Dusk was approaching, the light was dim, but he could still make out his wife’s pale blonde hair as clearly as if she were standing before him. Damn her!
“Bring me a horse,” he snapped, not moving his gaze from her. He could only stare at her, a sense of powerful fury and rage surging through him. Where the hell had she been? And with whom?
“That is Saliyah,” Laith grumbled, appearing at Malik’s side, holding the reins to an Arabian stud.
Malik didn’t offer a response. He threw his body onto the horse’s back, kicked its sides and tore through the desert, plumes of sand in his wake.
The camels moved slowly but the horse was all speed. He closed the gap on them in minutes, bringing his horse to them, his eyes fixed on his wife’s. She’d obviously seen his approach and had time to prepare, for there was only defiance in her expression, willing him to challenge her.
Oh, and he would. But not now.
“Saliyah,” he addressed the tribe girl. “You had no business abducting my wife.”
“She hardly abducted me, Malik—,”
He slid his gaze to his wife. “You, I will speak to privately.” The words were loaded with ice. He returned his attention to the young woman whose future he’d been discussing all day. “You are in enough trouble without adding kidnap to the charge sheet.”
“Oh, because she wants to do what any ordinary teenager wishes to do?” Sophia interjected, apparently not willing to be silenced.
Malik compressed his lips.
“Go ahead of us to camp. Laith is waiting.”
Saliyah’s expression was ash.
“She is not to be in trouble for this,” Sophia said firmly. “She asked if I wanted to see the ruins of Persimina. I did. It was very kind of Saliyah to entertain me.”
“The ruins?” Malik looked from one to the other. “That’s what you’ve been doing?”
Sophia tilted her chin.
“You still should have told someone,” he pushed, his expression unrelenting. “Her highness cannot simply climb onto a camel and set out into the desert. Did you think about the risks to her, Saliyah? She has no experience of this climate, the animals here, the heat…”
“She,” Sophia interjected, “was fine. And Saliyah brought water and food and hats and some kind of whistle that I gather is supposed to sound an alarm in case of danger.”
It was all so reasonable, but Malik was still furious.
“Go back to camp. Tell Laith my wife chose to come with you freely,” he said to Saliyah, moving closer to Sophia’s camel and reaching for her reins. “I will join you for the yashal.”
Once Saliyah was far enough ahead, Malik moved their animals, yet chose a different path to that which Saliyah had taken. He circumnavigated the constellation of Bedouin tents, bringing them around behind the settlement, directly to their private accommodations.
He didn’t speak.
He didn’t trust himself to, until they were alone.
At the door to their tent, there were guards.
“Move out,” he snapped, as they approached. The guards saluted and stepped back to a wider proximity. He didn’t look at his wife but he knew she was right behind him. He held the tent flap wide for her, his gaze fixed into the distance. Only once she was inside did he turn his gaze on her, flicking it from the tip of her head over her sun-warmed cheeks and down her body.
And every feeling known to man burst through him. Desire, foremost. Anger. Fury. Impatience. Desperation.
He stepped into the tent, sucking in a deep breath, tying a knot in the braids that kept the flaps shut. And then he rounded on her, his expression a mask of fury.
“Do not ever do something like that again.”
She was completely unrepentant. If anything, he felt an equal anger emanating from her.
“Like what?” She demanded, reaching for the long-sleeved shirt she wore and stripping it from her body.