The Sheik and the Runaway Princess. Susan Mallery

pick a word to describe what was in his dark eyes, she would have said disappointment.

      He rose without saying a word. As he did so, she realized that he must have loosened the rope holding them together, because it lay on the blankets he’d spread over the sand. With a quick movement, he bent down and untied her wrists.

      “You may have a small bowl of water for your morning ablutions,” he said by way of greeting. “Don’t try to escape. If you do, I’ll give you to my men.”

      And then he turned his back on her. “Not much of a morning person, are you?” Sabrina called out before she could stop herself.

      He kept walking away and didn’t bother responding. She sighed. So much for friendly chitchat.

      She did as he instructed, taking her small bowl of water to the far side of the camp. Covering herself with her cloak, she did her best to freshen up. Between the sandstorm, the night of sleeping in her clothes and the prospect of wearing them again for an unspecified length of time, she would have given a lot for a shower.

      Ten minutes later, she cautiously approached the fire. Two men were making breakfast. She ignored the food and gazed longingly at the pot of coffee sitting close to the flames. Food wasn’t a priority for her until later in the day, but coffee was life.

      She caught Kardal’s attention and motioned to the pot. He nodded without saying anything. She sidled closer to the men and took an unused mug from an open saddlebag, then poured herself a full cup of the steaming liquid. It was hot and strong enough to grow hair.

      “Perfect,” she breathed.

      Kardal moved around the fire to stand next to her. He wore his robe open over his shirt and trousers. The long covering flowed behind him with each step.

      “I’m surprised you like it,” he said. “Most westerners and many women find it too strong.”

      “Too strong isn’t possible,” she said after sipping again. “I like coffee I can stand a spoon in.”

      “No lattes or mocha cappuccinos?”

      What? Humor from the great and mysterious Kardal? She smiled slightly. “Not even on a bet.”

      He motioned for her to follow him to the edge of their camp. Once there he put his hands on his hips and stared down at her as if she were a particularly unappealing bug. So much for the moment of bonding over coffee.

      “Something must be done with you,” he announced.

      “What? You don’t want to spend the rest of your days traveling with me throughout the desert? And here I thought you enjoyed tying me up and making me sleep on the hard ground.”

      He raised his dark eyebrows. “You have more spirit than you did last night.”

      “Not surprising. I’m rested, I have coffee. Despite rumors to the contrary, I’m a creature of simple wants.”

      The curl of his mouth indicated that he didn’t believe her.

      “We have three choices,” he told her. “We can kill you and leave your body here in the desert. We can sell you as a slave or we can ransom you to your family.”

      She nearly choked on her coffee, barely able to believe he meant what he said. Although the edge of determination in his voice told her that he did.

      “Can I see what’s behind curtain number four?” she asked when she could finally speak. Here she’d been thinking ol’ Kardal wasn’t so bad and he was talking about killing her and leaving her remains for whatever animals lived out here.

      Of course if they were going to kill her wouldn’t they have already done it? Sleeping with her tied up next to him had to have been just as uncomfortable for Kardal as it had been for her.

      “Eliminating death as an option,” she said cautiously, “I don’t think I’d make an especially good slave.”

      “I had considered that. Of course a good beating would change that.”

      “And what would a bad beating do?” she murmured.

      “Which would you prefer?”

      She stared at him. “A good or a bad beating? Neither, thank you.” She couldn’t believe they were discussing this. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening. That she was standing in the middle of the Bahanian desert discussing the physical abuse of her person.

      “I meant,” he said slowly, as if she weren’t very bright, “which of the three do you prefer?”

      “It’s my choice? How democratic.”

      “I am trying to be fair.”

      She grimaced. Obviously he’d missed the sarcasm she’d attempted to interject into her words. “Fair would be giving me a horse and some supplies, then pointing me in the right direction.”

      “You’ve already lost your own horse and camel. Why would I trust you with stock of mine?”

      She didn’t like the question so she ignored it. There was no point in protesting that the loss of her horse and camel had been more because of the storm than because she’d done something wrong.

      “I do not want to be killed,” she said at last when it became apparent he really was waiting for her to choose her fate. “And I have no desire to be any man’s slave.” Nor did she want to return to the palace and marry the troll prince. Unfortunately there wasn’t much choice.

      She wondered if her father would bother to pay a ransom for her. He might if for no other reason than it would look bad for him if he didn’t. Now if one of his precious cats had been kidnapped, the entire kingdom would be in an uproar until it was returned.

      It was very sad, she thought to herself, that her place in her father’s affection was far below her brothers and well under the cats. Unfortunately it was true. However, Kardal didn’t know that. There was no other choice. She was going to have to tell him who she was and hope that he was a man of honor, loyal to the king. If so, he would happily return her to her father. Once there, she would deal with her betrothal to the troll prince.

      She drew herself up to her full height—all of five feet four inches and tried to look important. “I am Princess Sabra of Bahania. You have no right to keep me as your prisoner, nor may you determine my fate. I demand that you return me to the palace at once. If you do not, I will be forced to tell my father what you have done. He will hunt you and your men like the dogs that you are.”

      Kardal looked faintly bored.

      “You don’t believe me?” she asked. “I assure you, it’s the truth.”

      He studied her face. “You don’t appear very royal. If you’re really the princess, what are you doing out here in the desert by yourself?”

      “I told you yesterday. Searching for the City of Thieves. I wanted to find it and surprise my father with treasures I discovered there.”

      That much was true, she thought. Not only had she wanted to study the fabled city, but she’d figured finding it was a surefire way to get the king’s attention. Once he realized she was a real person, she might be able to talk him out of her engagement.

      He considered her words. “Even if you are the princess, which I doubt, I don’t see why you would have been out alone. It is forbidden.” His gaze narrowed. “Although they say the princess is willful and difficult. Perhaps you are her after all.”

      Talk about a no-win situation, Sabrina thought glumly. She could accept the character assassination or not be believed. Once again she was left grasping for an alternative. Why was it people always assumed the worst about her? Didn’t anyone understand that she hadn’t had a normal life? Splitting time between two parents who didn’t really want her around hadn’t given her anything close to a happy childhood. People who thought she was fortunate saw only the physical trappings of her station. No one saw the endless hours she’d spent alone as a child.