The Sheik and the Runaway Princess. Susan Mallery
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his side. “Perhaps in time. When I grow tired of you. Until then—” He motioned to the room around them. “Enjoy your stay in my home. After all, you’ve finally found your heart’s desire. You now reside in the City of Thieves.”
He turned and left.
Trapped, she thought dully. She was well and truly trapped. She had no idea where she was, and didn’t know a soul to help her.
Sabrina slid down the wall until she sat crouched on the stone floor. He was right. She had found what she’d been looking for. Which reminded her of that old saying. The one about being careful about what one wished for. The wish might come true.
Chapter Four
“I can’t believe it,” Sabrina muttered as she stared at her reflection in the gilded full-length mirror in her bedroom. “I look like an extra in a badly made sheik movie.”
“The prince was most insistent,” said Adiva, the soft-spoken servant sent to help Sabrina “prepare herself” for Kardal’s return.
“I’ll just bet he was,” Sabrina said, then sighed. There wasn’t anything to be done and she refused to get angry at the young woman who had been so kind.
She glanced at Adiva. The young woman, barely eighteen, stood with her eyes averted. She wore a conservative tunic over loose trousers and had pulled her thick, dark hair back in a braid. No doubt the teenager had all the retiring qualities that Kardal admired in women. He would think nothing of defiling Sabrina, while he would treat Adiva like a saint.
Sabrina returned her attention to her reflection and tried not to choke. She wore gauzy, hip-hugger trousers that were fitted at her ankles. Except for the scrap of lining low on her belly, she was practically naked from the waist down. The thin fabric concealed nothing. The top half of her outfit wasn’t any better. The same pale, gauzy fabric draped over her arms, while all that covered her breasts was a bra-style lining in gold. Adiva had caught her long, curly red hair up in a ponytail that sat high on her head. It was held in place with a gold headband.
Adiva stepped back and bowed slightly. “I will leave you to await our master,” she said quietly.
“I really wish you wouldn’t,” Sabrina told her, trying to ignore the nervous jumping in her stomach. All costumes aside, she wasn’t in the mood to be ravished. Not that the Prince of Thieves was going to ask her opinion on the matter.
Adiva either didn’t hear her plea, or didn’t believe it. Or maybe there was nothing the girl could do. She bowed again, then turned and left Sabrina alone.
The long room turned out to be perfect for pacing. Sabrina stalked from one end to the other, cursing Kardal, calling herself an idiot for setting out yesterday alone. If only the storm hadn’t come up. If only she hadn’t lost her horse and her camel. If only Kardal weren’t going to force her to have sex with him.
He was in for a surprise, she told herself, trying to keep her sense of humor and not panic. He was expecting Bathsheba, and instead he was about to get the virgin Sabrina. At least she would have the satisfaction of knowing that after he defiled her, he would be killed. However, that was small comfort. What would please her more would be a way to prevent the situation from occurring at all.
She reached the window and tried to find beauty in the view of the courtyard below and the marketplace in the distance. It was growing late and most people were hurrying home. She wished she could do the same. She turned to retrace her steps.
“Stand still so that I may look upon you.”
The words came out of nowhere and startled her into freezing in place. Kardal stood just inside the door. He had entered as quietly as a ghost. She’d heard neither the door open nor close. Darn the man for being so stealthy.
He’d cleaned up, she thought, looking at him and trying to still the rapid thundering of her heart. The man cleaned up pretty good. He still wore loose trousers and a linen shirt, but they were freshly pressed. His hair gleamed damply in the lantern light and his jaw was freshly shaved. Not wanting to know what he was thinking, she avoided glancing at his eyes, but she couldn’t help notice the elegant sweep of his nose or the strength inherent in his jawline. Were he not a kidnapper and a potential defiler of women, she might think him very handsome.
She had tried to make her study of him surreptitious, but he did not share her good manners. Instead he gazed at her as if he were considering the purchase of a mare. He stalked around her, looking at her from behind, then returning to stand in front of her again.
His attention made her shiver. She felt both his power and her near-nakedness. She liked neither. Fear took up residence low in her belly, making her chest tighten and her fingers curl toward her palms.
“You can’t do this,” she said, trying to make her voice strong, but sounding scared instead. “I’m a royal princess. The price of doing…that to me would be death. Besides, as the Prince of Thieves, you owe allegiance to the king of Bahania. To so insult his daughter would be an insult to him.”
Kardal folded his arms over his chest. “You’re forgetting that the king of Bahania doesn’t care about his daughter.”
She fought back a wince. “Actually I have trouble forgetting that, as much as I would like to.”
“Do you really think he would be angry?” he asked, stepping closer.
He reached for her right hand and took it in his. The contact startled her. She tried to pull away, but he would not release her.
“He might be annoyed,” Kardal conceded even as he ran a single finger along the length of her palm. Something unexpected skittered up her arm, as if a nerve had been jolted. “He might stomp about the castle, but I doubt he would kill me.”
“It doesn’t matter what he thinks about me,” she said, hating that those words were true. “But if you defile me, you defile a woman of his household. Regardless of his lack of concern, he would not let that go unpunished.”
Kardal shrugged. “Perhaps you are right. We’ll have to find out together.”
He moved with a swiftness that defied physics. One second he was lightly stroking her hand, the next he’d snapped something heavy around her wrist. She’d barely had time to gasp when he did the same to her left arm.
The air fled her lungs. She tried to scream in out-rage, but had no breath. Slave bracelets. The man had claimed her with slave bracelets.
“You—” She searched her mind for an appropriate slur and was disgusted when none came to mind. “How dare you?”
Instead of being afraid—which was obviously too much to ask with this man—he grinned at her. “You appreciate that which is ancient and valuable. You should be honored.”
Honored? Her gaze dropped to the gold encircling the five inches of her arm just above the wrist. The slave bracelets were obviously old and handsomely made. A swirling pattern had been etched into the gold—the design both intricate and beautiful. She knew that somewhere was a tiny latch which when pressed, would cause the locking mechanism to release. She also knew that it could take her weeks to find it.
“How dare you?” she demanded again, glaring at Kardal. “You mark me.”
He shrugged. “You are my possession. What did you expect?”
The insult was nearly unbearable. “I am not a creature to wear a collar.”
“No, you’re a woman in slave bracelets.”
She stuck out her arms. “I demand you remove them.”
He turned away and walked over to a bowl of fruit left on a table near the door. He picked up a pear, sniffed it and then took a bite. “I’m sorry. Were you speaking to me?”
She jerked at the right bracelet, knowing it was useless. “I hate this. I hate being here. I refuse to be your slave. And there are times when I really hate being a woman. My father and