Page 8 of The Sheikh's Desert Captive

CHAPTER THREE

It was the early evening and finally Rashid managed to muster his courage and pay a visit to the beautiful woman who had spent the last few hours awaiting the decision.

He paused outside the tent and tried to gather his thoughts. What could he say to the woman? He wanted to apologize for the disgraceful behavior of his fellow Qazhar countryman; a man who was a sheikh like Rashid himself.

During the time since he'd arrived, Rashid had been arguing his case was Hakim. And failing to persuade the man who had virtually kidnapped the American woman with the intention of forcing her into marriage.

He and Hakim had a long history of animosity. Their two families had suffered many years of tribal disagreements and border disputes.

Hakim was stubborn. But Rashid already knew that; had known it for years. For the moment, Hakim was refusing to see sense. As far as Rashid was concerned, bringing a woman out to this wilderness, far away from civilization had been rash and completely unacceptable.

It didn't make matters any more acceptable that the woman concerned was American and stunningly beautiful. In fact, it made it even more outrageous, as far as Rashid was concerned. Women deserved better than that. They were not mere chattels to be traded and exchanged. Why couldn't Hakim understand that?

Rashid knew the answer to that question. Hakim was merely showing the weak, lustful side of his personality. It was a side of Hakim with which Rashid was all too familiar.

Rashid was determined to do one thing. He was duty-bound to prevent the forced marriage which Hakim had obviously planned. When he had seen the beautiful foreigner race toward him from the entrance to the tent, Rashid had felt a confusing mixture of emotions.

On the one hand, he had felt an instinctive, instant anger toward Hakim for daring to try and perpetrate such a thing as a forced marriage. Especially since the last forced marriage had turned out so badly for everyone concerned.

Rashid forced the memory of that into the back of his mind.

Forced marriages were a thing of the past. Rashid was determined they would have no place in any part of his kingdom. Obviously, not everyone shared his enlightened views.

The other emotion he had felt as the American woman had raced towards him had been wholly surprising to Rashid. In spite of all his years of solitude and self-imposed isolation, he'd found the sight of her running away from Hakim, obviously seeking Rashid's help, strangely moving.

Her blonde hair had tumbled around her head as she ran. Her eyes, dazzlingly blue, had been filled with a mixture of panic and relief. Even although he was a complete stranger to this woman, she had come toward him with such a desperation, such a need, that he had instantly felt the impulse to help her, to protect her.

He didn't know why such a thing had happened. All he knew was that it had felt utterly real.

Arguing with Hakim had been pointless and both men had agreed to wait until the arrival of the tribal elder later that evening.

Then the decision would be made. Permission for the marriage would be granted or denied.

Rashid wondered what the American woman would make of this. He wondered why she had agreed to come out here to engage in such an act is marrying a man like Hakim out here in the middle of nowhere. Maybe she was simply a pleasure seeker, someone bored with life and needing something completely new and different to enliven her dull life.

But that couldn't be the case, could it? Rashid couldn't believe that someone so beautiful as this American woman would need to liven up her life by coming into the wilderness and throwing herself at the mercy of Hakim. Hakim was a rich man. There was no doubt about that. He and Rashid were equally wealthy in that regard.

So, what had brought the woman out here?

Maybe, the promise of wealth; the temptations of a fantasy of life in the desert; the opulent life that Hakim could offer her in his palace not far from here.

But Rashid did not believe that. He had seen something in the American woman's eyes, a defiance that had caused long forgotten emotions to stir inside him. He hadn't felt them in a very long time.

As he strode toward the tent, he thrust the memory of that feeling away into the darkest recesses of his mind. He knew he was being watched by the other men, but it didn't matter to him. He had long ago given up caring what other people thought of him.

He tugged open the flap of the tent and stepped inside.

The American woman, whose name he knew to be Nicole, looked up at him suddenly from where she was sitting on the red sofa on the far side of the tent.

In the soft light of the candles which had been placed around the corners of the room, he could see her face was pale with fright. He didn't blame her. Maybe she thought he was just another one of the troublemakers from outside.

Rashid walked across the thick carpet. She watched him come toward her. Her eyes narrowed with obvious doubt.He could see that she didn't trust him. Not yet, anyway.

He stopped in front of the table and looked down at her.

"Is everything satisfactory?" he asked realizing how stupid the question must sound given the circumstances.

Nicole glanced at the plate of food on the table. "I don't seem to have much of an appetite." She glanced toward the door of the tent. "What's going on out there?"

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