Carrying the Sheikh's Heir(72)

                And Rashid would blow a gasket. Sheridan sank into the saddle as she imagined his face when he saw her. At first, she’d thought she would ride in like a general at the head of the army, triumphant and oozing righteousness. Now she imagined she would limp in like a worn-out puppy, her tail between her legs and her body aching from the punishment of a long ride.

                In another hour, it was completely dark, except for the silver light of the moon painting the dunes. It was gorgeous and wild out here and Sheridan was at least partly enchanted by the beauty. But she was also worried, because the clouds were drawing ever closer. The moon would be blotted out before long, and while the flashing in the clouds would give light, it was a lot more worrisome the closer they got.

                Not to mention the sand was beginning to blow in gusts, stinging her exposed skin. The horse trudged along sure footedly, but Sheridan wasn’t certain how much longer that could last. She’d been so stupid. She’d behaved impulsively, rashly, and Rashid was going to be ashamed of her.

                She could hear thunder in the clouds now—and something else. Something that set the hair on the back of her neck prickling. There was a howl somewhere to her right. And then another howl behind her. The horse snorted and kicked up her heels, and Sheridan snatched at the reins, desperate to keep the mare from bolting.

                And then something snarled nearby and there was the sound of many animals moving at once. The mare tossed her head and reared onto her hind legs—and then she bolted forward while Sheridan cried out and tried to wrap her hands into the mare’s mane.

                But she’d been caught by surprise and she couldn’t hold on. She fell to the sand with a scream.





                                      CHAPTER FOURTEEN

                THE ANIMALS BORE down on her quickly, snarling and thumping and snorting, and Sheridan rolled into a ball and tried to protect her head. She would die out here in the Kyrian Desert, her babies with her, and all because she’d been so tormented over a man that she’d lost her head.

                There was another howl, and a shriek that was quickly cut off. And then the thumping grew louder and Sheridan realized there was shouting. Men shouting. She was afraid to uncoil her body, just in case the beasts were still there, but then she felt rough hands on her. She didn’t even scream as a man jerked her up and against his body. He called out in rough Arabic and then she was flung onto a horse and the man climbed up behind her.

                The hijab had fallen around her eyes and she couldn’t see anything at all, but there was a man and a horse and she hung on to his waist for dear life as the horse bolted forward into the night. Around them, she thought she heard more hooves, more horses, but the sound became a dull throbbing as thunder split the night.

                And then she felt the first cold drops of rain on her back and head. She was stunned as the rain began to fall harder. She would have never guessed. But the wind howled and the horses ran and the rain fell, and Sheridan had no idea where she was or who she was with.

                But since the man was infinitely preferable to the beasts, whatever they were, she was grateful for the moment just to be where she was.

                They rode for what seemed forever, the rain pounding down, the wind whipping, the horses straining forward, until finally they came to an abrupt halt and Sheridan knocked her head on the man’s chest.

                There was more Arabic ringing through the night, and then another man put hands around her waist and helped her down. The man on the horse followed, and then he swept her into his arms as if she was a rag doll and strode into a tent. Sheridan struggled to push the fabric from her face. Her teeth were chattering and her skin prickled with goose bumps.