet. In time, her breathing slowed and he knew she’d found sleep.

Tomorrow would be interesting, he thought wryly. He would have to decide what to do with her. Or perhaps he already knew and didn’t want to admit it to himself. There was also the matter of her not recognizing him, although it was possible she hadn’t been told his name. That thought made him smile. If she didn’t know, he wasn’t about to tell her. Not yet.

Sabrina woke slowly to an unusual combination of hard bed and warmth. She shifted slightly, but the mattress didn’t yield at all. Nor did the heat source surrounding her. It was specifically on one side. Like a—

Her eyes popped open. She looked up into the rapidly lightening sky and realized she wasn’t back in her bed in the palace, nor was she in her room in her mother’s house. Instead she was in the desert, tied by a rope to a man she didn’t know.

The previous day’s events returned to her memory with all the subtlety of a desert storm: Her excitement at finally starting the journey she’d been dreaming about ever since she’d first heard of the lost City of Thieves. How she’d been so darn careful to pack her supplies sensibly, even taking a more docile horse than usual so that she wouldn’t have to worry about a riding accident. She’d had a compass, maps, diaries and determination on her side. What she hadn’t counted on was a conspiracy by the elements.

Which was how she’d come to find herself in her present predicament. Tied to a nomad who was going to do who knows what to her.

She risked glancing to her right. The man was still asleep, which gave her the opportunity to study him. In the soft light of morning, he still looked hard and powerful—a man of the desert. He held her fate in his hands, which alarmed her, but she no longer believed her life was in danger. Nor had she worried for her virtue. Even as she’d protested and then seethed at the thought of being tied up, she’d never once thought he would actually physically attack her. Which didn’t make any sense. She should have been afraid.

Now she looked at the thick lashes resting on his cheek and the way his mouth relaxed as he slept. His skin was tanned, adding shadows to sculpted cheekbones and a strong jawline. Who was this Kardal of the desert? Why did he hold her prisoner rather than simply offering to escort her to the nearest town?

Suddenly his eyes opened. They stared at each other from a distance of less than eight inches. She tried to read his expression, but could not. It was very strange, but if she had to pick a word to describe what was in his dark eyes, she would have said disappointment.

He rose without saying a word. As he did so, she realized that he must have loosened the rope holding them together, because it lay on the blankets he’d spread over the sand. With a quick movement, he bent down and untied her wrists.

“You may have a small bowl of water for your morning ablutions,” he said by way of greeting. “Don’t try to escape. If you do, I’ll give you to my men.”

And then he turned his back on her. “Not much of a morning person, are you?” Sabrina called out before she could stop herself.

He kept walking away and didn’t bother responding. She sighed. So much for friendly chitchat.

She did as he instructed, taking her small bowl of water to the far side of the camp. Covering herself with her cloak, she did her best to freshen up. Between the sandstorm, the night of sleeping in her clothes and the prospect of wearing them again for an unspecified length of time, she would have given a lot for a shower.

Ten minutes later, she cautiously approached the fire. Two men were making breakfast. She ignored the food and gazed longingly at the pot of coffee sitting close to the flames. Food wasn’t a priority for her until later in the day, but coffee was life.

She caught Kardal’s attention and motioned to the pot. He nodded without saying anything. She sidled closer to the men and took an unused mug from an open saddlebag, then poured herself a full cup of the steaming liquid. It was hot and strong enough to grow hair.

“Perfect,” she breathed.

Kardal moved around the fire to stand next to her. He wore his robe open over his shirt and trousers. The long covering flowed behind him with each step.

“I’m surprised you like it,” he said. “Most westerners and many women find it too strong.”

“Too strong isn’t possible,” she said after sipping again. “I like coffee I can stand a spoon in.”

“No lattes or mocha cappuccinos?”

What? Humor from the great and mysterious Kardal? She smiled slightly. “Not even on a bet.”

He motioned for her to follow him to the edge of their camp. Once there he put his hands on his hips and stared down at her as if she were a particularly unappealing bug. So much for the moment of bonding over coffee.

“Something must be done with you,” he announced.

“What? You don’t want to spend the rest of your days traveling with me throughout the desert? And here I thought you enjoyed tying me up and making me sleep on the hard ground.”

He raised his dark eyebrows. “You have more spirit than you did last night.”

“Not surprising. I’m rested, I have coffee. Despite rumors to the contrary, I’m a creature of simple wants.”

The curl of his mouth indicated that he didn’t believe her.

“We have three choices,” he told her. “We can kill you and leave your body here in the desert. We can sell you as a slave or we can ransom you to your family.”

