Karina struggled up from the depths of unconsciousness. Her limbs were strangely weighted down, and her head felt as if it were filled with cotton. Desert sand seemed to have coated her throat, and she thought she would pay anything for a glass of water right then. She tried for several moments before she was able to open her eyes to mere slits. Even then, the light of the single candle burning in the room hurt her eyes, and she squeezed them shut again.
In the moment she had opened her eyes, nothing seemed familiar, and she wondered vaguely where she was. She tried hard to remember what had happened to her. Had she fainted? She had never been one to swoon, so she wasn't sure if this was what it felt like to faint. She tried to recall how she had gotten here, but all she could remember was a rolling motion, as if she were adrift on the sea. The motion had seemed to go on forever, but perhaps it was only for a few moments? She had no idea how long she had been unconscious, but she felt an urgent need to rouse.
Karina tried once again to open her eyes, and she managed to open them slightly. The pain from the light was less intense this time, and she blinked several times to clear her vision. She looked around and was surprised to find that the walls seemed to be made of some kind of fabric. They hung at strange angles, and weird shadows danced against them, thrown by the single candle burning on a stand beside her. She realized that she was inside a tent. But how could that be? There certainly weren't any tents around the Viceroy's palace.
She looked down and saw that she was lying on a bed of sorts, made from several thick, soft pads topped by silk sheets. She was still dressed in her finery from the ball, but there were smudges of dirt on her dress and her hair was in complete disarray, with some of the pins coming loose.
She couldn't imagine where she was. She managed to sit up, and moaned slightly as her head began to spin all over again. Her throat was very dry, and she found it difficult to swallow. She heard a small movement, and whirled to see a man reclining on a pile of pillows not far away. Her quick movement made her head reel, and she reached up to touch her temple, as her world slowly stopped spinning. The man made no movement toward her. He simply sat in the shadows and watched her.
The candle burning beside the bed was the only light in the room, and the man was shrouded in darkness. Karina was surprised to see how large the tent was. The bed she sat on had two small tables beside it, and the sleeping area was separated from the rest of the tent by a curtain that could be drawn when desired. On the other side of the curtain was an area for preparing food and a small table low to the ground. Beside that was a large seating area, with plush pillows arranged in a circular pattern on the floor, and it was there that the man lay on his side, leaning on an elbow. She squinted at him and was able to ascertain that he was dressed in a traditional Arabic robe, and his head was covered by a long cloth and wrapped by a double thickness of rope. She couldn't make out his features in the darkness, but she could see that he was watching her. She could only see the candlelight reflecting in his eyes.
"Where am I?" she managed to croak. He didn't respond, but cocked his head slightly to one side as he returned her stare. Perhaps he didn't speak English. She knew almost no Arabic, and her mind raced as she wondered how she might communicate with him. She swallowed to moisten her parched throat and tried again. "Wanee?" she asked in Arabic, using one of the few words she had learned in case she got lost to ask where she was. There was still no response. "Please sir, tell me how I came to be here."
"I brought you here," he said, so low that she had to strain to hear him.
Karina noticed that he had spoken in perfect English, and she tried to subdue a rising sense of panic. The stranger's delay in responding made her hackles rise.
"But why? I don't understand." When he gave no answer, she made her voice as commanding as she could. "Where have you taken me? My father will be very angry when he is unable to find me!" She spoke in the same stern tone of voice that she had used in the past to handle difficult servants or a naughty sister. However, it didn't have the desired effect on this man.
Finally, he rose from his pallet and sauntered toward her with feline grace. It was the way he walked that finally made her brain register where she had heard that voice before. She knew who he was before he entered the circle of light.
"You!" The word burst from her mouth as she stared at him in shock.
He stepped before her and executed another deep bow. "Sir Richard Bryant, at your service." His smile didn't reach his eyes, and the coldness in those deep green orbs caused tiny goosebumps to rise on her flesh.
Her mind raced, as images flooded back. The wine, the dizziness. He had drugged her! But why? "Have you lost your mind? Why on earth are you dressed like that, and why have you brought me here."
He canted his head slightly to one side again. "All you know about me is that I am Sir Richard Bryant, Earl of Wiltshire. But what you don't know is that I am also known to the Bedouins as Rashid, one of their own. They look to me as their Sheik, their leader, their protector. In order to fulfill that role, I dropped out of polite society a few years ago. Only my Bedouin people know of my dual identity."
Her amazement was written clearly on her features. For the second time this evening, she racked her brain, trying to remember everything she had ever heard about this man. However, this time, she was trying to remember references to the Sheik Rashid. She hoped that her father's references to him were more accurate than those of Lord Rawlins, for her father had always believed him to be an honorable man! She swallowed convulsively and tried to bolster her sagging confidence.
He was watching her closely. Indeed, too closely! "You must be very thirsty. Here, take some water." He handed her an earthenware cup filled with cold, clear water.
She took it and shivered as her cold fingers brushed his warm ones. Glaring up at him, she inquired acidly, "Is the water drugged too?" He merely gave her an insolent smile, and despite her unease, she drank as if she had never seen water before. When she had drained the cup completely, she handed it back, feeling only slightly better. "You still haven't answered my question," she stated as calmly as she could. "Why have you brought me here?"
He gave her another icy smile. "You, my dear Karina, are my revenge against your father, Sir William Sinclair."
"Revenge?" she whispered incredulously. "You said yourself that you had never even met him before! Why could you possibly be seeking revenge against a man you've never met?"
"I may never have met your father, but unfortunately my wife did. Just before he raped and murdered her." He uttered the words with a deadly calm that assured Karina he wasn't joking.
"No, it's not true!" Karina felt as if the world were teetering again, as the blood drained from her face. "My father has never injured a soul, nor would he ever harm a woman!"
Richard returned her stare and answered with barely suppressed rage. "I assure you, it is true. Your father raped and murdered my wife. He made sure I would know it was him."
