Page 48 of The Sheikh's Desert Princess

CHAPTER TWELVE

Two hours later, Eva stood amongst a group of men at one side of the makeshift racing course. A celebratory cry went up from the far end of the course and Eva turned to see Riaz on his horse, a beautiful black stallion. He was surrounded by a group of five riders. Each man had one hand on the reins of their horse and his other raised above their head.

A now familiar sound of high-spirited yells from the men's throats reverberated around the flattened area.

Eva readied her camera. This was what she'd been waiting for. A chance to see Riaz in full flow, competing hard. At home amongst his men and in the environment he loved the most.

She wasn't naive. Eva knew he'd probably be trying to impress her. She'd picked up a sense of that from their conversation earlier that morning. She'd been able to tell he was excited by the prospect of showing her this aspect of his life.

For the past half hour, she'd watched entranced by the sight of charging horses and the sounds of exuberant cries from Riaz's men as they raced from one end of the simple course to the other.

Riaz had explained to Eva that the race consisted of six men at a time trying to race as fast as they could from one pole to the other. The only dangerous part of the entire affair seemed to be at the turn around the wooden poles jammed into the sand.

She'd watched as men had jostled one another, with good-natured competitiveness, guiding their mounts around the sharp turn. Horses had collided with one another but, on closer examination, Eva had seen there hadn't been any real danger of injury to man or beast. There was expertise on display as well as the desire to release pent-up energies. The men seemed to enjoy the challenge.

The enthusiasm on display had been infectious. Eva had managed to get some great images. Ones she knew would delight any editor back home.

Another cry seized her attention and she saw that Riaz was ready.

The riders were lined up alongside the wooden pole away to her right. She could see Riaz's brows ridged deep with concentration.

Then, with a sudden roar, every man cried out in unison as the horses leapt forward. The race was on, and Eva felt a surge of excitement. She gripped her camera hard and watched as the riders bolted forward along the flat plain, clouds of sand rising up from pounding hooves.

The horses raced toward her position near the other wooden pole. She knew the riders would make twenty turns of each pole, the winner being the first man to make those turns.

Moments later, the riders were upon them. Eva didn't raise her camera to her eye. Instead, she wanted to see the expression on Riaz's face as he reached the turn.

She wasn't disappointed. Riaz was already out front.

As his horse pounded toward her, she saw him leaning forward, his shoulders hunched, his gaze focused and determined.

She took a step back along with the men next to her as Riaz's horse reached the turning. She saw him tighten the reins, pulling hard, twisting his body and manoeuvring his mount around the turn. A cloud of sand billowed up around him.

The other horses arrived at the turning second later, and she heard the cacophony of pounding hooves and felt the sheer power of the animals as they strained to negotiate the turn.

However, Riaz was already on his way back to the other end of the course, racing fast, speeding away from the other five riders.

His white robe billowed behind him, and for a moment, Eva thought he looked like the embodiment of a wild, primitive desert sheikh, completely in his element, totally at home.

This was where he belonged, she told herself. It was as if he was part of the landscape, as if his entire being was an extension of this raw environment.

Eva lifted her camera, getting it ready for his return. A minute later he was back, hurtling toward her, now even further ahead of the other riders. She took some photos, eager to capture the sheer energy on display as he rushed past.

Then he was at the turning again and wrenching on the horse's reins with a sharp movement, muscles straining. The other men had caught up with Riaz and were now only a short distance behind him.

And so it continued.

Each time he raced past her, Eva took more photos. She began to realize this was the kind of thing she'd come out here in search of to begin with. Images of a strange, primitive life. Unique customs.

But, after the last couple of days and nights, her attitude to the entire experience had changed. Now, it was no longer about intruding upon something she barely understood, something she had no part in.

After the way Riaz had captured her attention, after the way he'd kissed her the previous evening, Eva had to admit that she felt less of an outsider, and much more a part of this whole crazy, wild, unpredictable existence. He'd been drawing her inexorably into his world, and she found herself wanting to resist him less and less.

Eva pushed those thoughts aside and watched Riaz, mesmerized by this performance.

Finally, Riaz made the final turn and was heading back toward the finish line where Eva had stationed herself. She didn't want to miss the triumphal last moments of what had been a thrilling race.

Two of the other men had steadily gained on him and were now racing neck and neck alongside him.

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