Stolen Lives (Blood Brothers Book 1) (23 page)

“You lead the men?”

He answers with an inclination of his head.

I look at him, my strong powerful sheikh, seeing for the moment the man who first greeted me when I got out of the helicopter. Then I’d thought him stern and cruel. I realise there are two different
men inside him, the warrior and the lover. My gut churns at the thought that he puts himself in danger, and then I start, realising I must already harbour some feelings for him to have such a strong reaction to the thought of him being hurt. He’s already got under my skin. But how? I know next to nothing about this man at all. I can’t have feelings for him, not this quickly. I have to protect myself; I’m a novice at this, after all. It would be all too easy to fall for him simply because he’s the first man to make love to me. I have to get to know him better. So I try to keep him talking.

“What do they hope to achieve? Surely a few border skirmishes wouldn’t do much?”

“We nip them in the bud,” he explains. “It would only be dangerous if it escalated. A few trying to cross the border to cause trouble is one thing, but if jihadists cross in larger numbers, we could be looking at another full-scale war.”

He stops his horse and tries to stress the point he is attempting to make.

“The fact we’re here means we will not allow that to happen. We’ve learned lessons from other countries; we are well prepared and equipped.” He throws me a pointed look. “And now we’re married, the tribes will remain united so we’ve got the manpower to keep them out.” He kicks the stallion forward again.

I’m starting to understand why our marriage was so important, a fact this time only yesterday I’d found so difficult to believe. I file that away and continue my original line of questioning.

“So we need the guards, why?”

“It would be foolish to come out here without taking precautions. We can’t ignore the fact that just one person might sneak over the border intent on doing harm. Any member of the royal family makes a desirable target.”

“Wait, have you already been shot? Is that where you got your scars?”

I can’t keep the concern out of my voice. The fact he’s been injured makes the danger all the more real. Where have I been brought to?

He pulls his horse up next to mine and puts his hand on my reins.

“Are you ready for a canter?” It’s an abrupt change of subject, but I nod anyway. “We’re heading for the hills over there.” He indicates foothills in the distance. “Now you need your hijab over your face.” He shows me how he did his. “It will protect you from the sand and dust.” He waits until I’m ready, his eyes missing nothing as I fumble, but at last I’m covered to his satisfaction.

The only erotic thoughts I’ve experienced in the past have been summoned up by descriptions in the novels I read, but no words can muster my reaction to the image of my desert warrior wrapping his black headdress around his face, so only his eyes are showing. He looks so fierce, so strong and masculine that my stomach clenches, and I feel embarrassingly damp between my legs. A delicious shiver runs down my spine as it hits me again that I’m really married to him.

Then the doubts return. Is he here, now, today, just because of words on a piece of paper? I woke yesterday in the midst of a nightmare, and today it’s turned into a wonderful fantasy. I’m starting to doubt my ability to discern reality.

Jerking myself out of my reverie I realise that he has kicked his horse on, and I let Sakin have her head to follow. We trot on a short way and then he increases the pace, starting off with a gentle canter. After checking with a quick glance back to see how I’m keeping my seat, he digs his heels in once more, and soon we’re galloping across the sand.

It’s an exhilarating feeling, covering the ground so fast. The horses are both sure-footed, and I feel confident and safe as I lie low over the saddle, unable to remember how long it’s been since I felt so free. Galloping over miles of open sand surpasses speeding across the stubble fields I’d loved back in England. The warm wind sweeps past and the only sound is the pounding of hooves, clearing the worries of the previous conversation right away. I’m concentrating only on the horse. It seems all too soon when we pull up, the horses’ sides heaving. The hills, which I can now see are made of barren rock, are still a little way ahead of us. Beyond the hills rise even higher peaks, high enough to qualify as mountains. It is stark, rather than beautiful.

“We’ll walk now, and let the horses cool off.”