She nearly choked on her coffee, barely able to believe he meant what he said. Although the edge of determination in his voice told her that he did.

“Can I see what’s behind curtain number four?” she asked when she could finally speak. Here she’d been thinking ol’ Kardal wasn’t so bad and he was talking about killing her and leaving her remains for whatever animals lived out here.

Of course if they were going to kill her wouldn’t they have already done it? Sleeping with her tied up next to him had to have been just as uncomfortable for Kardal as it had been for her.

“Eliminating death as an option,” she said cautiously, “I don’t think I’d make an especially good slave.”

“I had considered that. Of course a good beating would change that.”

“And what would a bad beating do?” she murmured.

“Which would you prefer?”

She stared at him. “A good or a bad beating? Neither, thank you.” She couldn’t believe they were discussing this. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening. That she was standing in the middle of the Bahanian desert discussing the physical abuse of her person.

“I meant,” he said slowly, as if she weren’t very bright, “which of the three do you prefer?”

“It’s my choice? How democratic.”

“I am trying to be fair.”

She grimaced. Obviously he’d missed the sarcasm she’d attempted to interject into her words. “Fair would be giving me a horse and some supplies, then pointing me in the right direction.”

“You’ve already lost your own horse and camel. Why would I trust you with stock of mine?”

She didn’t like the question so she ignored it. There was no point in protesting that the loss of her horse and camel had been more because of the storm than because she’d done something wrong.

“I do not want to be killed,” she said at last when it became apparent he really was waiting for her to choose her fate. “And I have no desire to be any man’s slave.” Nor did she want to return to the palace and marry the troll prince. Unfortunately there wasn’t much choice.

She wondered if her father would bother to pay a ransom for her. He might if for no other reason than it would look bad for him if he didn’t. Now if one of his precious cats had been kidnapped, the entire kingdom would be in an uproar until it was returned.

It was very sad, she thought to herself, that her place in her father’s affection was far below her brothers and well under the cats. Unfortunately it was true. However, Kardal didn’t know that. There was no other choice. She was going to have to tell him who she was and hope that he was a man of honor, loyal to the king. If so, he would happily return her to her father. Once there, she would deal with her betrothal to the troll prince.

She drew herself up to her full height—all of five feet four inches and tried to look important. “I am Princess Sabra of Bahania. You have no right to keep me as your prisoner, nor may you determine my fate. I demand that you return me to the palace at once. If you do not, I will be forced to tell my father what you have done. He will hunt you and your men like the dogs that you are.”

Kardal looked faintly bored.

“You don’t believe me?” she asked. “I assure you, it’s the truth.”

He studied her face. “You don’t appear very royal. If you’re really the princess, what are you doing out here in the desert by yourself?”

“I told you yesterday. Searching for the City of Thieves. I wanted to find it and surprise my father with treasures I discovered there.”

That much was true, she thought. Not only had she wanted to study the fabled city, but she’d figured finding it was a surefire way to get the king’s attention. Once he realized she was a real person, she might be able to talk him out of her engagement.

He considered her words. “Even if you are the princess, which I doubt, I don’t see why you would have been out alone. It is forbidden.” His gaze narrowed. “Although they say the princess is willful and difficult. Perhaps you are her after all.”

Talk about a no-win situation, Sabrina thought glumly. She could accept the character assassination or not be believed. Once again she was left grasping for an alternative. Why was it people always assumed the worst about her? Didn’t anyone understand that she hadn’t had a normal life? Splitting time between two parents who didn’t really want her around hadn’t given her anything close to a happy childhood. People who thought she was fortunate saw only the physical trappings of her station. No one saw the endless hours she’d spent alone as a child.

But there was no point in explaining all that to Kardal. He wouldn’t believe her and even if he did, he wouldn’t care.

“I will consider what you have told me,” he said at last.

“What does that mean? You believe that I’m really the princess? Are you going to take me back to the palace in Bahania?” Compared to her recent desert experience, the troll prince might not be such a bad choice after all.

“No,” Kardal told her. “I think I will keep you for now. It would be most entertaining to have a princess as a slave.”

She tried to speak but could only splutter. He couldn’t mean it, she told herself, hoping she wasn’t lying.

“No,” she finally said. “You couldn’t do that.”

“It appears that I could.” Kardal chuckled to himself as he walked away, leaving her openmouthed and frothing.

“You’ll regret this,” she yelled after him, fighting the fury growing within her. If she hadn’t treasured her coffee so much, she would have tossed the steaming liquid at his retreating back. “I’ll make you sorry.”

