The Desert Sheikh's Innocent Queen: King of the Desert, Captive Bride. Jane Porter

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      “Yes.”

      When it became clear he didn’t intend to say more she added, “What did they want?”

      “They wanted to know if I’d legally entered their country and if I’d done anything illegal while here.”

      “Have you?”

      “No and yes, but that’s not what I told them. I couldn’t tell them that or you’d be in one of their cars heading straight back to Ozr.”

      “So what did you tell them instead?”

      He hesitated a moment, then plucked the sunglasses from her face, calmly pocketing them inside his robe. “That I was escorting a female member of my family home.”

      But he wasn’t, she thought, her uneasiness growing. “Did they believe you?”

      His expression turned mocking. “They know who I am, and they saw I had the proper paperwork. There wasn’t much they could do at that point.”

      He was setting her newly heightened inner alarm, the one that should have been working when she agreed to carry Elsie’s bag in her backpack.

      Her inner alarm hadn’t been attuned to danger then, but it was now, and Liv knew from Sheikh Fehr’s tone, as well as his evasive answers, that there was something he wasn’t telling her. Something wasn’t right. She didn’t know what it was and she very much wanted to know. “The officers were upset about something,” she persisted.

      He shrugged. “It’s a cultural thing.”

      She leaned forward. “Tell me.”

      “We’re a man and woman traveling alone together.”

      “So?”

      “We’re not actually related, which is illegal in Jabal.”

      Liv sat back against the seat, her fingers curling into her palms. “So they could rearrest me,” she whispered.

      “Not if we get out of here first.”

      They reached the small business airport in less than thirty minutes, the airport built on the outskirts of the capital city. The chauffeur drove them through the airport gates and right out onto the deserted tarmac, pulling close to the jet’s stairs.

      The jet was long, sleek and narrow, the body a shiny silver with a discrete gold-and-black emblem on the tail. Sheikh Fehr walked Olivia to the jet’s stairs. “Go ahead and board,” he told her. “I need to speak with the pilot about our flight plan.”

      She nodded and, holding on to the handrail, climbed the steps. A flight attendant greeted Liv as she entered the plane.

      “We’ll be leaving soon,” the flight attendant said, leading Liv to the grouping of four enormous club-style leather chairs that made up one of the plane’s sitting areas. “Do you have any bags or luggage for me to stow?”

      Liv shook her head as she sat down. “I don’t have … anything,” she said, reaching for the seat belt.

      “So your luggage has been sent ahead?” the flight attendant asked.

      “Unfortunately, I’ve lost everything,” Liv answered, and suddenly, remembering how she’d been callously stripped and searched, she shivered. They’d confiscated everything that first night. Her backpack, her passport, her clothes, her makeup bag. All of it. The only thing she had was what she wore, and even that was a prison-issued robe and headscarf.

      The flight attendant saw Liv shiver. “Cold?”

      “A little,” Liv admitted, still chilled from the weeks and weeks in the dark, dank cell. It’d been so awful, so unbelievable. She still couldn’t understand how she’d ended up at Ozr. She’d never broken a law in her life—well, except for driving over the speed limit, and even then, it had been five miles over the limit, not twenty.

      “Would you like a blanket?”

      “Please.” Liv smiled gratefully.

      “Poor thing. Have you been sick?” the flight attendant asked sympathetically as she crossed to the wood-paneled cabinet and retrieved an ivory cashmere throw and small pillow, the ivory blanket the same color as the supple leather seats.

      Returning, the flight attendant unfolded the blanket and draped it across Liv’s legs. “And just between you and me, I think the air conditioner is a little too efficient. Now, how about something warm to drink? Coffee, tea?”

      “Coffee, with milk and sugar. If that’s not too much trouble.”

      “None at all.”

      The flight attendant disappeared into the jet’s galley kitchen and Liv sank deeper into her seat. This was surreal, she thought, tugging the blanket up to her shoulders. An hour ago she was still locked up in Ozr and now here she was, on a private jet, being waited on hand and foot.

      While Liv sipped her coffee on the plane, Khalid joined his pilot in the final preflight inspection.

      “We’ve a change of plans,” Khalid told the pilot.

      The pilot looked up from his clipboard. “We’re low on petrol. The airport refused our request to refuel.”

      “I’m not surprised. We had a little problem on the way here.”

      “Is that why we’re not going straight to Sarq?”

      Khalid nodded. “Can’t risk involving my brother in this. There’s enough tension between Sarq and Jabal already. I won’t drag Sharif, or my people, into an international incident.”

      The pilot’s attention was suddenly caught by a line of cars on the horizon. “Police,” he said, nodding at the line of cars racing toward them. “Are they coming for you?”

      “That, or my guest, or us both,” Khalid replied, dispassionately watching the cars grow closer.

      The pilot patted the side of the plane. “Then maybe it’s time to go.”

      Liv looked up as Sheikh Fehr and the pilot boarded, the pilot drawing the folding stairs up and then securing the door. Sheikh Fehr stopped to speak to the flight attendant and then continued down the aisle to take a seat across from Liv.

      “Are you not feeling well?” he asked Liv, seeing the blanket wrapped around her.

      “I was cold,” she answered, feeling the engine turn on, a low vibration that hummed through the entire plane.

      Sheikh Fehr’s eyes narrowed as he inspected her. “You are quite pale. I wonder if you’re coming down sick.”

      “I’m not sick. Just chilly. But I’m getting warmer.” She started to fold the blanket up, but the sheikh put out a hand to stop her.

      “Don’t,” he said. “If the blanket is keeping you warm, there’s no need to put it away.”

      As the jet began to taxi toward the runway, she resettled СКАЧАТЬ