Lost to the Desert Warrior. Sarah Morgan

as its master.

      Layla strained her ears to catch what they were saying and then gasped as firm hands grasped her and swung her onto the back of the animal. Less than thrilled at being back on a horse so soon after her last experience, she clutched at the stallion’s mane feeling unbalanced and horribly unsafe.

      Moments later Raz vaulted on behind her and locked his arm around her waist.

      ‘I’m sorry to do this to you when you’re still bruised after your last encounter with a horse, but Hassan has discovered your absence.’ His mouth was right by her ear. ‘Right now he is doing everything in his power to find you. It isn’t safe to stay. We must move on.’

      ‘But now that we’re married—’

      ‘That does not make it safe. No matter what circumstances led to our marriage, you are mine now and I will protect you. You have my word on that.’

      Layla heard the steel in his voice and wondered if he were thinking of his wife.

      Did he blame himself for not preventing the accident that had killed her?

      Had she given him yet more responsibility to add to the load he already carried?

      ‘Could we use a different mode of transport? I’ll slow you down. I can’t ride.’

      ‘I am the one doing the riding. You are merely the passenger.’

      ‘I’ll fall off.’ She glanced down and then wished she hadn’t. It was a long way to the ground. The stallion was enormous and she felt the power of him beneath her, felt the quivering suppressed energy, and remembered how the horse Yasmin had taken from her father’s stables had shot forward like an arrow from a bow, leaving her in an aching heap on the sand.

      His arm tightened around her. ‘I will not let you fall.’

      ‘Can’t we use a helicopter or a Jeep or something?’

      ‘One of my men is flying the helicopter and another is taking a Jeep to provide a decoy. They will not expect us to be on horseback. It is the safest way.’

      Thinking that he had a very different idea of the definition of ‘safe’, Layla gripped tightly with her legs and felt the warm flanks of the quivering horse pressing against her bare thighs. ‘I’m not dressed for this.’

      Even as she said the words a cloak was wrapped around her and he said something to someone close by.

      ‘There is no time to change. You will be fine. Trust me.’

      Layla was about to point out that she didn’t trust him any more than he trusted her, but the horse sprang forward and she squeezed her eyes shut.

      ‘Is it wise to ride at night?’

      ‘No. Which is why Hassan will not look for us on horseback.’

      ‘Is that supposed to be comforting?’ She thought she heard him laugh but decided it must have been the wind, because who could find such a dangerous situation amusing?

      ‘I know this area as well as you know the palace. We are following the stars and the riverbed. Now, relax and go with the rhythm of the horse. You are very tense and that will make the whole thing more uncomfortable,’

      Go with the rhythm of the horse...

      She told herself that last time she hadn’t had a skilled rider in control or a strong male arm wrapped around her.

      ‘Pull the scarf across your mouth.’

      She released her rigid grip on the horse’s mane to do as he instructed.

      She wanted to ask where they were going, but knew the question was not only superfluous but also potentially hazardous because the hooves of the horses sent sand flying into the air and she only had a thin layer of scarf protecting her. So she kept her mouth closed and tried to remember what she’d read about riding, and then realised it didn’t matter because he knew and was driving the horse forward, controlling the animal with one hand on the reins while the other remained firmly locked around her waist.

      She was aware of the dull thud of hooves on sand, of the feel of Raz’s thighs pressed hard against hers and the brush of the cool night air on her face. A sensation tore through her that she didn’t recognise and it took her a few moments to realise it was exhilaration. With the responsibility for controlling the horse in someone else’s hands, the ride on the back of this powerful animal was the most exciting, breathtaking experience of her life. In her restricted, regimented life this was the closest she’d ever come to freedom, and it felt so good she smiled behind the protective covering of the scarf. She couldn’t remember when she’d last smiled, but she was smiling now as each pounding stride of the horse took her further away from Hassan. It felt like the end of something—and then she remembered that Hassan was unlikely to give up that easily.

      And Yasmin was out in the desert alone and lost.

      Her smile faded.

      She hoped Salem’s knowledge of the desert was as good as it was reputed to be and that he’d find her sister quickly.

      They rode for several hours, until time blurred and sleep overcame her. Several times she was jarred awake as her head hit his shoulder, and eventually he shifted position to give her somewhere to rest her head.

      ‘Sleep, Princess.’

      And she did, because her body gave her no choice, exhausted by the exertions of the past twenty-four hours. Her last coherent thought before her brain shut down was that sleeping against his chest like this was the safest she’d felt in her life.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      SHE WAS SNUGGLED against him, lulled to sleep by the movement of the horse.

      The closeness of her disturbed him as much as the realisation that she was nothing like he’d imagined her to be when people had spoken her name. He’d visualised someone pampered and privileged. Someone spoiled and entitled. When he’d first seen her in his tent he’d assumed she was an opportunist, switching sides to protect herself before the inevitable shift in power.

      At some point from her arrival in the camp to her falling asleep against him his view on her had become clouded, and now he was forced to admit he didn’t know what he was dealing with.

      Dawn rose over the desert, and in the distance he saw the familiar shape of trees and tents clustered around the small, lush oasis that marked one of his favourite places on earth.

      His heart clenched as it always did when he arrived here.

      Perhaps he shouldn’t have brought her, but what choice did he have?

      Alerted to their presence, people emerged from tents. The rising sun glinted off the dunes and Raz brought his horse to a halt.

      ‘Princess?’ He spoke the word softly and she stirred against him, her hand locked on the sleeve of his robe.

      Raz looked down at that hand. Her fingers were slender and he realised this was the first time he’d seen any part of her other than her face. ‘Layla!’ He used her name for the first time and she came awake with a start, her eyes blurred with sleep as she tried to focus and orientate herself.

      ‘I fell asleep?’

      ‘For several hours.’ He held the stallion steady and then dismounted in a smooth movement. ‘Swing your leg over the saddle and I’ll help you down.’

      She did it without fuss, but the moment her feet touched the ground she winced and gripped the horse for balance. They’d ridden for hours and she was already aching and bruised from her ride from the Citadel. He knew virtually nothing about her but suspected only dire need would drive her to steady herself against his horse.

      The stallion gave a snort of disapproval and threw up its head in disgust.

      Raz put his hand on his horse’s neck and spoke calmly. ‘Your muscles will soon become accustomed to riding.’