The Sheik and the Runaway Princess
Susan Mallery

MILLS & BOON

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To Terry who, after reading the first three sheik books, kept saying that there just had to be a bastard brother.

Here he is…enjoy!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter One

S abrina Johnson had sand in her teeth and a lot of other places sand wasn’t supposed to be.

She’d been an idiot, she told herself as she huddled under her thick cloak and listened to the storm howling all around her. Only someone incredibly foolish would have driven four hundred miles out into the desert by herself, and then left all signs of civilization behind, traveling with only a horse and a pack camel, looking for a stupid, mythical city that probably didn’t even exist.

A particularly vicious gust of sand and wind nearly toppled her. Sabrina clutched her legs more firmly to her chest, rested her head on her knees and swore that no matter how long she lived—assuming she survived her current predicament—she was never, ever going to be impulsive again. Not even a little. All impulse had gotten her was lost and trapped in the middle of a sandstorm.

Worse, no one knew she was out here, so no one would be looking for her. She’d stalked off without saying a word to her father or her brothers. When she didn’t show up for dinner, they would probably assume she was either sulking in her room or had taken off for Paris on a shopping trip. They would never think she was lost in the desert. Her brothers had warned her more than once that her crazy ideas were going to be the death of her. She’d never thought they might be right.

Heat and dryness pressed against her. She coughed, but couldn’t seem to clear her throat. How long would the storm go on and would she be able to find her way when it was over?

She didn’t have answers to her questions, so she tried not to think about them. Instead she wrapped her thick cloak around herself more tightly, staying low to the ground, hoping the storm wouldn’t sweep her up in its power and blow her away. She’d heard stories about that sort of thing. Of course her brothers had been the ones telling the stories and they didn’t always stick to the truth.

After what could have been hours, she thought she noticed a slight lessening of howls. Gradually she became aware that the gusts weren’t quite so strong and that it was getting easier to breathe. A few minutes later she risked peeking out from under her cloak.

There was good news and bad news. The good news was she wasn’t dead. Yet. The bad news was her horse and the supply camel were gone, along with her food, water and maps. Almost worse, the storm had buried the makeshift road she’d been following and had erased all the landmarks she’d noticed on her way into the desert from the outpost where she’d left the truck and horse trailer. The truck that wouldn’t be found until someone else journeyed to the abandoned old building. That event could be weeks or even months away. How would she survive until then?

Sabrina rose and turned in a slow circle. Nothing looked familiar. In the distance, the storm still raged. She watched clouds of sand reach up toward the sky as if trying to obliterate the sun. She swallowed. The sun was surprisingly low in the horizon. It was late. Apparently the storm had lasted longer than she’d realized.

Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since a very early breakfast. She’d been so eager to get started on her journey that morning, that she’d left the capital city well before dawn. She’d been convinced that she was going to find the fabled City of Thieves she’d been studying for ages, and prove its existence to her father. He’d always teased her about her fascination with it. She’d been so darned determined to have the last word. Instead she’d ended up here.

Now what? She could continue to search for the lost city, she could try to return to Bahania and her life of being ignored by her father and brothers or she could simply stand here and die of thirst. Actually while the third choice wasn’t her favorite, under the circumstances it seemed the most likely.

"I’m not going without a fight," Sabrina muttered as she tightened the scarf tied around her head. She shook out her cloak, then folded it and slung it over one shoulder.

West, she thought and turned so the setting sun was on her right. She needed to retrace her earlier journey by heading south and a little west to find the outpost. There was food and water in her car, because she’d brought more than she’d been able to fit onto the camel. Once she had something to eat and drink, she could think more clearly and figure out what she was going to do.

Ignoring her hunger and thirst, she set off at a steady pace. Fear dogged her heels, like a desert jackal, but she mentally kicked the beast away and reminded herself that she was Sabrina Johnson. She’d faced much worse in her life. She was lying, of course. She’d never faced physical danger before. But so what? There was no one around to point out that fact.

Thirty minutes later she wanted to call a cab. Forty-five minutes later she realized she would have sold her soul for a single glass of water. An hour later, the fear won and she knew she was well and truly going to die in the desert. Her eyes burned from the dryness. Her skin felt as if it were a size too small and her throat was raw and on fire.

She wondered if death in the desert was like death in the snow. Would she simply get tired and go to sleep?

“Not with my luck,” she muttered between parched lips. “My death will be much slower and more painful.”

Still she continued to put one foot in front of the other, ignoring the tempting mirages appearing directly in front of her as the sun slowly set. First she saw a wavering oasis, then a waterfall. Finally she saw a half-dozen men on horses riding closer and closer.

Horses? She stopped walking. She blinked, then squinted. Were they real? As she paused, she realized she could feel the thunder of the horses’ hooves on the ground. Which meant there was a possibility of rescue. Or something less pleasant.

Sabrina spent summers in Bahania with her father, supposedly learning the ways of his people. Not that he could be bothered to teach her anything, but some of the servants took pity on her and she’d picked up a thing or two. One tidbit had been that hospitality was guaranteed in the desert.

However, she spent her school years in Los Angeles, California, where her mother’s maid had warned her never to speak to strangers. Especially men she didn’t know. So should she stand her ground or run for the hills? Sabrina glanced around. There weren’t any hills.

She studied the men as they galloped closer and seemed to get larger. They were dressed traditionally in burnoose and djellaba. Their long cloaks swept along behind them. As a way to distract herself from her growing apprehension, she tried to admire the strong yet elegant horses they rode. Bahanian horses, bred for the desert.

“Hi,” she called as the men approached, trying for a breezy, confident tone. Between her dry throat and growing fear, she wasn’t entirely successful. “I’m lost. The sandstorm caught me flat-footed. You wouldn’t have happened to have seen a horse and a camel anywhere would you?”

No one answered her. Instead they circled her, speaking in a tongue she recognized but didn’t understand. Nomads, she thought, not sure if the men being nomads was good or bad for her.

One of the men pointed at her and gestured. Sabrina stood in place, even when several moved their horses very close to her. Should she tell them who she was, she wondered as she turned slowly. Nomads would respond to her father’s name, but what about outlaws? Of course outlaws would want to hold her for ransom and she might impress them by telling them that even though she didn’t look like much, she was actually Sabrina Johnson, aka Princess Sabra of Bahania. Or they might just kill her and leave her bones to bleach in the desert.

“I have want of a slave girl, but I doubt you’d do well at the job.”

She spun toward the speaker. His clothing hid most of his features. She saw that he was tall in the saddle, with tanned skin and dark eyes. Lips curled up in a smile as he laughed at her.

“You speak English,” she said stupidly.

“You do not speak the language of the desert,” he replied. “Nor do you know its ways. She is not a forgiving lady.” The humor fled his face. “Why are you out here alone?”

“That’s not important,” Sabrina said with a dismissive wave.” But maybe you could loan me a horse. Just to get me back to the outpost. My truck is there.”

