The Sheik Retold(23)

He sat like a rock as the colt plunged wildly, making furious blind leaps, dashes backward and forward, and then stopping dead in the hope of dislodging his rider over his head. Unsuccessful, he twirled around so rapid and sudden that it seemed impossible he could keep his feet. I watched with fists clenched so tight my nails bit into my palms as he reared again, straight up with forelegs beating the air, higher and higher, and then down, only to commence again without a moment's breathing space. The colt shot up again, near perpendicular, and seemed suspended there. The sheik stood in his stirrups, his body aligned heavenward as the horse began to teeter on his hind legs. I closed my eyes in the certainty the sheik would be crushed beneath the horse. But the horse's valiant efforts were once more wasted.

"Look, madam!" Gaston exhaled a whistling breath through his teeth.

A scene began that I will never forget. After a swift backward glance, the sheik gave a hard and deliberate jerk of his body to unbalance the horse. With a scream, the young stallion tumbled backward, the sheik leaping off just before the horse crashed to the ground.

I knew the seconds that followed would be the ultimate struggle, one that would end in final defeat for either man or horse. Yet they were so well matched that I feared the best outcome would be bloodshed for one and crushed bones for the other. This sheik would never concede to the animal. I had not the slightest doubt he would let himself be killed first. I was almost sick with horror and longed to turn away, yet my gaze clung in transfixed fascination. I had to see this through to the bitter end. Although I expected to witness the ultimate contest of wills—a hideous exhibition of brute strength and merciless cruelty pitting the savagery and determination of the man against the mad determination of the horse—the sheik did the last thing I ever could have imagined. Rather than vaulting back into the saddle and punishing the animal brutally with whip and spur as I had expected, he threw himself on top the dazed creature's neck before it could regain its feet.

"I don't understand this! What is he doing?" I asked incredulously.

Gaston smiled widely and then laughed. "I have not seen this approach before, but it is a most innovative and clever one, madam. The horse cannot get up. He must have full use of his head and neck to rise."

I had sufficient knowledge of horses to know that its helpless position would soon incite panic, and that's precisely what ensued. Wild-eyed and frantic, the animal kicked, flailed, and thrashed its legs until its shiny coat was sweat-drenched and lather-coated, with foam issuing from its mouth. The sheik refused to move or to be moved, yet all while the terrified animal struggled, he stroked, coaxed, and murmured soothing words.

I looked on in wonderment until the horse eventually closed its eyes and went perfectly still. If not for its heaving breaths, I would have believed him dead.

It was only then that the Sheik took notice of me. His intense blue gaze bored into mine, and suddenly I understood. It was not at all as I had thought. His entire manner from his arrival back in camp had suggested he had forgotten my existence, but he had not forgotten me at all. No, he had simply chosen the precise moment that he wished to acknowledge me.

In watching his mastery of the horse, I had witnessed my own fate. This entire display had been for my benefit alone. His gaze never left mine until the instant he knew that I understood what he had done and why. I might continue to fight him all I liked, but I had seen the battle and the inevitability of my total submission unfurl before my very eyes. I shut them and averted my head, unable to give him what he wanted— an open acknowledgement of his dominion over me.

His attention had returned to the animal. When there was no visible sign of fight left in the horse, the sheik slid off its neck and urged it gently back to its feet. The colt now appeared calm and quiet, if perhaps a bit dazed, and although it visibly trembled and its sides heaved, no one could claim any harm had been done to him.

After a moment, the animal lowered its muzzle to sniff the sheik's hand. He held perfectly still, allowing the animal's olfactory exploration, after which the young horse responded with a quiet nicker. The sheik murmured some more quiet words and caressed the animal's muzzle. He then led the horse a few steps away, as if to test his legs, and vaulted into the saddle. This time when he urged the animal forward, it quietly obeyed.

Gaston clicked his tongue against his teeth. "See, madam. It is over."

While the servant went to congratulate his master, I held back, undecided and overcome by what I had seen. I, too, shook all over as I stared at the man who had completely mastered this impossible animal. Unless he deemed it so, I would never leave this place. My heart sank with a new kind of despair. "Yes," I whispered. "It is surely over."





CHAPTER SIX


I closed my eyes and stiffened in a sudden agony at the sound of the sheik's approaching voice. There was nowhere I could turn to avoid him. No escape. Although my first impulse was to shrink into the shade of the tent, I refused to cower like some craven creature skulking in the farthest corner of its cage. No, I would make my stand inside the open doorway and meet him face-to-face.

He came leisurely toward the tent. Although I stood in plain view, he still did not acknowledge me. Instead, he paused to talk to the Frenchman. He moved his hands when he spoke, quick, expressive gestures, speaking in a soft but unmistakably authoritative voice pitched in a deep, musical key. He pointed with an outstretched hand to something beyond my line of vision and laughed softly. At last he came toward me, only to stride right past and across the tent where he lit another cigarette.