CHAPTER NINE
They arrived at the camp sooner than she'd expected. Ahmed had driven the horse up what had seemed to have been a miles-long incline in the landscape, until they'd reached a high ridge. Then he'd halted the horse at the top of the highest dune. It had been as if he'd wanted to give her the best possible view of the scene below.
Gemma gasped as she gazed down into the valley below. "That's it?" she exclaimed breathlessly.
"My desert retreat," he announced in an even voice. "And now, yours also. At least for as long as you'd like it to be," he added.
Gemma gazed down at the two dark red, very large tents that were set out alongside a cluster of palm trees and a wide pool water that, even from this distance, glistened enticingly in the moonlight.
It looked like something out of a dream, she told herself. If someone had had to describe what the sheikh's perfect desert encampment would look like, this would be it. It was like a perfect fantasy location.
"And it just stays here all year long?" she asked.
He nodded. "It's been here for many years. Of course, it requires some looking after. But that is done by others."
She didn't ask who those others were, but she guessed with Ahmed's obvious wealth there might be no shortage of people happy to do the job of maintaining this perfect little oasis of solitude.
The horse moved forward, making its way carefully down the slope of the high desert dune.
Gemma settled back against Ahmed's firm body. She'd been aware of that firmness against her back for the whole of the journey across the desert. She could tell how strong he was, as well as how obvious was her effect on him by the firmness she'd felt lower down.
For her own part, she'd done her best to disguise the effect of his touch on her. During the ride, she'd come to enjoy the feel of his hand around her middle, the way he clung to her, holding her safe on the horse. She'd told him she had no experience on horses, and he'd reacted by making sure she'd felt secure during the entire, dream-like ride across the desert.
And it had been like something out of a dream, she told herself. She'd never experienced anything quite like this. Maybe he'd been right, after all, Perhaps something useful would come out of this crazy, impulsive decision to go with the sheikh to his isolated desert encampment.
She wondered what her followers would think of this, once she'd written about it. Maybe it would go some way to rewriting the story of the last twenty-four hours.
Perhaps Ahmed had been more right than he could have imagined when he'd suggested Gemma might get something out of this.
And him? What did he want out of this?
Of course, he claimed he was acting out of a sense of honor. But, she had seen the way he'd looked at her; she'd felt the way he'd held onto her; she'd noticed the effect of her proximity on his body.
Gemma was under no illusions about Sheikh Ahmed. She knew there was a part of him that already wanted her.
But, hadn't he seen those social media posts? The ones about her being a virgin?
What had he thought of them? Had he even believed them, or had he thought they were just the usual online garbage that people wrote about anyone who was in the public eye?
Did he believe she was a virgin? Was that the prize he sought by bringing her out here?
Maybe that thought was unkind, she told herself. Because so far, he hadn't done nothing that would give her concern.
So far.
She pushed that thought out of her mind as they approached the encampment. Up close, it looked even more exotic, even more like something out of an ancient tale of the desert.
The tents were larger than they'd looked from the high ridge. They were constructed of a heavy woven material and fixed firmly into the fact sand area. They looked like they would withstand even the hardest pounding of a desert storm.
Over to her right, Gemma saw the wide pool of water and the couple of dozen palm trees that surrounded it. The water looked inviting and she was sure it would be cool at this time of the night.
But, she had no intention of taking a bath at this time. Not with Ahmed watching her. In any case, she'd only brought a couple of changes of light clothing that she'd hurriedly grabbed before leaving.
The horse drew to a halt in front of one of the tents. Ahmed dismounted and stood alongside the horse, looking up at Gemma. "Want some help?" he offered.
She shook her head. "Nope. I'm fine," she replied.
When she lifted her legs and tried to slide down off the horse, she found that her muscles had stiffened during the ride.
She groaned and Ahmed held up a couple of helpful hands, but once again she shook her head emphatically. "No," she said, her voice tight with the discomfort she was feeling. "I'm fine."
He smiled at her and took a few steps back, watching as she landed with a thud on the flat sand.
Gemma brushed off the sand from her outfit and gazed around the encampment. "This is really something," she observed trying to move on quickly from her unceremonious dismounting.
"Welcome," he said extending a hand in the direction of the tents and the pool.
"This is your own private bachelor pad, then?" she probed.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"This is where you bring all your friends. Of both sexes, I presume," she said.
Even as she uttered the words, she knew she hadn't meant them to sound quite like that. He deserved better than that. But she saw the way he frowned and she felt a tinge of regret at the effect of her words.
