The Sheikh's Desert Bride (Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 8) (3 page)

Lucy knew she only had moments to take action.
 

Over by the other buildings, she saw a group of tribesmen squatting in a circle. They were all intent on discussing something, probably what was taking place right now in the adobe building.

Lucy took a deep breath and dashed out from the side of the hut. Her boots kicked up dust as she raced, bent down low, stumbling toward her horse. Her heart was hammering and she hoped the men a hundred yards away wouldn't take notice of her mad dash for safety.

The horse seemed to notice Lucy's crouched, racing figure. It shook its head nervously, as if sensing the sudden urgency, the impending need to leave the settlement.

Finally, Lucy reached the horse and she crouched alongside its flank, grasping the bulky pack hanging down the horse's side. The horse's hooves started to paw at the sandy earth, agitation seizing the animal. Lucy lifted her hand and stroked the side of the horse's neck, murmuring quiet, calming sounds. The animal responded and Lucy raised herself up and peered over the bulk of the horse's body.

The men hadn't noticed her mad dash from the hut.

Lucy turned and looked back at the hut, her former prison. She saw the open door, but there was still no sign of Azim or the older man. She could still hear the argument from inside, but she knew it would only be moments before Azim emerged searching for Lucy.

Lucy grasped the saddle and lifted herself up quickly, sitting astride the horse and grasping the reins. The horse's neck twisted in protest, but then suddenly calmed as if sensing Lucy's need for co-operation.

With one last glance over toward the hut, Lucy kicked her heels into the horse's side and tugged the reins. The horse responded instantly with a sudden, sharp and very unwelcome braying sound. Lucy felt a rush of panic as she saw the circle of men look her way, their eyes wide, rifles lifting.

Lucy knew she didn't have more than a few short moments.
 

The horse lurched forward and Lucy bent low as the animal started to pick up pace. Lucy guided the horse along the single track that served as a makeshift street between the crude, adobe buildings. She heard the cries of the men and feared there would be shots aimed at her. She crouched low across the horse's neck, tugging the reins hard, trying to put as much distance between her and the noisy, roaring men now starting to point rifles in her direction.

Panic surged in Lucy and she waited for the sounds of gunfire above the pounding of her mount's hooves which hammered into the hard dirt of the track.

She raced past the buildings and knew that the men were behind her now. A few stray tribesmen almost stood in her way, but they quickly leapt to safety as Lucy's mount barrelled down straight at them.

She heard more cries from behind her, this time more fervent, more outraged. Then, as she made it almost to the last of the buildings she heard a single, loud roar that rose above the babble of tribesmen's voices. They suddenly quietened their outraged roars. The single, powerful voice yelled in the language of the Qazhar people. Lucy supposed it was the voice of the tribal elder. He must have emerged from the hut, seen Lucy racing off and thought his men had been contemplating the unthinkable.
 

Firing on Lucy. The man's voice became quickly distant as she raced out of the settlement, but the intent of the man's words had been unmistakeable. To stop harm coming to Lucy.

All Lucy could think of was that she was almost free, had almost escaped the clutches of the men who had imprisoned her all afternoon. The only thing she wanted was to get as far away from this place as possible. She realized she was headed north, deeper into the warren of mountain valleys.
 

The trail cut and twisted through a narrow ravine. The narrow confines of the ravine meant that there was barely any space on either side of Lucy. More than a few times she felt herself scrape against the hard rocky walls.

She held onto the reins, her knuckles white, the muscles of her arms straining to keep hold as she dashed along the trail. She daren't stop and check if she was being pursued. In her mind, she ran over the possibilities. The narrowness of the ravine would make it difficult for any pursuers. She also had a head start. But, then again, these men probably knew these mountains like the back of their hand.

Determination surged inside Lucy, and she forced her mount onto greater speed, twisting and manoeuvring around perilous rocky outcrops.

Then she was out into a wider open area that split the trail into two. On one side she saw the remnants of a dry riverbed heading to the northeast. She remembered that that had been her original direction. It was where the statuary she had come to see was located. But, right now, all she could think of was her safety. There might be time for other things later, but for now she had to get out of immediate danger.

