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Authors: Arabian Nights
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imagining this. Not when every inch of her flesh was being jounced and bruised; not when the sand flew around her, blinding her, pelting her skin; not when she could feel the heat and lather of the stallion and the broad steely hand of the insolent Arab, splayed across her back, holding her firmly.
It had to end. She was bruised from head to toe. She wasn’t terribly sure she would ever walk again. It seemed that she had swallowed half the desert.
The racing horse had slowed to a more agonizing trot. A second later the animal halted, and she would have fallen were it not for the power of the hand upon her back. She tried to look up and blink the blinding sand from her eyes.
They were … somewhere. A vast number of tents stretched before her, a relief from the monotony of the desert. Grass grew in tufts at the stallion’s hooves; she could hazily make out a cluster of date-nut trees. From somewhere nearby came the blessed sound of splashing water and children’s laughter.
An oasis. They had reached an oasis. And the tents were large and numerous.
They had stopped in front of a particular tent, she realized quickly. A young woman greeted the Arab who was holding her with soft, quiet curiosity. She was adorned in beautiful silks, from the gauze veil that enhanced the beauty of her face rather than hid it, to her tight jewel-encrusted bodice and sheer ballooning trousers.
Alex suddenly felt herself plucked upward again by a grip about her abdomen, as easily as if she were a kitten gripped by a mother cat. And then she was set—plopped, actually—on her feet. To her vast relief, she was able to control the spinning of her mind and body and stand without falling.
She turned furiously to the man. “I demand—”
He broke in unceremoniously, not addressing her but the young Arabian woman. In the rapid brushfire of words that passed between the two, Alex could make out only one word: haemmaem. Bath … bath!
“You bastard!” Alex shrieked, fighting tears of rage and disbelief. The arrogant Bedouin had insolently abducted her and raked her across the sands, and now he had the nerve to command that she have a bath. She wanted to scream with incredulity, humiliation, fury and fear.
She did start screaming, her fists clutched tightly to her sides. The Arab gave her a suave, cool smile, flicked his stallion’s haunches lightly with his whip and trotted smoothly away.
CHAPTER FOUR
A LEX’S REACTION WAS SPONTANEOUS . Blind rage brought power to her bruised limbs; she stooped to fill her hands with sand and tore after the horseman, coming within five feet of the prancing stallion. To her great satisfaction, the Arab was taken by surprise as she tore in front of him and showered him with the sand—and a few strident curses for good measure.
Her temporary victory was washed away in the tidal fury of his dark eyes. He blinked only once, dismounted from his horse and started after her with swift, calculated steps. Instinctively Alex turned to run, but she didn’t know in which direction to head. She took off, but too late. The steel vise of his arms came around, catching her, hefting her up and over his shoulder with effortless agility. Very close to tears, she shrieked and pounded on his back, all to no avail. His strong, assured gait brought her back to the tent and inside the goatskin flap.
She landed unceremoniously on an already bruised section of her derriere with her now unpinned hair creating a tangled and blinding web before her eyes. Struggling for breath, she tossed back her hair in time to see her abductor stalking from the tent, her final view of him being of his black-draped back.
She lunged to her feet to accost him again, but even as she rose, two large and swarthy Bedouins passed before her, bowing and moving toward the flap. They were smiling, but the message in their eyes was firm; she needed no translation to realize that they were guards and would obstruct her forcefully were she to attempt an
It had to end. She was bruised from head to toe. She wasn’t terribly sure she would ever walk again. It seemed that she had swallowed half the desert.
The racing horse had slowed to a more agonizing trot. A second later the animal halted, and she would have fallen were it not for the power of the hand upon her back. She tried to look up and blink the blinding sand from her eyes.
They were … somewhere. A vast number of tents stretched before her, a relief from the monotony of the desert. Grass grew in tufts at the stallion’s hooves; she could hazily make out a cluster of date-nut trees. From somewhere nearby came the blessed sound of splashing water and children’s laughter.
An oasis. They had reached an oasis. And the tents were large and numerous.
They had stopped in front of a particular tent, she realized quickly. A young woman greeted the Arab who was holding her with soft, quiet curiosity. She was adorned in beautiful silks, from the gauze veil that enhanced the beauty of her face rather than hid it, to her tight jewel-encrusted bodice and sheer ballooning trousers.
Alex suddenly felt herself plucked upward again by a grip about her abdomen, as easily as if she were a kitten gripped by a mother cat. And then she was set—plopped, actually—on her feet. To her vast relief, she was able to control the spinning of her mind and body and stand without falling.
She turned furiously to the man. “I demand—”
He broke in unceremoniously, not addressing her but the young Arabian woman. In the rapid brushfire of words that passed between the two, Alex could make out only one word: haemmaem. Bath … bath!
“You bastard!” Alex shrieked, fighting tears of rage and disbelief. The arrogant Bedouin had insolently abducted her and raked her across the sands, and now he had the nerve to command that she have a bath. She wanted to scream with incredulity, humiliation, fury and fear.
She did start screaming, her fists clutched tightly to her sides. The Arab gave her a suave, cool smile, flicked his stallion’s haunches lightly with his whip and trotted smoothly away.
CHAPTER FOUR
A LEX’S REACTION WAS SPONTANEOUS . Blind rage brought power to her bruised limbs; she stooped to fill her hands with sand and tore after the horseman, coming within five feet of the prancing stallion. To her great satisfaction, the Arab was taken by surprise as she tore in front of him and showered him with the sand—and a few strident curses for good measure.
Her temporary victory was washed away in the tidal fury of his dark eyes. He blinked only once, dismounted from his horse and started after her with swift, calculated steps. Instinctively Alex turned to run, but she didn’t know in which direction to head. She took off, but too late. The steel vise of his arms came around, catching her, hefting her up and over his shoulder with effortless agility. Very close to tears, she shrieked and pounded on his back, all to no avail. His strong, assured gait brought her back to the tent and inside the goatskin flap.
She landed unceremoniously on an already bruised section of her derriere with her now unpinned hair creating a tangled and blinding web before her eyes. Struggling for breath, she tossed back her hair in time to see her abductor stalking from the tent, her final view of him being of his black-draped back.
She lunged to her feet to accost him again, but even as she rose, two large and swarthy Bedouins passed before her, bowing and moving toward the flap. They were smiling, but the message in their eyes was firm; she needed no translation to realize that they were guards and would obstruct her forcefully were she to attempt an
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