The Sheikh’s Disobedient Bride(31)

And that, Tally thought, shoulders slumping, was a most excellent point.



She walked away from him, a fist pressed to her mouth as she realized for the first time how this all must seem to him. He wasn’t Western, he wasn’t anything like the men in her world, and the rules here were so different. If as he said, she was traveling with dangerous men, he’d done what he’d thought was right, behaved fairly, protectively.



She focused on one of the wool pillows lying on the low bed. It was a beautiful pattern, handwoven. “How could you leave me in the quicksand so long?” Her voice broke and a lump filled her throat. “I could have died.”



Tair didn’t immediately answer and she closed her eyes as the silence stretched. Then she felt his hand touch her back, his palm warm, firm.



“Is that what this is really about?” he asked. “That I made you ask for help?”



She wiped away one tear and then another. “Maybe.”



He put his hands on her shoulders and slowly turned her around. “All you had to do was ask for help. It was your impulsiveness that got you into trouble in the first place. You ran off. You were just lucky I decided to go search for you.”



Lucky, huh? Tally sniffed. “If I’d been lucky I wouldn’t have been in the medina when you were. If I were lucky you would have kidnapped some other poor Western woman. That’s my definition of luck.”



He shrugged, but in his eyes was a glimmer of a smile. “Perhaps it’s a cultural difference, but to be given the gift of life—not just once, but twice—that’s good fortune.”



“You’re speaking of the two times you saved me.”



“Three now.”



She stared up into his hard, arrogant features. Big nose, dark eyes, fierce mouth. And strangely—beautiful. God, she hated him. And wanted him. And hated herself for still finding him so attractive, despite everything that had taken place between them. “I don’t know that you saved me three times,” she answered, striving to sound cool. “The first time you’d almost killed me so I don’t know if that counts.”



The corners of his mouth tugged. “To show you I am a fair man, I am willing to compromise and will agree that according to your definition, I’ve only saved your life twice.”



Tally hid her own reluctant smile, cleared her throat. “Since we’re trying to be accurate, I think it should be mentioned that your rescue today would have been more heroic if you hadn’t waited until I nearly slid all the way under.”



He sighed and yet the heavy sigh was contradicted by the warmth in his eyes. “I’ve never met a woman that demands so much and expresses so little gratitude.”



“We’re talking about my life, Sheikh Tair!”



“Then ask for help, Woman. Don’t wait until the grains of sand fill your nose. Ask for help while you still have air to speak with.”



And then his head dropped and he covered her mouth with his once again, his lips coaxing and she didn’t need much encouragement. Her mouth loved the feel of his, her body wanted him and her arms slid up around his neck as she kissed him back.



They were interrupted by a shout outside the tent, the voice raised in alarm.



Tair pulled away and turned to leave but not before he pressed a swift kiss to her brow. “I shall return for dinner. Wait for me.”



Tally watched from her tent as men gathered around Tair in the deepening twilight. He was gesturing, speaking, giving orders. Some men began to saddle up while others packed bags. They were going somewhere and they had guns.



She felt her stomach flip and fall and she grabbed at the tent, held on. She wanted to rush out, confront Tair, ask what was happening but didn’t dare, not after the day they’d just had.



Instead she stood in the shadows and watched as Tair, leading twenty-some men, set off on their horses at a full speed gallop.





Tally had taken a bath, dressed in the simple black robe that Tair’s elderly servant supplied, and with candles lit in her tent, tried to pass the time until Tair returned but he was gone a long time and the hours passed slowly.



Her stomach growled late in the night and finally the elderly Berber brought her food and even though she was hungry, Tally refused. “I’m waiting for Tair,” she said to the old man.



“Ash?”he asked. What?



“I’m waiting for Tair.”



The old man stared at her uncomprehendingly.



“Tair,”Tally repeated and this time she stood on her toes, lifted her hand high above her head to indicate Tair’s immense height.“Tair.”