The man jerked his head. One of the others scrambled off his horse. For a second Sabrina thought she was going to get her wish. The man had actually listened. Most unusual in a Bahanian male. They generally ignored—

The nomad reached for her head covering and pulled it free. She screamed. The circle of men around her grew still. Sabrina sighed.

She knew what they were looking at. Long, curly red hair tumbled down her back, a legacy from her mother. The startling combination of brown eyes, red hair and honey-colored skin often caught people’s attention, but no more so than here.

The men talked amongst themselves. She strained to understand what they were saying.

“They think I should sell you.”

She glanced toward the English-speaker. She had the impression he was their leader. Panic fluttered inside of her, but she didn’t let it show. Instead she squared her shoulders and raised her chin.

“Do you so need the money?” she asked, trying to fill her voice with contempt…or at least keep it from shaking.

“It makes life easier. Even out here.”

“What happened to the hospitality of the desert? The laws of your land won’t let you mistreat me.”

“Exceptions are made for one as foolish as you.”

He motioned to the man still standing next to her. In the split second before he reached for her, Sabrina spun on her heel and began to run. She had no destination in mind, just a burning need to be as far away from her captors as possible.

She heard hoofbeats behind her. Fear added speed, but not enough. She’d barely gone twenty yards when she was swept up onto a horse and held tightly against the hard, unforgiving chest of the nomad.

“Where, exactly, did you plan to go?” he asked.

She squirmed, but he didn’t release her. Instead she found herself getting tangled in his robes.

“If you continue to try to get away, I’ll tie you and drag you behind my horse.”

She could feel the strength of him, and his heat. He was as unyielding as the desert. Just her luck, she thought glumly, and stilled.

Tossing her hair out of her face, she glared at him. “What do you want from me?”

“First, I would like you to remove your knee from my stomach.”

She glanced down and saw that her jean-clad knee was indeed pushing against his midsection. It felt as if she were butting up against a rock, but she didn’t share that thought with him. Instead she shifted slightly, so that she was sitting on the saddle, facing his left.

She sucked in a deep breath. The sun had slipped below the horizon. There was no way she could escape now. Not at night. She was lost, thirsty, hungry and held captive by who knows who. At least it wasn’t raining.

“Ah,” he said softly. “So you can be reasoned with. A most pleasant attribute in a woman. And rare.”

“You mean beating all your wives doesn’t keep them in line? What a surprise.”

She glared at him as she spoke, telling herself that she didn’t care if his gaze narrowed slightly.

His features were dark and hard, like a rock shaped by the blowing winds of the desert. His headdress covered his hair, but she suspected it would be dark, perhaps to his collar, perhaps a little shorter. He had broad shoulders, and he carried himself like a man used to the weight of many burdens.

“For a woman completely at my mercy, you are either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish.”

“You’ve already accused me of being foolish,” she reminded him. “Rather unjustly if you ask me.”

“I did not ask you. Besides, what would you call someone who heads out into the desert without a guide, or even the most basic of supplies?”

“I had a horse and—”

He cut her off with a slight tilt of his chin. “Or the skill to keep them,” he finished.

Rather than answer, she glanced over his shoulder. The men he’d left when he’d chased her had started to set up camp. Already they had a small fire burning and were setting a pot to boil.

“You have water?” she asked, licking her dry lips.

“Yes, and food. Unlike you, we kept possession of our supplies.”

She couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from the liquid being poured into the pot. “Please,” she whispered.

“Not so fast, my desert bird. Before you partake of our meager offerings, I want to make sure you don’t fly away again.”

“As you already pointed out, where would I go?”

“Not having a destination didn’t stop you before.”

He dismounted. Before she could slide to the ground, he pulled a length of rope from his voluminous robes and grabbed her wrists.

“Hey,” she protested, tugging against his actions. “You don’t have to do this. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I intend to make sure of that.”

She tried to pull her arms away so he couldn’t reach her wrists, but he moved too quickly and tied her. Then she shifted too far back in the saddle and started to slide off the horse. The man caught her by the front of her shirt and pulled her toward him. She lost her balance and fell heavily against him. He didn’t even grunt.

Wrapping one arm around her waist, he lowered her to the ground. While she was still trying to catch her breath, he secured her ankles together, then straightened.

“Wait here,” he told her and led his horse toward the makeshift camp.

“What?” she yelled, wiggling on the ground, unable to get up on her own. “You can’t leave me here.”

He studied her with his dark eyes, then smiled. “I would say that I can.”

Stunned by disbelief, Sabrina watched as he joined the other men. He said something she couldn’t hear and they chuckled in response. Anger replaced the fear burning in her chest. She would show him, she vowed, tugging on her fastenings and kicking at the sand. She would get free and find her way back to Bahania and have him shot. Or hanged. Or maybe both…at the same time. Her father might not pay much attention to her but he wouldn’t be happy about her being kidnapped.

Unable to free herself, she shifted until her back was to the camp. Bad enough that she could smell them cooking dinner, she didn’t want to have to watch it, too. Her mouth and throat felt so dry, they seemed swollen. Her stomach had never been so empty. Was the stranger just tormenting her or was he really not going to give her dinner? What kind of monster was he?

The desert kind, she told herself. Men like him didn’t see women as anything but chattel.

“I would have been better off with the troll prince,” she muttered.

Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to give in to them. She never showed weakness. What was the point? Instead she vowed to stay emotionally strong enough to survive, so that she could take her revenge. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself somewhere else.

As the smell of the food continued to drift toward her and her stomach clenched painfully, she couldn’t help wishing she was still at the palace. Okay, so her father rarely noticed she was around and her brothers ignored her, except when they were teasing her, but was that so bad?

She remembered her rage the previous day when her father, the king of Bahania, had announced that he’d betrothed her. Sabrina had been in shock.

“You can’t be serious,” she’d told her father.

“I am most serious. You are twenty-two. More than of an age to marry.”

She’d glared at him. “I turned twenty-three last month. And this is the modern world. Not medieval Europe.”

“I am aware of the time and the country. You are my daughter. You will marry the man of my choosing because you are a Bahanian princess and alliances must be made.”

The man didn’t even know how old she was, so why on earth would she trust him to pick out a husband? She could only imagine the horrible old man with three wives and bad breath whom King Hassan would consider suitable.

For the past twenty-three years her father had been content to ignore her. While she’d spent every summer in the palace, he’d rarely spoken with her. Although he took his sons on trips, she had been left behind. And when she spent the school year with her mother in California, he never phoned or wrote. So why would he think that she would do what he wanted now?

Rather than stay and meet her troll prince, she’d escaped, hoping to find the City of Thieves. Instead she’d been captured by nomads. Maybe the troll prince wasn’t so bad.

“What are you thinking?”

The voice startled her. “That I need a vacation and this isn’t what I had in mind.”

She opened her eyes and saw her captor standing in front of her. He’d removed his headdress and outer robes. Dressed only in cotton trousers and a tunic, he should have looked less formidable. Unfortunately he did not.

He loomed like a deity, silhouetted by a beautiful, inky-black night sky. While she might not be completely comfortable in Bahania, she’d always admired the perfection of its stars. But tonight something other than twinkling lights captured her attention.

