The Sheikh's Untamed Bride: Lost to the Desert Warrior / Sheikh in the City / Her Ardent Sheikh. Jackie Braun

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       CHAPTER EIGHT

      LAYLA SAT CURLED up on a low ottoman covered in rich red silk, a stack of books awaiting her attention and a chilled fruit juice on the table in front of her. Of all the rooms in Raz’s beautiful home—the home she hadn’t known existed—the library was predictably her favourite. Not just because of the walls lined with books, but because of the views. The doors opened over a courtyard with a central fountain that sent cooling water flowing over a majestic statue of a horse. And now, with the sun setting over the distant dunes, the courtyard was floodlit with a warm golden light.

      It was the most beautiful place she’d ever seen.

      On their arrival Raz had been called away, so it had been Zahra who had shown her round, predictably lingering in the stables and introducing Layla to every horse in the yard. The stables were beautiful, arranged around shady courtyards, and everywhere the sound of running water from fountains that offered a cool contrast to the parched desert.

      After all the rumours about his Bedouin lifestyle she’d been surprised to discover that Raz owned a place like this, but what had really surprised her was the almost military efficiency with which it was run.

      Here, horses were bred and trained in what was clearly a highly successful business. Smiling staff ran the place with smooth efficiency, allowing their elusive boss to come and go as security and his responsibilities demanded.

      Used to the oppressive atmosphere of her rooms at the Citadel of Tazkhan, Layla felt a sense of peace and freedom she’d never experienced before. It wasn’t just the ability to wander freely, but the absence of her father, Hassan, and all the others who had made her life so stressful.

      She’d stood up, intending to explore the books on the higher shelves, when one of the dogs came bounding into the room, ears pricked.

      Layla stood without moving and seconds later a woman rushed into the room and ushered the dog out, closing the door firmly behind the retreating animal.

      ‘I apologise, Your Highness. I was feeding them and Horus went exploring. Please forgive me.’

      Relieved that the overenthusiastic Horus was now on the other side of a closed door, Layla relaxed slightly. ‘It’s fine.’

      ‘No, it isn’t. His Highness left orders that the dogs weren’t to be allowed near you. He was very strict about it. All the staff were informed.’

      Layla stared at her. ‘They were?’ He’d done that for her?

      ‘Yes, and I’m so sorry for what just happened.’

      ‘Don’t be.’ She sank back down onto the sofa. She’d never given him an explanation for her fear of dogs, but he’d seen it and responded. She hadn’t asked him to act, but he’d cared enough to instruct his staff to keep the dogs away from her. Realising that the girl was looking at her anxiously, Layla managed a smile. ‘Don’t worry. It’s me, not the dogs. I’m sure the dogs are trustworthy.’

      ‘Horus and Isis have had the run of this place since they were puppies, so it isn’t always easy to keep them contained.’

      ‘Keep who contained?’

      Raz strode into the room at that moment wearing an exquisitely cut dark suit that suggested he’d come straight from meetings. His sudden appearance shattered her calm and sent her spinning straight back into that state of nervous tension that never seemed to leave her when he was around.

      It was the first time she’d seen him since they’d arrived at his home but that didn’t surprise her. She was fast coming to realise how hard he pushed himself and how seriously he took his responsibilities. Wherever he was, he rose before dawn, worked way past sunset, and still somehow managed to spend time with his daughter. Admittedly that time was usually spent galloping like two crazy people across the desert on horses that seemed half wild to her inexperienced eyes. His energy levels seemed limitless, his physical power, strength and stamina as much a part of him as those fierce black eyes that appeared to see under the surface she presented to the world.

      And those eyes were on her now, stripping away her armour, seeing right through her. He saw her fear, knew how deeply that fear went, and the fact that he held that knowledge seemed as intimate as anything they’d shared in the darkness of the desert night. Somehow he’d accessed that most private part of her—her thoughts—and apart from her sister she wasn’t used to sharing her thoughts with anyone. She wasn’t used to revealing weakness. To do so made her feel as vulnerable as if she were standing naked in a crowd.