He shook his head. "I told you. This is reserved for myself." His gaze narrowed and when he spoke his voice was steady and firm.
As if accepting the challenge in her comment, and needing to answer it he said: "You're the first woman I've brought here."
There was a long silence. Maybe he'd expected her to react to that statement with some kind of expression of disbelief, or even with a joke or dismissive comment. But she could see he was being completely sincere, once again.
"So why the two tents?" she asked glancing at the two large structures. "Seems like a lot for just one man," she said lifting a brow.
"One tent is for sleeping. The other is for whenever I receive guests during my stays."
"Guests?"
He nodded. "At my personal invitation," he said. She thought the way he said that sounded so grand, his voice suddenly filled with a haughty pride.
"You're telling me you hold court here? What are you, some kind of desert potentate?"
He squinted at her, almost as if he wasn't sure if she was making fun of him. "I am respected in these parts. I invite some desert chieftains, from time to time. They don't stay, but I feel obliged to provide hospitality. And that tent is where I do that."
Gemma heard the way he'd explained it to him. She could understand what that might mean to him. It must be his way of making himself feel a part of this place. She could only imagine what that hospitality would look like. Was that what he was about to offer her?
She felt the tightness on her muscles being replaced by a sudden tiredness. It had been a long day. Even though it probably wasn't even near midnight, she felt the tiredness of the horse ride easing through her body.
He seemed to take note of her weariness. Of course, he would, she told herself. He'd know exactly how much a desert journey would take out of someone who wasn't used to it.
"You can sleep in the main tent," he announced leading her toward the larger of the two. "The one with the bed," he added with a hint of a grin at the corner of his mouth.
"There's only one bed?"
He nodded. "I'll bunk down in the other tent. It isn't going to be a problem."
He opened the large flap opening of the tent and held it, making it obvious he wanted her to step inside.
Crossing the threshold, she glanced at him. Their eyes met and she felt a sudden flickering of heat in her middle. This was his domain and she was about to try and make herself a part of it. Even if only for a day or two.
As she stepped inside the tent, she almost felt like an intruder in his world. But when she saw the interior by the soft light cast from the open tent entrance, she gasped quietly in spite of herself.
The space was large and rectangular. There was a soft, thick-looking carpet on the ground. Everywhere she saw a myriad of multi-colored cushions strewn all over the floor. It was as if someone had just thrown them everywhere in a fit of temper.
In the middle of the space there was a low, wide wooden table. Surrounding it were even more larger cushions. She wondered why he'd need so much. But before she could ask he followed her inside and dropped the entrance closed behind him.
The interior was cloaked suddenly in an impenetrable darkness. For a moment, she froze, a flickering of anxiety taking sudden hold of her. She wondered what he was about to do.
She listened for his movements. Then she heard him move to her right, his footsteps soft on the carpet, and then there were the sounds of something metallic being manipulated by his hands.
Moments later, she saw the glow of a small, electric lamp, she supposed something operated by batteries.
From within the curved, clear glass, the bulb filled the room with a warm glow. She felt her unease fade as quickly as it had appeared.
He held the lamp up, and she smiled at him. She was sure he'd noticed the relief on her features.
"What do you think?" he asked.
She gazed around the room, taking in the brightly colored interior walls of the tent. There was an exotic quality to this place, she told herself.
"It's lovely," she said.
He looked disappointed. "Just that? Lovely?"
She tilted her head. "I have seen movies, you know. I do know what the inside of a tent looks like," she joked.
He placed the lamp on the table. "I'll get your stuff from the saddlebag. I need to take care of the horse, too. I'll be back in a minute."
He left the tent, closing the flap behind him. For the first time since he'd appeared in front of her car, like an apparition out of the darkness, she was alone.
She was sure she'd heard just a hint of displeasure in his voice. Maybe he'd expected her to be overwhelmed by the place. The innocent impressed, she thought.
The truth was, she was trying to hold everything back. The emotions which had come to life during the last day or so were beginning to become more insistent by the hour.
The last thing she wanted was to give him the impression that she was some kind of simple-minded foreigner who was easily captivated.
She drew in a deep breath. The scent of the interior was redolent with a perfume that was earthy and thick. She imagined he must use some kind of incense to keep the place smelling nice. She nodded approvingly, savoring the thick aroma which seemed to cling to every fabric.