The man was tall. His thick dark hair was short and layered. In the darkness of the evening, his features blurred, although she saw a flash of white teeth when he smiled.

“You have the courage of a camel,” he told her.

“Gee, thanks. Camels aren’t brave.”

“Ah, so you know that much about the desert. Fine. How about the courage of a desert fox.”

“Don’t they run away all the time?”

He shrugged. “You see my point. Good.”

She had the most childish urge to stick her tongue out at him. Instead she took a deep breath and smelled something wonderful. Her stomach growled loudly as she realized he held a plate in one hand and a cup in the other.

“Dinner?” she asked cautiously, trying to keep the hope out of her voice.

“Yes.” He crouched in front of her and set the plate and cup on the sand before helping her into a sitting position. “But can I trust you enough to untie you?”

It was all Sabrina could do not to throw herself at the food and start eating directly from the plate. Her mouth watered so much she had to swallow twice, and her throat ached at the thought of water.

“I swear I won’t try to run away.”

He settled next to her on the sand. “Why would I trust you? I don’t know anything about you except you have the sense of a flea.”

Her gaze narrowed. “I really hate all these animal comparisons. If you’re discussing the fact that I misplaced my horse and my camel, it’s not my fault. I tried to tether them when the sandstorm approached. I covered myself with a thick cloak and stayed low to the ground. I would say the fact that I survived the storm at all is a testament to my good sense.”

He did not appear the least bit impressed by her argument. “What about the fact that you’re in the desert by yourself?” He picked up the cup. “Or would you rather discuss the fact that you lost both your horse and your camel?”

“Not really,” she muttered, then leaned forward to sip from the cup he held out to her.

The water was cool and clean. She swallowed greedily, taking in the life-giving moisture. Never had anything tasted so sweet, so perfect.

When she finished the cup, he put it on the ground and picked up the plate.

She looked from the strips of meat and pieces of vegetables to his hands. “You aren’t seriously considering feeding me, are you?” She held up her bound wrists. “If you don’t want to untie me, at least let me feed myself.”

The thought of him touching her food was too weird. Although she was pretty hungry and he looked clean enough. Despite the heavy robes and the heat of the desert, the man in front of her didn’t smell.

“Allow me the privilege,” he said mockingly, and picked up a piece of meat.

She probably should have been brave and stubborn and refused. But her stomach was so very empty. Instead she leaned forward and took the meat from him, making sure her mouth never touched his fingers.

“I am Kardal,” he said as she chewed. “What is your name?”

She took her time in replying. After she’d swallowed, she licked her lips and stared eagerly at the plate. For reasons that weren’t completely clear to her, she didn’t want to tell him who she was.

“Sabrina,” she answered, hoping he wouldn’t connect that name with Princess Sabra of Bahania. “You don’t sound like a nomad,” she said in an effort to distract him.

“Yet I am.” He offered her another piece of meat.

“You must have gone to school somewhere else. England? America?”

“Why do you say that?”

“The way you speak. Your word choices and syntax.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “What do you know of syntax?”

She chewed and swallowed. “Despite what you think, I’m not an idiot. I’ve studied. I know things.”

His dark eyes seemed to take possession of her soul. “What things, my desert bird?”

“I, ah—”

She was saved from having to answer by him feeding her a grilled bit of vegetable. This time, however, she wasn’t so very cautious and the side of his index finger touched her lower lip. At the moment of contact, something odd shifted inside of her. Food poisoning, she told herself. No doubt he’d laced the food with something horrible.

But she was hungry enough not to care. She continued eating until the plate was empty, then drank the second glass of water Kardal gave her. When they were finished, she expected him to return to the men sitting around the small fire. Instead he continued to sit across from her, studying her.

She wondered how bad she looked. Her hair was a tangled mess and she was sure she had smudges of dirt on her face from the sandstorm. Not that she wanted to be attractive for her captor. This was generic female vanity—nothing specific about the man in front of her.

“Who are you?” he said quietly, staring into her eyes. “Why were you alone in the desert?”

With food in her belly, she felt a little less vulnerable and scared. She thought about lying, but she’d never been very good at that. Refusing to answer might be an option, except there was something compelling about Kardal’s steady gaze. The easiest course of action was to tell the truth. Or at least part of it.

“I’m looking for the lost City of Thieves.”

She expected a reaction of interest or disbelief. What she didn’t expect was for him to lean his head back and laugh. The low chuckling drifted across the desert. The men at the fire turned to look at them, as did the horses.

“Laugh all you want,” she snapped. “It’s true. I know exactly where it is and I’m going to find it.”

He raised his eyebrows. “The city is a myth. Adventurers have been searching for the city for centuries. What makes you think one slip of a girl will find it when they have not?”

“Some of them have,” she insisted. “I have maps, diaries.”

He lowered his gaze to her body. She wore a T-shirt and jeans, along with hiking boots. Behind her, on the sand, lay her cloak. She would need that cloak later. Already the temperature was dropping from stifling to pleasantly cool.

“Where exactly are these maps and diaries?” he asked sounding oh so polite.

She gritted her teeth. “They’re in my saddle bags.”

“I see. On your runaway horse?”

“Yes.”

He paused. “You do realize it will be more difficult to find this fictional city without the maps.”

She curled her fingers into fists. Irritation swelled inside of her. “I’ve already figured that out.”

“Yet you continue to seek the city?”

“I don’t give up easily. I swear I’ll come back and find it.”

He rose to his feet and stared down at her from his rather impressive height. “How determined you sound. But your plans are based on an interesting assumption.”

She frowned, barely able to see him in the darkness of the night. “What’s that?”

“For you to return anywhere, I must first let you go.”

Chapter Two

K ardal kept his eyes closed, trying to ignore the squirming of the woman next to him. The ground beneath was hard, but not uncomfortable, although he doubted Sabrina would appreciate that fact. While he’d unbound her feet, he’d kept her wrists tied and connected to a rope anchored to the belt around his waist. He knew that without a deterrent of some kind she was impulsive enough to try to escape in the night.

She was less than amused by their sleeping arrangements.

“This is ridiculous,” she hissed, her words barely audible over the snores of his men. “It’s the middle of the night in the middle of the desert. Where exactly do you think I’m going to go? Untie me at once.”

“How imperious you sound,” he replied, not bothering to look at her. “If you continue to speak, I’ll put a gag in your mouth. I assure you, after a time it grows most unpleasant.”

He heard her sharp intake of air, but she didn’t talk anymore, for which he was grateful.

She shifted again, drawing her thick cloak more tightly around her. The night temperature continued to drop. Kardal knew that in time she would welcome the heat of his body next to hers. Left on her own, she would be shivering by dawn. But he doubted she would thank him. Women were rarely sensible creatures.

As for trusting her enough to release her—he would rather trust his fortune to a gambler. He couldn’t believe she’d been foolish—or foolhardy—enough to be traveling by herself in the desert. Didn’t she realize how dangerous the vast emptiness could be?

