Crowned At The Desert King's Command. Jackie Ashenden

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СКАЧАТЬ she didn’t notice the uniformed man coming up behind her until his fingers wrapped around her arm. And then a long black car pulled up to the kerb and Charlotte found herself bundled into the back of it.

      She opened her mouth to protest, but there wasn’t even time for her to scream. Something black and suffocating was put over her head and the car started moving.

      The fingers around her arm were firm—not hurting, but definitely ensuring that she couldn’t get away. Fear, coming a little late to the party, suddenly rose up inside her, choking.

       Did you really think you could escape from that jail cell and start wandering around like nothing was wrong?

      She hadn’t been thinking—that was the problem. She’d got out of that cell and then been caught up in the wonder of the city outside it.

      Charlotte slumped back in the seat, trying not to panic. Now, not only was her chance to escape gone but so was her father’s.

      And it was all her fault.

      The car drove for what seemed like ages and then slowed to a stop. She was pulled out of it and then taken up some steps. Sun and heat surrounded her for a second, and then she must have been taken inside because the sun had disappeared, to be replaced by blessedly cool air. Her footsteps echoed on a tiled floor, and there was the scent of water and flowers in the air.

      She couldn’t see a thing through the black fabric around her head, and her sense of direction was soon gone as she was pulled down more corridors, around corners, and up yet more stairs.

      Were they taking her back to that cell? Or were there worse things in store for her? Would they perhaps murder her? Make her disappear? Hold her prisoner for ever?

      She was just starting to be very, very afraid when she was pulled to a stop and the fabric covering her head was abruptly tugged off.

      Charlotte blinked in the bright light.

      She appeared to be standing in a large room lined with shelves, containing lots of books and folders and filing boxes. The exquisite tiled floor was covered in thick, brightly coloured silk rugs, the walls also tiled, in silvery, slightly iridescent tiles. There was a window in front of her that gave a view onto a beautiful garden, where a fountain played amongst palms and other shrubs, as well as many different kinds of flowers.

      A huge, heavy desk made of time-blackened wood stood before the window. The polished surface was clean of everything except a sleek-looking computer monitor and keyboard, and a small, elegant silver vase with a spray of fresh jasmine in it.

      This was certainly not a jail cell. In fact, it looked like someone’s office...

      She blinked again and turned around to see two men stationed on either side of the double doors. They were dressed in black robes with swords on their hips, their faces absolutely impassive.

      She would have thought the robes and swords only ceremonial, except they didn’t have the clean and pressed look she would have expected. The fabric of their robes was dusty and stained around the hems, as were the boots the men wore. And although the edges of the swords were bright, was that...blood she could see on the steel? Surely it couldn’t be.

      Charlotte stared, her heartbeat getting faster and faster, and then suddenly from behind her came the sound of a door opening and closing.

      She turned back sharply to see that a man had come into the room from a door off to her left, and he was now standing beside the desk, staring at her.

      He was very, very tall and very, very broad, built more like an ancient warrior than a businessman. The muscles of his chest and arms were straining the white cotton of his business shirt, and the dark wool of his suit trousers pulled tight around his powerful thighs.

      His face was a harsh composition of planes and angles that nevertheless managed to be utterly compelling, with high cheekbones and an aquiline nose, straight black brows and a beautifully carved mouth.

      ‘Handsome’ was far too bland a word for him...especially as he radiated the kind of arrogant charisma reserved only for the very powerful and very important.

      But that wasn’t what held Charlotte absolutely rooted to the spot.

      It was his eyes. Burning gold, with the same relentless, brutal heat as the desert sun.

      It was the man who’d approached her in the desert. She was sure of it. She’d never forget those eyes.

      He said nothing for a long moment and neither did Charlotte, since she couldn’t seem to find her voice. Then his gaze shifted to the men behind her and he gave a slight tilt of his head. A couple of seconds later she heard the door shut behind her, the men clearly having obeyed some unspoken order and left.

      The room abruptly felt tiny and cramped, the space too small to accommodate both her and the man in front of her. Or maybe he seemed to get larger and more intimidating, taking up all the air and leaving none for her.

      She lifted her chin, trying to get her heartbeat under control at the same time as trying to hold his relentless gaze, but she couldn’t seem to manage both—especially not when he moved suddenly, coming over to the desk and standing in front of it, folding his arms across his massive chest.

      Bringing him quite a bit closer.

      She resisted the urge to take a step back, hating how small and insignificant his sheer size made her feel. It was exactly the same feeling that had filled her when her parents had argued and she’d hidden under the dining room table. They’d never noticed that she’d left her seat—which was ironic, since more often than not they had been shouting about her.

      Clasping her hands in front of her to prevent them from shaking, Charlotte took a small, silent breath. ‘Um...do you speak English?’ Her voice sounded thin and reedy in the silence of the room.

      The man said nothing, continuing to stare at her.

      It was extremely unnerving.

      Her mouth had dried and she wished her Arabic was better. Because maybe he didn’t understand English. She wanted to ask him where her father was and also to thank him for saving her.

       He put you in a cell, remember?

      Sure, but maybe that hadn’t been him. He might look like a medieval warrior, but the suit he was wearing was thoroughly modern. Perhaps he was an accountant? Or the chief of the jail she’d been put in? Or a government functionary?

      Yet none of those things seemed to fit. He was too magnetic, too charismatic to be anyone’s mere functionary. No, this man had an aura about him that spoke of command, as if he expected everyone to fall to their knees around him.

      Sadly for him, she wouldn’t be falling anywhere in front of him.

       Except you already have. In the desert.

      That, alas, was true.

      ‘I’m s-sorry,’ she stuttered, casting around for something to say. ‘I should have thanked you for saving my life. But can you tell me where my father is? We got lost, you see. And I... I...’ She faltered, all her words crushed by the weight of his stare.

      This was silly. Her father СКАЧАТЬ