Hidden in the Sheikh's Harem: Christmas at the Castello(3)

Not realising that Amir had followed her in, she turned to him, her  eyes narrowing as she noticed that one of his eyes was blackened. 'Where  did that come from?'

'Never mind!'

Farah wondered if it was from the prince and turned back to her father. 'But why? How?'

Amir stepped forward, his jaw set hard. 'Prince Zachim arrogantly  assumed he could go dune driving in the middle of the night without his  security detail.'

Ignoring him, Farah addressed her father. 'And?'

'And we took him.'

Just like that?

Farah cleared her throat, trying not to imagine the worst. 'Why would you do that?'

'Because I will not see another Darkhan take power and he is the heir.'

'I thought his older brother was the heir.'

'That dog Nadir lives in Europe and wants nothing to do with Bakaan,' Amir answered.

'That is beside the point.' She shook her head, still not comprehending  what her father had done. 'You can't just...kidnap a prince!'

'When news gets out that Prince Zachim is out of the picture, the  country will become more and more destabilised and we will be there to  seize the power that has always been rightfully ours.'

'Father, the tribal wars you speak of were hundreds of years ago. And  they won. Don't you think it's time to put the past to rest?'
                       
       
           



       
'No, I do not. The Al-Hajjar tribe will never recognise Darkhan rule  while I am leader and I can't believe my own daughter is talking like  this. You know what he stole from me.'

Farah released a slow breath. Yes, the king's refusal to supply the  outer regions of Bakaan with basic medical provisions, amongst other  things, had inadvertently led to the death of her mother and her unborn  brother-everything her father had held dear. Farah tried not to let her  own misery at never quite being enough for her father rise up and  consume her. She knew better than anyone that wanting love-relying on  love-ultimately led to pain.

Her father continued on about everything else the Darkhans had stolen  from them: land, privileges, freedom. Stories she'd heard at her bedtime  for so long she sometimes heard them in her sleep. Truth be told, she  actually agreed with a lot of what her father said. The dead King of  Bakaan had been a selfish, controlling tyrant who hadn't cared a jot for  his people. But kidnapping Prince Zachim was not, in her view, the way  to correct past wrongs. Especially when it was an offence punishable by  imprisonment or death.

'How will this bring about peace and improve things, Father?' She tried  to appeal to his rational side but she could see that he had a wild  look in his eyes.

Her father shrugged. 'The country won't have a chance of overthrowing the throne with him on it. He's too powerful.'

Yes, Farah had heard that Prince Zachim was successful and powerful  beyond measure. She had also heard he was extremely good-looking, which  had been confirmed by the many photos she'd seen of him squiring some  woman or another to glamorous events. Not that his looks were important  on any level!

She rubbed her brow. 'So what happens now? What was the Bakaan council's response?'

For the first time since she'd walked in, her father looked uncertain.  He rose and paced away from her, his hands gripped behind his back.  'They don't know yet.'

'They don't know?' Farah's eyebrows knit together. 'How can they not know?'

'When I am ready to reveal my plans, I will do so.' Which told Farah  that he didn't actually have a plan yet. 'But this is not something I am  prepared to discuss with you. And why are you dressed like that? Those  boots are made for men.'

Farah scuffed her steel-capped boots against the rug. She'd forgotten  that she still wore old clothes from working with the camels, but  seriously, they were going to discuss her clothing while he held the  most important man in the country hostage? 'That's not important. I-'

'It is important if I say it is. You know how I feel.'

'Yes, but I think there are more...pressing things to discuss, don't you?'

'Those things are in play now. There is nothing that can be done.'

A sudden weariness overcame him and he flopped back onto the cushions,  his expression looking suspiciously like regret. Farah's heart clenched.  'Is he...is he at least okay?' She cringed as visions of the prince  beaten up came into her head. She knew that would only make things  worse-if that was even possible.

'Apart from the son of a dog refusing to eat, yes.'

'No doubt he thinks the food is poisoned,' she offered.

'If I wanted him dead, I'd use my sword,' her father asserted.

