"Why would I even bother talking to you, since you've been lying to me from the beginning?" His thumb brushed across her chin, sending more waves of heat through her that she fought hard against and stood her ground, cagey.

"It's not nice to call the person, who saved you from slavery, names."

"What?" She blinked at him. "What are you saying?" From slavery? Her frazzled brain tried to comprehend. Hearing it out loud was different from thinking it.

His hand fell away. "That you are safe. So tell me about that transmitter."

Claire eyed him off closely. Did he expect her to believe that? "How do I know you aren't just saying that to get them to back off?"

"Unless you want them to be blown out of the sky, without permission of using our air space that is exactly what would happen." She glared at him, watching him closely.

"Who? Are you some sort of terrorist with surface-to-air missiles?"

"Well, well, well, we have some sort of knowledge of weaponry."

"Yeah, I watch a lot of telly as in movies."

Suspicion entered his eyes and began stalking around her again. "Give me details of how you got yourself in this position."

"Aren't you worried, you will be blown out of your tents?"

"They would not while I have you. They would not take the risk. I will choose the time and place."

"What are you talking about? There is no radio or walkie-talkie built into it. It's just a transmitter." Holding his arm, he stroked his stubble jawline. Realising her mistake, Claire closed her mouth tightly. She had preferred it when he had acted dumb and remained silent, the sneaky Arab! He can't be trusted, eyeing him off sideways with suspicion. "Who are you?"

"You know."

"Khalid? Is that even real?"

"Probably as real as your name," he tossed back at her.

"Then that would be a yes. Khalid what? Or is that a big secret?"

"Until I know made more about you," he tapped her nose with her passport then handed it over. "We will be moving out tomorrow until then, enjoy your breakfast," she stepped away as two men entered carrying a table and chair, followed by another, placing a plate on the table. "I do not drug my guests nor do I take advantage of them in any way. Remember where you were and where you are now, Claire Donovan. Have I harmed you in any way?"

He had to be kidding her. "Oh, really, how about tossing me over your shoulder, then the horse like a sack of potatoes?"

"All for show. I could not carry you out like some princess needing rescuing."

"I'm not a princess needing rescuing," she snarled, seeing red. He didn't know her at all.

"No, just a she-wolf with teeth." Her eyes widened. She-wolf. He dared to call her that. "Are you telling me you didn't want to sink your teeth into me often?" He dared with a curling lip.

"I think I have reason to, by the way, I was treated. Did you have to poke me with your smelly foot?"

He gave her a look of disbelief. "I do not have smelly feet."

"How would you know? Have you sniffed them? They were far too close, for my good health." Knowing she was pushing it, however, was annoyed beyond words. With him, and this ridiculous situation. If she was free, why wasn't she allowed to leave?

"If you were concerned about your good health, you would have stayed in your own country, would have you not?" Not to be intimated and bullied by him, she wandered over towards the table and glanced over her breakfast of eggs, beans and some sort of meat with a round flatbread that she removed, pulled off a piece and bit into it, then turned on him, an arm around her waist, waving the bread in the surrounding area.

"Are you saying it's not safe to be in your country?"

"You were not taken in my country," he pointed out. "We do not believe in such things."

"Most people don't, yet also taken by your people, as in race. Why else would they stay out here?"

His jaw clenched and his eyes darkened as they narrowed dangerously. "Do not judge my people or my country by how others behave. Shall I bring up your bloodshed corruptive behaviour?"

"Mine!" She gasped, eyes rounded. "What did I do? I was the one, kidnapped, drugged and sold to you!" She spat, and then ripped into the flatbread with her teeth, snarling.

Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose, breaking out in Arabic about a damn impossible woman. "I will talk to you later, we will be leaving shortly."

"What? Where? Why can't you just let me go if you're such a big hero saving me?"

"I will see that you arrive safely home, personally." With that, he was gone.

No! Not what she wanted. She couldn't go home, dropping into the chair, stabbing the egg with the bread and stirring around. The problem was she had no idea where he had taken her from, which country, only desert. Surely it wouldn't be that far, ridden in by horseback. She had no idea how long they had ridden. It had been another day. Another day lost. She couldn't afford too many more.

