Hide-And-Sheikh. Gail Dayton
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“Hello, might I borrow your horse?” Rudi borrowed Ibrahim’s Oxford accent. It seemed to play better dressed as he was. “I wish to surprise my fiancée.” The lie rolled easily from his lips. “By sweeping her away in the manner of my ancestors.”
The girl gulped and giggled. Rudi captured her hand. “Surely someone of your sensibility would be willing to assist in my romantic endeavors.” His ploy seemed to be working on the horse’s rider.
“I’ve only got an hour to ride,” she said.
“I only need the barest minute.” Rudi glanced over his shoulder. Ellen and her party were retreating deeper into the park. In a moment they would be out of sight. “Please. My heart will be devastated if you do not allow me the use of your steed for a paltry space of time.” Maybe those English literature classes he had suffered through had done better work than he had thought.
“My heart is in your hands.” Rudi pressed a kiss to the child’s hand, and she giggled again, looking past him at a cluster of other riders who had pulled up to stare gape-mouthed at the scene he was making.
She sighed. “Okay. But just a minute.” She slid awkwardly from the horse’s back.
“Allah bless you for your generosity.” Rudi kissed her cheek, knowing it would impress the girl’s audience, then swung into the saddle.
The horse recognized a knowledgeable hand on the reins and took exception. It preferred being in charge. But after a brief, stern scolding, Rudi reminded the animal of its manners, and it did as he demanded.
Payback would be sweet indeed.
Ellen walked back toward the fountain with all the video people, only half listening to their chatter of angles and dollies and dance steps as she mentally placed barricades and personnel across park paths and lawns. So hard did she concentrate on blocking out all the extraneous noise that she didn’t hear the hoof-beats until they were almost on top of her.
The sudden thunder brought her whirling around to see a horse bearing down on her, on its back a man in the billowing white robes of a desert nomad.
“Crazy son of a—” The producer had no time to finish his oath before diving aside.
Too surprised to move, Ellen watched the man lean toward her, saw his arm stretch out. Before she could react, he’d snatched her from her feet and hauled her up onto the horse in front of him. Her mind was so muddled, she could only think what an impressive feat he’d just accomplished.
Voices rose about them, shouting. “Call 9-1-1!”
“He’s crazy! Somebody stop him.”
“He’s kidnapping her!”
The horse’s stride shortened abruptly, then it whirled and galloped back the way it had come. Ellen clung to the man to keep from flying off during the sharp turn, noticing despite herself the lean, almost familiar strength of his body. Who was this nutcase? She was afraid she already knew.
She batted the windblown robes out of her way and looked up into the face that had been haunting her dreams. Rudi.
If the cops arrested him, it could create an international incident. It could get her fired.
“It’s okay,” she shouted past his shoulder at the video crew. “I know him. He’s a friend.”
Her words apparently reached them, because the frantic shouting and rushing slowed. The horse didn’t.
Its rocking gait bumped her against Rudi in a matching rhythm, a rhythm that came too easily to mind in connection with this man. No wonder the body beneath the robes had felt so familiar. Hard as she tried, she hadn’t been able to forget the feel of him under her hands. The muscular thighs that had teased her in that blood-boiling dance now flexed and shifted beneath her, guiding a thousand-plus pounds of horseflesh, pushing their way back into her memory.
“Am I truly?” He grinned at her, his teeth flashing white in the afternoon sun as the horse thundered on across the park.
“Are you truly what?” Ellen pried her brain away from the legs beneath her backside and ordered it to get busy with thinking.
“Your friend. You said I was a friend.”
“I—” Think. She wanted to bang her head against something to see if she could knock a little sense loose, but the nearest something was Rudi’s chest, and she knew beyond any doubt that would only make things worse. “I didn’t want you arrested.”
“Ah.” His Day-Glo smile dimmed a fraction.
The horse came to a skittering halt at a signal from Rudi that Ellen missed. He dismounted and tossed the reins to a waiting child before lifting Ellen from the horse’s back. But instead of setting her on her feet, he carried her in his arms to a car at the curb. The driver opened the door, and Rudi put her inside, much the same way Ellen had once inserted prisoners into her patrol car. Before following her inside, Rudi called to the girl with the horse.
“Blessings upon you, child.” He tossed her a coin that glinted gold as it spun over and over in a high arc. Ellen saw the girl miss the catch and bend to pick it up before Rudi got into the car and signaled to the driver.
“What was that you threw?” Ellen asked.
“A ten-fiat piece.”
“It looked like gold.”
“It is.” Rudi stretched his arms along the seat and the door, looking completely at ease in his exotic garb. He seemed a different person somehow. Strange, foreign, exciting.
“Gold.” She had to get a grip on this situation. She had to get a grip on herself.
He made an affirming hum. “I wanted to reward her for the loan of the horse.”
“With a ten-fiat gold piece.”
He mmm-ed again in agreement.
“How much is that in real money?”
Rudi laughed. “Some people would say that the fiat is real money, since it is actually gold and not your paper greenbacks.”
“How much?” Ellen didn’t know why she persisted, only that she wanted to know. Maybe her brain was trying to get warmed up.
“Depending on a number of factors, between thirty and fifty dollars, American.”
Resentment swelled inside her. Did he think he could impress her by throwing his money around like that? Or did he think to buy her, the way he’d bought the use of the horse?
“What do you want?” Ellen didn’t care if her attitude sounded in her voice.
“A bit of your time.” Rudi’s voice seemed calculated to soothe, and so rubbed her resentment raw. “You did promise me we could talk, remember?”
She did, and resented even more being put in the wrong. “If you wanted to talk to me, all you had to do was call the office and say so.”
“I did. You have not been taking