Page 25 of Kismet

“Manger,” she said with an encouraging expression on her face. “Manger.”

Allegra’s throat closed in protest at the mention of food, and she shook her head. Again the woman urged her to eat.

“You must eat, mistress.”

The woman’s French was poor, but her concern seemed sincere as she thrust the bowl at Allegra. When she hesitated, the woman grasped her hand and forced her to hold the round dish. Reluctantly, she accepted it and stared down at the contents. It reminded her of the gruel her mother had often made when she was a child. The memory wasn’t a pleasant one.

She looked up at the woman, who encouraged her with an eating gesture. Nodding her gratitude, Allegra observed how the other women were eating with their fingers, and she mimicked their actions. The first taste made her want to gag, but she swallowed hard to force the food down. The woman smiled with satisfaction as she left Allegra and returned to the circle of women.

The second bite of food was easier to swallow, and despite the unpleasant taste, she realized she was hungry enough to eat anything. The water she’d been given helped to wash the sticky meal down. She glanced over at the women, and she saw Rana watching her with smug satisfaction. Something about the woman’s expression made her uneasy.

She leaned forward to set her bowl down and the interior of the tent spun madly around her. God, she hadn’t been this disoriented since that night at Madame Eugenie’s when the brothel owner had given her a mild drug to help calm her for her first customer. An invisible layer of ice swept over her skin and made her tremble with fear.

What a fool she’d been. They’d drugged her so she couldn’t try to escape. Her eyelids drooped, and she slowly slid down onto the carpet. Just before her eyes fluttered shut, she saw Rana moving toward her with a malevolent smile curling her lips.

The morning sun had inched its way almost to a midday peak as Shaheen and his men rode north across the plains. As the third water well they sought came into view, there was no sign of Nassar. Frustrated, Shaheen pulled Tarek to a quick halt. The chestnut stallion snorted in protest, his teeth gnashing at the bit, and Shaheen eased his grip on the leather reins. Following his lead, his men halted their mounts behind him.

With a gentle nudge, he urged Tarek forward a few steps and bent over in the saddle to study the dirt and grass for any sign of a large party having recently made camp near the well. It was a worthless effort. After several moments, he uttered a grunt of disgust and straightened in the saddle. Even the occasional goat herder they’d encountered in their search had little to offer in the way of information.

As he surveyed the landscape in front of him, his jaw tightened as he recalled his initial reaction to Allegra’s disappearance. The primal force of his need to have her back had been startling. With every brawl he’d engaged in since she’d left him beneath that banana tree, he’d been fighting a losing battle to forget the woman. Even before the Agdal Gardens, Allegra had managed to occupy his thoughts more than any woman before her. Not even Frances had preoccupied him so tenaciously.

The memory of how soft she felt in his arms was only compounded by his recollection of her lips around a piece of fruit that resembled his cock. His body craved her with a hunger unlike anything he’d ever experienced. But it wasn’t just the sensual images of her that nagged at him. It was something else. Something he wasn’t even sure he wanted to define. What was it about this woman that aroused emotions he’d thought long dead and buried?

Urging Tarek into a slow trot, he forced himself to resume searching for some sign that Nassar had been in the vicinity of the well. He knew it was a futile task. The man hadn’t been here. This pretense of looking for tracks was simply an attempt to shut out the past. But as soon as the past receded, thoughts of Allegra pushed their way back into his head.

With a low growl, he shifted restlessly in the saddle.

“We will find the anasi, yâ sâhib.”

The dark timber of Jamal’s voice filled the air, and he turned his head toward the Amazigh. It had been Jamal who’d found him in the desert, delirious and half dead of thirst. At the time, he’d been far from grateful at Jamal’s interference. He shook his head at the reassurance and confidence in his friend’s words.

“And what if Nassar isn’t at the fourth well, Jamal? I was certain the bastard would be somewhere between Sarhlef and Bel Azri.”

“I do not think your search strategy unwise, Shaheen. What concerns me is that we have not found Nassar yet. He is too far from his own territory. Only a man up to no good is difficult to find.”

“I agree,” he said grimly. “If he means to stir up trouble, then the only two men capable of helping him in this region would be Abd al Jabbar or Sheikh Cadi.”

“Then perhaps we should find him and put our uncertainty to rest.” Jamal arched an eyebrow at him, his expression filled with good-natured provocation.

With a sharp nod, Shaheen called out to the men behind him, and he urged Tarek forward into a canter as he headed in the direction of the well outside of Berrechgoun. The men following him, like Jamal, were not only part of his tribe, but his family. When Khalid had given him responsibility for the men and their families, as well as Hakim, he’d questioned the wisdom of the Amazigh’s sovereign.

Khalid had simply smiled and stated it was time Hakim learn European ways, which only Shaheen could teach him and that he would need men to protect the royal heir. He’d not taken Khalid’s faith in him lightly. Over the past seven years he’d done his best to teach the boy everything he would need to know when it came time for him to take his father’s place as Sheikh of the Amazigh. In helping the boy better himself, he was paying penance for his own past.

For almost fifteen years, his adopted family had believed him courageous, but he knew it was an illusion. It had been a penitent need to relieve himself of his guilt. They said suffering was good for the soul, but they’d lied. The guilt weighing on him today was as heavy as it had been that terrible night in London. He tried to shove the dark memories back into the pit he’d dug for them years ago. When they didn’t slide easily back into place, his muscles grew taut with tension. They were always with him, but the past week had presented him with more torment than he’d experienced in years. And Allegra was to blame for it. Her presence had dredged up the past and all the pain that went with it.

They rode steadily for more than an hour, and it was just as the sun reached its peak directly over their heads that Shaheen saw the tents. The sight filled him with a sense of relief as he eased Tarek out of his gallop and settled into a gentle canter. A moment later, Jamal rode up alongside him with a satisfied smile on his tanned features.

“So we have found the fox in his den.” The other man pointed at the tents that were growing larger and more distinct with each stride Tarek took.

“It would seem so. I wonder what he’ll make of our unexpected visit.” The thought of surprising Nassar made him smile. If his appearance made the bastard sweat, all the better.

“Have you considered what you are going to tell Sheikh Nassar about our presence here in Sahrawi territory?”

“I see no need to explain our presence unless he explains his.” Shaheen shrugged. “But if he does, then we can simply say we’re on our way to Hajra to see about putting Abyad out to stud.”

“You are hoping that when Nassar sees the stallion he will want him.”

“I’m counting on it,” he bit out as he saw a large group of men riding out to meet them.