The Sheik's Lost Princess Read online

  She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes but didn’t open her mouth.

  “In addition to that,” he went on, “how do you plan on convincing the couple to give up the boy if you do finally arrive at Kuh Friez? If they’re kidnappers, they could be dangerous. And thinking beyond that potential problem, how did you intend to get the child out of the country?”

  Her shoulders slumped and she looked like he’d punched her in the gut. “I hadn’t planned ahead that far. I didn’t know Zabbarán and the Taj Zabbar were so…so…”

  “Backward and dangerous?”

  She nodded and covered her face with her hands. “I thought there would be police. Someone of authority who would help me.”

  He couldn’t stand seeing her defeated. He hadn’t realized how much he had begun to respect her unfamiliar and yet much stronger attitude. The new version of Nikki fascinated him.

  “How about if we make a deal?”

  She looked over at him with cautious hope in her eyes.

  “You give me all the information about the child,” he began in his most convincing tone. “And then let me take you across the border tonight. I promise that my brothers and I will come back for the boy after we’ve had a chance to make a decent rescue plan.”

  Hanging her head, she sat on the rock. “No.” Her whispered answer was almost too quiet to hear. “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I won’t leave Zabbarán without him.”

  “You’re being too noble!” The words exploded from his mouth. “There’s such a thing as carrying a promise too far. Is there something you aren’t saying? Is this mother blackmailing you? What has she got on you that you would go this far for someone else’s child?”

  Nikki jumped up, fighting her tears. Crying would get her nowhere.

  At this point she had nothing to lose by telling him the truth—at least part of the truth. “He’s not someone else’s child,” she cried through muffled sobs. “He’s my child. My baby. I must get him back. I must—or die in the attempt.”

  Shakir’s mouth dropped open for a second. Soon enough, though, he recovered and stared at her suspiciously.

  “You have a child? Your son.” His eyes widened in disbelief. “Why isn’t the father here? Why would he let you take this much risk alone?”

  Nikki nearly blurt out all of it, but she was still unsure of him. She had good reason to be wary.

  “I’m a single, unwed mother, Shakir. I have no one to help me.”

  “Your parents?”

  She shook her head. “My father died a couple of years ago. After his death, my mother developed a dreadful case of dementia. She’s in a nursing home and barely remembers who she is anymore.”

  “Then tell me again why you couldn’t hire a professional to take care of this for you.”

  “All the money is gone.” She turned away in order not to face Shakir while she gave him the facts. “After my father lost his bid to retake the kingdom, he spent most of his remaining funds in vain attempts to overthrow his cousin. The small amount that was left after his death is going toward my mother’s support.”

  “I…I…” Shakir’s voice was rough, shaky. “Why didn’t you marry that prince—your third cousin, wasn’t it? What ever happened to your parents’ arranged marriage plans?”

  She swung back around to him, swiped at her eyes and tried a weak smile. “The deal fell through.”

  “I see.” Shakir sat on the flat rock and drew his eyebrows down in thought.

  He stayed quiet for a long time. Nikki kneaded her hands together over and over, wishing the two of them were still friends the way they had once been. But too much time had passed and too many secrets stayed between them for that.

  “I suppose,” he finally said as he gazed up at her, “if I force you to leave the country tonight, you won’t give up this crazy suicide mission for good.”

  “You can’t force me. And I won’t ever give up. We may not be friends anymore, Shakir, but don’t make us enemies.”

  Staring over as though he was seeing right through her, Shakir grazed his knuckles across his mouth. “I’ll take you there.”

  Her heart jumped, ballooning with hope. “Thank you. Thank you. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you, but…”

  “I don’t want your pay—or your thanks. Save them for someone who deserves it. What I do want is your solemn pledge to do exactly as I say. This is a dangerous place and your son is probably in a life-threatening situation.”