Nijad unwinds his hijab, exposing his handsome, chiselled face. I copy his actions, having difficulty taking my eyes off him, as if he’s a mirage that will disappear any second. What have I done to deserve this man. Can he truly be mine? I feel like I’m dreaming; instead of being in cold, wet London I’m riding a horse in the desert. I resist the urge to pinch myself. If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up!

We continue riding side by side in a comfortable silence. Twenty minutes later the terrain begins to get rocky underfoot, and soon we are travelling up a gradual incline.

“Where are we going?”

It looks to me as though we’re heading straight for a dead end.

He glances over, and smiles, knowing something I don’t.

“There.” He points vaguely ahead.

I screw up my eyes, but am none the wiser; all I can see is a solid rock face. But as we draw closer, I can see a winding path going up the side of the cliff. The way looks very narrow.

“No!” I exclaim, horrified. “You have got to be bloody kidding me! Tell me we’re not going up that?” The path becomes clearer as the horses plod on, and at each step it looks more frightening. I pull Sakin to a halt.

“It will be OK. The horses are sure-footed. There’s no need to worry.” He frowns, and then, seeing the fear on my face, he adds, “What’s the matter?”

I point, my hand already shaking just at the thought of it.

“That’s not even a path, Nijad. It’s right on the cliff edge! I can’t go up there. Isn’t there somewhere else we could go, or another way up?” It looks to me as though even mountain goats would struggle to get up that track. “No way in hell am I riding on that path!”

He stares at me, his sexy eyes glinting. I have no idea what he plans until, with one swift move, he nudges his horse over, sweeps his arm around my waist, pulling me off my mount and seating me in front of him. I squeal loudly.

“Just relax. You’ll be safe with me.” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice.

“What are you doing?” I can’t believe the speed with which he’s taken me, demonstrating his formidable strength.

“Keeping you safe.” As he speaks he reaches over to the mare, ties the reins so she won’t catch her feet in them, and then lets her loose, confident she’ll follow. He squeezes his heels and the big stallion moves forwards once more.

I start struggling, trying to get him to let me down, but his arm is like a band of steel holding me round the waist.

“No. It’s too dangerous! He can’t carry us both!”

The steep path is getting closer and I can see, as it winds round the mountain, there is a sheer drop on one side. The way doesn’t appear to be any wider than I first thought.

“Please Nijad, please let me down. Amal can’t carry me as well; he’ll stumble carrying my weight.” I turn to plead with him, fright making my voice little more than a whisper. “Please, can’t we just go back? Don’t take me up there, we’ll fall!”

To my distress he doesn’t pull Amal up, but just gives a sigh of exasperation, sounding long-suffering. “You really do want a fucking spanking, don’t you?”

Though scared, I’m perplexed, “What on earth have I said now?”

Holding the reins in one hand, his free arm tightens around me as he pulls me even closer. “You weigh nothing at all, and Amal will hardly notice his extra passenger.” I can’t miss hearing the grin in his voice. “You’re still thinking of yourself as overweight. I can’t spank you now; it might spook the horse, and we don’t want him to lose his footing, do we?”

As I look down, I realise we are already on the narrow path, and on one side the ground just drops away. I swallow a squeal. It’s not the place to have to control a panicked horse.

Nijad laughs quietly. He nuzzles my neck, and his arms grip me, holding me safe. Even so, I can’t relax, my mind trying to cope with the fact that I’m riding up a path I wouldn’t even be able to walk along. It’s not that I don’t like heights; it’s the danger of the narrow ledge combined with the steep drop I can’t cope with. One wrong step and we’ll both fall to our deaths. I’m shaking as I lean back against Nijad, eyes tight shut, desperately trying to keep still as a statue so as not to unbalance the horse. Amal plods on, putting each of his four feet down surely, never slipping. The sound becomes monotonous, the mare’s hooves hitting the path behind like an echo. Time seems to stand still. I feel like I’m on a scary roller-coaster ride; I just want it to end. But the warmth of the day, the sound of the horses, and the strong arm that holds me as we move ever upwards without mishap, eventually help to ease my tension. Having had little sleep the night before, I even start to doze.

