Desert Orchid: The Desert Princes: Book 1 (15 page)

The bodyguard hadn't been seen since the incident early this morning and had managed to evade capture.

Logic and her heart told her she should interrupt Khalid and alert him to the issue.

But she wanted to give the security team, headed up by Arabella, time to apprehend Omar. Plus Sheik Abbas was not a man to be kept waiting. He’d specifically asked to see her. If she told Khalid of the request he would most certainly forbid her to go. But that would be seen as a snub to the Sheik and Charisse knew the trouble Abbas might make in the country for a new and untried King. No, she would meet the Sheik and speak to Khalid in the morning, and pray his bodyguard was caught in the meantime. The most important thing was to get the facts assembled and see what Sheik Abbas knew.

However, she was worried.

The wedding might not yet have taken place, but to all intents and purposes Khalid now ruled Onuur. By asking to meet her alone, Abbas was not giving Khalid his proper place, and that made her angry. The Sheik should be willing to give the new King a chance. The last thing she wanted to do was to have a rift develop between Khalid and a very powerful man. A man she knew and respected. As she prepared for her meeting, Charisse's heart felt very heavy in her chest.

Once the palace was quiet and settled for the night, Charisse rode out on Diablo with Arabella and four close protection officers who were a part of her own personal guard.

Ever ready for adventure and delighted to be free of the confines of the palace, Boris and Rufus streaked ahead.

The velvety darkness of the night sky was lit by a half moon. In the heavens the constellations glittered like crystalline jewels, and in spite of her worries Charisse found herself almost relaxing for the first time in days. The night was chilly and she wore a thick hijab woven from the finest cashmere, which covered her head, nose and mouth. The guards wouldn’t be happy, but Charisse kicked her heels against his flank and couldn’t help but give Diablo his head.

She crouched low over the stallion's back as he raced over compacted sand leaving the other riders behind in a cloud of dust.

The exhilaration that came with a breakneck speed made her grin.

The scent of the desert, that unique earthy flavour, flowed under her robe tickling her nose and drying her throat. God, she loved this land and its people.

Slowing into a gallop and then a trot, she waited for Arabella and the rest to thunder to her side as Diablo danced a two-step shuffle.

"How many times have I told you not to do that?" Arabella barked.

Unrepentant, Charisse shrugged. "I couldn’t resist."

"Well try harder. No point in borrowing trouble, Highness. We have plenty of issues to be getting on with."

Fifteen minutes later they trotted into the ruins of an ancient city beautifully carved out of monolithic mountains of sandstone and found oil fires staked into the earth to light the way.

As Diablo shuddered to a trembling stop a Bedouin tribesman stepped forward to take the reins.

Charisse leapt to the ground, her riding boots kicking up dust as she strode over to the tall man waiting for her beside a welcome fire. He was dressed in loose black robes, his dark head uncovered and she saw for the first time grey streaking through his cropped black hair and beard.

Abbas was in his late forties and still a virile man as his six wives could attest. He had twenty children and had just added another fine son to his expanding nursery.

Charisse held out both hands and he bowed low placing his forehead on her fingertips.

"It is good to see you, Highness. My heart is heavy with sorrow for the loss of our King." His deep voice rumbled in his vast chest. He’d been chewing mint leaves and the scent blended with newly washed skin and clean clothes.

Charisse took a deep breath.

"My heart is heavy, too, Sheik Abbas. How fares your family and your people?"

He turned and indicated they should sit on plump leather cushions arranged near the fire.

"They are well, thank you. Please, sit."

A servant poured the thick, rich and sweet coffee beloved in the kingdoms of Arabia and with a nod of thanks Charisse accepted a tiny gold cup from the Sheik. Traditions of hospitality were faithfully adhered to in the desert. They set the stage for the discussion to come, traditions that anchored Charisse to the earth, and she took them very seriously.

She sipped even as her heart kicked.

Being summoned to Abbas was not unheard of, but to be asked to meet him so soon after Asim’s death and Khalid’s arrival was such a break of protocol that it could only mean that trouble lay ahead. She wondered what was coming.

Dark eyes, sharp and filled with a ruthless intelligence held hers.

"I have news that will bring more heartache and pain to you, Highness."

The way he said the words had Charisse brace herself.

Those eyes, black as obsidian stared at her under thick brows.

His nostrils flared.

Abbas was very angry.

Actually, he was furious and her palms went damp.

"Word has reached me that a contract for ten million United States dollars has been offered for your death."

She went utterly still.

The nerves deep in her belly turned to solid ice.

So, the game had begun.

And Charisse found she wasn’t surprised or even shocked.

In some ways it was a relief that her enemy had shown his hand so soon and so clumsily.

She could only hope he was losing his touch.

Abbas frowned as those shrewd eyes narrowed into hers.

"You do not appear surprised, Highness."

Not wanting to meet his eyes, the man saw too much, Charisse took a careful sip of coffee all the while staring into the dancing flames of the fire and pulled her mind away from the horror of a fateful night that would haunt her dreams for as long as she drew breath.

Her eyes now lifted and met his.

"I’m not."

His brows rose.

"You know who would wish you dead?"

She gave a single nod.

“Indeed. Thank you for the warning. However, I must speak with you about the young boys...”

Abbas shook his head.

He held up a hand to silence her, and now his black eyes went fierce.

"Please do not change the subject. How is it possible for you to have such an enemy?" he demanded to know in a tone that made her flinch. "Since your marriage you have not left this land. You have worked tirelessly for the people. I must know the name of the person who wishes you harm. Understand this, Highness, after the passing of their king the people would find it too hard to cope with the loss of their beloved queen. Especially if her death was a violent one. Distrust and suspicion would multiply. War among the tribes must surely follow."

