Page 5 of The Lady and the Desert Scoundrel

Tariq paced the tiny room raking his midnight hair with his hand. This meant trouble. A big one. Lady Lucinda Lancefield before him, a daughter of the British peerage. Aziz had done a good job gaining information from the villa’s servants. These peerage people displayed mercilessness when protecting their own. He didn’t have the luxury of letting his fears get the best of him though. He had to carry on with his pressing matters

His plan had been to take Graziani’s daughter and trick him into paying a ransom which would be equivalent to what the reckless old man had stolen from him. But this? Stupid Aziz and Mustafa! They’d done everything wrong. He himself had to follow the goods down to the Port of Gabes, on Tunisian coast, and oversee the preparations for the caravan. He’d sent his ship back with Aziz and Mustafa in charge of bringing Adriana unharmed.

“She gave us a hard time capturing her.” Aziz informed.

A crooked smile came to Tariq’s face. He’d expect no less from this petulant irresistible woman!

He dismissed the man and turned to her. The sight of her would always strike him in the guts, he suspected. Even worn out as she appeared, She drew him to the depths of her deep green eyes. To shield himself from those effects, he put on a show. He parted his legs and crossed his arms, staring directly at her.

She had an autocratic air about her; her spine ramrod straight, her hands laced before her, in control. “Take me back.” She commanded, haughtily; her eyes wide open, a diamond-hard glint in them. She fumed, pepper-mint eyes darting bullets at him. Who wouldn’t, he conceded?

But he could match her, oh yes! “You’re in no position to demand anything!” He hardened his eyes and zeroed on her.

“You planned to abduct my friend, you villain!” She accused, arms flying to her hips, her torso slightly inclined towards him, in attack. Her heart slammed in her chest with vexation. Now she observed that his hair was wet. He must have bathed because a waft of sandalwood soap floated to her. She attempted in vain to block images of his tall frame in a bath

He hadn’t expected her to be misled even for a second. “Yes.” He smiled sardonically. “But now I have you. More valuable. Peerage.” Softened to a smug whisper, his tone covered her in warm honey.

Have her, yes. In his steaming dreams, in his daydreams, fantasies, he self-mocked.

Lucinda found it difficult to believe he placed her in this dire situation. Hard breaths arrowed form her. What would happen when they discovered back in the villa that she disappeared? They’d send word to her family. Of course, her family would keep it a secret. She travelled far from England, after all. It’d be easier to remain quiet. If the ton heard any of it, her reputation would go to shreds, so would her marriage prospects…and her family’s good name. It had to be stopped.

She inhaled until her lungs filled and then she exhaled slowly to calm down a bit. This was delicate. “Look,” she started conciliatory. “I need to go back. Now. The consequences of this will damage my life and my family irrevocably.” She drew in another breath and her hands joined at her bosom. “Please, reconsider your decision.” Wrenchingly difficult to plead to a man as domineering as this.

He stared at her so composed and serious, he wanted to go to her, hold her and assure no harm would befall her. A weak notion to be sure. But he would not, it’d be a lie and only fate knew what’d happen if he touched her. She was right, he should send her back, at the risk of ruining her life forever. And his in the wake. A mysterious resistance kept him though. Not only that. His camels already loaded with merchandises which would rotten if not sold soon. His caravan must leave without delay. People depended on him for survival. No way of sending her back. All his men in stark need here, Tariq wouldn’t be able to spare any of them for the task.

“I cannot.”

Her face became a mask of pent up anger. “What?” Her marvellous eyes shut tightly for a few seconds as if procuring patience. She sighed. “Why?”

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He made a vague gesture with his hands. “I have appointments. I’d planned otherwise.”

Her anger intensified and her deep green eyes launched fire. “Oh, so you planned to hold Adriana for as long as it was convenient for you, without thinking about the consequences for her.”

He looked at her as he propped his shoulder on the wall and crossed his arms and long legs. Cynicism took over his cognac-against-fire eyes. “What if I did? This is none of your business anyway.” Adriana’s father deserved much worse. And women should not be taken into account.

She bit her full lower lip to stop swearing at him, burning with fury and frustration. She didn’t understand what he held against the Grazianis. And she suspected he wouldn’t volunteer the information. “Well, now your men’s stupid mistake has made it my business.”

A scornful grin stamped on his dark olive mobile lips. “It’s done and you’re here. You’re coming with me, even if I have to drag you tied to a camel!” His ultimatum final.

She tried utterly hard to keep calm, but despair crept into her in potent seeps. Once she entered far into land, it’d be a huge effort to make it back to the shore, make it back to Sicily. England turned into something like another planet for her at that precise moment, distant and unattainable. She eyed him with a hot impotent rage which poisoned her entire body, with an urge to strike him. She had to gather a giant self-control not to pounce at him.

Tariq sensed her rage, saw it in the scarlet of her cheeks, in the tenseness locking every one of her muscles. And forced himself to dismiss it. A woman wasn’t worth the trouble, he strove to convince his nagging conscience.

“Come,” he commanded curtly, “my caravan is departing.”

She eyed him, thwarted feelings rippling her body as she considered her options. She could go on her own feet, or he’d make her. Either way, she’d be joining his lot. Stiffly, said feet walked past him head held high, not before she glimpsed triumph sparkle his cognac eyes.

Scorching hate. At that precise minute, she hated him with all her might. When her family heard of this, they’d be sick with worry. Each step taking farther from a solution to escape. But if he imagined that she’d give up, he was stupidly mistaken. She’d find a way out, she promised herself. No dumb ninny here, she’d be able to take care of herself.

They climbed out of the boat to a cacophony of shouts, scents and sight in the harbour. Men of varied appearances and garbs worked around the docks, speaking a Babel of languages. The salty air mingled fish, spices, perfumes and diverse fruits. Wooden boxes piled everywhere, and they had to duck many on their way. The sunny weather warm, but not scorching, and a wind circulated from the sea.

Far ahead, a cobweb of narrow streets led to two-story buildings.

“What place is this?” Lucinda asked Tariq.

“This is the Port of Gabes, Tunisia.” He walked behind her alert to the curious eyes observing disguisedly the woman in a Boudreaux-coloured dress in front of him. A woman with that proud, haughty walk would be bound to draw attention.

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