He was a big man for an Arab. She thought that Arabs were generally small, but this man dwarfed the other two.
He helped her on with the robe and pulled back her hair, which was hanging to her hips. At least he was helping her dress instead of taking her clothes off. He arranged the kufiyah on her head, then led her into the shade of a rock outcropping and pushed her down onto the cool sand.
Terrified, Christina shrank from him. But the big man just laughed harshly and walked away to help the others with the horses. They removed the rough blankets from the horses, rubbed them down, and left some grain for them in the shade. The shorter Arabs ate a little and lay down to rest, completely hidden under their black robes.
Christina looked around and saw the tall man climbing up the rocks, rifle in hand, to stand guard. She could not escape. She let her exhausted body relax, and slept.
The sun was low on the horizon when Christina awoke. The horses stood ready, and the tall man swung her up onto the horse in front of him.
Christina could see mountains in the far distance and an ocean of sand in front of them. She gave up and leaned on the man behind her. She thought she heard him laugh, but she was still too tired to care. She slept again.
They rode three more nights, resting during the hottest part of the days. Finally they started to climb out of the desert. Christina could see trees around them, and she felt the air becoming cooler. They must be climbing high into the mountains if it was getting colder, she thought.
She wished desperately that this living nightmare were truly just a bad dream. Soon she would wake up at her home in Halstead to the cool morning breezes, have breakfast, and then go for a leisurely ride on Dax. But she knew that it wasn't a dream. She would never see Dax or her home again.
A fire blazed up ahead of them. One of the men with her shouted something, and then they rode slowly out of the trees that had shrouded them and into an encampment There were five tents, one larger than the rest, circled around the fire. The fire was the only source of light, and it cast dancing shadows upon everything within its reach.
Four native men with smiles on their dark faces approached, and all started talking and laughing. The women of the camp came out of their tents with curiosity shining in their eyes, but they hung back from the group of men.
Christina was lifted to the ground. She realized that she must be at the end of her journey. She had to try to save herself from the fate that awaited her. Perhaps she could hide in the mountains and then somehow find her way back to civilization.
More men joined the group by the fire. They all crowded around her tall captor, talking and gesturing. Christina was momentarily standing alone. Did they expect her to stand there calmly and await her fate?
Lifting the robe and nightdress up to her thighs, Christina started to run. She ran for her life, with a speed she didn't know she had. She didn't know if they were chasing her. All she could hear was the loud pounding of her heart. The kufiyah came off her head, and her hair flew wildly in the wind behind her.
Christina stumbled and fell headlong. She looked up and saw two feet straddled in front of her. She threw herself on the hard earth and started to cry. She couldn't help her tears, but hated to show this man her weakness. He had won a victory by making her cry. He pulled her roughly to her feet and dragged her back into camp.
Christina was taken into the largest of the tents and deposited unceremoniously on a backless couch with low, rounded arms at each end. She immediately tried to compose herself, pushing her tangled hair away from her face and wiping the tears from her cheeks.
The tent was quite large inside and was curtained on three sides with a sheer material through which the fire outside brightly illuminated the room. Multicolored rugs covered the floor, and the fourth side of the tent was of a heavy material. Christina could see another room where the material was drawn aside.
The main room was sparsely furnished. Another lightblue-velvet couch faced the one she was sitting on near the back of the tent, with a long, low table between them. A small cabinet stood in one corner at the back of the tent, with a single jeweled goblet and a goatskin bag on top. Many small pillows in bright colors were scattered on the two couches and on the floor beside them.
Christina watched her captor. The tall man had his back to her as he removed his kufiyah and robe. He laid them on top of the cabinet and poured something from the goatskin into the goblet. He wore knee-length suede boots, a short tunic, and loose-fitting trousers tucked inside his boots.
Christina was startled when the man spoke to her in perfect English.
"I can see that you're going to be very difficult to manage, Tina. But now you're here and you know that you belong to me, perhaps you will not try to run away so often."
Christina couldn't believe what she heard. The man turned around to face her. Her eyes widened in shock, and her mouth fell open.
He burst out laughing. "I've waited a very long time to see that expression on your face, Tina, ever since you left me that night in London."
What was he talking about? He must be crazy!
Her cheeks flushed red with anger, and her body shook with rage. "You!" she screamed. "What are you doing here, and how dare you kidnap me and bring to this Godforsaken place? My brother will kill you, Philip Caxton!"
He laughed again. "So you're no longer afraid of me, Tina. That's good. I don't think I would care to hear you begging and pleading with me for mercy."
"I would never give you that satisfaction, Mr. Caxton." Christina stood up and faced him, her hair flowing to her hips. "Now would you kindly tell me why you've brought me here? If it's ransom you're after, my brother will give you anything you want. Only I'd like the matter handled quickly, so I may leave this place and your company."
He smiled at her. His unusual eyes held her hypnotized. Why did he have to be so damned handsome, she thought irrelevantly.
"I suppose I should enlighten you about why I've brought you here." Philip sat down on the couch across from her and motioned for her to do the same. He drained his goblet, and studied her intently before continuing.
"I don't usually explain myself to anyone, but I suppose I can make an exception in your case." He paused, as if to find the words he wanted to use. "Christina, the first time I laid eyes on you at the ball in London, I knew I wanted you. So I tried it your way. I declared my feelings to you and offered you marriage. When you refused, I decided to have you my own way, and quickly. I arranged for your brother to be sent to this country the night you refused me."
"So it was you who had my brother sent here!" she gasped.
"You will not interrupt again until I am finished. Is that clear?" Philip asked brusquely.
Christina nodded her head, only because her curiosity demanded she hear him out.
"As I said, I arranged for your brother to be sent here. It was only a question of knowing the right people. If you had decided to stay in England, I wouldn't have had too much trouble taking you away to my home with your brother gone. You would have found it easier to escape me there, but I could have had you sooner. Here you will have less chance to get away from me. It's the way of the land here to take captives, so don't expect any help from the people of my camp." Philip smiled wickedly at her. "You're mine now, Tina. The sooner you realize that, the better it will be for you."
Flying off the couch, Christina paced the floor in fury. "I cannot believe what you've told me! How could you possibly imagine that I'd marry you after what you've done to me?"
"Many!" he laughed. "I offered you marriage once, I will not again. I don't have to marry you to have you in this land!" He came to her and took her in his arms. "You may call yourself my slave, but not my wife."