Dana Marton - Undercover Sheik

She stayed quiet for a long time before she said, “Thank you.”

He took a deep breath, satisfied in the knowledge that he was doing the right thing. For the next few weeks, Sadie Kauffman would be like a sister to him.

He fixed that thought in his brain and ignored the way her lithe body felt as she rode in the circle of his arms.

SADIE WATCHED THE CAMP and forced herself to stay on the camel that was taking her closer. Now that the tents were near, her euphoria of having been saved from sure death was wearing off quickly. Coming back went against all her instincts. She’d escaped. For a few hours, she’d been free.

And she would be dead by now if not for Nasir, she reminded herself. She had to trust him.

“We’ve got visitors,” he said and slowed Ronu to a walk.

A few seconds passed before she, too, spotted the beat-up Jeep that she hadn’t seen before. Once they were close enough, she could even make out the license plate—Yemeni.

She scanned the camp for strangers, but couldn’t spot any among the men who were out and about. One of them yelled over to Nasir.

She felt him stiffen in the saddle behind her. “What did he say?”

“The convoy is arriving today. A messenger rode ahead.”

The sudden hardness in his voice made her turn to him. He was looking toward Umman’s tent, the fierce intensity back on his face, darkness shadowing his eyes, tension tightening his mouth.

For a man who’d waited over a month for this very opportunity to gain information he needed, he didn’t look happy. Sadie, on the other hand, felt full of hope all of a sudden. As soon as he had his information, they could get the hell out of here. “You think we’ll be able to leave soon?”

“As soon as I can get my cousin’s whereabouts out of them.” Nasir made the camel lie down and slid off his back then helped her to the sand.

She stood aside, giving him room to unsaddle the animal. “How big do you think the convoy is?”

“I don’t expect more than a dozen men.”

She didn’t look forward to having more scary-looking, battle-hardened bandits and smugglers in camp. “Will they stay long?”

“A few days, probably. Long enough to rest for the return journey. It would be best if you stayed in my tent as much as possible while they are here.”

“No problem.” She wasn’t going to argue with that.

“Stay behind me,” he said, his voice laced with annoyance all of a sudden.

She soon saw the reason. Ahmed was strutting toward Nasir’s tent, derision on his face as he waited for them.

He said something in a hissing, hateful tone.

Nasir responded coolly and passed by him as if he weren’t even there.

“What was that about?” she asked once they were inside and Ahmed had strode off.

“Envy.” Nasir shrugged. “Because I have you and he can’t.”

She watched him in the dim light—his dark shape that dominated the tent, his noble features—and for a moment she wondered what it would be like to truly belong to a man like him. And then it occurred to her that there might be some woman somewhere who did belong to him.

“Do you have a family? Wife and children? Wives?” She corrected herself when she realized he might have more than one. The thought boggled her mind.

“I’m alone,” he said, and something in his voice made her think the statement went beyond his marital status.

“You have your sisters and your brother,” she said. At one point during the ride back, she’d asked him about the royal family.

“I have taken the path of revenge.” He tucked the saddle in the corner of the tent. “My brother will not understand it. He’s grown up with your western ideals, went to school in England. Forgiveness and reconciliation are his best friends, leaving the law to deal with the lawless.” He didn’t sound bitter as much as resigned.

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