Her Sheikh Protector. Linda Conrad
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me about the Kadir and Taj Zabbar feud?”
In the middle of lifting his water to his lips, Darin choked, spilling the drink down the front of his button-down shirt.
“What did you say?” he sputtered. “Who told you anything about the Taj Zabbar?”
Leaning in toward him, she hurriedly dabbed at his chest with a paper napkin. Tiny smile lines appeared at the corners of her eyes. It was the first easy expression he’d seen on her face and the casualness of it made her glow. How beautiful would she be if she ever actually laughed?
He couldn’t imagine, but the mere idea made him want to see for himself.
Before Darin could give her an automatic grin, he ordered up the covert operative inside him and brushed her hands away. “Forget the shirt. The water will dry. Tell me what you know about the Taj Zabbar.”
“All I know is what a friend read on the Internet.” She sat back in her chair and looked as though she was poised to run. “The Taj Zabbar is in control of their own country again after nearly five hundred years of being oppressed by neighbors. And they apparently hate the Kadir family for some reason, but I can’t find out why.”
When he said nothing, she continued, “I do know the Kadirs weren’t the ones who enslaved them. You folks don’t even have your own country, do you? Why would they carry a grudge against your family?”
Under her shower of questions, Darin felt his jaw and shoulders tightening. He tried to relax. Beyond the obvious lust, what was it about her that so intrigued him?
If this was some kind of game, he would play along until he was satisfied she wasn’t working for the enemy.
“I suppose I can tell you the family legends of the Taj Zabbar feud. But then I have a question or two for you. Do you promise to answer truthfully?”
“Why should I?”
“Because otherwise this conversation is over. I have business matters that need attention.”
Her lip jutted out and her eyes narrowed. “Okay. Maybe. But I reserve the right not to answer.”
She frustrated him beyond belief. “We’ll see about that.” He tried to find some emotion he could pin down in her eyes, but all he found was hunger.
“Wait a second.” He lifted a hand, palm out. “I’ve decided there is one more condition. I’m going to order something for you to eat and I want you to eat every bite—or else no more conversation.”
Her mouth gaped open. “What is with you and the compulsion to feed me?”
“It’s just your tough luck that you picked this Kadir to harass. I won’t be responsible for you collapsing from hunger while you’re with me. And you look like you could be blown over by a light breeze. Is it a deal?”
“Fine,” she muttered. “Do you think this place serves salads?” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t I look like I need to diet?”
Nearly done chowing down on the huge bowl of pasta and seafood Darin had insisted she order, Rylie was trying to calm her racing mind. For the last thirty minutes, Darin had been almost overly polite. Talking casually about the chill in the air or the newly budded spring blossoms on the trees seemed bizarre. The evening was starting to feel like a date, except that his eyes kept darting around the room as if he were expecting someone else to show up.
Somehow over the last twenty-four hours, Rylie’s anger toward the Kadirs—or at least toward this Kadir—seemed to have subsided. She tried to dredge up a chunk of that old hatred, but all she came up with was curiosity.
She dropped her fork and blotted her mouth with a napkin. “Done. Will you—please—tell me the story of the feud now?”
“It isn’t a true feud. Feuds take two parties. The Kadirs have not held a grudge against the Taj Zabbar—in the past.”
The way he added that last part was curious. She made a mental note to ask about it later. But in the meantime, Darin sat back in his chair and sipped his sparkling water as if he was done talking. Like hell.
When she glared at him and fisted her hands on the table, he lifted the corners of his mouth and rolled his eyes. “All right. I guess I did promise. There’s an old legend about the family’s first encounter with the Taj Zabbar—over five centuries ago. Is that what you want?”
“To start.”
“Yes, well. For nearly a thousand years the Kadir clan have been nomads and traders. Originally we traveled the Spice Route in ten-mile-long caravans, staying for a time with the various peoples we met along the way. Our clan never claimed any lands as our own but would rely on the kindness of those who would allow us to pitch our tents on their land.”
Rylie leaned back in her chair and listened to him speak in that dreamy voice of his. As he spoke, she thought about the Arabian Nights tales. His hushed words tied her in a web of romance, destiny and mystic promise. Visions of sandstorms and camels and dark sheiks riding across dunes on horseback swam in her mind.
“At around sixteen hundred AD,” he went on, “the Kadir caravan arrived in a new territory. A land of vast, isolated deserts and rough mountain terrain. A land with easily accessible coastlines for commerce. The Kadirs found the territory was inhabited by a fierce warrior tribe called the Taj Zabbar.”
Darin was finally getting down to the legend. “The Kadirs have always come and gone in peace, no matter where they’ve traveled.” Shooting a quick glance around at the thinning crowds in the bar, he continued. “But the Taj Zabbar wanted no trade and no peace. Our people were preparing to move on when the caravan was attacked. Taj Zabbar warriors robbed, raped and murdered many of our people before the Kadirs could mount a defense.”
He’d stopped talking and a faraway look appeared in his eyes. Rylie wondered if the magic of the legend was affecting him the same way it did her.
“Don’t stop now. What happened next?”
“What? Oh, sorry.” He suddenly looked annoyed and Rylie was about to ask why when he said, “Do you see anyone watching us?”
She pivoted in her chair and checked around the bar.
“Nope. Why?”
His lips narrowed into a grimace. “Nothing. It’s just.
“Never mind. Where was I?”
“Your ancestors defending themselves against attack.”
She couldn’t quite name the expression in his eyes, but in a moment he began his story once more.
“The Kadirs successfully defended themselves. But by then the caravan was destroyed. It would’ve been impossible for them to move on in the shape they were in. They were compelled to settle down where they were for long enough to repopulate their herds of camels and horses and to construct new tents. A second generation of our people had been born before the caravan was ready to travel again.”
“Wow. So, like, years, then? What about the Taj Zabbar during that time?”
“Yes, it was many years. And the Taj Zabbar continued their raids on our people.” Darin’s voice dropped to a near whisper and she was forced to lean forward to hear what he was saying. “Finally, in desperation, the Kadir elders decided they had no choice but to fight back. They rounded up as many of the Taj Zabbar as they could, executing the worst of the murderers and dispersing the rest.”
Rylie felt a whiff of air on the back of her neck at that moment and looked around to see if someone had opened a door behind her. She found the bar crowds had thinned considerably, and the door was firmly shut against the night air. She could barely believe she’d been so entranced by the story that she hadn’t even noticed the time.
Darin kept talking and she whipped her head back to hear what he was saying. “After the Kadir clan left their territory for good, the Taj Zabbar rulers and warriors had been so decimated that they