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He said something not in any language she understood before some of his rigidity fell away and something approaching a smile twisted his lips. ‘You, silent? That I’ll believe when I see it. But for the record you are wrong, you can help... Falling implies a helplessness that does not exist; there is always a choice.’
She searched his lean face for any sign of doubt and found none at all; he radiated male arrogance. Her insides shuddered, the mouth-drying sensation dramatic and disturbing as she continued to stare at him.
Always a choice, she mused; well, she had one now: carry on looking and feeling like this or look away; argue or bite her tongue.
She chose the latter in both cases, probably the way to go for the next eighteen months.
‘So this leads to the stables,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ he said, experiencing a sense of anticlimax as he let her walk before him under a large stone arch guarded by massive, double-metal-banded doors and into the fresh air.
Abby took a deep breath and took it all in, turning her head towards the sound of thundering hooves as a string of horses with riders on their backs galloped out through the open gates. They left behind a hum of activity she hadn’t yet experienced in Aarifa.
She had encountered a few people during the tour but all had bowed to Zain and scooted out of their way, so their functions in this vast complex had not been immediately obvious to Abby.
Here was different, with everyone occupied on a specific task, be it grooming one of the horses, mucking out stables, leading horses across the cobbled yard or walking them into what seemed to be a horse bath.
‘Hydrotherapy,’ Zain explained when he saw her staring. He took her arm and steered her towards the nearest row of stables; there were three similar rows that lined three sides of the quadrangle, while the fourth seemed to house offices.
‘I know that horses are not your thing, but I thought you might like to say hello to an old friend.’ He took her across to a stable door, pausing to speak to one of the stable hands with a lack of formality that surprised Abby.
The young man moved ahead of them, tipping his head towards Abby as he passed. As they reached the stable he had gone inside he emerged leading a horse.
‘Malik al-Layl,’ Zain said, taking the ends of the reins from the stable hand and leading the stallion towards Abby. ‘I think he remembers you,’ Zain said as the horse snickered and put his head down towards Abby, who, after a self-conscious moment of indecision, extended her hand towards the animal.
‘We were not formally introduced, Malik...’ She glanced towards Zain for guidance.
‘Malik al-Layl—it means King of the Night.’
‘We were not formally introduced, Malik al-Layl, but I don’t blame you for that.’ She shot a look loaded with meaning at Zain. ‘There was a lot of anonymity going on.’ She jumped as the horse brushed her hand with velvety lips, her smile spreading. ‘I think he might remember me,’ she said, unable to hide her pleasure at the thought.
‘Once seen, never forgotten.’
Their eyes met and the something that she had sensed earlier—the crackly charge she had been conscious of several times—surfaced once again. She lowered her gaze quickly but it still hung there in the air as she pretended to look for something in the pocket of her trousers and watched covertly as Zain ran his hand down the stallion’s flank, the dangerous male aura he exuded sending little thrills through her nervous system.
‘Lost something?’
Like someone caught in the act...well, in some ways, she had been lucky her sin remained in thought and not in action, and Abby pulled her empty hand out of her pocket.
‘I was just looking for a tissue...’ she improvised. ‘I’m fine.’ The hasty addition was just in case he decided to send for someone to fetch her a gold-lined box of the things.
‘I was wondering if you’d like to have some riding lessons while you’re here?’
‘You make it sound as though I’m on holiday.’
‘It doesn’t have to be a punishment—there is nothing that says you can’t enjoy yourself.’ His eyes connected with hers, the teasing look making her feel warm and other things. ‘You might even get to like me...’
Her half-smile flattened as she realised that was the problem, the one she didn’t want to acknowledge—that it might be far too easy to like him. ‘That’s pushing it,’ she husked out, refusing to analyse why the idea scared her so much. ‘But I would like to learn to ride.’
‘Fine, I’ll...’ He broke off, his eyes moving past her in response to the sound of the clatter of hooves.
Abby turned her head, curious to see who had galloped through the gates just as the rider of the first horse dismounted. As the woman landed with almost balletic grace, the two men who had ridden in behind her shadowed the move but with far less elegance.
Before the riders had hit the ground, grooms were rushing up to take the reins of the horses.
The woman pulled off her riding cap and shook back a dark bell of smooth, shiny hair. She barely glanced at the man who took it from her hands then led away her mount, though she did call something out to the two men who were clearly her security detail. They bowed in response.
She then swung around and, shoulders back, head high, helmet in hand, with a swing of her slim hips she walked towards where Abby and Zain stood.
