Page 46 of The Sheikh's Desert Princess

Riaz smiled. "For amusement?" he said quickly relieving her of some of her embarrassment. "For one thing, we try to make sure our horses are well cared for."

Riaz peered over to where the horses were corralled behind a roped-off area close to his own tent.

"Speaking of that, how is my horse?" Eva asked.

Riaz paused, realizing she was only asking that because, if the horse was recovered, she could be on her way. He didn't want that. Not one bit. But he wasn't going to lie to Eva.

"He's fine," he told her. "Abdul says the horse should be fit to ride anytime you like."

Even as he said those words, he wanted to take them back. He knew she would have demanded another mount if she really wanted to leave the camp after Ahmed's visit. And he also knew that, if she asked him for anything at all, he would give her what she wanted.

"That's good news," Eva said. But she didn't mention what that would mean about her staying longer.

Right now, he only wanted her to be happy. She'd been through enough in the last forty-eight hours. The least she deserved was the best he could offer.

They walked together through the camp. It felt good to be by her side, to look at her, take in the sight of her gorgeous features in the early morning sunlight. She was so much more relaxed today than she'd been yesterday, he told himself.

Riaz showed her around the camp, explaining some of the routines he'd established for living such a different kind of life. She seemed genuinely fascinated by everything he told her.

He noticed that some of the men bowed to Eva as she passed. She'd won their respect with the warmth of her personality. He thought of the laughter over the meal of the previous evening. She'd obviously made a strong impression on the men. They accepted her for who she was, not only as the sheikh's companion.

Not once did she take out her notebook. He was glad for that, because it made him feel he was sharing his own private life with her on a personal level, rather than treating her as a journalist.

Eva was a woman, first and foremost. The qualities of her character were a heady mixture which was affecting him profoundly. He felt proud as he walked alongside her.

Yes. Eva Braddon was more than a mere woman. So much more. She was beautiful, strong minded and utterly irresistible, he said to himself as they emerged on the northern side of the encampment.

On a flat plain close to the camp, some of the men were setting two tall, wooden poles, jamming them firmly into the sand. The poles were a few hundred meters apart.

Eva turned to Riaz. "What are they doing?"

"You asked me what kinds of activities we get up to," he replied. He pointed toward the men. "They're preparing for the race."

Eva's eyes narrowed. "What race?"

"To keep the horses in good shape, we have a competition. A challenge, if you like. Riders compete against each other between the two poles. To see who can ride the fastest. The men love it." He smiled at her. "So do I."

Eva looked intrigued. "You race your own men?"

He laughed. "They race me." He shrugged. "Sometimes they win. Occasionally I let them win." Riaz squinted at her. "I have to keep them happy somehow," he added with a grin.

"When is this going to happen?"

"Later this morning. You can watch if you like," he said.

Eva tilted her head and frowned. "Really. That's generous of you," she said with a hint of irony in her voice. She ran her gaze around the camp. "Especially since there's so much going on around here," she said. "I wonder how I'll fit it in with my busy schedule."

He liked it when she spoke with such a tone of obvious irony. It wasn't sarcastic. He knew she was just trying to be playful.

"I figured you might not be too busy," he replied casually.

Eva smiled and shook her head. "I'll take notes. Maybe some photos, too."

He felt himself stiffen on hearing that suggestion. Sensing his unease, she peered up at him. "You don't mind me doing that, do you?"

He thought for a moment, weighing up the possibilities of what she would do with notes and photos. She'd most likely use them as the basis of whatever she planned to write about him and his life here.

How did he feel about that?

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