He turned and looked at her. “I know, Sabrina. Most likely all the days of my life.”

Forty minutes later, she knew a flogging was too good for him. She was back to wanting him both hanged and shot. Maybe even beheaded. It wasn’t enough that he threatened her and insulted her. No. Not only had he tied her up, but he’d blindfolded her as well.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” she announced, practically vibrating with rage. The sensation of being blind while on a moving horse was completely disconcerting. With each step, she expected to tumble under the horse’s hooves.

“First,” Kardal said, his voice barely a whisper in her ear. “You don’t have to shout. I’m right behind you.”

“Like I don’t know that.”

She sat in front of him, on his saddle. As much as she tried to keep from touching him, there wasn’t enough room. Holding herself stiffly away from him only made her muscles ache. Despite her best effort to prevent contact, her back kept brushing against his front.

“What’s the second thing?” she asked grudgingly.

“You’re about to get your wish. Our destination is the City of Thieves.”

Sabrina didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her mind filled with a thousand questions, not to mention disbelief, hope and excitement.

“It’s real?”

Behind her, Kardal chuckled. “Very real. I’ve lived there all my life.”

“But you can’t—It isn’t—” What he was saying didn’t make sense. “If it truly exists, how come I’ve never heard about it except in old books or diaries?”

“It’s how we prefer it. We are not interested in the outside world. We live in the old tradition.”

Which meant life for women was less than agreeable.

“I don’t believe you,” she told him. “You’re just saying this to get my hopes up.”

“Why else would I blindfold you? It is important that you not be able to find your way back to our city.”

Sabrina bit her lower lip. Could Kardal be telling the truth? Could the city exist and did people really live there? It would almost be worth being captured just to see inside the ancient walls. And his statement about finding her way back implied that he would—despite his posturing to the contrary—eventually let her go.

“Are there treasures?” she asked.

“You seek material wealth?”

There was something in his tone. Contempt, maybe? What was it about this man and his assumptions?

“Stop talking to me like I’m some gold digger,” she said heatedly. “I have a bachelor’s degree in archeology and a master’s in Bahanian history. My interest in the contents of the city are intellectual and scientific, not personal.”

She adjusted her weight, trying to escape the feeling that she was going to fall from the horse at any moment. “I don’t know why I’m bothering,” she grumbled into the darkness. “You’re hardly a sympathetic audience. Just believe what you want. I don’t care.”

But she did care, Kardal thought with some surprise when she was finally quiet. He had heard about her going to school in America. It had never occurred to him that she would actually complete her studies, nor had he thought she would study something relevant to her heritage. He wasn’t sure she didn’t want the treasures of his homeland for herself, but he was willing to wait and let her show her true self on that matter.

She leaned forward, as if holding herself away from him. He felt the tremor in her muscles, the result of her tension.

“Relax,” he told her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her against him. “We have a long day’s ride. If you continue to sit so stiffly, you’ll spend much of the time in pain. I promise not to ravish you while we’re upon my horse.”

“Remind me to never dismount then,” she muttered, half under her breath, but she did let herself sag against him.

Sabrina was more trouble than any other three women Kardal had ever known, but he found he didn’t dislike her as much as he would have thought. Unfortunately he also found her body appealing as it pressed against his own. During the night he’d managed to ignore the sweet scent of her, but not while they rode pressed so closely together. When he’d first placed her in the saddle, he’d only thought to keep her from running off. By tying her hands, he’d attempted to both restrain and punish her willfulness. Now he was the one being punished.

With each step of the horse, her body swayed against his. Her rear nestled against his groin, arousing him so that he could think of little else. It was a kind of trouble he did not need.

She was not the traditional desert woman he would have chosen. She was neither deferential nor accommodating. Her quick mind allowed her to use wit and words as a weapon and there was no telling how her time in the west had corrupted her. She was disrespectful, opinionated and spoiled. And even if he found her slightly intriguing, she was not whom he would have chosen. But then the choice hadn’t been his at all. It had all been proclaimed at the time of his birth.

He wondered why she didn’t know who he was. Had her father not told her the specifics or had she simply not listened? He would guess the latter. Kardal smiled. He doubted Sabrina listened to anything she didn’t want to hear. It was a habit he would break her of.

He could almost anticipate the challenge she would be to him. In the end he would be the victor, of course. He was the man—strength to her yielding softness. Eventually she would learn to appreciate that. In the meantime, what would the ill-tempered beauty say if she knew he was the man to whom she had been betrothed?