Moments had passed since the young man had turned Christina over. He had been staring at her face, and she could see the pity in his brown eyes. What was going to happen now? Perhaps they wouldn't hurt her any more— not now, anyway. Christina instinctively cringed away from the man when he bent down to pick her up. He carried her to the horses, put her on his small Arabian, and got on behind her. The other three men were mounted and waiting, and they all rode off at a gallop.
Christina closed her eyes when they passed Ahmad's body. Poor Ahmad. He was only a little older than she, and now his life was finished. The four men left Raven and Ahmad's horse behind. If they were thieves, why didn't they take the horses, too?
Who were they? They couldn't have known she was a woman, not the way she was dressed, so why hadn't they shot her also? The men couldn't be here to rescue her, for nobody had known she was here. Besides, if they meant to take her back to her brother, they wouldn't beat her. It just didn't make any sense.
These men must be from the neighboring tribe that Philip had warned her about. Would they all use her, then sell her into slavery? Philip would never be able to find her!
Philip, where are you? You've got to find me! But what could she be thinking! Hadn't she wanted to leave Philip?
At least my new master will never have the power to make me weak with his touch the way Philip does. No other man will be able to arouse my desire like Philip. Suddenly she realized what she'd just said in her thoughts.
I love him! I loved him all this time and didn't even know it! Christina, you're a fool, a stupid little fool. You fought Philip all these months and prayed to be sent home, when all the time you loved him. You may never see him again, and Philip still thinks you hate him.
But what if he doesn't come? What if he's glad I'm gone and off his hands? Can I blame him after the way I've acted toward him? Oh, no, he's gofto come for me, he's got to save me so I can tell him how much I love him. And he's got to find me soon, before it's too late!
When Yasir died and I wanted to comfort Philip, I should have known then that I loved him. It has taken a nightmare to make me see the truth, and now it may be too late. Oh, God, give me another chance!
It was getting dark now, and they were still riding hard, as if the devil himself were chasing them. Again it didn't make any sense. If these four men were from the neighboring tribe Philip had talked about, they should have gone into the mountains and reached their camp already.
She must be wrong. They had been riding along the base of the mountains, but now, as the moon came out to light the way, they tamed and headed into the desert. Where were they taking her? And what would happen to her when they got there?
Christina remembered the long-ago time when she had asked herself these same questions, only Philip had been her abductor then. She really had hated him those first weeks after he brought her to his camp. He had taken her away from all she loved. He had manipulated everyone to bring her to this land. But every young woman leaves behind all that she knows when she marries. It takes time to become accustomed to a new life.
Well, she had become accustomed—too accustomed, in fact. And she felt a fear and emptiness in her heart that she would never see Philip again. It was worse than the pain that she felt in her swollen face with each step of the horse. She closed her eyes to shut out all the misery she felt, and, somehow, fell asleep.
The sound of loud voices brought Christina's eyes open. She was lifted down from the horse. She wondered what had happened until she saw all the new faces about her and felt the soreness in her face. The sun was up and the heat was torrid, bouncing off the sand, forcing her to shade her eyes from the glare in order to see.
Before Christina was taken into a small tent, she glanced about the encampment. They were at a desert oasis. Two huge palm trees towered over six small tents, and she could see goats, sheep, and camels grazing on a stretch of grass behind them.
Inside the tent, it took Christina a moment to become accustomed to the darkness. She saw an old man sitting alone on a pillow behind a low table covered with bowls of food.
The old man hadn't even glanced in her direction yet. He was still eating his meal, so Christina looked about the tent. A few pillows were scattered about, and she saw a large chest in one corner, but there were no chairs to sit on or rugs to cover the sand.
When Christina looked back at the old man, he was dipping his fingers into a small bowl of water, as she had done many times after finishing a meal with Philip. He looked up at her then, and his brown eyes widened in anger at the sight of her bruised face. She jumped when his fist slammed down on the table, making all the bowls clatter.
He was dressed in a colorful robe and kufiyah, and she noticed that his feet were bare beneath the table. When he stood up, he appeared to be no taller than herself, but when he spoke, he commanded authority.
He spoke harshly to the young man with Christina, and she surmised he must be the sheik of this tribe. Heated words passed between them that Christina couldn't under-stai)d, and then the young man led her behind a curtain in the corner of the tent.
The small space was barely big enough for her to lie down. There was a sheepskin on the sand, and Christina was deposited there, then left alone.
A few minutes later, an old woman opened the curtains and brought in a tray with a large bowl of food and a glass of wine. The woman set the tray down on the sand, handed Christina a wet towel, pointing to her face, and left Christina alone again.
She washed her face with the towel, but couldn't remove all of the dirt around her painfully swollen eyes. The food was greasy, but was luckily soft, for it also hurt her to chew. The wine tasted wonderful, but she felt strangely tired after she finished drinking it. Christina fought to stay awake so she could be prepared for what would happen next, but she couldn't manage to keep her eyes open or think coherently, and presently she fell into a sound sleep.
When Amair Abdalla left the woman in Sheik AH Hejaz's tent, he stopped long enough to tell Cassim that Sheik Ali wished to see him, then he went directly to his father's tent. He did not feel sorry for Cassim, for whatever befell him was of his own doing. Sheik Ali was angrier than Amair had expected, and Cassim would probably die for his deed.
"Amair, did everything go well?" his father, Cogia Abdalla, asked when Amair walked into the tent that they shared.
"Yes, father, all went as planned," Amair replied distastefully. He sat down on the sheepskin that was his bed, and grabbed the goatskin of wine beside it. "But I will tell you this—I do not care for what I was ordered to do. That woman has done nothing, and she should not be made the pawn for revenge. Already she has suffered, for Cassim beat her before I could stop him."
"What! That no-good—"
"Don't you see, father?" Amair cut in. "None of this should have happened in the first place. Cassim shot the man Christina Wakefield was riding with. I pray that he is found before he dies, for he is Ahmad, the brother of Amine's husband. If Ahmad dies, then Syed will hate us and we will never be able to see my sister, Amine, again."
"I should have known this plan would come to no good." Cogia hung his head dejectedly. "I should never have agreed to let you take part in it. I only want this hatred to come to an end so I can see my daughter again. Amine must have children now, and I have never seen them. I might never see my grandchildren!"
"But even so, father, you should never have agreed to this plan. Sheik Abu had nothing to do with what happened all those years ago. He was across the seas then. I do not think he should be made the target for Sheik Ali's revenge now that Sheik Yasir is dead."