The Sheik and the Runaway Princess

He reached for her right hand and took it in his. The contact startled her. She tried to pull away, but he would not release her.

“He might be annoyed,” Kardal conceded even as he ran a single finger along the length of her palm. Something unexpected skittered up her arm, as if a nerve had been jolted. “He might stomp about the castle, but I doubt he would kill me.”

“It doesn’t matter what he thinks about me,” she said, hating that those words were true. “But if you defile me, you defile a woman of his household. Regardless of his lack of concern, he would not let that go unpunished.”

Kardal shrugged. “Perhaps you are right. We’ll have to find out together.”

He moved with a swiftness that defied physics. One second he was lightly stroking her hand, the next he’d snapped something heavy around her wrist. She’d barely had time to gasp when he did the same to her left arm.

The air fled her lungs. She tried to scream in out-rage, but had no breath. Slave bracelets. The man had claimed her with slave bracelets.

“You—” She searched her mind for an appropriate slur and was disgusted when none came to mind. “How dare you?”

Instead of being afraid—which was obviously too much to ask with this man—he grinned at her. “You appreciate that which is ancient and valuable. You should be honored.”

Honored? Her gaze dropped to the gold encircling the five inches of her arm just above the wrist. The slave bracelets were obviously old and handsomely made. A swirling pattern had been etched into the gold—the design both intricate and beautiful. She knew that somewhere was a tiny latch which when pressed, would cause the locking mechanism to release. She also knew that it could take her weeks to find it.

“How dare you?” she demanded again, glaring at Kardal. “You mark me.”

He shrugged. “You are my possession. What did you expect?”

The insult was nearly unbearable. “I am not a creature to wear a collar.”

“No, you’re a woman in slave bracelets.”

She stuck out her arms. “I demand you remove them.”

He turned away and walked over to a bowl of fruit left on a table near the door. He picked up a pear, sniffed it and then took a bite. “I’m sorry. Were you speaking to me?”

She jerked at the right bracelet, knowing it was useless. “I hate this. I hate being here. I refuse to be your slave. And there are times when I really hate being a woman. My father and my brothers ignore me, you think you can do anything to me. I will not be treated with the contempt you give a camel.”

At last he turned to face her. “On the contrary,” he told her, then took another bite of the pear and chewed slowly. “I have great respect for camels,” he said when he’d swallowed. “They provide a lifetime of service and ask very little in return.” He glanced at her, starting at her feet and ending at the top of her head. “I doubt the same may be said for you.”

It was too much. She screamed, then reached for the bowl of fruit. Her fingers closed around an orange and she threw it at him.

“Get out!” she shrieked. “Get out of here and never come back.”

He headed for the door. The man was laughing at her. Laughing! She wanted him killed. Slowly.

“You see,” he said as he reached the door. “You are not going to be as well behaved as a camel. I’m disappointed.”

She threw a pear at him. It bounced off the door frame. “I’ll see you in hell.”

He paused. “I’ve lived a most exemplary life. So when we are both in the great afterward, I’ll try to put in a good word for you.”

She screamed and picked up the entire bowl. Still laughing, he stepped into the hall and closed the door, just as the bowl exploded against the wall.

Kardal was still chuckling as he entered the oldest part of the castle. He’d offered to modernize this section, but his mother protested that she preferred to keep things as they had been for hundreds of years.

He rounded a corner and saw an open arch, leading to what had been the women’s section. Nearly twenty-five years ago, his mother had opened the doors of the harem. Eventually she had sold them. As they had been nearly fourteen feet high, twelve feet wide and made of solid gold, they had fetched an impressive price. She’d promptly taken the money and used it to fund a clinic for women in the city. Well-trained doctors now monitored the women’s health, delivered their babies and took care of their young, all free of charge. Cala, his mother, had said the generations who had lived and died within the confines of the harem would have approved.

Kardal stepped through the open arch. What had been the main living area of the harem was now a large office. It was late enough in the day that her staff had left, but a light burned in his mother’s office.

He crossed the elegantly tiled floor and knocked on the half-open door.

Princess Cala glanced up and smiled. Tall, slender and doe-eyed, she had an ageless beauty that affected any man still breathing. A year away from turning fifty, she looked to be much closer to his age than her own. Her long dark hair was sleek and free from gray. During the day she wore it up in a sophisticated twist, but when work was finished, she often put it back in a braid. That combined with jeans and a cropped T-shirt allowed her to frequently pass for a woman half her age.

“The prodigal mother returns,” Kardal teased as he stepped around her desk and kissed her cheek. “How long will you be here this time?”

Cala turned off her computer, then motioned to the visitor’s chair across from her own. “I’m thinking of making this an indefinite stay. Will that cramp your style?”

Kardal thought of his recently monastic life. His workload had been such that he hadn’t been able to take time for female companionship. “I think I’ll survive. Tell me about your latest coup.”

She smiled with pleasure. “Six million children will be inoculated this year. Our goal had been four million, but we had an unexpected increase in donations.”

“I suspect it’s due to your persuasive nature.”

Cala ran an international charity dedicated to women and children throughout the world. When Kardal had gone away to boarding school, she had begun to busy herself with her charity work, traveling extensively, raising millions of dollars to help those in need.

She touched the collar of her dark red suit. “I’m not sure of the cause of the generosity, but I am grateful.” She paused to study him speculatively. “Is she really Princess Sabra?”

Kardal told himself he shouldn’t be surprised. News traveled quickly within the walls of the city and his mother always knew everything.

“She goes by Sabrina.”

Cala raised her eyebrows. “I hadn’t thought you could still surprise me, but I find I’m wrong. I’m sure you have a reasonable explanation for kidnapping the daughter of a trusted ally.”

He told her about finding Sabrina in the desert. “She was looking for the city, but there was no way she was going to find it. She would have died if we hadn’t helped her.”

“I don’t dispute the fact that you should have offered assistance. What I question is you holding her captive. I heard that you brought her into the city on your horse, with her hands tied.”

He shifted uncomfortably.

“Why was she looking for the city?” Cala asked, leaning toward him. “I can’t imagine she’s interested in the treasures.”

“Actually she is. She said she has a couple of degrees. Archeology and something about Bahanian artifacts or history.”

“You can’t remember what she studied?” Cala shook her head as if silently asking herself where she’d gone wrong with him. “It was too much trouble to pay attention. Yes, I can see how a first conversation with one’s betrothed could be tedious.”

Kardal hated when his mother spoke as if she was being reasonable when in fact she was verbally slapping him upside the head.