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She banged her shins into a chair, and her captor swore furiously as she fell. He dragged her up by her hair and slapped her face so hard her ears rang and blood trickled from her nose. “Get up, dog,” he said in crude English.

She realized then they wanted her out of the palace before the movie ended and the alarm was raised. She’d need to do whatever was necessary to slow them down. She pretended to get up, but stumbled and fell back to the floor.

Her head snapped back as her captor punched her face, the impact almost knocking her senseless as blood sprayed from her nose this time and ran freely down her face. She barely had the strength to function let alone think, her heart beating furiously in her chest.

Self-preservation kicked in. They would kill her if she resisted. She staggered to her feet and followed them blindly, her heart hurting knowing she’d trusted Estelle so easily while constantly resisting her husband’s charms.

You wouldn’t be here now if your husband had listened to you and allowed you to go to Lumana with him.

She was jerked to a stop, and despite her gag someone clapped a hand over her mouth. It was Estelle who leaned close and whispered, “Make one sound, even a squeak, and you’re dead, Arabelle.” She laughed so softly it was almost undetectable. “You don’t mind if I call youArabellenow, do you?”

Fury burned through Arabelle’s veins, but she wasn’t stupid enough to act on the emotion. This wasn’t the time or place. Except…if she waited too long she’d likely die anyway. These people were utterly crazy to attempt her abduction, which also made them highly volatile and dangerous. They were risking life and limb to take the wife of one of the greatest sheikhs of all time.

But why?What had she done to deserve this?

Then it hit her. These were part of the rebels who’d taken over her dad’s borders. The same borders that had been wrestled back thanks to Mahindar’s power and support.

Shit.In her captors eyes she was at fault. She was the daughter of their enemy. She was also now the wife of the sheikh who’d defeated the rebels and created a treaty that must have been too good to resist.

Clearly not everyone was happy with the treaty.

“Get going,” Estelle whispered coldly, then gave her a brutal shove that sent her flying forward and landing heavily onto her knees. She was hauled to her feet by her hair, a whimper building in her throat at the pain that burned through her scalp. Then she was shoved forward once again, turning right and then left, the constant twists and turns leaving her dizzy and disoriented.

Until she was forced to stop and a door slid closed behind them. The sensation of falling followed by a ding let her know they’d boarded an elevator. In all her wanderings inside the palace she had never once seen an elevator. She shivered. Where were they taking her?

“Move,” one of the men said gruffly.

She did as he asked and he didn’t forcibly shove her forward. A hysterical laugh threatened to bubble up her throat. She suspected she was safer with this male captor than she’d ever been with Estelle.

Oh how easily fooled she’d been by the woman. Estelle had never wanted to be her servant or her friend. Quite the opposite. But at least now the odd expressions that had flitted across Estelle’s face made sense. Perhaps if Arabelle hadn’t been fretting so much over Mahindar’s absence and her parents’ welfare she would have paid more attention to her intuition.

Stale air filled Arabelle’s lungs, their footsteps echoing eerily as they walked across what she presumed was a concrete floor. She blinked behind her blindfold, petrol and fumes a faint scent in the air. Was this an underground carpark? Did Mahindar keep his cars underground and not at the back of the palace like she’d suspected?

The faint clunk of a vehicle unlocking its doors via a key fob answered her question. It made sense. Mahindar was known for his car collection. They would be safer underground than anywhere else. She swallowed hard. She, on the other hand, had never been less safe. Once she was inside the car there was little chance she’d escape from her captors.

“Put this abaya on over your dress,” Estelle ordered. “The hijab should also help to conceal who you really are.”

Arabelle ignored Estelle’s rough handling, her thoughts instead consumed by the fact these people had planned her abduction to perfection. That she’d fallen for Estelle’s disappointment at not seeing the blockbuster movie sent a sickening wave of stupidity through her. The film had given her captors at least ninety minutes to make a getaway.

“Get in,” Estelle said viciously, before pushing Arabelle’s head down and shoving her onto a seat. “Onto the floor,” she added spitefully.

Arabelle clearly didn’t move fast enough. Within seconds she was dumped onto the floor, where she landed heavily behind the front seats. The jolt hurt her stomach, and panic swelled. She’d been doing everything possible to protect herself and possibly her unborn child. But now that she was stretched out across the floor, the doors clunked shut and two sets of boots pushed into her back, forcing her further down.

She couldn’t breathe and panic was uncontrollable now. She was gasping for breath and was only half-aware of the vehicle starting, then accelerating forward. The vehicle slowed again and then stopped, Arabic words flowing over her.

She wanted to scream out, to warn the guards she was in the car, but the gag made communication impossible, her captors’ boots pushing down on her all the harder. She couldn’t breathe and suffocation seemed imminent. Her ears rang and panic swamped her.

Then…nothing.

Chapter Twenty-One

Arabelle woke to a guttural, and panicked male voice. “Get the gag off her before she chokes! If she dies we’ve failed. And we’ve gone through all this shit for nothing!”

It took her a moment to realize she’d understood every Arabic word.

Rough hands grabbed her, pulled her up and shoved down her gag, sending her hijab askew. She sucked in a breath, the fresh air flooding her lungs and making her dizzy.

“Ugh, she’s bleeding everywhere.” Estelle’s voice oozed with contempt and disgust, as though it was Arabelle’s fault she was injured and bloody.

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