best time, Rachid.’
‘What if they go elsewhere?’
‘They won’t.’
‘But how can you be so sure? How do you know? How do you always know the right thing to do?’ As they walked towards the stables, his brother cast him an envious glance. ‘I wish I could be as inscrutable as you. You never reveal your emotions.’
Hearing the angry squeal of a stallion, Zafiq walked purposefully in the direction of the commotion. ‘The same cannot be said for my horse, who seems to be revealing his emotions unhindered.’
‘Everyone in the stables is terrified of him.’
Zafiq watched as his Master of Horse led the halfwild, prancing stallion into the yard. Noticing the stallion’s ears flatten angrily, he sighed. ‘It seems Batal needs a break as much as I do.’ Without hesitating he strode towards the horse, his brother following at a safe distance.
‘Do you ever worry about anything?’ Rachid blurted the words out as if he’d been bottling them up for days. ‘Was there ever a time when you felt like me?’
Zafiq reflected on that question, a grim smile touching his mouth. He could have told his brother that his childhood had felt like nothing more than a rigorous training camp for instilling a sense of responsibility and duty.
‘Confidence comes with experience. I have had plenty of experience.’ With that economical response, he watched as Batal pawed the ground, nostrils flared. ‘Release him.’ As the sweating stable staff sprang out of the way, he put his hand on the animal’s neck and the stallion shuddered and calmed.
‘Horses and women—’ Rachid grinned at him in admiration. ‘How do you do it?’
Zafiq ignored the question, vaulting onto the animal’s back with athletic ease. ‘I will be back in five days. And Rachid—’ his hand closed around the reins as he stilled the restless stallion ‘—this is your opportunity to gain experience of your own. Don’t waste it. And try not to start a war.’
Without giving his brother time to voice any more objections, Zafiq allowed the shivering, expectant horse to spring forward, not bothering to rein him in as he plunged forwards through the open gates that led straight from the palace into the desert. The animal gave two ferocious bucks, but Zafiq didn’t shift in the saddle and the stallion settled down, as if remembering that he’d met his match in this particular rider.
‘You’re as impatient as I am to leave the city,’ Zafiq murmured, enjoying the surge of adrenalin that came with the sudden burst of speed.
The desert opened up before him, the space offering sanctuary from the oppressive demands of state business and the pressures of caring for his young brothers and sisters, whose needs appeared to become more complicated as they grew up, rather than less. As their guardian, he felt a burden of responsibility towards them that was in every way equal to the one he felt for his country.
After eleven punishing months of responsibility and duty, he was ready to leave it all behind and indulge in the yearly solitude he richly deserved and rarely enjoyed.
No problems. No pressure.
Just the desert and his own company.
Lost.
Heat, thirst, sand, heat, thirst, sand …
Shouldn’t she be there by now? She’d been riding for hours and it all looked the same.
Whatever had possessed her to think she’d be able to find her way?
Her mouth was drier than the desert, her head throbbed and her eyes stung.
Bella squinted dizzily into the blazing sun, focusing on the shimmer of heat that seemed to make the landscape move. What she really needed now was an oasis with cool water and palm trees offering a generous cocoon of shade. But there was nothing except sand, heat and the desperate burning thirst that grew more acute by the minute.
Her mouth was so dry she would even have welcomed herbal tea.
She’d stopped guiding the horse and was only dimly aware that the animal was still walking purposefully.
‘I’m sorry,’ she moaned, leaning forward and burying her burning face in the mare’s mane. ‘I don’t care about me but I’m really sorry I’ve done this to you. Why aren’t you fitted with sat nav? Stop walking. There’s no point. We might as well just give up.’
The horse gave a snort of disapproval and continued to walk. Bella was too weak and exhausted to do anything about it.
She was going to die.
Her body was going to be buried under the sand and discovered centuries later by archaeologists digging for relics.
Despite her dizzy, dehydrated state the inevitable headlines flashed into her head: Bad Bella Balfour Disappears from Desert Retreat.
Perhaps they’d think she’d drowned herself in herbal tea.
Perhaps they wouldn’t even care.
She gave a weak moan and tried to say something to the horse but by now her mouth was so dry it was difficult to speak. The pain in her head was so severe she felt as though someone was attacking her with an axe and her vision blurred.
The last thing she saw before she slid from the horse was an ominous black shadow emerging through the golden haze.
Death, she thought dizzily, and landed on the sand unconscious.
CHAPTER TWO
ZAFIQ sprang from his horse and issued a low command. The stallion immediately threw up his head proudly and stood still, his tail held high.
Taking in the identity of the other horse, Zafiq’s initial shock turned to raw, undiluted fury. ‘Amira—’ His voice gentle, he approached his favourite mare, hand outstretched, his anger ruthlessly contained. ‘What are you doing all the way out here?’ The horse allowed him to take the reins and he swiftly tied the animal to the saddle of his own mount.
Later, he promised himself with icy focus. Later, there would be a price to pay for this. For now, his priority had to be the girl.
She was the most unlikely looking horse thief he’d ever seen.
One glance at her thin cotton clothing was sufficient to tell him that she knew nothing about surviving in the harsh, unforgiving desert, and his mouth tightened as he bent over her inert body.
A pink baseball cap lay in the sand some distance from where she’d fallen but apart from that one small concession to the heat of the sun she appeared to have nothing in the way of protection.
Zafiq’s lip curled in contempt. After all the threats and warnings, this was who’d they sent to kidnap his most valued horse?
Impatience mingling with anger he glanced around for a rucksack, or something that indicated the girl had packed liquid, but there was nothing.
Muttering under his breath he stooped and lifted her, the breath hissing through his teeth as her blonde hair trailed over his arm like a shaft of light from a single sunbeam. Sand dusted her flushed cheeks and his eyes rested on her dry lips.
Unable to look away from the generous curve of her mouth, Zafiq felt a dangerous heat explode inside him and he stared down at her beautiful face, momentarily forgetting everything except the woman in his arms. And then her eyelids flickered upwards and he found himself staring into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. They were eyes that reminded him of a summer sky, of the azure blue of the Arabian Sea, of the cerulean silk that was sold in the souks of Al-Rafid. But despite the intense colour those eyes were dull, dazed and her lips parted and she whispered something—nothing that made sense; something about herbal tea—and then her eyes closed and she didn’t say another word.
Aware that he was still staring down at her face, Zafiq felt a rush of anger.
What