Obviously not, he thought, answering his own question. At first he’d been shocked to see a lone traveler in the distance. He and his men had quickly changed course to offer assistance. As they’d approached, he’d realized the traveler was a woman. And then he’d seen her face and known exactly who she was.

Sabrina Johnson—otherwise known as Princess Sabra, the only daughter of King Hassan of Bahania—was everything he’d feared. Willful, difficult, spoiled and lacking the intelligence the good Lord gave a date palm.

He supposed the sensible course of action would be to return her to her father, even though he knew the king wouldn’t do anything to mend her wayward ways. From what he’d heard, King Hassan ignored his only daughter, allowing her to spend much of the year with her mother in California. No doubt living in wildness as the king’s former wife did.

Kardal opened his eyes and stared up at the heavens. Stars twinkled down at him. He was as much a product of the new century as any man in his world could be. Trapped between tradition and progress, he attempted to find wisdom and act accordingly in all situations. But when he thought about Sabrina wasting her time in Beverly Hills, having affairs and living who knew what kind of hedonistic lifestyle…

He swore silently. She might be uncomprehendingly beautiful but she had the heart and soul of a spoiled and willful child. She was not a traditional desert wife, nor was she a sparkling gem of a woman produced by the best western culture had to offer. She fit nowhere and he had no use for her. If life were fair, he could simply return her and be done with her.

Unfortunately life was not fair and that course of action wasn’t open to him. The price of being a leader, he supposed.

Sabrina flopped onto her back, tugging at the rope that bound them together. He didn’t move. She sighed in disgust and was quiet. In time, her breathing slowed and he knew she’d found sleep.

Tomorrow would be interesting, he thought wryly. He would have to decide what to do with her. Or perhaps he already knew and didn’t want to admit it to himself. There was also the matter of her not recognizing him, although it was possible she hadn’t been told his name. That thought made him smile. If she didn’t know, he wasn’t about to tell her. Not yet.

Sabrina woke slowly to an unusual combination of hard bed and warmth. She shifted slightly, but the mattress didn’t yield at all. Nor did the heat source surrounding her. It was specifically on one side. Like a—

Her eyes popped open. She looked up into the rapidly lightening sky and realized she wasn’t back in her bed in the palace, nor was she in her room in her mother’s house. Instead she was in the desert, tied by a rope to a man she didn’t know.

The previous day’s events returned to her memory with all the subtlety of a desert storm: Her excitement at finally starting the journey she’d been dreaming about ever since she’d first heard of the lost City of Thieves. How she’d been so darn careful to pack her supplies sensibly, even taking a more docile horse than usual so that she wouldn’t have to worry about a riding accident. She’d had a compass, maps, diaries and determination on her side. What she hadn’t counted on was a conspiracy by the elements.

Which was how she’d come to find herself in her present predicament. Tied to a nomad who was going to do who knows what to her.

She risked glancing to her right. The man was still asleep, which gave her the opportunity to study him. In the soft light of morning, he still looked hard and powerful—a man of the desert. He held her fate in his hands, which alarmed her, but she no longer believed her life was in danger. Nor had she worried for her virtue. Even as she’d protested and then seethed at the thought of being tied up, she’d never once thought he would actually physically attack her. Which didn’t make any sense. She should have been afraid.

Now she looked at the thick lashes resting on his cheek and the way his mouth relaxed as he slept. His skin was tanned, adding shadows to sculpted cheekbones and a strong jawline. Who was this Kardal of the desert? Why did he hold her prisoner rather than simply offering to escort her to the nearest town?

Suddenly his eyes opened. They stared at each other from a distance of less than eight inches. She tried to read his expression, but could not. It was very strange, but if she had to pick a word to describe what was in his dark eyes, she would have said disappointment.

He rose without saying a word. As he did so, she realized that he must have loosened the rope holding them together, because it lay on the blankets he’d spread over the sand. With a quick movement, he bent down and untied her wrists.

“You may have a small bowl of water for your morning ablutions,” he said by way of greeting. “Don’t try to escape. If you do, I’ll give you to my men.”

And then he turned his back on her. “Not much of a morning person, are you?” Sabrina called out before she could stop herself.

He kept walking away and didn’t bother responding. She sighed. So much for friendly chitchat.

She did as he instructed, taking her small bowl of water to the far side of the camp. Covering herself with her cloak, she did her best to freshen up. Between the sandstorm, the night of sleeping in her clothes and the prospect of wearing them again for an unspecified length of time, she would have given a lot for a shower.

Ten minutes later, she cautiously approached the fire. Two men were making breakfast. She ignored the food and gazed longingly at the pot of coffee sitting close to the flames. Food wasn’t a priority for her until later in the day, but coffee was life.

She caught Kardal’s attention and motioned to the pot. He nodded without saying anything. She sidled closer to the men and took an unused mug from an open saddlebag, then poured herself a full cup of the steaming liquid. It was hot and strong enough to grow hair.

“Perfect,” she breathed.

Kardal moved around the fire to stand next to her. He wore his robe open over his shirt and trousers. The long covering flowed behind him with each step.

“I’m surprised you like it,” he said. “Most westerners and many women find it too strong.”

“Too strong isn’t possible,” she said after sipping again. “I like coffee I can stand a spoon in.”

“No lattes or mocha cappuccinos?”

What? Humor from the great and mysterious Kardal? She smiled slightly. “Not even on a bet.”

He motioned for her to follow him to the edge of their camp. Once there he put his hands on his hips and stared down at her as if she were a particularly unappealing bug. So much for the moment of bonding over coffee.

“Something must be done with you,” he announced.

“What? You don’t want to spend the rest of your days traveling with me throughout the desert? And here I thought you enjoyed tying me up and making me sleep on the hard ground.”

He raised his dark eyebrows. “You have more spirit than you did last night.”

“Not surprising. I’m rested, I have coffee. Despite rumors to the contrary, I’m a creature of simple wants.”

The curl of his mouth indicated that he didn’t believe her.

“We have three choices,” he told her. “We can kill you and leave your body here in the desert. We can sell you as a slave or we can ransom you to your family.”

She nearly choked on her coffee, barely able to believe he meant what he said. Although the edge of determination in his voice told her that he did.

“Can I see what’s behind curtain number four?” she asked when she could finally speak. Here she’d been thinking ol’ Kardal wasn’t so bad and he was talking about killing her and leaving her remains for whatever animals lived out here.

Of course if they were going to kill her wouldn’t they have already done it? Sleeping with her tied up next to him had to have been just as uncomfortable for Kardal as it had been for her.

“Eliminating death as an option,” she said cautiously, “I don’t think I’d make an especially good slave.”

“I had considered that. Of course a good beating would change that.”

“And what would a bad beating do?” she murmured.

“Which would you prefer?”

She stared at him. “A good or a bad beating? Neither, thank you.” She couldn’t believe they were discussing this. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening. That she was standing in the middle of the Bahanian desert discussing the physical abuse of her person.

“I meant,” he said slowly, as if she weren’t very bright, “which of the three do you prefer?”

“It’s my choice? How democratic.”

“I am trying to be fair.”

