what that led to, he has every right to question you.
The irritation sitting in Tariq’s gut tightened into anger. No, he’d excised Catherine from his soul like a surgeon cutting out a cancer, and he’d cut out every emotion associated with her too. Everything soft. Everything merciful.
There was no need for Faisal to question him, because what had happened with Catherine would never happen again. Tariq had made sure of it.
Though perhaps his advisor needed a reminder...
‘Do you question me, Faisal?’ Tariq asked with deceptive mildness, not looking up from the woman on the sand.
There was a silence. Then, ‘No, sire.’
Faisal’s voice held a slight hint of apology. Too slight.
Tariq scowled down at the woman. Obviously, given Faisal’s clear doubts, he was going to have to deal with this himself.
‘I can get a couple of the men to have a look around to see where she and the other foreigner have come from,’ Faisal went on, perhaps hoping to assuage him. ‘We could perhaps return them both with no one any the wiser?’
It would be the easiest thing to do.
But Tariq couldn’t afford ‘easy’. He’d instituted the law to keep the borders closed and he had to be seen to uphold it.
A king couldn’t afford to be weak.
Hadn’t he learned his lesson there?
You should have listened to your father.
Yes, he should. But he hadn’t.
‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘We will not be returning either of them.’
He leaned forward, gathering the woman up and rising to his feet. She was so light in his arms. It was like carrying a moonbeam. Her head rolled onto his shoulder, her cheek pressed to the rough black cotton of his robes.
Small. Like Catherine.
Something he’d thought long-dead and buried stirred inside him and he found himself looking down at her once again. Ah, but she wasn’t anything like Catherine, And, anyway, that had been years ago.
He felt nothing for her any more.
He felt nothing for anyone any more.
Only his kingdom. Only his people.
Tariq lifted his gaze to Faisal’s, met the other man’s appraising stare head-on. ‘By all means send a couple of men out to see what they can discover about where these two have come from,’ he ordered coldly. ‘And get in touch with the camp. We will need the chopper to be readied to take them back to Kharan.’
He didn’t wait for a response, turning and making his way back to the horses and the group of soldiers waiting for him.
‘Perhaps one of the men can deal with her?’ Faisal suggested neutrally, trailing along behind him. ‘I can—’
‘I will deal with her,’ Tariq interrupted with cold authority, not turning around. ‘There can be no question about her treatment should the British government become involved. Which means the responsibility for her lies with me.’
There were others who remembered the bad times, when Ashkaraz had been fought over and nearly torn apart following Catherine’s betrayal, and they wouldn’t be so lenient with a foreign woman again.
Not that he would be lenient either. She would soon get a taste of Ashkaraz’s hospitality when she was taken to the capital of Kharan. They had a facility there especially for dealing with people who’d strayed into Ashkaraz, and he was sure she wouldn’t like it.
That was the whole point, after all. To frighten people so they never came back.
His men watched silently as he carried her over to his horse and put her on it, steadying her as she slumped against the animal’s neck. Then he mounted behind her and pulled her back against him, tucking her into the crook of one arm while he grabbed the reins with the other.
‘Continue with the patrol,’ he instructed Faisal. ‘I want to know where this woman comes from—and fast.’
The other man nodded, his gaze flickering again to the woman in Tariq’s arms. Tariq had the strangest urge to tuck her closer against him, to hide her from the old advisor’s openly speculative look.
Ridiculous. The doubts Faisal had would soon be put to rest. Tariq was a different man from the boy he’d once been. He was harder. Colder. He was a worthy heir to his father, though he knew Faisal had had his objections to Tariq inheriting the throne. Not that Faisal or the rest of the government had had a choice in the matter since his father had only had one son.
Still. He had thought Faisal’s scepticism long put to rest.
It is the woman. She is the problem.
Yes, she was. Luckily, though, she would not be a problem much longer.
‘You have objections?’ Tariq stared hard at the older man.
Faisal only shook his head. ‘None, sire.’
He was lying. Faisal always had objections. It was a good thing the older man knew that now was not the time to voice them.
‘As my father’s oldest friend, you have a certain amount of leeway,’ Tariq warned him. It would do him good to be reminded. ‘But see that you do not overreach yourself.’
Faisal’s expression was impassive as he inclined his head. ‘Sire.’
Dismissing him, Tariq nodded to Jaziri and a couple of the other guards in unspoken command. Then, tugging on the reins, he turned his horse around and set off back to base camp.
CHARLOTTE WAS HAVING a lovely dream about swimming in cool water. It flowed silkily over her skin, making her want to stretch like a cat in the sun. It moved over her body, sliding over her face, pressing softly against her lips...
There was a harsh sound from somewhere and abruptly she opened her eyes, the dream fragmenting and then crashing down around her ears.
She was not swimming in cool water.
She was lying on a narrow, hard bed in a tiny room, empty except for a bucket in the corner. A single naked bulb hung from the ceiling. The floor was cracked concrete, the walls bare stone.
It looked like a...a jail cell.
Her heartbeat began to accelerate, fear coiling inside her. What had happened? Why was she here?
Her father had wandered away from the dig site and she’d gone to find him, only to get lost in the desert. Then those men on horseback had turned up, with her father slung over the back of a horse, and there had been that other man in black robes.