  He stood up and walked toward his pack. “I’ll contact my family and ask them to devise a rescue plan while we’re traveling through the mountains. If you’re willing to follow my instructions, we can make it there in about a week.”

  “I’m willing. Absolutely. And I swear I’ll do everything you say. When can we leave?”

  Crouching beside his pack, Shakir turned his face to talk to her. “Fill the canteen and these.” He threw her two more collapsible water skins. “We’ll leave as soon as I contact my brother.”

  “Good. But it’s not quite dark yet.”

  Shakir sighed heavily. “Exactly as I say, Nicole… Nikki. Exactly. No hesitation. It could mean your life—and the life of your son.”

  “Right. Sorry.” She hurried to fill the water containers.

  Each of them might still keep their secrets, but she would follow his instructions to the letter. That is, for long enough to reach her son.

  She didn’t trust Shakir completely. He hadn’t done anything yet to earn her trust. Actually, when she thought back to the past, Shakir had always been hiding something from her. Even as lovers, she’d wondered what he wasn’t telling her.

  Nikki had grown up a lot in the years since then. Until she learned all his secrets, if she ever did, he would never have her complete trust. But he could be useful for helping her safely through the mountains.

  That might not be morally right, and it wasn’t anything she would be proud of. But she was dedicated to rescuing her son. Whatever that might entail.

  Shakir was still shaken as he used his satellite phone to contact Tarik. “I have no choice but to take her where she wants to go, brother. She’s like a trapped wolf that would rather chew its paw off than remain caught in the trap away from its young.”

  He thought about how impossibly beautiful Nikki had looked in her duress. Telling him the truth had caused her pain. Still the stunning beauty he well remembered, even in her absurd disguise, she nevertheless acted like a totally different person from the woman he’d once known. The woman he’d thought he would never forget.

  “You cannot stop a mother in search of her young.” He continued with the argument to his brother. “If I take her across the border, she’ll just return to face death rather than stay away from Zabbarán. I can’t let her do that.”

  Nikki had once been as fragile as a glass figurine. There had been goodness about her. An openness and an air of political destiny. But now—now she had what seemed like an underlying pool of strength that confused him.

  It hurt Shakir, having to think of her being with another man. The idea of her bearing another man’s child… He clearly remembered the day she’d sent him away, supposedly in order to do her duty to her country. Learning that she’d had another affair after the arranged marriage fell through had plunged a dagger of regret into his soul.

  Tarik tsked at him over the phone. “I’ve had a feeling this hostage rescue was a bad idea from the start. We didn’t know enough to do it right. By the way, brother, our chopper drew small arms fire as we made for the border. The Taj now know for sure a paramilitary team was in their country and that we escaped into Kasht.”

  “No one was hurt? Do you think the Taj understand that it was a Kadir chopper?”

  “No casualties. Everyone’s okay. But there’s no way of telling if the Taj know who we were for sure.”

  Tarik exhaled deeply and then went on. “That old woman you forced into coming along with us is frantic. She says the Taj elder, Umar, will not rest until she’s returned to hi
m. Claims Umar will send out search parties to scour the country looking for any foreigners to torture in retribution for her kidnapping.”

  Confused and wary, Shakir said, “Umar is enraged because of her? Why wouldn’t he be angrier about losing the women prisoners that meant so much money to him?”

  “Apparently the old woman you rescued was one of the elder Umar’s wives.” Tarik’s voice almost contained a note of humor. “My guess is you made him look weak in front of the other elders. The old lady herself doesn’t seem too unhappy about leaving Zabbarán. But she says she’s concerned for the safety of her young friend—she means Nicole.”

  “Nikki.”

  “Huh?”

  “That’s what she’s calling herself now, but never mind.” Shakir’s mind was racing. “We’ll be safe enough. But can the old woman help us with information?”

  “She says she will try. Meanwhile, we’re still working with our covert agents inside Zabbarán. I don’t want to lose any of them due to this ill-fated hostage rescue idea of yours.”

