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Would their Leader’s friend be pleased to experience some of the very special beauty treatments that had been passed down through generations?
Absolutely, he had replied.
Would she enjoy being dressed in one of the precious vintage robes they had lovingly cleaned and preserved; a robe they carried with them in their treasure chest on their endless travels across the desert?
He didn’t even have to think about that one. He was sure she would.
And the food...Would she enjoy their food? Could they make her sweetmeats like the old days; the sort of thing with which the sheikhs of old would tempt their...their...
Their friends? he had supplied helpfully.
‘I’m sure she would,’ he had confirmed. He had yet to meet a woman who would refuse a decent piece of cake.
His acceptance of all these treats for Britt had put smiles into many eyes, and that was all he cared about.
Their final assurance was that if their sheikh would honour them by entertaining a female visitor in their camp, they would ensure he did so in the old way.
Perfect, he had said, having some idea of what that might entail. He couldn’t think of anything his visitor would enjoy more, he had told them.
Imagining Britt’s expression when she was treated as a prized concubine was thanks enough, but there was a serious element to this mischief. The older women guided the young, and it was imperative to have them onside so they embraced all the educational opportunities he was opening up to women under his rule. Kareshi would be different—better for all in the future, and on that he was determined.
The peal of the phone distracted him from these musings. It was his sister Jasmina, calling him to say that Britt had decided not to wait until the morning to travel into the desert, but with all the confidence of someone who believed she knew the wilderness—every wilderness—Britt had insisted on setting out by road, just a couple of hours ago.
Issuing a clipped goodbye to his sister, he went into action. No wonder he’d felt apprehensive. Here with tents erected against the shield of a rock face people were safe, but if the weather worsened out in the desert, and Britt was lost—
All thoughts of Britt in connection with the harem tent shot from his mind. She knew her wilderness, not his!
Striding back into the centre of the camp, he was already securing the headdress called a howlis around his face and calling for his horse, while his faithful people, seeing that he meant to leave the camp, were gathering round him. They had no time to lose. If a sandstorm was coming, as he suspected, and Britt was alone on treacherously shifting sand, all the technology of a modern age wouldn’t save her.
Calling for a camel to carry the equipment he might need, he strode on towards the corral where they were saddling his stallion. Springing onto its back, he took the lead rope from the camel and lashed it to his tack. He wasted no time riding away from the safety of the camp at the head of his small troupe, into what Britt would imagine was the most beautiful and tranquil starlit night.
* * *
Where had the romance of the desert gone? She had almost been blasted away in a gust of sand in a last attempt to change the tyre. What was it about her and tyres? And this wasn’t fun, Britt concluded, raking her hand across the back of her neck. Sand was getting everywhere. Eddies of sand were exfoliating her face while more sand was slipping through the smallest gap in her clothes.
Did she even stand a chance of being found? Britt wondered, gazing around, really frightened now. Visibility was shrinking to nothing as the wind blew the sand about, and the sky was black. She couldn’t even see the stars. She had never felt more alone, or so scared. Battling against the wind, she made it to the back of the Jeep and locked her tools away. Shielding her eyes, she opened the driver’s door and launched herself inside. The wind was so strong now it was lifting the Jeep and threatening to turn it over. She had never wished for Sharif more. She couldn’t care less about their differences right now. She just wanted him to find her.
She had checked the weather before setting out, but could never have imagined how quickly it could change. There was nothing to see out of the window. She changed her mind about Sharif finding her. It was too dangerous. She didn’t want him to risk his life. But she just couldn’t sit here, helpless, waiting to buried, or worse... She had to remain visible. If the Jeep were buried she would never be found.
There was a warning triangle in the boot—and a spade handle. And the very last thing she needed right now was a bra. She could make a warning symbol. And there were flares in the boot.