She drew the horse to a halt and twisted in her saddle, listening for the sound of any pursuit from back in the direction she'd just travelled.
 

All she could hear was the soft sound of the wind that sighed through the ravine. She felt her heartbeat and ran her hand down the side of the horses neck, feeling the moistness there.
 

It was darker here in the depths of the ravine than it had been back in the settlement, and she realized it would be dark soon. She had to find somewhere to shelter for the night. She glanced in the direction of the fork in the pathway. She knew it would make sense to at least pursue her original goal, reaching the site of the statues.
 

Lucy knew she wouldn't be able to reach the site before dark. At least if she made it there in the morning she might have a chance of finding an alternative way out of the mountain range which wouldn't involve going back in the direction of her captors.
 

And Azim. There was still the problem of him. What was he doing? Was he the reason no-one had pursued Lucy? Had it actually been his voice she had heard ordering the tribesmen to hold their fire? What had he made of Lucy's behavior? Her escape must have seemed extraordinary under the circumstances. Did he still think she was as crazy and impulsive as he'd accused her of being such a long time ago?

Lucy realized she hadn't had a drink of water since she'd been locked up earlier that afternoon. She took her water bottle from her pack and drank some slow, relieving sips of the cool liquid. Not too much, though. She had enough for a day or so. Probably enough to get back to the place a few miles out in the desert where she had picked up the horse. She'd have to make the water last, although she didn't plan on spending too long in these mountains.
 

She was just about to prompt the horse toward the trail that followed the dried riverbed, when she heard a sound from behind her. She paused, straining to confirm what she'd heard.

Anxiety twisted in her middle at what she heard.

Hoofbeats. And fast ones at that.

Someone was coming after her.

CHAPTER FOUR

Azim leaned forward on his horse and gritted his teeth, trying desperately to avoid crashing against the walls of the narrow passageway. There was hardly enough space for his horse to twist along the narrow path, but he knew Lucy had already made her way safely through the same treacherous cutting in the rocks. These mountains were dangerous. Tales had been told to Azim when he'd been a child about the perils of entering this small, but dangerous mountain range.

He kept up the pace, urging his mount to even greater speed. He had to catch up with Lucy. He couldn't think what would happen to her if she got lost in this place. Even though he knew just how resourceful she was, this was still a whole new level of danger for the feisty American.

His shoulders ached with the repeated collisions against the rocks, and he was sure the skin beneath his robes was broken, even lacerated. But it didn't matter. The pain wasn't important.
 

All that he cared about was catching Lucy. He needed to prevent her getting lost in this maze of ravines. If she made one wrong decision, followed a false pathway, he'd never be able to find her. She wouldn't survive in these mountains. No matter how strong she believed she was; no matter how determined she was.
 

This was one of the most dangerous places in Qazhar, and not just because of the rebel tribesmen who'd so nearly been Lucy's downfall. Azim shuddered to think what could have happened to her if he hadn't turned up in time.

Azim gripped the reins and drove his horse to even greater speed. He raced past loose outcrops of fallen rocks, trying to make his way even in the increasing darkness. He felt the chill of the ravine through his robes. It would be dark soon.

Lucy couldn't be far ahead of him. Azim was a far more skilled with horses than most people. He was certain he'd already made up most of the distance, but he was anxious that she wouldn't have the chance to make a choice amongst the warren of trails he knew snaked through this mountain range.

Then he saw the end of the narrow passageway ahead of him. The light was brighter there, which told him there must be an open area ahead, a widening of the valley.

He raced faster and emerged into a broader cutting. The flat ground spread out, dusty and dry, the remnants of a riverbed clearly visible.

And then he saw her.
 

Lucy.

His heart leapt, his pulse racing in a determined rush.

She was slowly guiding her mount toward the passageway through which the old riverbed had made a cutting. She was moving almost casually, her back to him. Here, in the depths of the ravine, the surrounding rocky cliffs that rose up high to the darkening sky made her seem so small, so vulnerable.

