Page 2 of The Sheikh's Desert Princess

"But this is different," Ahmed said grinning hungrily at the American. "She is an outsider. The rules don't apply to her."

Riaz sighed. "I say no," he declared firmly.

Riaz saw Ahmed's jaw tighten. Ahmed knew that Riaz had authority. This fort was sacred family ground for the Al Shirah family. It was a place where Riaz had ultimate claim. That meant a lot to Riaz, even if it held far less significance for his esteemed family members. They had their comfortable lives back in Qazhar city.

Out here was Riaz's domain. Out here he was the sole representative of his family. Ahmed was aware of that facteven if, at times, he seemed to allow his base desires to triumph over his intelligence.

Riaz glanced across at the American woman. Once again he asked himself whether she had any idea of the risks she was taking.

Ahmed gave Riaz one more look, his eyes narrowing. "Maybe you do want her for yourself." He shrugged. "Never mind there is more important business to attend to now that all the tribal leaders are here. What does another woman matter," he added glancing across at the her.

Riaz peered at Ahmed trying to judge whether the man had truly given up his intentions to pester the woman. He doubted it. The man had a reputation. His tastes ran to things that Riaz preferred not to think about. Riaz glanced at the American.

Maybe he would break his rule. Just this once. Perhaps the woman needed to understand the reality of the situation she placed herself in.

***

Eva Braddon walked slowly amongst the dozens of tribesmen, marvelling at this sight that seemed so strange, like something out of a dream. The interior of the walled partially ruined fort was crowded with men in traditional desert garb. The place was bustling with activity and had been since Eva had arrived after her long horse ride across the desert. She'd found a village near the roadside after spending hours driving from Qazhar city. She'd left her car there and hired a horse to make the final leg of the journey across the desert.

She'd come here with only one objective. To find the fabled, annual Qazhar tribal gathering.

She'd heard so much about it. She had a professional duty because she had promised to get a good story about this most strange, archaic event.

But, above all, there was something else she needed to see for herself. One more, very important reason why she'd come this far.

The man at the center of the gathering.

Sheikh Riaz Al Shirah.

Eva tugged at her head-covering, eager to shelter her face from the brutal sun. She felt hot but she knew that uncovering any part of her body would probably step over a line, causing untold trouble.

When Eva had arrived she'd made sure that she was fully covered. She'd made sure she'd been wearing a full covering robe over her jeans and shirt. She knew that her presence here may be a temptation for many of the men. Already she'd been the subject of more than one or two hungry glances. Curious looks; interested glances; occasionally looks that were more than just interested. The men had noticed her. But, right now, she didn't feel that unsafe, she told herself.

Not yet, anyway.

Eva ignored some of the looks she was getting. Being the only journalist here wasn't enough. She was the only woman here.

She dismissed that thought. She was here to do a job. Get the story. And then leave. It was that simple.

Through the milling crowd of men, across on the far side of the wide open space, next to some ruined buildings she saw a line of tents. In front of the tents, one large tent stood out in stark relief. It was as if that particular tent was more important than the others.

She wondered who that tent belonged to. Eva already had her suspicions.

Suddenly, a passing tribesman jostled Eva, crashing into her shoulder. She staggered back and was about to exclaim, but she was prevented from doing so by a loud voice.

"What you are doing there?"a deep, firm voice demanded.

Eva realized English had just been spoken. Momentarily it took her by surprise. The man who had collided with her twisted around, reacting to the speaker's tone of voice, even if the words hadn't been completely understood.

Eva saw the man about to speak, perhaps try to hurl insults at the speaker, but then she saw him freeze, his eyes narrowing, his face becoming suddenly pale.

The man bowed to the speaker and said something in the Qazhar language. Eva detected sudden humility in that tone of voice.

Eva turned to look at the figure who stood glaring down at the tribesman who was quickly backing away, muttering in an obviously conciliatory tone. Moments later, the tribesman had melted into the crowd of other men.

The newcomer watched the tribesman depart. There was a firmness on the man's features. Then he turned to Eva. "Why are you here?" the speaker demanded.

His accent was curiously Western to Eva's ears, not tinged with the usual accent of spoken English she'd heard before during her time in Qazhar.

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