Modern Romance Collection: May 2018 Books 5 - 8. Кейт Хьюит

couldn’t imagine why or how.

      The man turned her towards him. His face was very close, his lashes surprisingly long and lush, his eyes not merely grey, as she’d first thought, but a startling, mossy grey-green. His cheeks, nose and mouth were all hewn of harsh lines, giving Olivia an even stronger sense of the grim determination and inflexibility she’d seen in him from the moment he’d come through the window.

      ‘I will keep you safe.’ Looping a rope around her waist, he heaved her over the window to plummet down into the desert darkness.

      The breath whooshed from Olivia’s lungs and she was too startled to scream as the air streamed past, her heart suspended in her chest. Then the rope jerked taut and she landed with a heavy thud in another man’s arms. He righted her quickly, her feet on the ground, but before she could scream he had covered her mouth with a scarf and tied it.

      The man who had come in Halina’s bedroom was scaling down the side of the palace wall, as stealthy and graceful as a panther. He landed lightly on his feet, his grey-green eyes narrowing at the sight of the gag on Olivia’s mouth.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ the other man said in a low voice. ‘I did not want her to scream.’

      The man nodded shortly as Olivia’s mind whirled.

       What was going on? Why had they taken her?

      The man looked back at her, a faint smile curving that rugged mouth. ‘Come,’ he said and, taking her by the elbow, he drew her towards several horses that were tethered by the palace wall.

      Horses? How on earth were they going to get out of the palace on horses? The only way was through the front gates, tall and towering, topped with iron spikes and guarded by Sultan Hassan’s private soldiers.

      The man heaved her up on a horse and Olivia sprawled inelegantly across its back. She’d never ridden, unlike Halina and her sisters, who had been practically raised on horseback. The man quirked an eyebrow, seeming almost amused by her ineptitude, and then righted her, swinging up to straddle the horse behind her so she was nestled closely between his hard-packed thighs.

      He snaked one arm around her waist to draw her even more tightly against him; Olivia could feel his heart thudding against her back, the heat of his body warming her right through. His scent invaded her senses. She’d never been so close to a man before.

      ‘Let’s ride,’ the man said in a voice that managed to be both soft and commanding, and they headed off, Olivia watching in disbelief as they rode right through the palace gates, not a soldier in sight. Had these men taken over the palace? Had there been some kind of attack and no one had even realised?

      As soon as they were clear, the man took off her gag.

      ‘I am sorry for that. I did not want you to be treated so roughly.’

      Which made no sense. He was her kidnapper. But Olivia couldn’t ask any questions now, not with the wind streaming past and the sand flying into her eyes. The man slowed the horse down to tie the scarf around her hair and cover her mouth. ‘There. That is better,’ he murmured into her ear, sending shivers racing across her skin.

      Olivia was conscious of the hard wall of the man’s chest she was leaning against, his arm wrapped so snugly around her she almost felt safe. He kicked his heels into the horse’s flanks and they were off again, flying across the sand.

      The hours blurred into one another as they kept riding, the man holding her all the while, her body starting to ache from the constant jostling.

      The moon was a silver crescent high above them, the sky a garden of stars sending silvery shadows across the desert sand, the only sound the steady thud of the horses’ hooves.

      At some point Olivia fell into an uneasy doze, her head resting against his chest, which seemed impossible, considering her precarious situation, but the constant, teeth-jarring movement had exhausted her.

      She woke with a jolt when their gallop slowed, the man’s arm relaxing on her only slightly. Olivia blinked warily; a few flickering lights emerged like pinpricks in the darkness. She heard low, murmuring voices but couldn’t make out the words. It had taken concentration to understand everything the man had said to her in Arabic, and Olivia thought she must have missed or misunderstood some words.

      The man slowed the horse to a stop and slid off it in one easy movement before turning to her.

      Olivia gazed down at him, uncertain and suddenly desperately afraid. They had arrived at some kind of destination, and she had no idea what was going to happen now. What this man was going to do with her. He’d said he wouldn’t hurt her, that he would keep her safe, but why on earth should she believe him?

      ‘Come down,’ he said quietly, and his tone reminded Olivia of the way Sultan Hassan talked to a frightened mare. ‘No one will hurt you. I gave you my vow.’

      ‘Why...?’ Her voice came out in a croak; her throat was as dry as dust, sand speckling her lips and skin. ‘Why have you taken me?’

      ‘For justice,’ the man replied. He reached for her, his hands gripping her arms with that gentle strength she’d felt before. ‘Now, come down. Eat, drink, refresh yourself. And then we’ll talk.’

      Olivia’s feet hit the ground and her legs nearly gave way. She hated being so feeble, but she’d never ridden a horse before and they’d been galloping for several hours. Her thighs chafed and her muscles ached. She felt as if she could collapse right where she stood. The man caught her, swearing under his breath.

      ‘I thought you knew how to ride.’

      ‘What?’ Olivia blinked at him in surprised confusion. Why would he think that? ‘No, I don’t know how. I never learned.’

      ‘It seems my intelligence was wrong on one point, at least.’ He turned away before she could reply. ‘Suma will see to you.’

      * * *

      Zayed al bin Nur strode towards his tent, his body aching from the hard ride and his heart thudding with the heady pulse of triumph. He’d done it. He’d actually done it. He’d successfully kidnapped Princess Halina Amari from behind the seemingly impenetrable walls of the royal palace. All that remained now was to seal the deal and make her his bride.

      His mouth curved grimly as he thought of his future father-in-law’s fury. Abducting Princess Halina had been a massive risk, but a calculated one. Hassan Amari knew Zayed’s cause was just. And Zayed knew he needed the full support of the neighbouring kingdom of Abkar to wage war against Fakhir Malouf, the man who had taken his throne...and murdered his family.

      The old rage settled in Zayed’s gut, ice-cold and iron-hard with the passage of time, a familiar and almost comforting weight as he ducked under the flap and went into his tent. His advisor and friend, Jahmal, scrambled to attention.

      ‘My Prince.’

      ‘Have the preparations been made?’

      ‘Yes, My Prince.’

      Zayed shrugged off his travel-stained cloak and tore the turban from his hair, running his hand through the spiky mass to dislodge the grains of sand. ‘Thank you. I am giving my bride half an hour to rest and refresh herself, and then we will go ahead with the ceremony.’

      Unease flickered across Jahmal’s face but he nodded. ‘Yes, My Prince.’

      Zayed knew his closest advisors had been deeply unsure about the risk he was taking. They were afraid of invoking Hassan Amari’s wrath, even of starting another and far more damaging war with a neighbouring country they counted as their ally. But they didn’t have the same fury and fear driving them as he did. They didn’t remember the tortured screams of his brother and father as they’d burned to death in a helicopter that had pirouetted to the ground in flames. They didn’t see his mother’s shocked face when they closed their eyes, feel her unending grief, the memory of her dying in his arms a burden they would carry to his last breath. They didn’t wake in the darkness, a silent scream of terror and