She grimaced. Obviously he’d missed the sarcasm she’d attempted to interject into her words. “Fair would be giving me a horse and some supplies, then pointing me in the right direction.”

“You’ve already lost your own horse and camel. Why would I trust you with stock of mine?”

She didn’t like the question so she ignored it. There was no point in protesting that the loss of her horse and camel had been more because of the storm than because she’d done something wrong.

“I do not want to be killed,” she said at last when it became apparent he really was waiting for her to choose her fate. “And I have no desire to be any man’s slave.” Nor did she want to return to the palace and marry the troll prince. Unfortunately there wasn’t much choice.

She wondered if her father would bother to pay a ransom for her. He might if for no other reason than it would look bad for him if he didn’t. Now if one of his precious cats had been kidnapped, the entire kingdom would be in an uproar until it was returned.

It was very sad, she thought to herself, that her place in her father’s affection was far below her brothers and well under the cats. Unfortunately it was true. However, Kardal didn’t know that. There was no other choice. She was going to have to tell him who she was and hope that he was a man of honor, loyal to the king. If so, he would happily return her to her father. Once there, she would deal with her betrothal to the troll prince.

She drew herself up to her full height—all of five feet four inches and tried to look important. “I am Princess Sabra of Bahania. You have no right to keep me as your prisoner, nor may you determine my fate. I demand that you return me to the palace at once. If you do not, I will be forced to tell my father what you have done. He will hunt you and your men like the dogs that you are.”

Kardal looked faintly bored.

“You don’t believe me?” she asked. “I assure you, it’s the truth.”

He studied her face. “You don’t appear very royal. If you’re really the princess, what are you doing out here in the desert by yourself?”

“I told you yesterday. Searching for the City of Thieves. I wanted to find it and surprise my father with treasures I discovered there.”

That much was true, she thought. Not only had she wanted to study the fabled city, but she’d figured finding it was a surefire way to get the king’s attention. Once he realized she was a real person, she might be able to talk him out of her engagement.

He considered her words. “Even if you are the princess, which I doubt, I don’t see why you would have been out alone. It is forbidden.” His gaze narrowed. “Although they say the princess is willful and difficult. Perhaps you are her after all.”

Talk about a no-win situation, Sabrina thought glumly. She could accept the character assassination or not be believed. Once again she was left grasping for an alternative. Why was it people always assumed the worst about her? Didn’t anyone understand that she hadn’t had a normal life? Splitting time between two parents who didn’t really want her around hadn’t given her anything close to a happy childhood. People who thought she was fortunate saw only the physical trappings of her station. No one saw the endless hours she’d spent alone as a child.

But there was no point in explaining all that to Kardal. He wouldn’t believe her and even if he did, he wouldn’t care.

“I will consider what you have told me,” he said at last.

“What does that mean? You believe that I’m really the princess? Are you going to take me back to the palace in Bahania?” Compared to her recent desert experience, the troll prince might not be such a bad choice after all.

“No,” Kardal told her. “I think I will keep you for now. It would be most entertaining to have a princess as a slave.”

She tried to speak but could only splutter. He couldn’t mean it, she told herself, hoping she wasn’t lying.

“No,” she finally said. “You couldn’t do that.”

“It appears that I could.” Kardal chuckled to himself as he walked away, leaving her openmouthed and frothing.

“You’ll regret this,” she yelled after him, fighting the fury growing within her. If she hadn’t treasured her coffee so much, she would have tossed the steaming liquid at his retreating back. “I’ll make you sorry.”

He turned and looked at her. “I know, Sabrina. Most likely all the days of my life.”

Forty minutes later, she knew a flogging was too good for him. She was back to wanting him both hanged and shot. Maybe even beheaded. It wasn’t enough that he threatened her and insulted her. No. Not only had he tied her up, but he’d blindfolded her as well.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” she announced, practically vibrating with rage. The sensation of being blind while on a moving horse was completely disconcerting. With each step, she expected to tumble under the horse’s hooves.

“First,” Kardal said, his voice barely a whisper in her ear. “You don’t have to shout. I’m right behind you.”

“Like I don’t know that.”

She sat in front of him, on his saddle. As much as she tried to keep from touching him, there wasn’t enough room. Holding herself stiffly away from him only made her muscles ache. Despite her best effort to prevent contact, her back kept brushing against his front.

“What’s the second thing?” she asked grudgingly.

“You’re about to get your wish. Our destination is the City of Thieves.”

Sabrina didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her mind filled with a thousand questions, not to mention disbelief, hope and excitement.

“It’s real?”

Behind her, Kardal chuckled. “Very real. I’ve lived there all my life.”

“But you can’t—It isn’t—” What he was saying didn’t make sense. “If it truly exists, how come I’ve never heard about it except in old books or diaries?”

“It’s how we prefer it. We are not interested in the outside world. We live in the old tradition.”

Which meant life for women was less than agreeable.

“I don’t believe you,” she told him. “You’re just saying this to get my hopes up.”

“Why else would I blindfold you? It is important that you not be able to find your way back to our city.”

Sabrina bit her lower lip. Could Kardal be telling the truth? Could the city exist and did people really live there? It would almost be worth being captured just to see inside the ancient walls. And his statement about finding her way back implied that he would—despite his posturing to the contrary—eventually let her go.

“Are there treasures?” she asked.

“You seek material wealth?”

There was something in his tone. Contempt, maybe? What was it about this man and his assumptions?

“Stop talking to me like I’m some gold digger,” she said heatedly. “I have a bachelor’s degree in archeology and a master’s in Bahanian history. My interest in the contents of the city are intellectual and scientific, not personal.”

She adjusted her weight, trying to escape the feeling that she was going to fall from the horse at any moment. “I don’t know why I’m bothering,” she grumbled into the darkness. “You’re hardly a sympathetic audience. Just believe what you want. I don’t care.”

But she did care, Kardal thought with some surprise when she was finally quiet. He had heard about her going to school in America. It had never occurred to him that she would actually complete her studies, nor had he thought she would study something relevant to her heritage. He wasn’t sure she didn’t want the treasures of his homeland for herself, but he was willing to wait and let her show her true self on that matter.

She leaned forward, as if holding herself away from him. He felt the tremor in her muscles, the result of her tension.

“Relax,” he told her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her against him. “We have a long day’s ride. If you continue to sit so stiffly, you’ll spend much of the time in pain. I promise not to ravish you while we’re upon my horse.”

“Remind me to never dismount then,” she muttered, half under her breath, but she did let herself sag against him.

Sabrina was more trouble than any other three women Kardal had ever known, but he found he didn’t dislike her as much as he would have thought. Unfortunately he also found her body appealing as it pressed against his own. During the night he’d managed to ignore the sweet scent of her, but not while they rode pressed so closely together. When he’d first placed her in the saddle, he’d only thought to keep her from running off. By tying her hands, he’d attempted to both restrain and punish her willfulness. Now he was the one being punished.

With each step of the horse, her body swayed against his. Her rear nestled against his groin, arousing him so that he could think of little else. It was a kind of trouble he did not need.

