Captured by the Sheikh. Кейт Хьюит

I suppose you could say that.’ She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them he was surprised to see so much bleak despair reflected in their grey-gold depths. ‘All I meant was, none of it really matters to me, being here. I understand this—this conflict is very important to you. But keeping me here won’t accomplish your goal.’

      ‘You don’t think so?’

      ‘No.’ Her mouth twisted in something like a smile. ‘Aziz will just marry someone else. He still has four days.’

      ‘I’m aware of the time that is left.’ He regarded her thoughtfully, the bleakness still apparent in her eyes, the set of her shoulders and mouth both determined and courageous. He felt another flicker of admiration as well as a surge of curiosity. Why had she agreed to marry Aziz? What could such a marriage possibly give her?

      ‘So why keep me here?’ she pressed. ‘If he can fulfil the terms of his father’s will with another woman?’

      ‘Because he won’t.’

      ‘But he will. We barely know each other. We’ve only met once before.’

      ‘I know.’

      ‘Then why do you think he would be loyal to me?’ she asked and he felt a sudden flash of compassion as well as understanding, because he’d asked that question so many times himself. Why would anyone be loyal to him? Why should he trust anyone?

      The person he’d loved most in the world had betrayed and rejected him utterly.

      ‘To be frank,’ he told her, ‘I don’t think loyalty is the issue. Politics are.’

      ‘Exactly. So he’ll just marry someone else.’

      ‘And alienate his people even more? They love the idea of this wedding. They love it more than they do Aziz. And if he were to discard one woman for another...’ As our father did. No, he had no wish to divulge that information to Elena just yet. He took a quick breath. ‘It would not be popular. It would destabilise his rule even more.’

      ‘But if he’s going to lose his crown anyway...’

      ‘But he won’t, not necessarily. Did he not tell you?’ Uncertainty flashed across her features and Khalil curved his mouth in a grim smile. ‘The will states that, if Aziz does not marry within six weeks, he must call a national referendum. The people will then choose the new sheikh.’

      She stared at him, her eyes widening. ‘And you think that will be you?’

      He let out a hard laugh. ‘Don’t sound so sceptical.’

      ‘Who are you?’

      ‘I told you, the next ruler of Kadar.’ Her gaze moved over his face searchingly, and he saw despair creep back into her eyes.

      ‘But Aziz could still go ahead and marry someone else while I’m stuck here in the desert. What happens then?’

      ‘If he does that, it might lead to a civil war. I don’t think he wishes for that to happen. Admittedly, Your Highness, I am taking a risk. You are right in saying that Aziz could marry someone else. But I don’t think he will.’

      ‘Why not just meet him and ask him to call the referendum?’

      He shook his head. ‘Because he knows he won’t win it.’

      ‘And if it comes to war? Are you prepared?’

      ‘I will do what I must to secure my country’s rule. Make no mistake about that, Queen Elena.’ She flinched slightly at his implacable tone and something in Khalil softened just a little. None of this was Elena’s fault. She was a casualty of a conflict that didn’t involve her. In any other circumstance, he would have applauded her courage and determination.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ he said after a pause. ‘I realise your plans to marry Aziz have been upset. But, considering how they were made so recently, I’m sure you’ll recover.’ He didn’t mean to sound quite so cutting, but he knew he did, and he saw her flinch again.

      She looked away, her gaze turning distant. ‘You think so?’ she said, not really a question, and again he heard the bleak despair and wondered at its source.

      ‘I know so, Your Highness. I don’t know why you decided to marry Aziz, but since it wasn’t for love your heart is hardly broken.’

      ‘And you know about broken hearts?’ she answered with another weary laugh. ‘You don’t even seem to have one.’

      ‘Perhaps I don’t. But you didn’t love him?’ That was a question, of a sort. He was curious, even if he didn’t want to be. He didn’t want to know more about Elena, to wonder about her motives or her heart.

      And yet still he asked.

      ‘No,’ she said after a moment. ‘Of course I didn’t—don’t—love him. I barely know him. We met twice, for a couple of hours.’ She shook her head, let out a long, defeated sigh, and then seemed to come to herself, straightening again, her eyes flashing once more. ‘But I have your word you will release me after four days?’

      ‘Yes. You have my word.’ She relaxed slightly then, even as he stiffened. ‘You don’t think I’d hurt you?’

      ‘Why shouldn’t I? Kidnappers are usually capable of other crimes.’

      ‘As I explained, this was a necessary evil, Your Highness, nothing more.’

      ‘And what else will be a necessary evil, Khalil?’ she answered back. He didn’t like the hopelessness he saw in her eyes; it was as if the spark that had lit her from within had died out. He missed it. ‘When you justify one thing, it becomes all too easy to justify another.’

      ‘You sound as if you speak from experience.’

      ‘I do.’

      ‘Your own.’

      A pause and her mouth firmed and tightened. ‘Of sorts.’

      He opened his mouth to ask another question, but then closed it abruptly. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t need to understand this woman; he simply needed her to stay put for a handful of days. He was sorry, more or less, for her disappointment. But that was all it was, a disappointment. An inconvenience, really. Her future, her very life, was not riding on a marriage to a stranger.

      Not like his was.

      ‘I promise I will not hurt you. And in four days you will be free.’ She simply stared at him and, with one terse nod, he dismissed her, leaving the tent without another word.

       CHAPTER THREE

      ELENA WOKE SLOWLY, blinking in the bright sunlight that filtered through the small gap in the tent’s flaps. Her body ached with tiredness; her mind had spun and seethed all night and she hadn’t fallen asleep until some time near dawn.

      Now she stretched and stared up at the rippling canvas of the tent, wondering what this day would bring.

      She’d spent hours last night considering her options. She’d wondered if she could steal someone’s mobile phone, make contact. Yet who would she call—the operator, to connect her to the Kadaran palace? Her Head of Council, who would probably be delighted by the news of her capture? In any case, she most likely couldn’t get a signal out here.

      Then she’d wondered if she could make a friend of one of the guards, get him to help her. That seemed even less likely; both of the guards she’d met had appeared utterly unmoved by her predicament.

      Could she cause a fire, so its smoke might be caught by a satellite, a passing helicopter or plane?

      Each possibility seemed more ludicrous than the last, and yet she refused to admit defeat. Giving in would mean losing her crown.

      But the longer she stayed here, the more likely it was