Maisey Yates - Forged in the Desert Heat

She would burn out here in the desert.

She stirred and blinked, looking up at him. “I...” She pushed into a sitting position. “Oh, no. It wasn’t a dream.”

“No. Sorry. And are you referring to me or the kidnapping? Because I should think I am preferable to a band of thieves.”

“The kidnapping in general. This entire experience. Ugh. My whole body hurts. This ground is hard.”

“I’m sorry. Perhaps you should talk to the Creator about softening it for you.”

“Oh, I see, you think I’m silly. And wimpy and whatever.” She pushed a hand through her hair, and he noticed her fingers got hung up in it. He wondered how long it had been since she’d been able to brush her hair. He imagined she hadn’t been given the opportunity to bathe or take care of any necessities really.

And he wondered if they had gone with her when she’d had to take care of certain biological needs. If they had stood guard. If they had made her feel humiliated. It heated the blood in his veins. Made him feel hungry for revenge. But he couldn’t follow the feeling. Emotion didn’t reign in his life. Not now. Emotion lied. Purpose did not.

And it was purpose he had to follow now, no matter the cost.

“I think very little about you, actually. At least, about you as a person. Right now, you are an obstacle. And one that is making me late.” He’d been contacted by one of his men. There was an ambassador Rycroft, a crony of his uncle’s who was anxious for a meeting. Zafar was about as anxious for it as he was for a snakebite, but he supposed that was his life now.

Meetings. Politics.

“Excuse me?” She stood now, her legs shaky, awkward like a newborn fawn’s. “I’m making you late? I didn’t ask to be kidnapped. I didn’t ask for you to buy me.”

“Ransomed. I ransomed you.”

“Whatever, I didn’t ask you to.”

“Be that as it may, here we are. Now get out, I need to take the tent down.”

She shot him a deadly glare and walked out of the tent, her chin held high, her expression haughty. She looked like a little sheikha. A pale little sheikha who would likely wither out here in the heat.

“I have jerky in my saddlebags,” he said.

“Mmm. Yay for dry salted meat in the heat,” she said, clearly not satisfied to look at him with venom in her eyes. She had to spit it, too.

For all her attitude, she went digging through the bags, and as soon as she found the jerky she was eating it with enthusiasm. “More water?” she asked.

“In the skin.”

He continued deconstructing the tent while she drank more water and ate more food. For a woman who was so tiny, she didn’t eat delicately.

“Did they feed you?”

“Some,” she said, between gulps of water. “Not enough, and I was skeptical of it. So I only ate when I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Poisoning you, or drugging you would have served no purpose.”

“Probably not, but I was feeling paranoid.”

“Fair enough.”

“But you won’t hurt me, will you?” she asked, almost more a statement than a question, pale eyes trained on him.

“You have my word on that.”

He would not harm a woman. No matter her sins. Even he had his limits. Though he might see a woman thrown in jail for the rest of her life, but that was an entirely different woman. A different matter.

“I didn’t think you would. That’s why I slept.”

“How many days?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I was afraid to close my eyes because who knew what might happen. But it only makes things worse. It makes you...think things that aren’t real, makes it all blur together and then...it’s all scary enough without the added paranoia. I thought I was going crazy.”

“Understand this,” he said. “I’m not holding you for fun. I am not holding you to harm you in any way. I need to get a better read on the situation. I know this isn’t ideal for you, but war during your courtship would be even worse.”

“War would be worse in general,” she said. “But maybe I can talk to Tariq....”

“Maybe. And maybe it would matter. But there are times when a man must show his strength to protect what is his. There is a time for peace, but when your fiancée has been kidnapped, I am not sure that’s the time.” He paused. “And then there’s how my people will react. It is the sort of thing they expect of me. I will be implicated, make no mistake. Jamal will ensure it. And you know, for many leaders, it wouldn’t matter. They could crush the rumors, destroy the rebellion. Me? There is no loyalty to me here. It is not the love of my people chaining me to the throne, but law. If they could see me relieved of the position, many of them would, do not doubt it.”

“But you need to rule?”

“I was born to rule. It is my rightful place, stolen from me. I was exiled, banished, and I will not live the rest of my days that way. The throne of Al Sabah is mine now, and I mean to take it.”

“Even if you have to hold me to do it?”

“You will be kept in a palace, surrounded by luxury that rivals anything your darling fiancé could produce for you, so I doubt you’ll feel to put upon. Consider it a spa retreat.”

She looked around them. “Shall I start with sand treatment? Good for the pores, or what?”

“All right, the retreat portion of the vacation starts tonight. For now, consider yourself still on the desert tour. Only this is one-on-one. And you’re now with a man who knows the desert better than most people know the layout of the city they grew up in.”

“I don’t know whether to ask questions about the rocks or the dirt. The beauty is so diverse out here.”

“The landscape in Shakar is similar. Perhaps you should rethink your upcoming marriage if the best you can muster for your surroundings is a bit of bored disdain.”

“I’m sorry to have insulted your precious desert. I’m in a bad mood.”

“Your mood is the least of my worries, habibti. Now—” he put the bundle of tent back onto the horse, took the skin from her hand and refixed it to the saddlebags “—get on the horse, or I shall have to assist you again.”

She looked up at the horse and then back at him, genuine distress in her blue eyes. “I can’t. I wish I could. But my legs feel like strained spaghetti. It’s not happening.”

“It’s no matter to me. I held you all night. Putting my arms around you again isn’t exactly a hardship.” Her cheeks turned a brilliant shade of red and it had nothing to do with the sun. He didn’t know why he’d felt compelled to tease her that way. He didn’t know why he’d felt compelled to tease her at all. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever felt the least desire to engage in humor or lightness of any kind.

But beneath that was something darker. Something he had to ignore. A pull that he couldn’t acknowledge.

“Do what you must,” she said, defeated.

He locked his fingers together and lowered his hands, creating a step for her. “Come on,” he said.

She looked down and squinted. “Oh, fine.” She put one hand on the horse’s back and one on his shoulder, placing her foot into his hands and pushing up. He lifted her as she swung her leg over the horse and took her position.

“Front or back, habibti, it’s no matter to me.”

She looked genuinely troubled by the question. And then as though she was calculating which method would bring her into the least contact with his body.

“I...front.”

He found the position a bit more taxing, but the alternative was to have her clinging to his back, thighs shaped around his, her breasts pressed to his back. The thought sent a strange tightening through his whole body. His throat down to his stomach, the muscles in his arms, his groin.