The Sheik Retold(14)

To my amazement, he released me. I was too stunned to run, yet my mind raced with all he had revealed. Though I tried to reject it all as lies, tiny glimmers of truth broke through the darkness. I recalled vividly waking in my hotel room to a fleeting vision. There had been someone there. My revolver had been tampered with. I had not missed my shots; they had been substituted with blanks. Mustafa Ali's shifting eyes, his desire to hurry from the oasis where we had rested at mid-day, his tone, were all explained. He had acted his part to perfection right down to the imaginary wound that had toppled him from his saddle. My faithless and deceitful guide had led me to a man who had bribed him to betray me. Even the horse I rode was trained to this sheik's whistle. I could not deny that at least part of this absurdity was indeed truth.

The knowledge that I had been duped filled me with impotent rage, but the suggestion of Aubrey's complicity was ludicrous! Nevertheless, seeds of doubt took root in my mind. Could this be why Aubrey had reacted so uncharacteristically the night before? Suddenly I recollected the last moments before our parting. What had he and the guide been discussing just before my departure? Had he really planned to kill me? But why? Aubrey lived a life of extravagance. Could he be in need of funds? In the event of my death, my entire fortune would be his.

I recalled the strange look in his eyes. Was it a pang of guilt over the murder he had planned? Had he had second thoughts at the last minute? Had Aubrey really paid the guide to kill me? My hands gripped my throat. My God! It could not be true!

"I don't believe a word you say!" I gasped. "You are a brigand and a liar!"

His expression grew grim. His eyes shone cold, hard, and black as onyx. He came close behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders and then slowly slid them up to rest around my neck, where his thumbs caressed my pulse. His voice was low and soft. "Were you a man, I would slice your throat for such calumny. Do not ever disparage my character again."

My heart stood still. "But why me?" I choked out.

He dipped his head to murmur in my ear. "It was fated. I saw you once before—in Paris. You were surrounded by your panting lapdogs and would have none of them. It was then I knew that I alone would have you. The rest was Allah's will," he continued matter-of-factly. "You came to Biskra. You arranged a tour in the desert. You were bored and wanted adventure. I have granted that wish." He flashed a feral smile. "And now you will grant mine."

He released me abruptly, but my knees were so weak that I almost fell backward against him. It was all as he had said, and I felt dazed, hopeless, like a fugitive who has turned into a cul-de-sac. I heard the strike of a match, and then the pungent scent of Turkish tobacco drifted in a thin thread of smoke across my face. This banal little incident nearly snapped my nerves.

"You are mad. You have no right to keep me!"

"Au contraire, ma belle. You are mine. I have every right."

It was his second such reference, and every fiber of me rebelled against the thought. Could it be true? Would the laws of this primitive place uphold such a barbaric bargain? It could not be. This awful thing could not have happened—not to me, Diana Mayo! It was a dream! It must be a ghastly dream! My blood roared.

"Is this a normal practice for you?" I asked. "Are there so few women willing to have you that you must resort to abduction…to rape?"

His jaw clenched. His fingers clamped on my chin. "You are misguided. To be chosen for my bed is the greatest of honors."

I snorted my contempt. "I'm afraid I don't see it that way."

He returned an indulgent smile. "You will. In time. I do not expect you to comprehend yet, my dove, but you shall. Soon. Very soon."

"Please." I changed tack, begging with an earnest urgency. "Just let me leave this place and I will say nothing to anyone. To keep me here will only condemn you as a criminal. Under the law, your actions are nothing more than those of a lawless brigand—a kidnapping rapist."

"Once more you insult my character? Did I not just warn you of this?"

His darkening expression sent a ripple of dread deep into my belly, but I still refused to be cowed. "It is not an insult if it is the truth. You have abducted me."

"No. The truth is that you belong to me." He released my chin to stroke a knuckle along my jaw. His voice became as soft and sultry as his caress. "You must accept this fact, my dove."

I ground my teeth. "You do not own me."

He laughed. "You are much like an unschooled horse—one that has yet to be mastered, and I am the master here."

Mastered? My heart lurched into my throat. "What do you mean? Do you intend to lock me away? To beat me? Is this your notion of mastery?"

"Neither method is my preference." He released me with a blithe little shrug.

Perhaps I was weak with fatigue and hunger, or maybe my body had just shut down in shock, but my legs gave way beneath me. He caught me in his arms where I lay as if dead. I was barely conscious of him carrying me across the tent, through curtains, into an adjoining room, where he laid me gently on the silk damask counterpane of a huge tester bed. His bed? His dark eyes raked over me until I was certain my masculine clothes had been entirely stripped away, leaving my very feminine body bare to his gaze.

"You make a very charming boy," he remarked at length, "but it was not a boy that I saw in Biskra. You understand?"