"Shiek" - читать интересную книгу автора (Connie Mason)

"Then I wish you pleasant dreams, Princess," Jamal said, rolling up in the blanket and facing away from her.

Cursing beneath her breath, Zara tried to squirm into a comfortable position, but the rocky soil beneath her became her enemy. Each hard pebble, every jagged twig, dug into her tender flesh despite the thick robes protecting her. And the cold! Blessed Allah, it seeped into her bones until she ached. She glanced over at Jamal lying a short distance away and wished him to Hades. Eventually, however, she fell into a fitful sleep.

Jamal awoke during the night feeling as if his back were against a blazing brazier. Rolling over, he found soft womanly curves planted against him, absorbing his heat. He smiled grimly. Prideful as the woman was, she had unknowingly gravitated toward the warmth of his body in her sleep. Surrendering to the dictates of his flesh, he pulled her against him, covered them both with the blanket and closed his arms around her.





Zara awakened and sighed, lulled by warmth and the pleasing scent that filled her nostrils. She tried to stretch, found she could not move her arms and legs, and frowned, suddenly recalling everything that had happened the previous day. Sayed was dead and she was the prisoner of Sheik Jamal. To make matters worse, she was being held snugly against his large body, the scent of him surrounding her, making her giddy.

Zara surged upright, dragging the blanket from Jamal. He opened his eyes and stared at her. "Good morning. Have I overslept?"

A sweeping glance around their campsite assured him that the soldiers had not yet begun to stir.

"How did I get here when I refused to lie beside you?"

He gave her a smug smile. "You must have changed your mind."

"Never! You're the enemy. I spit in your eye. I spit in the sultan's eye."

He clapped a hand over her mouth. His voice was cold and emotionless. "I wouldn't try it if I were you. The sultan isn't as lenient as I. I might not demand your head for such an insult, but the sultan would. Now, will you keep a civil tongue or must I gag as well as bind you?"

Zara gulped convulsively. She wasn't afraid of the arrogant sheik but at this point it might pay to practice caution, something she knew little about, or so her father had claimed. She nodded her head and he freed her mouth.

"That's more like it." He pulled her to her feet and untied her hands and feet. "There are some trees yonder, if you have need of them."

Zara nodded vigorously. Her bladder was about to burst. She started to walk toward the trees, then stopped abruptly when she found Jamal falling in beside her.

"Where are you going?"

"With you, of course, unless you'd like one of Hasdai's men to accompany you."

"There's no need."

Jamal grew weary of Zara's belligerent attitude and told her so. "You would do well to obey me. Your life depends upon my good will."

Once again Zara employed caution and with-held her sharp retort as she continued walking toward the trees Jamal had indicated.

"I'll wait here," Jamal said as he leaned against a thick tree trunk. "Hurry, or I'll come after you."

Zara did as she was told, wishing for a long, leisurely bath and something to eat other than olives and cheese. With Jamal and an army around her, there was virtually no way she could escape. She had to trust her father and his people to rescue her. And if that wasn't possible, she'd accept Allah's will with stoic resignation.

"It's about time," Jamal complained when Zara came out from behind a tree. "The men are anxious to be off and I am eager to go home. I've been away a very long time. If not for the sultan and his need to rid the world of the Berber horde I would be riding upon my own land, enjoying my women and eating food fit for a king."

"I pity your women," Zara said with a hint of contempt.

Jamal stared at her. "Why do you say that?"