She heard the sounds of the horse as Ahmed busied himself with her belongings. It looked as if he was determined to keep his word and try to be as civil with her as possible. That reassured her, because in spite of the growing trust she had in him, she knew there was always the chance she had misjudged him. But, it was looking like, for one night at least, her trust hadn't been misplaced.
Ahmed came back into the tent carrying the entire saddle. He placed it on the floor by the side of the entrance. "Thought I'd bring everything," he said glancing down at the saddle. "Let you sort it out however you want."
She nodded. "Thanks. I think I'm a bit tired," she said realizing her voice did indeed sound heavy with the exertions of the day.
"I'm not surprised," he replied. "It's been a long day for you."
"Where is the sleeping area?" she asked.
He looked awkwardly toward a partitioned-off part of the tent to his left. He walked over to it and pulled back the separating wall of the tent. Behind it she saw a very large bed, neatly laid out with vividly colored bed coverings and a few plump looking red pillows.
There was an uneasy pause when they both gazed at the bed.
Then Gemma forced herself to speak, eager to break the silence. "That looks comfy," she said trying to sound offhand, but failing miserably. She looked at Ahmed. "And you?"
It was a question that needed asking, even if she already guessed what he would say in response.
"I'll be in the next tent. There's plenty for me to use as a bed. I'll be fine," he said.
She nodded. "Did I see a pool out there?" she asked. That sounded funny, she told herself. It was almost like she was talking about a hotel.
He smiled. "It's small, but it serves its purpose," he replied.
"Which is?"
He looked surprised by the question. "Why, bathing, of course." He grinned. "In case you hadn't noticed, it is a bit dry and dusty out here," he joked.
She laughed and patted her robe, seeing the sand drifting to the floor around her feet. "I noticed."
Things were becoming awkward between them. She could feel it, and the last thing she wanted was an uneasy conversation which would leave them both feeling uncomfortable.
"Maybe I should rest a while," she suggested.
He nodded, but she could tell he was feeling a bit let down by her decision. "If you get hungry, let me know."
"You have food?"
"Of course. The tribesmen who look after this place when I'm not around always make sure there's something available." He lifted a brow. "It might not be quite what you're used to, but you'll probably like it."
She needed to respond to that last part. "So, what exactly do you think I'm used to Sheikh Ahmed?" she asked, trying to contain the snark in her voice.
At first he seemed surprised. "I would have thought you'd be used to the finest things in life." He gazed around the tent. "This must seem primitive compared to the five star existence you usually enjoy."
She frowned and took a step toward him. "And you? What about you and your luxury lifestyle. Surely all of this must be quite a comedown."
He gazed evenly at her. "Not at all. I consider this to be an essential part of a sheikhs life."
He cleared his throat and his eyes brightened suddenly. "Unfortunately, some of my fellow sheikhs in this kingdom don't quite agree. They would rather be seen dead than live in such spartan conditions as these." He lifted his chin proudly. "But I consider it a duty to remember where I came from. He shrugged. "Not everyone shares that view."
Once again she had touched a raw nerve. She could tell by the passion which had crept momentarily into his voice.
It seemed that it didn't take much scratching of his surface to reveal the hidden layers, the secret beliefs he harbored. So, she had been right. All of this, as simple as it seemed on the surface, represented so much more to him than just a desert retreat.
"I understand," was all she could say in response to that.
"Do you?" he asked. His gaze was penetrating, just as direct as it had been when she had touched on similar, sensitive subjects earlier.
She nodded. "Yes," she said simply.
That seemed to calm him a little, because she saw his shoulders drop slightly, the tension draining out of the powerful muscles.
Seeing him aroused like that had reminded her just who it was she had agreed to spend some time with. She'd witnessed the sudden change from courtesy to passion. Had she just glimpsed what Rashid had warned her about? That dangerous tendency Rashid had hinted at?
"I'm keeping you from your rest," he admitted. He turned away from her, and she briefly considered telling him she wasn't really tired, after all. That she'd love to stay up a while and talk, but everything had been so crazy and so surprising, she knew she needed a short while to adjust.
Maybe he needed time as well, to adjust to having her in his encampment. She must seem like an intruder, almost like an unwanted guest.
When he reached the entrance, she called out his name. "Sheikh Ahmed," she said.
He turned, his eyes wide with expectation.
"Thank you," she said softly.
"It is my pleasure," he replied. "And, please, call me Ahmed." He smiled. "Sheikh just seems too formal."
She smiled at him and he turned and left the tent, letting the flap close down behind him.