The Sheikh's Virgin Bride(23)

My next hit he parried, but the following one connected, slicing his arm.

“Not bad for an amateur,” he sneered.

“You won’t win this, Idris. Give up now, and I’ll spare you.”

He slashed at my throat, but I deflected it easily.

“Ha, me? You’re the one who should be worried, Rashid.”

Our swords met again; the blades were shaking, lowering. I was winning. Idris wasn’t in nearly as good of shape as me.

“Give up,” I urged him. “Give up, and I’ll let you go unharmed.”

Idris’s whole face was one tense mask of exertion. “Never.”

When my sword reached his throat, however, he dropped his blade with a curse and held up both hands.

I froze as I heard shouts up ahead, raising my sword once again. Lacie appeared in front of me, the two guards holding her backing off once they saw the look on my face and the blade in my hand.

“Lacie!”

“Rashid!”

I ran towards my wife-to-be, taking her in my arms and pressing kisses on her forehead, her nose. She was shaking, her face slowly changing from an expression of terror to relief as Idris and his guards began to bicker amongst themselves. I felt the urge to make Idris pay, but he wasn’t worth it. She was the only thing that mattered, my only priority.

I wrapped one arm around her small, quaking body, and the two of us rushed out of there.





Chapter Seventeen





Lacie




After a long, luxurious sleep, I spent the next morning recovering. After I’d made full use of the gorgeous bathtub and changed into some clean clothes, attendants were in and out of my room every five minutes, offering me massages, facials, pastries—you name it.

Feeling restless, I told an especially eager young girl to fetch Rashid for me. Within a minute, he was at my door.

“Lacie, what is it? What’s the matter?”

I stared into his deep, warm eyes and my restlessness ceased. Suddenly, I knew just what I wanted.

“Could we—get away from here for a little while?”

“What do you mean?”

“Out of the palace. I just can’t stand being cooped up like this, with what happened swirling around me. I don’t want to be alone, and I don’t want to rest. I want to be with you, but I want to go out and do something.”

Rashid grinned and took my hand. “Done.”

The drive was vaguely familiar, although I only realized it when he mentioned it.

“I’m taking us to the city we were supposed to go to. Where our camels were headed.”

Suddenly, Rashid pulled the car over.

“God, Lacie, what was I thinking? I’m so sorry. Would you rather we take the camels?” Seeing my growing frown, he continued, still smiling away. “It’ll only take an extra five hours or so.”

As I smacked him, he pulled back onto the road, laughing. I put my hands on the wheel on top of his.

“Yeah, how about I take your car, and you take the camel.”

“No, no, I…” Catching my eye, his grin fell. He went quiet.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, only…for a second there, when you disappeared, I thought you had left. My mother was sure you had.”

“What, just up and walked into town, went away without saying anything?”

Rashid kept his gaze on the road. “I know, it sounds ridiculous. I just thought that maybe after all we’d spoken about, what had happened, maybe you found it too hard to say goodbye.”

“Too hard to even leave a letter, a text, anything?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t had the best relationship history, if you must know.”

Although I said nothing, he shook his head, as if I’d asked the question anyway.

“I’ll save that for another time. We’ve been through enough recently.”

The next minute he was, once again, pulling the car over. Getting out of the car, he went over and opened my door for me. I gaped at him.

“What are you doing?”

He gestured across the road, to a structure that looked to be, incredibly, a little ice cream parlor.

“Behold, the home of the best ice cream in the country. I haven’t been back here since I was a kid.”

My smiling eyes went from him, to the little building, back to him again. I took his extended hand.

“Count me in.”

The place was empty and manned by a sluggish youth who seemed shocked to see us.

“Sheikh Rashid bin Ahmed Qarani—my king, it is an honor—”

Rashid held up a hand. “I’m not king yet. What’s your name?”

“Adeem, sir.”

His voice was eager, and he insisted on giving us four scoops each for free.

“My father would have my head if he found out I made our future king pay for ice cream. Now, we can tell our children and our children’s children that the great Sheikh Rashid bin Ahmed Qarani came here and had our mint ice cream.”

Rashid and I thanked the smiling teenager before sitting down in a corner. With one hand, Rashid spooned ice cream out of his—and, occasionally, my—bowl, while with the other clasped my hand.

“If we are to be husband and wife, we should get to know each other as much as we can before we are married,” he said, looking deep into my eyes.