‘Kadar,’ he said, slapping one of the men on the back as they neared, making her wonder how he could tell which one was which when they looked indistinguishable to her. ‘I’m afraid the princess didn’t think much of your fireworks.’
Fireworks? she thought as the man called Kadar feigned disappointment, her temper rising. They were only fireworks?
‘Apologies, Princess,’ the one called Kadar said with a bow. ‘Next time I promise to do better.’
‘They served their purpose, Kadar. Now let’s go before they remember what they were doing before the heavens exploded.’
She looked longingly at the horse she had chosen, now bearing the man who’d been waiting for them in the dunes. A man who, like the others, was tall and broad and powerfully built.
Warriors, she guessed as they swung themselves with ease onto their mounts. Mercenaries hired by her father to rescue her. Maybe he had spent his money wisely, maybe they were good at what they did, but still, she couldn’t wait to see the back of them.
Especially the one who took liberties with his hands and with his tongue.
‘Are you ready, Princess?’ he asked, and before she had time to snap a response she found herself lifted bodily by the waist onto the back of the last remaining horse, her impossible rescuer launching himself behind and tucking her in close between him and the reins, before wrapping a cloak around them both until she was bundled up as if she was in a cocoon.
‘Do you mind?’ she said, squirming to put some distance between them.
‘Not at all,’ he said, tugging the cloak tighter and her closer with it, setting the horse into motion across the sand. ‘We have a long way to go. You will find it easier if you relax.’
Not a chance.
‘You could have told me,’ she said, sitting as stiffly as she could in front of him, pretending that there was a chasm between them instead of a mere few thin layers of fabric. She tried to ignore the arm at her back cradling her and wished away the heat that flared in every place where their bodies rocked together with the motion of the horse.
‘Could have told you what?’
‘That they were only fireworks.’
‘Would you have believed me?’
‘You let me think it was much worse.’
‘You think too much.’
‘You don’t know the first thing about me.’
‘I know you talk too much.’ He hauled her even closer to him. ‘Relax.’
She yawned. ‘And you’re arrogant and bossy.’
‘Go to sleep.’
But she didn’t want to go to sleep. If she went to sleep, she would slump against him, closer to that hard wall of his chest, closer to that beating heart. And princesses did not fall asleep on the chests of strangers mounted on horseback. Especially not strangers like this man: arrogant. Assuming. Autocratic.
Besides, she had stayed awake most of the last night. It would not hurt her to stay awake a little longer. She looked up at him as they rode, at the strong line of his jaw under the mask, at the purposeful look in his dark eyes. Then, because she realised she was staring, she looked upwards to where it seemed as if all the stars in the universe had come out to play in a velvet sky.
She picked out the brightest stars, familiar stars that she had seen from her suite’s balcony at home in the palace.
‘Is it far to Jemeya?’
‘Too far to travel tonight.’
‘But my father, he will know I am safe?’
‘He will know.’
‘Good.’ She yawned again, suddenly bone weary. The night air was cold around her face and she snuggled her face deeper under the cover of the cloak, imagining herself back in her own bed at the palace. That was warm too, a refuge when the winds spun around and carried the chill from the mainland’s cold desert nights.
The horse galloped on, rocking her with every stride, but she knew there was no risk of falling, not with this man’s arms surrounding her, the cloak wound tightly around them both, anchoring her to his body. She breathed in the warm air against his body, deliciously warm. His scent was so different from her father’s familiar blend of aftershave and pipe tobacco, which shouldn’t smell good but still did; this man smelled different and yet not unpleasantly so. This man seemed to carry the essence of the desert, warm and evocative, combining sunshine and sand, leather and horseflesh, and some indefinable extra ingredient, some musky quality all his own.
She breathed deeply, savouring it, tucking it away in her memory. Soon enough she would be back in her own bed, with familiar scents and sounds, but for now it was no hardship to stay low under the cloak, to drink in the warmth and his scent and let it seep bone deep.