Ryshia Kennie - Desire In The Desert - Sheikh's Rule

“Come.” A woman in a mauve-and-gold aselham, the hood over her head so that her forehead was covered, approached and beckoned, motioning with one hand. What Kate could see of her face and dark hair revealed a woman in her early forties with a smooth, sun-bronzed face and eyes that seemed dark, unfathomable, as if they were full of secrets.

Intrigued, she followed the woman as she skirted behind the houses to a smaller building made of the same sandstone. A brown curtain served as a door.

Kate had to bend to follow the woman through the doorway. Inside was another woman. This one was younger and dressed similarly, except her aselham was worn with a matching veil that was gray with gold trim. A gold tassel dangled from either side of her veil. An older woman in a cream-colored aselham that showed the tops of a pair of black, high-heeled boots, her long gray hair uncovered, brought her a cup of tea. Kate knew the veil was not a cultural necessity among the Berbers but more than likely worn for protection from the unseasonable weather.

She took the tea. The cup and saucer was bone china like any you’d get at home and unlike the customary Berber cup that had no handles. She sank onto the rug that covered the floor, watched the others and emulated what they did. She held the cup with both hands, not the usual way to hold what seemed a traditional teacup. Despite her studies and everything she knew about Morocco and the Middle East, she’d never seen a tribe such as this that seemed to dance between traditional customs and ones that, she guessed, weren’t acquired from popular culture but distinctly their own.

“They won’t tell him the truth,” the younger woman said in a soft voice. “He was paid too well.”

The oldest of them clicked her tongue, an oddly loud sound in the ensuing silence. She held up her hand. “Enough of such talk.”

“It’s true,” the younger woman persisted. “They will not say anything.”

Kate put her cup down and met the older woman’s eyes. She took a chance that these women knew why they were here and they might very well know where Tara was. “Sheikka Tahriha Al-Nassar may die if we don’t find her soon.”

Silence hung within the room for what seemed like minutes and might have only been seconds.

Finally the woman who had led her there said, “I will say what I know but you are to tell no one what has been said within these walls until you leave this village.” Her gaze was intense, serious. “This is between us. The women here and no more.”

“I promise,” Kate said sincerely.

“I tell you this. I will breach the will of our men only because one of our sisters is in danger,” she said. The words were spoken in careful and precise English and because of that they seemed even more ominous.

Kate held back a shiver.

The woman squatted beside Kate and pulled her veil back, revealing fresh, clear skin that was much more youthful than Kate had imagined without the veil casting shadows along the sides of her face.

As she listened, Kate could feel the tension tightening in her gut and the implications of it all made her want to cry for Emir, for his family. But, first, she knew that the man who was intent on destroying the house of Al-Nassar must be stopped.

“Do you know where they were going?” Kate asked.

“No.” She hung her head but when she looked up and her lips were set as if she’d made a decision. “That is all.”

Kate nodded and stood.

“Thank you,” she said. She wanted to shake the woman’s hand but she knew that wouldn’t be acceptable.

She was surprised when the woman offered her own hand. They shook and, with a nod, the woman led her outside before she disappeared down a narrow break between dwellings.

Where the woman had gone there was now only a goat, who lifted his head from a pail from which he was placidly eating and then turned back to his food as if whatever was going on was of little interest to him. Two children chased past her, their childish laughter no different from children anywhere, as dust rose up under their bare feet and the sun beat down on her as if nothing was wrong. Just behind them a shadow drifted between the buildings and she saw a young man, bearded, dressed in a brown robe. Their eyes met as if he were analyzing her. Then, as if she wasn’t supposed to see him, he too disappeared.

She turned as a shudder ran through her, a combination of dread and determination. They’d find Sheikka Tahriha if it was the last thing she did. Despite everything, and maybe because of everything she’d learned, she had the feeling she was no longer welcome. She felt like there were eyes watching her. She needed to find Emir so they could get out of here—now.

Chapter Fifteen

“Emir!” Kate’s voice called from behind him.

He turned from his conversation with one of the older men to see her hurrying toward him, her face pale, her hair escaping the ponytail, as usual.

A couple of small girls shadowed her footsteps, imitating her walk and her voice as they giggled. She looked back at them and then at Emir with a pained expression. He’d never seen her look so uncomfortable, so out of place.

She took his arm, her eyes pleading. “Let’s go,” she whispered.

He nodded at her. They were done here.

But there was something in her voice that said there was more.

“What’s going on Kate?” he asked as they approached the Jeep parked just outside the oasis. He looked around. They were alone.

“Kate?”

She turned and, just like that, he felt like he was drowning in the rich blue of her eyes. They glistened with excitement, tears—he wasn’t sure what. He held himself back from doing what he ached to do—take her in his arms. They might be alone but there still could be eyes that watched them and he wanted to get moving, they both did, even though it was clear something was troubling her.

He had the Jeep in gear and the village was far behind them before he asked, “What is it?”

“You may know one of the men who took Tara,” she said.

The husky tone in her voice would have been alluring at another time. Again, the thought leaped at him out of nowhere, broadsiding him, enraging him with its lack of control.

“At least, that’s what the woman I spoke to implied. But more than that, he knew your parents,” she went on before he could say anything. “Maybe he worked for you. I don’t know.”

Shock ran through Emir and left him momentarily speechless.

“That’s impossible,” he growled. It implied betrayal of the worst kind. His head pounded and dread settled through him as if deep in his core he realized that, despite all their precautions, just like Tara’s abduction, what she said was very possible.

“Is it?”

“That’s crazy. We screened all our employees. They’re all loyal, trustworthy, even friends.” He couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t. In that moment he only wanted to fight the implication with everything in him.

“I know you ran a check through all the past and current employees. But, Emir, it’s possible. What I find interesting is that it hasn’t happened sooner. People envy wealth like yours—even those who call themselves friend.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“While you were with the men, a woman took me aside. She told me about a man who had visited the village six years ago. He’d stopped for water and her husband had offered him a smoke and food. Her husband knew the man’s family—they had once been from that tribe. She could only say that he was middle-aged, Arabic, and attractive in a tired kind of way. He said at the time, that the House of Al-Nassar was cursed. She wasn’t privy to everything he said but she saw money change hands for their silence. What she remembers most is how he spoke with an almost rabid hatred of the House of Al-Nassar and kept repeating how someday he would bring it down. She remembers the name Raja.”