Captured by the Sheikh. Кейт Хьюит
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she still marry Aziz if he wasn’t the rightful Sheikh? Would her Council even want her to? The point, Elena reminded herself, was most likely moot—unless she got out of here.
After walking between the boulders she emerged onto a flat rock overlooking a small, shimmering pool shaded by palm trees. The sun sparkled on the water as if on a metal plate, the sky brilliant blue above. The air was hot, dry and still, perfect for a swim.
She glanced around, wondering if the guards had followed her, but she could see no one. Just in case, she made a show of putting down her bag, spreading her towel on the rock. She slathered herself with sunscreen before she stripped down to the plain black swimming costume Leila had provided.
She glanced around again; she was definitely alone. No one had followed her from the camp.
And why should anyone? She was but a five-minute walk from her tent, in the middle of the desert, the middle of nowhere. In every direction the desert stretched, endless sand and towering black rocks, both bleak and beautiful.
There was, Elena knew, nowhere to go, nothing to do but wait and hope that Aziz found her.
Or send a signal.
She reached for her bag and took out the slats she’d broken from the chair. A few weedy-looking plants grew by the oasis’s edge, and she took them and made a small, rather pathetic-looking pile. She wasn’t going to get much of a blaze from this, Elena realised disconsolately, but it would have to do. It was her only chance. If someone saw the smoke from her fire, they might investigate, might look for her.
Resolutely, she started rubbing the sticks together.
Fifteen minutes later she had blisters on both hands and the sticks were a little warm. She hadn’t seen so much as a spark. Frustrated, she laid the sticks aside and rose from the rock. The air was hot and still and the shimmering waters of the oasis looked extremely inviting.
Balancing on her tiptoes, she executed a neat dive into the pool. The water closed around her, cool and refreshing, and she swam under water for a few metres before she surfaced, treading water, not knowing what was on the bottom and not particularly wishing to touch it with her bare feet.
Even if she managed to start a fire, she thought, what would distinguish it from any other camp fire? She’d have to get a really big blaze going for someone to take notice. She’d have to set the whole camp on fire.
Her plan, Elena realised, was ridiculous. The sense of purpose that had buoyed her all morning left her in a depressing rush. Yet even so she decided to try again. It wasn’t as if she had many, or any, other options.
She swam to the side of the oasis and hauled herself, dripping, onto the rock ledge. Drying herself off, she knelt before the sticks again and started to rub.
Five minutes later she saw the first tiny spark kindle between the sticks. Hope leapt in her chest and she rubbed harder; some of the dried plants and leaves she’d gathered caught the spark and the first small flame flickered. She let out a cry of triumph.
‘Don’t move.’
Everything in Elena stilled at the sound of that low, deadly voice. She looked up, her heart lurching against her ribs at the sight of Khalil standing just a few feet away. His eyes were narrowed, his mouth thinned, everything about him tense and still.
Her heart started to pound and then it seemed to stop completely as Khalil slowly, steadily, raised the pistol he’d been holding and pointed it straight at her.
THE SOUND OF the pistol firing echoed through the still air, bounced off the boulders and rippled the still waters of the oasis.
Dispassionately Khalil watched as the snake leapt and twisted in the air before falling a few feet away, dead.
He turned back to look at Elena and swore softly when he saw her sway, her face drained of colour, her pupils dilated with terror. Without even considering what he was doing, or why, he strode forward, caught her in his arms and drew her shuddering body to his chest.
‘I killed it, Elena,’ he said as he stroked her dark hair. ‘It’s dead. You don’t need to be afraid now.’
She pushed away from him, her whole body still trembling. ‘What’s dead?’
Khalil stared at her for several seconds as the meaning of her question penetrated. He swore again. ‘I shot the snake! Did you not see it, but three feet from you, and ready to strike?’
She just stared at him with wide, blank eyes, and forcibly he took her jaw in his hand and turned her head so she could see the dead viper. She blanched, drawing her breath in a ragged gasp.
‘I thought...’
‘You thought I was aiming at you?’ Khalil finished flatly. His stomach churned with a sour mix of guilt and anger. ‘How could you think such a thing?’ He didn’t wait for her answer, for he knew what it would be: because you kidnapped me. ‘I promised you I wouldn’t hurt you.’
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