Then there was the panic alarm she had sent out, removing the transmitter that she looked at. What if she swallowed it? As far as she knew, if it wasn't on her, they can't pinpoint her, no matter what she implied. If he had stomped on it the signal would've died. She can't believe he believed that, removing a fork to mix beans into the eggs and forking in her mouth that hit her taste buds with flavour.

Another entered crossing over to place down a long spouted server and cups, where mint tea was poured into a glass cup. "Thank you," she removed the cup and sipped from it, once again wondering who was doing all the cooking. Probably some poor slave girl, hidden away from sight, was cooking all day to feed his men, sinking her teeth into more flatbread and ripping off a piece. He was correct she had wanted to sink her teeth into him often, smiling.

****

The damn woman was infuriating. Khalid paced his tent, phone near his ear. "Have you got the signal? Good. Find out where it has been transmitted to," he waited while it was traced.

For one, after what she had been through, was bossy. Apart from the time on the horse, when she had held him, feeling a connection. He had only wanted to reassure her. By the looks of things, she hadn't heard. That one had confidence and spoke her mind. Probably far too much. However, he also couldn't help admiring her. She just had to realise its best if she didn't keep fighting him, yet still didn't have the full story.

"Yes, good, put me through." He walked away, heading towards the oasis water, away from the tents. Khalid wouldn't put anything passed her. Pretty sure she would eavesdrop if she thought she could get away with it. The less she knew about him the better at this stage. He needed to know what she was doing here, travelling on a false passport. A very impressive one.

Within a very short time, he had a meeting set up, a flight plan organised, shutting down the phone. He headed back towards the tent where his guest was. Eyeing off the guard, who nodded. He also needed a man to investigate Claire Donovan's background. Maybe she only had her age changed. If so, why. She had been asking questions in the dark side of the streets.

What was she really up to? Too chatty and grumbling to be a spy. There was nothing about her being under the radar, not to stand out. Also understood why she had been a target. Her beauty is beyond words. He needed answers. Time to get some. The one, whom he had been talking to, had been vague as well, whoever Claire was she had connections. Unless it's a private army. Mercenaries?

He strode into the tent, letting the flap fall behind him. The breakfast dishes cleared away. Claire was still seated at the table, lingering over the mint tea, caressing over with a finger, deep in thought by the frown lines. Then he was looking into sky-blue eyes. He had never seen such eye colour. No matter what he saw the truth. She was so out of her depth. So everything was a facade. He eased down into a chair opposite, crossing his legs, placing a forearm on the table, fingers tapping.

Instead of probing, he poured himself a glass of mint tea and held it one-handed; taking a sip that was cool and refreshing. She eyed him closely, leaning back in her seat, glass on the table. "So where do we go from here?"

Yes, take the lead, trying to control the situation. He waved a hand around. "You tell me." She eyed him off suspiciously. Not a very trusting soul. Then why should she be? What had she said, taken against her will, drugged? He would leave the other out; after all, he had bought her freedom.

"I told you, I do not go around buying women. You will be going home." He didn't add when he was good and ready. He just needed to get rid of this transmitter issue under the disguise of the government of the country, as a high official. "For now you have the freedom of the camp. I am sure you will not try to escape; you already know that will not work. If you want another bath, I can arrange it."

Her eyes narrowed, her arms crossed, leaning back. "You are awfully accommodating," Unfolding her arms; she reached for her glass and took a sip. "Or I could swim in the oasis."

"Wearing what?" He arched a brow. "I did not see any form of swimwear."

"Done a thorough search of my belongings I see," she noted dryly, chest heaving, folding her arms again, foot-tapping from cross legs. Impatient, have to be busy, didn't like to be told, eyes adverting away. Why, because she didn't want him to see.

"I guess we could share the water."

Her head shot around, eyes wide. "Well, that's not going to happen."

A smile curled his lips, noticing how her gaze lowered. "Haven't we already."

She held up her hand. "Nothing to do with me, my foot slipped." Standing, she moved away from the table. "I'm going to get some fresh air if that is alright with his lordship?"

"Off you go, but not too far, we have a meeting in the desert." That stopped her in her tracks and looked back at him shocked.

"Who with?"

Crossing his arms, he leaned back into the chair, feeling smug. "Your little transmitter friend, who else?"

Her jaw dropped, her mouth opened, then closed, shook her head and walked out. Not quite the reaction he had expected, standing and crossing over to the flap and opening, watching where she went. She headed straight for the water, away from the horses. Now, why would that upset her? Back rigid, she stared across the waters, arms crossed by her stance. Usually, he found the view very peaceful, but not with this one.