  “Tarik.” Shakir’s voice shook as he pleaded with his brother to listen. “We must develop a rescue plan for Nikki’s son. He’s a foreigner and the Taj will not hesitate to torture and kill him merely because he’s a baby.”

  The hum in Tarik’s throat was not a good sign. Shakir prepared another argument, hoping to eventually win his point.

  At last his brother spoke. “Once again, we don’t have all the information we need to pull off a successful rescue. But I agree, we can’t sit and do nothing. I’ll work on sending someone to scout out the circumstances in Kuh.”

  Tarik paused, then asked as an afterthought, “You think you can actually make it up there in a week? Even while dragging a woman along?”

  Shakir assured his brother that he would have no trouble with the trip to Kuh. He made it sound like a sunshine-filled walk. But in truth, a cold darkness had surrounded him while Tarik talked about the Taj elder seeking retribution by use of torture.

  Shakir dug absently at old scars burned deep into the skin of his arms and shoulders, and reminded himself that one could never completely erase one’s past. He’d learned all about torture at the hands of his savage warrior grandfather. He knew how to take it and how to inflict it.

  But it was the mental scars that scared him the most. If he would be dealing with Taj raiding troops in the mountains, how would he ever keep Nikki from seeing him at his worst moments?

  It was much too late to worry about that now. Already obligated and committed to the rescue of her son, Shakir knew he must ignore whatever tender feelings he had left for Nikki. Saving her and her son would take the abilities of a Bedouin warrior—not the gentile efforts of the desert prince she had once thought she’d known.

  Gathering up his supplies and strapping a paratrooper-issued Ka-Bar knife to his thigh, Shakir prepared to do battle. Both with Taj soldiers—and with the ghost of a long-ago lost love.

  A small band of Taj soldiers arrived at the water well on camelback shortly after sunset. They’d spotted the fresh tracks of two travelers, and their leader had sent out scouts to make an assessment.

  The young lieutenant issued orders for a temporary encampment while his scouts determined what kind of person might be walking in the desert without pack animals or guards. He hoped to discover that the foolish travelers were foreigners in Zabbarán.

  His orders were clear. Find anyone who may have aided in the kidnap of the elder Umar’s wife and theft of his property. And kill the thieves—after making a point of torturing them first.

  Torture had its uses, and a small massacre of either the Kasht or of Bedouins wouldn’t hurt the lieutenant’s chances for promotion. He was more afraid of finding nothing. Like his compatriots in the officers’ corps, he was not in the least adverse to the idea of killing and maiming innocents in order to make his mark and please Umar.

  “Lieutenant, sir, we are in luck.” One of the scouts, his best man in tracking after dark, returned to report.

  “We’ve located the tracks of two persons. One of them is wearing sandals belonging to the magnificent elder Umar’s household. This smaller person must be either the old wife herself or perhaps one of the woman slaves who were stolen. The other set of tracks we found is far more interesting.”

  The lieutenant could not imagine how anything would be more exciting than the news that either Umar’s wife or one of the escapees they’d been hoping to find was still in Zabbarán. He flicked his wrist to encourage the man to go on.

  “The second set of tracks belongs to a big man. A man who wishes to disguise his background. This man wishes to appear as one of our people, but the soles of his shoes tell a different story. The signs say that he is either a foreigner or a Bedouin.”

  With his mind racing over possibilities, the young lieutenant felt overjoyed. His first real opportunity for advancement within the Taj army would come at the rising of the sun.

  Imagining the task ahead would be easy; the ambitious lieutenant couldn’t wait to do his worst.

  Chapter 5

  Nikki followed in Shakir’s footsteps as they walked a good distance away from the watering well. They trekked in a north-westerly direction, heading over barren ground toward the towering outline of distant mountains.