Any moment now he knew she would disappear into that narrow cutting. But he wasn't going to allow that to happen. As far as he was concerned the chase was over.

"Lucy!" he roared, his voice echoing eerily around the rocky enclosure. "It's me. Azim. Stop."

He saw the effect of his voice in the instantaneous way she halted her mount. He saw her twist in her saddle and look back toward him.

Azim drove his horse toward her, desperate that she should see he was unaccompanied, that he'd left the tribesmen behind. Azim had made sure that Jawad hadn't had any choice in that matter. This was Azim's problem
 
now.

As his horse pounded across the soft, dusty earth, Azim saw Lucy's eyes widen, saw her mouth open in surprise. He must seem like something out of a dream, he said to himself. Riding toward her in the half-light of the end of the day, deep in a ravine in the middle of a mountain range in his own country. This was the last place he'd ever thought to see her again.

"Azim?" he heard her say as she turned her mount to face him. Her voice sounded quiet and strangely out of place in this harsh corner of Qazhar. "Are you alone?" she asked sharply.
 

He saw her glance past him, back toward the opening through which he'd just emerged. Surely she didn't think he'd let those barbarians come with him in pursuit of the woman who'd once meant so much to him. Who still did. How could she even think such a thing?

"Of course I'm alone," he said trying to contain the disbelief in his voice.

Azim saw Lucy's shoulders slump slightly, as if all the tension had instantly slid out of her body now that he knew he was alone with her. Did she even think about the fact that he'd come racing after her? Did she understand just how desperate he was that she be safe?

He was a mere few feet away from her when he drew his mount to a halt. He took a moment to gaze at her and felt the familiar sensations course through his body. Old sensations he'd never forgotten. Just to look at her like this was such a relief. She was still as beautiful as he'd remembered. Even more so now, he told himself. If that was even possible.

Azim took in the sight of the woman he'd once loved with an intensity which had terrified him. Lucy was simply amazing looking. He'd forgotten how delicate her features were; her heart shaped face; clear, smooth skin; full lips; high cheekbones and broad forehead.
 

He recalled how it had felt running his finger along the length of her beautiful jawline. He could see even through her white shirt the fullness of her breasts, and he remembered how it had felt holding her, running his hands down to the width of her hips.

She wore dark pants, but even through them he could sense that her long legs were still strong. Perfect for horse riding, he'd told her more than once, especially when he'd wanted to persuade her to go riding with him in the desert. She'd resisted every time, and now it was ironic that they were here together like this, facing each other on horseback.

She raised a hand to her thick blonde hair which she had tied back in a pony tail. Memories drifted into his mind of the softness of that hair as he'd snaked his fingers through it.

"Is anyone else coming?" she asked, forcing him sharply out of his reverie.

Azim shook his head firmly. "Of course not," he replied as if it was the most obvious thing he could say.

He saw her eyes flicker nervously over his shoulder. Didn't she believe him?

Her horse shifted beneath her, and he wondered if it sensed her nervousness. Lucy tugged on the reins. "I can't believe it's you," she said softly. "How did you know I was here?"

"It's a long story," he said dismissively.

"But, I thought I'd kept a low profile when I came into the country," she continued ignoring his reply.

Azim narrowed his brows and quirked the corner of his mouth. "Do you really think you could come back to Qazhar and I wouldn't know about it?" he asked incredulously.

Lucy shrugged and cocked her head to one side. "I guess not. I seem to recall not much gets past you. Did you have my name on some special watch list?" she asked, a hint of irritation in her voice.

"Of course not," he replied firmly. "What do you think I am? Some kind of global stalker?"

Lucy mouth pursed, and he could see that she was annoyed that her anonymity had been compromised somehow in a way she still couldn't fathom. The truth was Lucy hadn't done much to hide the fact that she was back in his country. Had she even been hoping Azim would find out she was here? That thought made him feel a flicker of hope, something he hadn't felt in a very long time.