With this one, he had very different feelings, mixed with frustrations. Also, feelings he had never really had before. His whole life focused on the future, and what he had to do since he had lost his family and his parents. And his people and country had been placed on his shoulders. He had to stop the urge to go after her and spend more time with her, knowing she needed some breathing space. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to know.

Who are you my blue-eyed beauty?

Riding out into the desert, alone, Claire kept up with him easily, looking graceful and at home on the Arabian Stallion. Khalid couldn't help but admire that about her. There were many things about this woman he couldn't help admiring, apart from her retorts and defiance.

She went up against him, toe to toe, and didn't back down, with fire in her sky-blue eyes. Still, she remained silent about why she was there. Hopefully, he would have some answers before they headed towards his desert retreat.

Raising his hand, they both stopped.

Claire looked around and wondered what was so special about this spot. Lifting her eyes towards the skies as they heard a deep humming. Helicopter. Army, which was flying low, below the radar. Her eyes darted across towards Khalid, who had unsaddled to follow his actions.

"You organise this?" She asked, dazed, seeing him in a different light. "Who are you?"

"That's my question, Claire Donovan. Is that even your real name?" He asked again.

"Yes," she breathed. Well, half the truth.

"Yet you had a false passport. Why?"

Maybe, if she gave a little, he would also. "An age thing," she waved away casually as no biggie.

"Who do you know to have one made?"

"Black market," she offered. It was a proper passport, just altered so how did he know, eyeing him off? She had been played. He was good and he was no desert bedouin. He knew far too much, organised all this, turning towards him, and arms folded, legs apart. "How did you manage all this?" Crossing his arms, he looked back, waiting for the helicopter to lower.

"You have five minutes." Frowning, she pressed a finger over her lips. Did that mean she was staying, if so, why? Hadn't he said he would see her home? Wasn't this seeing her home?

Khalid headed towards the landed helicopter, where a man jumped dressed in black, wearing no identifiable markings of what he was, who was striding towards Khalid. Daniel Parker. Claire quickly caught up to them, trotting up to Khalid's side.

No one else left the helicopter. Khalid and Daniel walked off, talking in low tones as Daniel signalled her to stay back. Stopping, she clutched her arms, fingers digging in, glaring at them both. How typical. She was the one doing all the digging, taking the risk and leaving out the important stuff unless Daniel didn't want to give the game away. Then surely he would be demanding her to leave with them.

Khalid looked back and waved her across, where she rushed across, knowing time was running out. "You have two minutes," she was informed as they passed each other. It gave her hope, joining Daniels' side.

"I need to stay," she whispered since he meant her no harm. "I need to get back on the track. If I go home now, I fear we will never find her."

"Yes, well, it seems your host wants you to stay as well. He wants to go over all the details of your trip here, who you talked to and so forth."

"I cannot afford to be delayed by him," she hissed. The last thing she wanted.

"He said you will be taken somewhere safe. Probably a day. Give him what he wants to hear, and then get out," his hand skimmed under her hand, slipping a black leather sheath onto the palm of her hand that she pushed up the sleeve. "Time is running out."

"I know."

A beep on Daniel's watch had him back on the helicopter as she stepped back, watching it lifted, turned and disappeared, leaving her behind. "It is time to go." She turned around and stared up at the man already saddled. He had her horse at his side, rein in hand that he offered. To go to where? Did she dare ask?

Arriving back at the campsite, she was surprised to find they hadn't packed up. "Is this some sort of permanent set-up?" She asked. He remained silent. She eyed him sideways. "Is this how it is going to be?"

"Until I know more about you, the less you know, the better."

"I thought we were moving out today," she asked innocently. She needed to get out of the desert, and move to a town, city, or wherever he was taking her. At least she would have more options than being out here. Not that she had any idea where this was.

The last thing Claire had expected was the arrival of another helicopter, landing at the oasis, not quite military, yet, also not your rich man's ostentatious ride. In addition, it was completely blacked out. Holding the black bag, one that Khalid had given her; Claire was helped inside, where they settled in the back, with a black partition between them and the pilot.

The door slammed shut, and then they were taken off and away from the desert oasis. She couldn't see a thing, trying to work out what direction they were flying in, then again, how would that help her, when she had no idea where she was?