  Last night the land hadn’t seemed so vast. Nor so forbidding. Everywhere she looked the stark gray of sun-bleached rocks stood out in sharp relief against the ochre and tan sands. Small tussocks of sedge grew, God only knew how, amongst the pebbles and small boulders. Nikki couldn’t imagine anyone living for long in this unyielding place.

  Had she not been so parched, she would’ve broken down and cried. She would be crying most of all for her son, William. How was her child surviving in this horrid place without her? Did he cry for his maman at night?

  Nikki couldn’t allow herself to dwell on her son’s possible circumstances for long or she would end up curled into a useless ball of hysteria. Then she would be good for nothing—least of all for her baby boy.

  She wished she could cry, but this county was too darned arid. If she were able to shed real tears instead of silent dry sobs, she would weep over her bad fortune.

  Fortune? The word almost made her laugh when she thought of it. Her mother’s old saying about making your own fortune came into her mind, reminding her of her sins. It wasn’t any sort of nebulous bad luck, but Nikki herself, who’d caused her own problems. She had managed to extinguish the only two bright spots of happiness in her otherwise bland existence—Shakir and William.

  She’d stumbled badly as a mother and had managed to lose her son in the process. But long before that disaster, she’d sent Shakir away, knowing full well she would never love another with the same intensity. Both moves were beyond stupid.

  If this trip ended in her death, it would only be blind justice. But before she died, she was determined to find her son and see that he left this terrible place.

  Knowing it would kill her to keep thinking of William, Nikki tried to put her mind in a better place. To the other good time in her life. Her carefree, young days with Shakir.

  She remembered every minute of that time as if it were this morning. One particular stormy afternoon stood out in her memory. The two of them had stolen away for a walk in the fall countryside when the heavens suddenly opened up and drenched them in a cold rain.

  They’d raced for shelter, laughing and slipping in the mud. A warm, empty barn had been the perfect place to wait out the storm. She remembered it all clearly.

  As she’d flicked the water from her eyes and shoved back her dripping hair, Shakir had turned her in his arms. His gentle brown eyes became dark in that instant. Brooding and full of challenge. His expression had given her the chills. The sort of chills that can lead to wanting more than one should.

  At that moment, if anyone had asked, she would’ve sworn she could see her destiny in those eyes. And now, as she struggled to put one foot in front of the other across the hot desert sands, mist
y memories of them together bombarded her mind.

  From out of their past, she heard him say, “Nicole.” His voice had rippled like warm chocolate under her skin.

  Smiling and feeling playful, she’d gone up on tiptoe and licked a drop of water from the corner of his mouth. Instead of a laugh or a lick in return, Shakir had swooped her up in his arms. His powerful kiss had punched her like a bolt of lightning in the tummy. Suddenly the chill in her bones had turned to pure heat, fiery and bold enough to knock her flat.

  Shakir had held her upright as he took the kiss deeper, sweeping his tongue into her mouth. The earth had dropped away under her feet as she clung to him.

  She could barely feel her extremities, but her core had throbbed with exquisite awareness. Wrapped up in his kiss, in feeling the hard planes of his body pressing into hers, Nicole had hardly noticed when he’d lifted her in his arms. The next thing she knew, he’d gently placed her on a bed of clean straw and was lying beside her. She’d lost her bearings. And her mind—as she’d found herself tearing at the buttons on his shirt.

  Giddy. Dizzy with need, she’d felt frantic to touch his skin. To know the heat, the fire and to experience everything about the strong connection between them.

  “Let me.” His voice had reverberated through her veins. She would’ve permitted him anything. Given him everything he wanted.

  Tenderly, almost heartbreakingly so, he’d helped her undress and then finished unbuttoning his own shirt, leaving it on but open to allow her access. Next he had slipped off his shoes and slacks and then pulled her into his arms once more.

  He was perfect. The sight of him… The magnificence of his nearly naked body had drawn deep sighs from within her chest. She’d wanted him to touch her. Kiss her. Everywhere. She hadn’t known how to beg, so she’d reached up and dragged his head down to her breast.