No way would Charisse show him she shared his fear for her future and for the future of her people. However, until her marriage she trusted Arabella and the tight security that surrounded her to keep her safe. More importantly, his words told her the secrecy that surrounded her arrival in Onuur and the reason for her marriage to Asim was water tight. Charisse released a relieved breath. She had no idea how the Sheik would regard her if he knew the truth. Abbas was a highly conservative and deeply religious man. She wasn’t prepared to take the risk of one of the most powerful men in the country rejecting her as the queen of Onuur.

She took a steadying breath. "King Abdullah and Prince Sarif and Khalid have the situation well in hand," she said briskly, stretching the truth and at the same time refusing to meet his eyes.

"You do not trust me, Charisse?" he asked in a soft whisper.

Now her eyes flew to his. "With my life, Sheik. I do have a suspicion of the person involved but at the moment no hard facts. And until I have facts then giving you a name would be nothing more than rumour."

Breaking protocol, he placed his hand over hers. "Promise you will call upon me at once if you need my help."

His face swam in front of her eyes but she nodded. "I give you my word."

Dark eyes searched hers and she saw that although he accepted her word he was not happy. Abbas was a man who liked to have his finger on the pulse of his country. He was dedicated to the advancement of his people and fiercely loyal to the crown.

"I will trust in Allah to keep you safe, Highness."

She bent her head in agreement.

"I must speak with you about the young boys..."

He raised his hand to cut her off and stood.

Placing his hand under her elbow, he helped her to her feet.

Their meeting was over.

"It is not seemly for us to speak of such things. Later today, I will meet with Prince Khalid."

In other words it was perfectly fine to discuss the fact someone wanted to take her life, but child abuse was not a fit subject for a woman.

But she wouldn’t give up.

"I understand your reluctance to discuss Omar with me, Sheik Abbas, but I was planning to talk to Prince Khalid..."

Abbas interrupted her with a wave of his hand.

"No. Leave the issue in my hands, Highness. It will be an honour for me to cut off the head of the snake."

Charisse knew when to give up.

She was a woman and that was that.

So be it.

Abbas bowed low over her hand.

"There is unrest among the tribes about the choice of husband for you and ruler for this land. Rumours and tall stories are spreading like locusts on the desert wind. You must marry Prince Khalid soon, Highness. The protection of the El Haribe's will do much to ensure your safety and bring stability to our country."

"The wedding will take place in forty-eight hours," Charisse assured him. "A small ceremony. We must honour the memory of Asim."

Abbas nodded as he led her back to Diablo and a concerned looking Arabella.

"Which is just as it should be. Khalid will settle down after his wild ways. He will give you strong sons."

Since she didn’t want to dwell on how Khalid was going to give her strong sons, Charisse nodded once.

She turned to the man who’d been loyal for so many years to the house of El Haribe.

"Blessings be upon your family and your people, Sheik Abbas."

Charisse leapt upon Diablo’s back.

Rufus and Boris whined with pleasure under the stroking hand of the Sheik.

"Blessings be upon you, Highness. May God go with you."

Arabella trotted at her side. "And what was all that about?"

Well out of earshot, two bodyguards rode ahead and two brought up the rear.

"There’s a price on my head. Ten million dollars."

The hiss of breath exhaled from her bodyguard was followed by an expletive. "He doesn’t hang about, does he?"

"He is a man who knows no boundaries," Charisse agreed.

"He’s a sick bastard. Have you told Prince Khalid about your past?"

Charisse pondered on just one more hurdle yet to be overcome on the journey that was her life.

She shook her head.

And ignored Arabella's hiss of irritation.

"No. And I won’t until I have to. My instincts tells me Khalid is a good man. A troubled man, but a good man. Before I tell him the truth of my past, we must see how he deals with the news of Omar."

Arabella said nothing, but her stiff body language said it all.

She was not pleased.

The moon lit the way as they approached the narrow pass that linked two mountain ranges.

The White Palace rose majestically in the distance.

Home.

She would never leave this place.

Not willingly.

And as Charisse spurred Diablo into a fast trot, she knew she'd never felt so alone, so vulnerable, and so isolated, since she’d been fifteen. Fear for herself and, more importantly, for her people, laid waste to her gut. She had a price on her head. Put there by a man who'd almost destroyed her. A man who'd told the world she'd run away after the deaths of her mother and sister. A man who lied. And a man who had more than a nodding acquaintance with pure evil.

Now she was about to be married to another man, Khalid. A man who didn't want her or the responsibility for the people of Onuur. He was utterly selfish. Uninterested. He put himself and his so called art before his people or his wife-to-be. His bodyguard was a vile human being. And it worried her that Khalid may have known about Omar's deviant sexual needs. Hadn't Khalid warned her that he himself had dark needs? Now she questioned just what those words had meant and cursed her lack of sexual awareness and experience.

She wondered if perhaps by marrying Khalid she'd bitten off more than she could chew. But she’d survived the worst that life could throw a helpless young girl, and she’d survive this, too.

No point in worrying and wondering over something that could not be changed. If Khalid had no knowledge that his close protection officer was a paedophile then she would marry him. If he was also arrogant, controlling and had the relentless streak of an El Haribe male then so be it. To be fair to him, he was also struggling to come to terms with his new responsibilities. So Charisse decided that there would be plenty of time to explain to him about her past
after
they were married. If she told Khalid the truth before the wedding he'd probably run a mile. And who could blame him?