"Do I dare ask where this little baby came from?" She inquired, patting her seat.

"You're not the only person with powerful friends," he stated.

She turned to look out the window only to see black, damn. Okay, she would suss out the situation when she arrived at wherever they were going. She needed to come across as more cooperative. Give him what he wanted, then hightail it out of there, so relaxed in her seat, closing her eyes and enjoying the flight.

Landing, Claire hopped down and kept her head low, bag in hand. Khalid once again grabbed her arm, not that she could do a runner, surrounded by high sandstone walls as they darted inside, doors closing behind.

"You do know you don't have to manhandle me all the time," she pointed out.

His hand fell away. "I did not realise I was. This way, my lady," he made a wide sweep of his arm in gesture, leading the way through the building. Wherever this was, she bit her tongue, not wanting to sound too interested, then again.

"So where are we?"

"My place," he informed her that was no answer at all. "A safe place."

She eyed him sideways at his side, keeping up with his long stride. "I thought you were going to let me go?"

"I said I would escort you home personally," he corrected.

"And when would that be? I could have flown out today," she challenged.

Thoughtfully he looked down upon her uplifted face. "You know that doesn't work for either of us."

Eyes widening, she stared at him innocently, shaking her head. "I have no idea what you are talking about. I didn't ask to be kidnapped, drugged and bought."

"That is what I need to know, how you got yourself into that position."

"Well, I didn't ask for it," she sniped, with a sniff.

He released a long breath and walked off down a long corridor. Claire picked up the pace, keeping up with him, which was no easy task, having no idea the size of this place, or the area, staying close to him. After all, he did seem to be the one in charge.

The sandy-coloured walls were plain, with no Arabic design at all, as they weaved through the building until he stopped, opening a door, letting her enter first. She stopped dead, and her jaw dropped. It was like stepping into another world, stepping back into the corridor of bland walls, back into the bountiful Arabesque palette in colour and design with archways.

A large Persian rug of deep reds, threaded with gold, white, and yellow spread across a marble floor, pillar arched doorway divided the room. The first was a sitting area with wall-to-wall seating on each side, with a long marble-topped table, separating them, systematised patterned. Also, the ceiling was carved and interlaced with hanging chandeliers.

Her father's estate was old money, this was glamorous, yet had such a history of their culture. "This is insane," she breathed.

"Not minimalist at all," he noted dryly.

Heat burned her cheeks. "Oh," that explained the suddenly added colour, flavour of Arabian Nights. "I prefer this," she added. She stepped over to touch the walls, feeling the texture; eyes raised to the archway, then fell into the second part that was sultrier, also sedated, walls filled with books.

An enormous dark wood hand-carved desk stood proudly in the corner near the window off towards the side. Claire crossed over towards the arched windows while Khalid settled behind his desk. She faced a hillside, the other side view blocked by large tall palm trees.

Was that done on purpose? So one couldn't see where they were? Was she brought here because of that? Wherever she was, beside a hillside or was that a mountain? Turning around to face the man who looked right at home.

No, this was his office.

At least the sun filtered through across the full carpet area. There was no expense spared, yet was an understated luxury. Although didn't change the situation. Not sure where she stood apart from the fact, she was in no real danger.

Clutching her arms tightly, she paced, so tightly strung like a guitar string ready to break. Leaning back into his chair, Khalid watched her closely. Holding one arm, fingers pressed against his lips from his free hand, saying nothing.

Frustrated, she turned on him, glaring at him, hands on hips, then released a sigh, hands falling away. "It seems I owe you my life, by buying my freedom. However, that causes issues in itself."

"I do not go around buying woman for pleasure, ever," he noted, his hand dropping down, also releasing his other arm, onto his crossed legs. "It was the safest and quickest way to get you out without bloodshed. Did you want me to come charging in, in a blaze of gunfire, and shot anyone who dared to move?" A dark brow arched.

"Hell yeah," rushed out of her, only to blow out a breath rustling her flyaway hair. "No, of course not." Then again, after what they did. "I don't know," she shrugged.

Placing his hands on the desk, he rolled closer. "I know it's been a long tiring day for you. As we speak a room is being prepared." Fingers digging in, she nodded.