She was not the traditional desert woman he would have chosen. She was neither deferential nor accommodating. Her quick mind allowed her to use wit and words as a weapon and there was no telling how her time in the west had corrupted her. She was disrespectful, opinionated and spoiled. And even if he found her slightly intriguing, she was not whom he would have chosen. But then the choice hadn’t been his at all. It had all been proclaimed at the time of his birth.

He wondered why she didn’t know who he was. Had her father not told her the specifics or had she simply not listened? He would guess the latter. Kardal smiled. He doubted Sabrina listened to anything she didn’t want to hear. It was a habit he would break her of.

He could almost anticipate the challenge she would be to him. In the end he would be the victor, of course. He was the man—strength to her yielding softness. Eventually she would learn to appreciate that. In the meantime, what would the ill-tempered beauty say if she knew he was the man to whom she had been betrothed?

Chapter Three

E ventually Sabrina found the rhythm of the horse hypnotic, even with the chronic sensation of falling. Despite her desire to, if not prove herself then at least be somewhat independent, she found herself relaxing into Kardal’s arms. He was strong enough to support her and if she continued to hold herself stiffly, she would be aching by the end of the day.

So instead she allowed herself to lean into him, feeling the muscled hardness of his chest pressing against her. He shifted his arms so that he held the reins in front of her instead of behind her. Her forearms rested on his.

The sensation of touching him was oddly intimate. Perhaps it was their close proximity, or perhaps it was the darkness caused by her blindfold. She’d never been in a situation like this, but that shouldn’t be a surprise. Not much of her life had been spent with her being kidnapped.

“Do you do this often?” she asked. “Kidnap innocent women?”

Instead of being insulted by the question, he chuckled. “You are many things, princess, but you are not innocent.”

Actually he was wrong about that, but this was hardly the time or the place to have that conversation. She could—

The horse stumbled on a loose rock. There was no warning. For Sabrina, the blackness of her world shifted and the sensation of falling nearly became a reality. She gasped and tried to grab on to something, but there was only openness in front of her.

“It’s all right,” Kardal soothed from behind her. He moved his arm so that it clasped her around the waist, pulling her more tightly against him. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She wanted to take comfort in his words, but she knew the real purpose behind them. “Your concern isn’t about me,” she grumbled. “You don’t want anything to happen to your prize.”

He laughed softly. “Exactly, my desert bird. I refuse to let you fly away, nor will I allow you to be injured. You are to stay just as you are until I can claim my rightful reward.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. No doubt he believed everything he read in the papers about her, so he thought he knew her.

“You’re wrong about me,” she said a few minutes later, when the horse was once again steady and her heartbeat had returned to normal.

“I am rarely wrong.”

That comment made her roll her eyes, although with her wearing a blindfold he couldn’t tell.

“I know you are not a dutiful daughter,” he murmured in her ear. “You live a wild life in the west. But that is no surprise. You are your mother’s daughter, not a woman of Bahania.”

She told herself that he was a barbarian and his opinion didn’t matter. Unfortunately those words didn’t stop the sting of tears or the lump in her throat. She hated that people judged her based on a few reports in newspapers or magazines. It had happened to her all her life. Very few people took the time to find out the truth.

“Did it ever occur to you that sometimes the media gets it wrong?” she asked.

“Sometimes, but not in your case. You have lived most of your years in Los Angeles. Picking up that lifestyle was inevitable. Had your father kept you here, you might have learned our ways, but that was not to be.”

She didn’t know which charge to answer first. “You’re making it sound as if my father letting me go was my fault,” she told him. “I was four years old. I didn’t have any say in the decision. And just in case you forgot, Bahanian law forbids a royal child being raised in another country, yet my father let my mother take me away. He didn’t even try to stop her.”

She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. All her life she’d had to live with the knowledge that her father hadn’t cared enough about her to keep her around. She didn’t doubt that if she’d been a son, he would have refused to let her go. But she was merely a daughter. His only daughter, but that was obviously not significant to him.

She felt her frustration growing. It wasn’t fair. It had never been fair and it was never going to be fair in the future. One day she would figure that out. Maybe on the same day she would cease caring what people thought about her. Maybe then she would be mature enough not to worry when they formed opinions and judged her before even meeting her. Unfortunately that day wasn’t today and she hated that Kardal’s low opinion stung more so than usual.

“You can say what you want,” she told Kardal. “You can have your opinions and your theories, but no one knows the truth except me.”

“I will admit that much is true,” he said, his deep voice drifting around her and making her wonder what he was thinking.

“Relax now,” he continued. “We will travel for much of the day. Try to rest. You didn’t sleep much last night.”

She started to ask how he knew, then remembered they had been tied together. Although she’d fallen asleep right away, she’d awakened several times, tossing and turning until she could doze off again. No doubt she’d kept him awake as well. What with being kidnapped, blindfolded and left with her wrists tied, Sabrina wasn’t sure she was even sorry.

She drew in a deep breath and tried to relax. When the tension in her body began to ease, she allowed her mind to drift. What would it be like to be someone as in charge of his world as Kardal? He was a man of the desert. He would answer to no one. She’d always been at the beck and call of her parents. They were forever sending her back and forth, as if neither really wanted her around.

“Do you really live in the City of Thieves?” she asked sleepily.

“Yes, Sabrina.”

She liked the sound of her name on his lips. Despite her predicament, she smiled. “All your life?” she asked.

“Yes. All my life. I went away to school for a few years, but I have always returned to the desert. This is where I belong.”

He spoke with a confidence she envied. “I’ve never belonged anywhere. When I’m in California, my mother acts like I’m in the way all the time. It’s better now that I’m older, but when I was young, she would complain about how she wasn’t free to come and go as she wanted. Which wasn’t true because she just left me with her maid. And in Bahania…” She sighed. “Well, my father doesn’t like me very much. He thinks I’m like her, which I’m not.”

She shifted to get more comfortable. “People don’t appreciate the little things in their lives that show they belong. If I had them, I would appreciate them.”

“Perhaps for ten minutes,” Kardal said. “Then you would grow weary of the constraints. You are spoiled, my desert bird. Admit it.”

Her sleepiness vanished and she sat up straight. “I am not. You don’t know me well enough to be making that kind of judgment. Sure, it’s easy to read a few things and listen to rumors and decide, but it’s very different to have lived my life.”

“I think you would argue with me about the color of the sky.”

“Not if I could see it.”

“However you talk around me,” he said, “I’m not removing the blindfold.”

“Your attitude needs adjusting.”

He laughed. “Perhaps, but not by you. As my slave, you will be busy with other things.”

She shivered. Did the man really intend to keep her as his personal slave? Was that possible? “You’re kidding, right? This is all a joke. You think I need a lesson and you’re going to be the one to teach it to me.”

“You’ll have to wait and see. However, don’t be too surprised when you find out I have no intention of letting you go.”

She couldn’t get her mind around the idea. It was crazy. This wasn’t fourteenth-century Bahania. They were living in the modern world. Men didn’t keep slaves. Or maybe in the wilds of the desert, they did.