Nijad

What the fuck am I doing?
I’ve travelled this path with Amal a hundred times and he knows his way, so I don’t have to concentrate, except for holding this woman securely in my arms. That conversation in the desert got to me. It
is
dangerous here, although I tried to play that down. No one would send a Western woman here – unless she were expendable. She doesn’t know it, but Cara might as well have a target painted on her back with a huge great sign flashing ‘Kidnap me!’ But, of course, no one would turn a hair at the thought of Joseph Benting’s daughter in danger. No one except me, that is. Fuck! I already care for her. I don’t want to see her come to harm.

I shouldn’t be here today. I should have left her at the camp, and shouldn’t have moved her in with me. Should have kept my distance. But already I can’t fucking do that. Now it’s driving me out of my mind. I need to protect her from my enemies, and protect her from myself. But she feels so good, lying here in my arms, moving naturally with the horse, even in her sleep. I’ve been with so many women, but never one like her. Never with someone who makes me feel such an urge to protect and care for her. If only I’d met her before Paris … But then, in those days, I probably wouldn’t have looked at her twice.

As the horses plod on, Cara’s face lolls back against my shoulder and I stare down, appreciating the view. She’s washed off the make-up so carefully applied by the women the night before, but she still looks beautiful to me: her fresh face still has the look of innocence, even though I took that from her last night. The memory makes my cock jerk and brings a grin to my face. Fuck, last night was good, and that’s an understatement. Pulling myself back to the here and now, I examine her carefully and frown as I see the scars from her childhood acne marring her otherwise perfect skin. They don’t bother me, but if she’s still upset by them I’ll investigate treatments that might help. I’ve an idea there might be something that can be done with lasers. My teeth grind as I think back to the story she told me in the night, about how that bastard Benting destroyed her. Giving Amal a loose rein, I lift my hand and stroke her face softly, so I don’t wake her. I knew she was broken, but perhaps I can put her back together.
If only she could do the same for me
.

Unconsciously, she’s moving against me, the steepness of the slope pushing her back into my groin. My cock twitches again and begins to stir. I can’t deny the strong attraction I feel for her. The Dom instinct inside me wants to fix her; the man just wants to fuck her. I realise I don’t have a fucking chance of keeping away from her. She’s ensnared me.

I haven’t been lying to her; I do think she’s beautiful. Perhaps not in a classical way, but there’s just something about the way she’s put together, an inner beauty that shines through. Although I wouldn’t hesitate to fucking kill Benting, and in the most painful way, were he not already dead, part of me delights that he didn’t find her attractive seven years ago. Otherwise, she might have been married off to fuck knows who, someone who might even have abused her, her marriage arranged just for her father’s profit. Instead, circumstances meant she kept herself hidden and pure until she came to me. I inhale sharply. She was given to me because Benting couldn’t be punished; she was to bear his punishment in his stead. But there is no fucking way that I’m going to hurt her; well, not in a way she wouldn’t enjoy. I give a wry smile. She’s got to me, this woman. She
needs
me. She might not know it yet, but all my instincts tell me that she’s a natural submissive, and she needs me as her Dom.

In a way, I’m glad she’s still sleeping. I smile as I hear a slight snore from my arms. So far she delights me in the way she’s accepted the incredible change to her life. Another woman might have complained about the primitive facilities. But my Cara? She hasn’t said a word, hasn’t implied any concern by her actions, and has taken everything in her stride. I’d like to find out more about her, learn what makes her tick, what she likes and what she doesn’t. Both in and out of bed. I’ve never felt this way about a woman before; never has anyone triggered my protective instincts so much.
I’d protect her with my life
.

The thought staggers and excites me. Before my banishment to the desert, no woman had motivated me in the way she does. Fuck, what am I thinking? I haven’t even known her for twenty-four hours. Far too early for my emotions to be so involved, or so logic tells me.