Forged in the Desert Heat

But here, among the people who felt like his own—among the people who had suffered most at his uncle’s hand—there was happiness here at least. They knew that whatever his sins, he had been working to atone.

Zafar looked out toward the horizon, all flat and barren from this point to Bihar. There was one more place to stop and seek shelter, but it was another five hours’ ride, and he didn’t relish the idea of more time spent in the saddle today.

He dismounted his horse and patted the animal, dust rising from his black coat. “I think we’ll take our chances here,” he said, leading him to a makeshift corral, where other horses were hemmed in, and opened the gate.

He closed it, making sure it was secure before walking back toward the main tent.

One of the men was already coming out to greet him.

“Sheikh,” he said, inclining his head. “A surprise.”

“Is it? You had to know I was heading back to Bihar.” A growing suspicion. The desert was vast and it seemed strange to intersect with Jamal’s band of thugs at this particular moment.

“I may have heard something about it. But there is more than one road to the capital city.”

“So you had no desire for a meeting with me?”

The other man smiled, dark eyes glinting in the golden light. “I didn’t say that. We were hoping to run into you. Or, at least, someone of your means.”

“My means are still limited. I haven’t yet been back to Bihar.”

“And yet, you do find ways to acquire what you need.”

Zafar looked the man over. “As do you. Will you invite me in?”

“Not yet.”

Zafar knew something wasn’t right. His truce with Jamal and his men was tentative. It was probably why they wanted to see him. He was in a position to put a stop to what they did out here in the desert, and he knew the places they liked to hit.

They weren’t dangerous men; at least, they weren’t entirely without conscience. And so they were on the bottom of a long list of concerns, but, as was human nature, they clearly believed themselves more important in his world than they were.

“Then have you gifts to offer me in place of hospitality?” Zafar asked dryly, a reference to common custom out in the desert.

“Hospitality will come,” Jamal said. “And while we don’t have gifts, we do have some items you might take an interest in.”

“The horses in the corral?”

“Most are for sale.”

“Camels?”

“Them, as well.”

“What use have I for camels? I imagine there is an entire menagerie of them waiting for me in Bihar. Cars, as well.” It had been a long time since he’d ridden in a car. Utterly impractical for his lifestyle. They were a near-foreign thought now, as were most other modern conveniences.

The other man smiled, his teeth brilliantly white against his dark beard. “I have something better. An offer we hope might appease you.”

“Not a gift, though.”

“Items this rare and precious cannot be given away, your highness.”

“Perhaps you should allow me to be the judge of that.”

Jamal turned and shouted toward the tent and Zafar watched as two men emerged, holding a small, blonde woman between them. She looked up at him, pale eyes wide, red rimmed. She wasn’t dirty, neither did she look like she’d been handled too roughly. She wasn’t attempting an escape, either, but given their location...there would be no point. She would have nowhere to go.

“You have brought me a woman?”

“A potential bride, perhaps? Or just a plaything.”

“When have I ever given the indication that I’m the sort of man who buys women?”

“You seem like the sort of man who would not leave a woman in the middle of the desert.”

“And you would?” he asked.

“In no uncertain terms, Your Highness.”

“Why should I care about one Western woman? I have a country to consider.”

“You will buy her, I think. And for our asking price.”

Zafar shrugged and turned away. “Ransom her. I’m sure her loved ones will pay much more than I am willing or able to.”

“I would ransom her, but it is not my intention to start a war.”

Zafar stopped and turned, his muscles locked tight, his heart pounding hard. “What?”

“A war, Sheikh. It is not in my best interest to start one. I don’t want those Shakari bastards all over my desert.”

Shakar was the closest neighboring country to Al Sabah and relations between the two nations were at a breaking point, thanks to Zafar’s uncle. “What does Shakar have to do with this woman? She’s Western, clearly.”

“Yes. Clearly. She is also, if we believe her ranting from when we first took her, American heiress Analise Christensen. I imagine you have heard the name. She is betrothed to the Sheikh of Shakar.”

Yes, he had heard the name. He was largely cut off from matters of State but he still heard things. He made sure he did. And clearly, Jamal made certain he heard things, as well. “And how is it I play into this? What is it you want with her?” he spat.

“We can start a war here, or end one, the choice is yours. Also, with the wrong words in the right ear, even if you take her, but threaten us? We can put you in a very bad position. How is it you ended up with her? The future bride of a man rumored to be the enemy of Al Sabah? Your hands are bound, Zafar.”

In truth, he would never have considered leaving the woman here with them, but what they were suggesting was blackmail, and one problem he didn’t need. One problem too many.

So, buy her and drop her off at the nearest airport.

Yes. He could do. He didn’t have very much money on him, but he didn’t think their aim was to get the highest price off the beauty’s head so much as to seek protection. Zafar was, after all, ready to assume the throne, and he knew all of their secrets.

He looked down at the woman who claimed to be an heiress, betrothed to a sheikh. Anger blazed from those eyes, he could see it clearly now. She was not defeated, but she was also smart enough to save her energy. To not waste time fighting here and now.

“You have not harmed her?” he asked, his throat getting tight with disgust at the thought.

“We have not laid a finger on her, beyond binding her to keep her from escaping. Where would her value be, where would our protection be, if she were damaged?”