"Thank you." However, she needed this over and done with. Stopping in front of his desk, she confronted him. "What do you want to know?"

"I already know about your sister." Her mouth 'ohed'. "I'm more interested, at this stage, in what happened to you. Where you went? What put them onto your trail?"

She shrugged. "How would I know? I was just trying to find my sister." Now he knew that she could use that in her favour. Keep it focused on Fleur than the other. "Shouldn't you be looking for my sister instead?" So Daniel had kept to their story. Surely this would be to her advantage.

"When had she actually disappeared?"

"Didn't Daniel tell you?" She asked while calculating the timeline. "Far too long." She sighed, arms falling to her side, suddenly feeling drained.

"Exact number of days Claire."

"Five days minimal, no longer than seven." Suddenly cold, she hugged herself. A week. She shuddered, closing her mind off to what she was going through, been through.

"And she was taken in the same spot as you?"

Her eyes shot up to him. "I have no idea."

"I'm talking about the country, Claire," she nodded. "Good."

"Good," she squawked. "What's so good about being taken out of your bed," she hissed, followed by a sharp breath, her chest tightening.

"That's not what I meant." Of course not, and she was far too emotional around him, a stranger, yet she had seen more of him in the flesh than her brothers. Or any other form of the male species, feeling the heat rush to her cheeks in memory. She knew what he looked like under those robes, averting her eyes to the beautiful carpet under her feet. This was just one room, wondering what the rest of the place was like. How big was it? What was she doing? None of this mattered, Fleur did. "I have men already trailing movement in our country."

Her eyes shot up. "Have you been looking for her? How is that even possible?" He lifted a hand to stop the barrage of questions.

"Not your sister in particular."

Her eyes widened. "What, you go looking for damsels in distress?" Her desert warrior was on a mission.

Shaking his head, Khalid reached for the phone as it suddenly rang, the one on his desk that he answered, standing. "Don't make me into someone I am not. Yes," he switched to Arabic.

Lowering her gaze, she crossed over to look over the books, running a finger over the leather binding of one, listening. He reframed from speaking and then replaced the receiver. "It seems I am needed elsewhere. Sayyid would show you to the gardens, while you wait for your rooms. He will collect you from here. Do not wander off. We don't want to lose you, Claire Donovan," he walked out without a backward glance. As if he expected her to do as she was ordered, then again, she had nowhere else to go, so waited to be collected and shown through the building to an outside luscious garden courtyard.

Walking around the grounds of the garden, and the surrounding wall that separated her from the outside world was far too high to be seen over. A running waterfall somewhere in the grounds drowned out other sounds unless they were on the edge of the town or city. The blackened helicopter ride hadn't allowed her to see where she had been taken. She needed to sneak out and see what she was up against. Something had caught the corner of her eye, giving her an idea.

There might be a way out after all.

One thing was for sure, Khalid meant her no harm. After all, he had ridden in to rescue her from that situation. A relief. She also had no idea what she was doing, dropping onto a bench seat, losing herself in all the greenery.

Then suddenly he was there. "Your room is ready."

Standing, she looked around, arms folded. "I hope I have a view like this?"

"Yes, you do. You have a balcony to enjoy all this."

"Oh, really?" She shielded her eyes with a hand. "Where is that exactly?"

"Over to your far right, over my shoulder." She glanced across and smiled.

"How lovely," then yawned, scratching her hair. "You don't mind if I crash it? I'm exhausted."

Fingers raked through his thick wavy hair as he released a long breath. "I guess you would be after what you have been through. We will continue our discussion tomorrow. I need to know everything. No matter what you think, we are not barbarians and we do not buy our women."

Slowly she nodded. "Of course not." She brushed fallen hair away from her forehead. "I have been living on my nerves. I'm sorry if I overreacted, but I had no idea who you were, just some Arab, buying for his pleasure."

"I pity anyone who tries to," he smiled to be shot down with daggers. "Only by the fact he would have his hands full. Sayyid will show you to your room. I am hoping you will join me for dinner tonight?"

"Can I have a rain check on that? I really would like to catch up on sleep. I promise to tell you everything tomorrow. Even if I was in your care, I still didn't sleep well last night," she couldn't believe how little time had passed when it seemed like a lifetime. Then she thought of Fleur, wherever she was, how she might be feeling

"As you wish," he waved a man over, who led her away, leaving Khalid behind.