She swallowed hard. “What, ah, exactly would you want me to do?”

He was silent for several heartbeats, then she felt him lean toward her. His breath tickled her ear as he whispered, “It’s a surprise.”

“I doubt it will be a very good one,” she murmured dryly.

Sounds awakened her. Sabrina jerked into consciousness, not aware that she’d been asleep. For a second she panicked because she couldn’t see, but then she remembered she was both bound and blindfolded.

“Where are we?” she asked, feeling more afraid than she had before. There were too many noises. Bits of conversation, yells, grunts, bleats. Bleats?

She listened more closely and realized she heard the sounds of goats bleating and the bells worn by cattle. There were rooster calls, clinks of money, not to mention dozens of conversations occurring at the same time. The fragrance of cooking meat competed with the desert animals and the perfumed oils for sale.

“A marketplace?” she asked. Her stomach lurched. “Are you going to sell me?”

A coldness swept over her. Until this moment, she hadn’t really thought through her situation. Yes, she’d been Kardal’s prisoner, but he’d treated her well and she hadn’t felt more than inconvenienced. Suddenly things were different. She was truly his captive and at his mercy. If he decided to sell her, she couldn’t do anything to stop him. No one would listen to the protests of a mere woman.

“Don’t think you have to throw yourself in front of the next moving cart,” Kardal said calmly. “Despite the appeal of the idea, I’m not going to sell you. We have arrived. Welcome to the City of Thieves.”

Sabrina absorbed the words without understanding them. He wasn’t going to sell her to some horrid man? Her life wasn’t in danger?

She felt his fingers against the back of her head, then her blindfold fell away. It took several seconds for her eyes to adjust to the late-afternoon light. When they did, she could only gasp in wonder.

There were dozens of people everywhere she looked. Hundreds, actually, dressed in traditional desert garb. She saw women carrying baskets and men leading donkeys. Children running between the crowds. Stalls had been set up along a main stone street and vendors called out enticements to come view their wares.

It was a village, she thought in amazement. Or a town. The City of Thieves really existed? Did she dare believe it?

She half turned in her saddle to glance at Kardal. “Is it real?”

“Of course. Ah, they’ve noticed us.”

She returned her attention to the people and saw they were pointing and staring. Instantly Sabrina was aware of feeling dirty and mussed. Her cloak lay across her lap, hiding her bound hands, and a thin cloth covered her hair so no one could see the bright red color. Still, she was a woman sharing a saddle with a man. Worse, she had western features. Her skin wasn’t as dark as a native’s and the shape of her eyes was all wrong. There was also something about her mouth. She’d never quite figured out exactly what bow or curve set her apart, she only knew that she was rarely mistaken for a true Bahanian.

“Lady, lady!”

She glanced toward the high-pitched voice and saw a small girl waving at her. Sabrina started to wave back only to remember at the last second that her hands were bound. She had to settle for nodding pleasantly.

“Where is the treasure kept?” she asked. “Can I see it? Do you have it inventoried?”

Before he could answer, she heard a most peculiar sound. Something familiar, yet so out of place that she—

She turned toward the noise and gasped. There, on the edge of the marketplace, was a low stone wall. On the other side, a lazy river flowed around a bend and disappeared from view.

“Water?” she breathed, barely able to believe what she saw.

“We have an underground spring that supplies all our needs,” he told her, urging his horse through the crowd. “On the east side of the city, it returns underground, here it provides irrigation for our crops.”

Sabrina was stunned. In the desert, water was more valuable than gold, or even oil. With water, a civilization could survive. Without the precious commodity, life would end very quickly.

“I read several references to a spring in some of the diaries,” she said, “but no one mentioned a river.”

“Perhaps they weren’t allowed to see it, or chose not to write about it.”

“Maybe. How long has it existed?”

“Since the first nomads founded the city.”

She jerked her attention away from the flowing river and focused again on the marketplace. “These people can’t all be nomads. By definition, they would want to spend some portion of the year in the desert.”

“True enough. There are those who live permanently within the city walls. Others stay for a time and move on.”

Walls? Sabrina searched the far edges of the marketplace for the beginnings of walls. It was only then that she noticed they appeared to be riding through a giant courtyard. She turned in the saddle to glance behind them. Nearly a quarter mile away were massive stone walls.

“It’s not possible,” she breathed, amazed by the sheer size of the city.

“And yet it exists.”

They approached an inner set of walls. She raised her gaze to study the thick stone, taking in the massive wooden arch that was actually a frame for the largest set of double doors she’d ever seen. They had to be at least fifty or sixty feet high.

She longed to jump down from the horse and study the doors.

“How old are they?” she asked, barely able to speak through her excitement. “When were they built? Where did the wood come from? Who were the craftsmen? Do they still work? Can you close them?”

“So many questions,” Kardal teased. “You haven’t seen the most magnificent part yet.”

She was about to ask what could be better than those incredible doors when they moved through the arch. On the other side of the inner wall was a second courtyard. Sabrina glanced around with great interest. The walls continued to circle the city, probably surrounding it completely. How big was the walled city and how long was the wall? Two miles? Ten? Were there—

She raised her head and nearly fell off the horse. Kardal reined the animal to a halt and let Sabrina look her fill. In front of them stood an awe-inspiring twelfth-century castle.

Sabrina tried to speak and could not. She wasn’t sure she was even breathing. The structure rose to the sky like an ancient cathedral, all towers and levels, complete with arrow slits and a drawbridge.

A castle. Here. In the middle of the desert. She couldn’t believe it. Not really. And yet here it was. As she continued to study the design, she recognized that it had been built in sections, modernized, added to and modernized again. There were western and eastern influences, fourteenth-century windows and spires, along with eighteenth-century towers. People walked across the main bridge. She could see shapes moving inside.

A real live, to-scale working castle.

“How is this possible?” she asked, her voice breathy with shock. “How has it stayed a secret all these hundreds of years?”

“The color, the placement.” Behind her Kardal shrugged.

Sabrina studied the sand-colored stones used to build the castle and noticed the low mountains rising up on either side of the city. It was possible, she supposed, that the city could not be seen from the air. At least not with the naked eye or conventional photography.

“Other governments must know about the city,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “They’ve seen it from satellite photos, infrared.”

“Of course,” Kardal murmured from behind her. “However, it is to everyone’s interest to keep our location a secret.”

They stopped just in front of the entrance to the castle. As Sabrina glanced around, she recognized descriptions from the diaries she’d read. She was absolutely right in the middle of the City of Thieves. She felt almost dizzy from excitement. There was so much to study here; so much to learn.

“I will dismount first,” Kardal said, easing himself off the horse.

Sabrina waited for him to help her down. It was only then that she noticed they’d gathered a crowd. She felt disheveled and dirty, but fortunately very few people were paying attention to her. They were busy watching Kardal and murmuring to themselves.

As he walked around the horse to help her, several men in traditional dress bowed slightly. Sabrina swallowed against a sudden lump in her throat. She had a bad feeling about this.

“Why are they watching you?” she asked. “Did you do something wrong?”

