The Chatsfield: Series 2. Кейт Хьюит
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the modern-day marauder who had taken her from New York. The man who served an entire populace, not just his family. This was the history of his country personified, and she could see now why he had wanted her to come out here.
The car maneuvered slowly over the top of the dune, and the encampment came into view. Nestled on the edge of an oasis that had been invisible until this very moment. The sun shone on the water, the still surface reflected everything like a mirror. Tents were erected along the embankment, children running in circles around them. There were cooking fires already started, clothes hanging across lines, blowing in the breeze.
“I’m hoping we’ll receive a warm welcome.”
“Do you think there’s a chance we won’t?” she asked.
“I never take anything for granted, especially out here. Because out here, it does not matter that I am the sheikh. Not to them, and not to the desert. We are simply guests, myself as much as you. Though they are familiar with me.”
He brought the car to a stop, and turned the engine off. They were still a great distance away from the encampment, but she imagined this was part of not seeming as though he was storming the camp.
He got out and she followed suit, her feet sinking into the sand. She adjusted her weight, and shook the remaining sand out of her pant leg. “You almost need snowshoes to walk on this.”
“Or practice,” he said.
“Don’t sound so amused. I don’t often make a habit of going to the beach, but this is kind of an extreme version of that. And I’m unpracticed as it is.”
“Too late, habibti, I am amused. It cannot be helped.”
“Perhaps I should simply slide down the dune, and make a grand entrance.”
“I would prefer if you did not. But I am not in total control of your actions, neither do I pretend to be.”
She laughed. “Oh, that’s rich. I think you fancy yourself entirely in control of my actions.”
“I am not so foolish as to think that I could control you entirely.”
She shook her head, her hair hemmed in by the head covering. “Good. I would hate for you to be so deceived. Because as we discussed previously, I am nothing if not determined.”
“I believe the word you used earlier was stubborn.”
“They’re the same, aren’t they?”
“I imagine for the purposes of dealing with you, they are about the same.”
“I’m flattered to hear you say that.”
She would’ve liked nothing more than to walk on ahead of him, gliding gracefully over the surface of the sand, but for several reasons that wasn’t going to happen. One, because she was incapable of gliding across the surface of the sand, and two, because she was not going into the encampment alone.
Fortunately, Zayn took the lead, and she was able to follow behind him. It all felt very medieval, her walking in his shadow. But then, in the moment, there was very little she could do about it.
She was quite annoyed to see that he had no issues walking across the sand at all. It made her feel clunky, it made her feel disadvantaged. And she hated all of that. Yes, it was a little bit silly to be worrying about it out here in the middle of nowhere. To be worried about the fact that she looked so out of place, but it was ingrained in her that that was a bad thing, and she could hardly change her feelings on the subject now.
When they got to the bottom of the dune, he paused, and turned back to face her. “Wait here. I’m going to go forward and see if they are in a mind to receive visitors, and I do not want you near me just in case.”
“Just in case what?
“As I said, I don’t take anything in the desert for granted.”
She watched Zayn walk ahead, fear tightening her stomach and she wasn’t sure why. For herself, obviously. But then, she could always make a run for the dune, and for the vehicle. But she feared that it wasn’t only concern for herself that had her feeling on edge. But concern for Zayn. And he did not deserve her concern, all things considered.
But it was hard to wish the loss of a ruler on a nation, especially when the ruler appeared to be as caring as Zayn was. Yes, on a personal level she had found him difficult to deal with, but whenever he spoke of his country, whenever he spoke of his people, he seemed ideal. He was even willing to marry to further things for his people, and how could she fault him for that?
How could a nation ask for a stronger leader? For one who was willing to sacrifice himself on a greater level? Was there a greater level other than death to sacrifice yourself on? She doubted it.
So, that was why she was nervous. It had nothing to do with the way she felt about him, because all she felt for him was annoyance. Simple as.
He approached the edge of the encampment and stood, his hands outstretched, proving that he had no weapons, or at least that was what Sophie imagined he was doing. It was very possible that she was getting a bit overdramatic.
Overdramatic or not, she watched with bated breath, unsure of what might happen next. She wished he had brought some kind of protection with him because on this score she would be of no use to him. All she could do was plot her own escape. Which would be foiled by her inability to move quickly in the terrain. She might as well go out with honor.
Suddenly the man Zayn was talking to pulled him into an embrace. When they parted, Zayn looked back at Sophie, then started to walk her direction. His dark eyes were locked with hers and her stomach tightened in response. She did her best to school her expression into one of neutrality, but she wasn’t sure if she was quite managing it. Because he threw her off, darn it. Of course, who could blame her? He had brought her out to the middle of the desert and then had, in no uncertain terms, told her that their reception might be less than warm. And then he had left her standing on top of the dune. Yes, it wasn’t him that was throwing her off. It was the situation.
Then he moved closer, his dark eyes trained on hers, and a shiver worked its way down her spine. It was a lot harder, in that moment, to pretend the fear had been entirely for her.
“We are welcome,” Zayn said.
“Well, that’s good. I was already mentally planning on how I would relay your valiant fight to save yourself to your staff when I returned back in the SUV without you.”
She took a step toward him and stumbled. The wry smile that curved his lips said everything his voice didn’t. She was not running anywhere out here, and they both knew it. Not when she could scarcely walk a few steps without nearly falling on her face.
“I even explained to Jamal that you are a reporter. He still didn’t kick us out. I think that’s a good sign.”
“So he doesn’t mind me making observations that will end up in the news?”
“They remain fairly unaffected by world events out here, but that isn’t to say it doesn’t matter. As long as your representation is fair, he will not mind. Though I have to say I’m surprised that you care one way or the other.”
Heat stung Sophie’s face, and it wasn’t just from the sun. “Look, you’ve made some assumptions about me based on what you think a reporter is, and based on the fact that you think I’m basically a tabloid journalist, and given what I was up to when we met I can’t really blame you. But I write for the society pages for the New York Herald and that’s a far cry from the tabloids. Also, I’m a human being with feelings, and I acknowledge that other human beings have feelings. I’m not out to destroy anybody.”
“Except for the Chatsfields.”
She cleared her throat. “I never said I wanted to destroy them. I merely want to distract them.”
“To what end?”
“If you get to keep your secrets, then I get