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‘She left alone, to drive across the desert in an all-terrain vehicle she doesn’t know how to handle...’ He had managed to discover as much from the garage manager, who had noticed the car missing that morning. But he had no idea which direction she’d taken. Had she headed to Zafari or in the opposite direction across the hills past the Kholadi Oasis towards Kallah? Either way it was at least a day’s drive to the border, she had a ten-hour start on him and he only had one helicopter.
‘But she said she could drive it,’ Kasia blurted out, all attempts at subterfuge having fled.
‘She can’t. And there’s no damn GPS signal in the desert—how would she know which way to go?’
‘I gave her a map,’ the girl admitted.
He fisted his fingers, resisting, barely, the urge to wring her neck. ‘Which way?’ he shouted, and the girl jumped.
‘Zafari. She is headed to the Zafari border.’ The girl’s shoulders slumped, the defiance draining out of her.
‘Get the motorbike,’ he shouted to the coterie of servants and advisors who had accompanied him to the women’s quarters. He would take it to the airfield, where the chopper was already fuelled and waiting.
As he walked away from Kasia the fury and panic and guilt were sucked into the gaping hole in the centre of his chest, until all that was left was the pain.
* * *
Cat squinted at the glow of red shimmering on the edge of the horizon. Her arms felt as if lead weights had been attached to her wrists as she wrestled to keep the Jeep on the road. Driving in the dark had been exhausting, as she’d tried to keep the unpaved dirt road through the rocky terrain between the glow of her headlamps, and mind-numbingly cold in the open-topped SUV. But she already wished for the chill again as the sun peeked over the dunes in the distance—painting myriad shades of red and orange across the sky, and bringing with it a wave of heat. She should have been at the border by now, but she’d had to keep the speedometer to below twenty miles an hour to negotiate the boulders in the rarely used road.
The vehicle’s engine began to hum alarmingly, until she realised the metallic swish-swish-swish growing louder and more distinct wasn’t coming from the Jeep. A shadow crossed over the bonnet and a huge black machine appeared overhead. She blinked, watching as it hovered in the air for several moments and then landed on the road thirty yards ahead, throwing up a cloud of sand and dust and blocking her path out of the country. Pebbles and rocks pinged off the Jeep’s metalwork.
Cat braked, her dazed, exhausted mind struggling to take in what she was seeing. The silhouette of a man—tall and broad and looking far too magnificent in the traditional garb of black pants and tunic, boots and robe—jumped out of the chopper’s cockpit and began walking towards her.
Zane.
She bent to rest her forehead on the steering wheel and dispel the foolish leap of joy in her heart.
When she lifted her head, he was almost upon her. She could see his face clearly in the dawn light. The pagan beauty of those sharp cheekbones, the sensual line of his lips now flattened in a tight line of displeasure or temper, it was hard to tell, the shocking blue of his eyes focused on her.
She felt as if she were floating—as the adrenaline that had kept her lucid for the last few hours drained away.
‘Catherine, get out of the car,’ he said, the deep commanding voice making her shudder.
Towering over her, he reached inside the Jeep to unlock the door. He pulled it open, then grasped her upper arm in firm fingers. ‘Get out now. I’m taking you back to the palace,’ he said, his tone low, as he tu
gged her out of the vehicle.
A last spurt of adrenaline charged through her, and she managed to yank her arm free of that firm grip. ‘No, I can’t go back.’
She wouldn’t be able to leave him again. Wouldn’t be able to find the strength. But then she swayed, her knees becoming liquid and he swore softly.
‘You’re exhausted,’ he said, scooping her into his arms.
‘Please, you have to let me go.’ She thudded her fists on his chest, but the punches were weak and inconsequential and he didn’t break stride as he carried her towards the aircraft.
At last he sat her down on the open cargo door. After ripping off her veil, he grasped her wrists and forced her leaden arms down to her side. ‘Stop it, you’re only going to hurt yourself. And the baby.’
The fear that had gripped her ever since she’d seen the helicopter became huge. ‘I’m pregnant. I’m not an invalid.’
‘But why would you put our child at risk?’ he said, the veneer of indifference lifting to be replaced with something she’d heard in his voice once before—during their magical night at the Kholadi Oasis, when he’d told her about his mother. Not anger, but regret. ‘Is it because you don’t want it any more?’
‘No, Zane, I want it very much,’ she said. ‘I already love it.’
The misery on his face became more pronounced. ‘Then why did you run?’ he said, his voice breaking.
And she knew she couldn’t chicken out again. She had to tell him what she’d learned during the long night drive. What had made her more determined, not less, to leave him. ‘Because what we have isn’t a marriage, it’s a business arrangement. And I don’t want to live like that.’
He stiffened, his face grim. ‘I made you my Queen. I’ve supported you in everything you wanted to do.’