He grinned up at her, then put his hands on her waist and pulled her off the horse. “What a suspicious mind you have. They’re simply greeting me. Welcoming me home.”

“No. That would mean waving as you rode by.” She glanced at the collecting crowd. “This is more than that.”

“I assure you, this is very common.”

He started to lead her up the stairs toward the entrance to the castle. The crowd parted as they walked and everyone bowed. Sabrina stopped suddenly.

“Who are you?” she asked, knowing she wasn’t going to like the answer.

“I have told you, I am Kardal.”

He waited, obviously expecting her to start walking again, but she stood her ground. She glanced around at the happy, almost reverent crowd, then back at him. “Uh-huh. Okay, Kardal, what am I missing?”

He tried to make his expression innocent and failed badly. If her hands hadn’t still been bound, she would have planted them on her hips.

“Look,” she said, both fearful and irritated. “You can call me a spoiled brat if you like, but I’m not stupid. Who are you?”

An old man stepped forward and smiled at her. He was stoop-shouldered and barely came to her chin.

“Don’t you know?” he asked in a quavering voice. “He is Kardal, the Prince of Thieves. He rules this place.”

Sabrina opened her mouth, then closed it. She’d heard of the man, of course. There had been a prince of the city for as long as the mysterious place had existed.

“You?” she asked in disbelief.

Kardal shrugged. “I suppose you had to find out sometime. Yes, I’m the prince here.” He motioned to the castle and the desert beyond. “I am ruler over all we survey. The wild desert is my kingdom…my word is law.”

At that, he jerked the cloak from her bound hands and grabbed her fingers in his. He pulled her up the stairs to the entrance to the castle, then turned to face the murmuring crowd.

“This is Sabrina,” he said, motioning to her. “I have found her in the desert and claimed her as my own. Touch her and you will have breathed your last that day.”

Sabrina groaned. Everyone was staring at her, talking about her. She could feel herself blushing.

“Great,” she muttered. “Death threats to those who would help me escape. Thanks a lot.”

“I say these words to protect you.”

“Like I believe that. Besides, you’re treating me like a possession.”

“Have you forgotten that you’re my slave?”

“I would if you’d give me a chance.” She glared at him. “Next you’ll be putting a collar around my neck, the way my father does with his cats.”

“If you are very good I might just treat you as well as your father treats his cats.”

“I won’t hold my breath on that one, either.”

Kardal laughed as he led her into the castle. She followed, her mind whirling with a thousand different thoughts. Too much was happening at once. She was having trouble keeping up.

“If you’re the Prince of Thieves,” she said, “have you really spent your entire life stealing from other people?”

“I don’t steal. That practice went out of style some time ago. We produce our income in other ways now.”

She wanted to ask what, but before she could, they stepped into the castle. Everywhere she looked she saw beauty. From the perfectly even stone walls to the intricate tapestries to the elegant mosaic tile floor. There were candleholders of gold, frames decorated with gems, paintings and antique furniture.

The main room of the castle was huge, perhaps the size of a football field. It stretched up at least two stories and there were stained-glass windows and skylights to let in the light. She motioned to the candles and gas lamps.

“No electricity?” she asked as Kardal cut the bindings on her wrists.

“We generate some, but not in the living quarters. There we live as we have for centuries.”

Again he took her hand in his, tugging her along. She tried to take everything in, but it was impossible. Everywhere she looked, she saw something old, beautiful and very likely, stolen. There were paintings by old masters and impressionists. She recognized the style but not the subject. There were some she’d seen in books, rare photographs of paintings missing and long thought destroyed.

Kardal led her through a maze of corridors, up and down stairs, twisting and turning until she was completely lost. People passed them, stopping to smile and bow slightly. If she hadn’t been sure of his identity before, by the time they finally stopped in front of double wooden doors, she was convinced. The Prince of Thieves, she thought in amazement. Who knew such a man existed?

It could be worse, she told herself as he pushed open one of the doors. He could be the troll prince. With that thought, she stepped into the room. And gasped. When Kardal released her, she turned in a slow circle, taking in the spacious quarters.

Each item of furniture was huge. The four-poster bed could easily sleep six or seven. There was a fainting couch, covered in the same thick burgundy as the bedspread and a fabulous Oriental carpet on the stone floor. A brilliant mosaic of a peacock displaying for his peahens graced one humongous wall. There was a fireplace as large as her dorm room and books. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of old, leather-bound books.

She crossed to them and reverently ran her fingers along their spines.

“Are they cataloged?” she asked, opening an old copy of Hamlet by Shakespeare, then gasping when she saw an inscription dated 1793. On the small table in front of her sat a hand-illustrated text of the Bible. She’d never seen such bounty.

Still holding the slim volume, she turned to face him. “Kardal, do you know what you have here? It’s priceless. The knowledge and history.”

He dismissed her with a wave. “Someone will see to you. A bath will be brought, along with appropriate clothing.”

She could barely force her attention away from her book to concentrate on what he was saying. “Appropriate?”

Something dark sparked to life in his eyes. “As my slave, you will have certain…responsibilities. To fulfill them you will need to dress to please me.”

She blinked at him. “You can’t be serious.” She replaced the book and for the first time really looked at the room. At the chaise and the very large bed. Her throat tightened.

“Uh, Kardal, really. This is a game, right?” She backed up until she pressed against the far wall. “I mean, I’m Princess Sabra. You have to think this through.”

He walked over to her, striding purposefully until he was directly in front of her. Close enough to touch. Which he did by cupping her jaw.

“I am aware of your identity so there’s no need to play the innocent with me.”

The implication of his words hit her like a slap. She flinched. “Did it ever occur to you that I’m not playing?”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “Your lifestyle in California is well documented. I might not approve of what you’ve done, but I intend to take advantage of it…and you.”

His fingertips barely grazed her cheek, yet she felt his touch all the way down to the pit of her stomach. He stood too close—it was nearly impossible to breathe. Fear combined with a sense of disbelief. He couldn’t really be saying all this. He couldn’t mean to…to—

“We can’t have sex,” she blurted.

“I will not be a selfish lover,” he promised. “You will be well pleased.”

She didn’t want to be pleased, Sabrina thought frantically. She wanted to be believed. Tears burned but she blinked them away. What was the point? Kardal would never listen, no matter how she protested. He thought she was some party girl who slept with every man who asked. Telling him she was a virgin would only make him laugh.

“I doubt my pleasure will be enough payment for what you have in mind,” she said bitterly.

“You’re making that judgment before you’ve had your way with me.”

“The only thing I want is to go back to the palace.”

He dropped his hand to his side. “Perhaps in time. When I grow tired of you. Until then—” He motioned to the room around them. “Enjoy your stay in my home. After all, you’ve finally found your heart’s desire. You now reside in the City of Thieves.”

He turned and left.

Trapped, she thought dully. She was well and truly trapped. She had no idea where she was, and didn’t know a soul to help her.

Sabrina slid down the wall until she sat crouched on the stone floor. He was right. She had found what she’d been looking for. Which reminded her of that old saying. The one about being careful about what one wished for. The wish might come true.

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