Defiant in the Desert by Sharon Kendrick

since I was a child.’ Sara looked at him, her violet eyes shining with excitement. ‘And of course, this means that there will be horses, too.’
    Suleiman felt his throat tighten. Was it wrong that he found the look on her face utterly captivating? That her smile would have warmed a tent on the coldest desert night. ‘I had forgotten how much you enjoyed riding,’ he said.
    ‘Well, you shouldn’t—because it’s thanks to you that I ride so well.’
    ‘You were an exemplary pupil,’ he said gruffly.
    She inclined her head, as if she was acknowledging the sudden cessation in hostilities between them. ‘Thank you. But your lessons were what gave me my confidence and my ability.’
    ‘Do you still ride?’
    She shook her head. ‘There aren’t too many stables in the middle of London.’ She looked at him. ‘But I miss it.’
    Something about the vulnerable pout of her lips made him ask the indulgent question, despite his own silent protestations that their conversation was becoming much too intimate. ‘And what do you miss about it?’
    She wriggled her shoulders. ‘It’s the time when I feel most free, I guess.’
    Their eyes met and Suleiman saw a sudden shadow cross her face. It was almost as if she’d just remembered something—something which made her face take on a new and determined expression.
    He watched as she smoothed down the silk of her blouse, her fingers whispering over the delicate material which covered her ribcage. Why did she insist on doing that, he wondered furiously—when all it was doing was making him focus on her body? And he must stop thinking of her body. And her violet eyes. He must think of her only as the woman who would soon be married to the Sultan—the man for whom he would lay down his life.
    ‘We’re nearly there,’ he said, his sudden lust tempered by relief as the powerful jet began its descent.
    Their arrival at the airbase had been kept deliberately low-key, since all celebrations had been put on hold until the wedding. Suleiman watched the natural grace with which Sara walked down the aircraft steps and then moved along the small line of officials who were assembled to meet her. She had lowered her lashes to a demure level, in order to conceal the brilliant gleam of her eyes, and her lips were curved into a serene and highly appropriate little smile. She could easily become an exemplary Sultana, he thought, despising himself for the dull ache of disappointment which followed this thought.
    Afterwards, he watched her look around her, as if she was reacquainting herself with the vastness and beauty of the desert. He saw the admiration in her eyes as she gazed up at the mighty herd of camels standing at the edge of the airstrip, where the land was always waiting to encroach. And wasn’t she only reflecting his own feelings about this particular form of transport?
    A camel caravan could consist of a hundred and fifty animals, but since this endeavour was mainly ceremonial there were no more than eighteen beasts. Some were topped with lavishly fringed tents while others carried necessary provisions for the journey. Men on horseback moved up and down the line, riding some of the finest Akhal-Teke horses in the world, their distinctive coats gleaming metallic in the bright sun.
    ‘It’s pretty spectacular, isn’t it?’ he observed.
    ‘It’s more than that. I think it’s one of the most beautiful sights in the world,’ she said softly.
    He turned to her and suddenly he didn’t care if he was breaking protocol in the eyes of the onlookers. Wasn’t this his opportunity to make amends for having let his lust override his duty to the Sultan, on the night of her brother’s coronation? Couldn’t he say the right thing to her now? The thing she needed to hear, rather than the impure thoughts which were still making him hard whenever he was near her.
    ‘That is genuine passion I hear in your voice, Sara,’ he said. ‘Can’t you piece together the many things you