The Sheikh's Disobedient Bride. Jane Porter
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The elderly man only looked more puzzled and Tally wanted to pull her hair out in mad chunks. This was a nightmare. A nightmare. She couldn’t stay here, couldn’t be left here, couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
“Tair,” she said more loudly, firmly, extending her arms to show width, size.
The old man just looked at her with absolute incomprehension.
It was at that moment she spotted the horse. The horse was saddled, bridled and unattended.
Unattended.
She could just go.
It wasn’t logical, nothing rational about her plan. She was just going to go and she didn’t know anything other than to go, just go, and let the chips fall where they may.
She climbed up, onto the blanket that served as the saddle and taking the reins she kicked at the horse, urging him to go.
The horse gave her a funny sideways glance before stretching out in an easy canter. They rode across the pale creamy sand at a quick clip, Tally’s heart racing at the same speed they were traveling.
This was crazy, foolish, dangerous. But she didn’t turn back and didn’t slow. She felt as if she were running for her very life. Or make that, running from her very life.
She wouldn’t be trapped again. She wouldn’t let others control her life or her destiny.
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