'How very remiss of him.' Fortunately her sarcasm went over his head,  but it didn't escape Amir, who frowned at her. She rolled her eyes. She  knew he thought she overstepped the boundaries with her father but she  didn't care. She couldn't let her father spend his last years in  prison-or, worse, die.

'Perhaps that is the answer,' Amir mused. 'We kill him and get rid of the body. No one could pin his death on us.'

Farah gave him a fulminating glare. 'I can't believe you said that,  Amir. Apart from the fact that it's completely barbaric, if the palace  found out, they would decimate our village.'

'No one would find out.'

'And no one is going to die, either.' She shoved her hands on her hips  and thought about how to contain the testosterone in the room before it  reached drastic levels. 'I will go and see him.'

'You will not go near him, Farah,' her father ordered. 'Dealing with the prisoner is a man's job.'

Wanting to point out that her father was doing a hatchet job of it if  the prince was refusing to eat, Farah wisely kept her mouth shut.  Instead she decided to take matters into her own hands.

'Where are you going?'

She stiffened as Amir called out to her in a commanding tone. Slowly  she pivoted back around to face him. 'To get something to eat,' she said  tightly. 'Is that okay?'                       
       
           



       

He had the grace to look slightly uncomfortable. 'I would like to speak with you.'

She knew he was waiting on her answer as to whether she would accept  his courtship but she wasn't in the mood to face his displeasure when  she told him no. 'I don't have anything to say to you right now,' she  informed him.

His jaw tensed. 'Wait for me outside.'

Farah smiled sweetly. Like that was going to happen!

Quickly stepping out of the tent, she took a moment to pull her  headdress lower and bent her head to shield her eyes against the setting  sun. The air temperature had already dropped and the nearby tents  flapped in the increasing wind. She looked for signs of a storm but  found nothing but a pale blue sky. That didn't mean one wasn't coming.  In the desert they came out of nowhere.

Deciding not to waste time on food, she stomped off to the only tent  that had a guard posted outside, anger rolling through her. Anger at her  father for his outrageous actions and anger at the prince himself-the  lowly offspring of the man who had inadvertently caused her mother's  death and changed her once-happy life forever.

She tried to get her emotions under control but it felt like she was  fighting a losing battle. Still, she needed to remain calm if she was  going to work out a way to get her father out of this mess before he did  something even more insane-like listen to Amir!





      CHAPTER THREE

ZACHIM SHIFTED HIS hands and feet and felt the ropes chafe his wrists  and one of his ankles where it had slipped beneath his jeans. His  stomach growled.

Ordinarily he wouldn't say he was a man who angered easily. Three days  in this hellhole at the hands of a bunch of mountain heathens had  ensured that his temper not only festered, but also boiled and blistered  as well. And it wasn't just directed outwards. It had been stupid to  drive so far from the city without alerting anyone as to where he was  going.

He rubbed the ropes binding his wrists against the small sharp stone  hidden in his lap. He'd picked it up when he'd 'fallen' during a toilet  break the day before. Since refusing to eat, his ropes had not been  checked, which was to his advantage, because it had taken that long to  work through the thick layers, but he was just about there. Once his  hands were free it would be a simple matter to untie his ankles and get  the hell out of there.

He leant his head against the solid wooden post he was secured to by a  length of rope circling his waist. It allowed him enough room to lie  down on the dusty ground but that was it. What he wouldn't give for the  comforts of his soft bed back at the palace. Ironic when he considered  that three days ago he'd been looking for a way to leave the stifling  walls of the place.

Be careful what you wish for, he thought grimly.

He wondered what had happened in his absence and how his brother was  dealing with the fallout from his disappearance. He also wondered why he  hadn't heard any search helicopters fly overhead.

Flexing stiff muscles that had been bound for too long, he tried to  ignore the fact that his stomach was trying to eat itself. He'd been in  worse situations during his stint in the army, though he wouldn't wish  that on anyone. Okay, maybe he'd wish it on Mohamed Hajjar and his  pompous second-in-command who thought himself mightier than a prince.