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His lips tweaked. “Of course. I should have known.”
She frowned at his strange response. “Should have known what?”
He glanced at her, but continued to make the coffee. “That such a conversation would be too revealing for an Englishwoman.” He turned and leaned against the table. “You prefer to speak without saying anything of meaning, do you not?”
“No!” she said, wondering if he was, in fact, correct.
“Then tell me the truth. Who are you? You understood some of my Arabic earlier. Not the kind of thing a guidebook wouldhelp you with. You don’t look English. And you’re here, in Sirun.” He narrowed his gaze. “What was your surname again?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t give it.”
She didn’t know why, but she felt a strange reluctance to tell him exactly who she was. Knowledge was power, and she certainly didn’t want to give him any more than he already had.
He poured coffee into the cup and handed it to her. His gaze looked more thoughtful now. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, as if he’d had second thoughts. “Are you hungry?”
She shook her head. “I think I’ve eaten enough sand to fill me up,” she said with a half-smile. Food was the last thing on her mind.
“Then we will drink our coffee and then I will take you to the bedroom.”
“The bedroom?” she repeated faintly.
“Yes. There is only one prepared. I’ll sleep down here.”
She exhaled a held breath. “Right.” She wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved.
“The bathroom is also there. I’m sure after your ordeal you’d like to bathe while I find us something to eat for dinner.”
“Right,” was all she could say. “I mean, yes, thank you.” She took another gulp of coffee and examined the goblet. Yes, definitely gold. It seemed first impressions were definitely deceptive here.
She raised her gaze to him. Her first impressions of Kadar had been one of strength and power, and she’d been scared by the way he’d taken control. Even if that had led to her safety. And now? He was still taking control, but she was no longer scared. She found she wanted to confide in him a little more. She found she wanted him to know her.
“You wanted to know my full name. It’s Sarah Albright. My grandfather—he died recently—was from Sirun. That is why I don’t look like I’m from England. Because I’m not.”
Kadar immediately looked awayfrom Sarah. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her ever since he’d carried her into the castle, out of the storm. But now he could. As he busied himself turning off the gas beneath the Dallah, his mind raced.
He’d come to the castle alone to have time to think—a brief respite before he did as his vizier advised and declared war on the one tribe who threatened his reign and the peace of his country—the Al-Barraq tribe. And then she appeared out of nowhere, like an answer to a prayer.
Albright was the English transliteration of Al-Barraq.
It all made sense now. From the first moment he’d clapped eyes on her, he’d thought she looked familiar. And it turned out he was right. But it wasn’t any particular person she resembled, it was a tribe. And not just any tribe. A tribe that his vizier advised he should declare war on. He’d wanted a more peaceable solution. And, he thought, he might have just found one. Especially as she seemed to have no idea of her true identity. Which was even better.
CHAPTER 3
Sarah swirled the last of her coffee around her cup and frowned into its depth. She guessed he would be surprised that someone sounding so English was from Sirun. She also guessed this kind of thing didn’t happen every day. From what she’d heard about the country—which wasn’t much—the people kept to themselves. Her frown deepened. But that didn’t explain his expression because he looked not only surprised, he looked as if he finally understood something. Only one way to find out what he was thinking. She drew a deep breath and rose from the table, placing her cup on the table beside his. She waited until he glanced at her. But his expression was no longer revealing. Whatever he’d been thinking was hidden behind that impenetrable facade.
“You looked surprised,” she said. “Just then,” she added, because he certainly didn’t any longer.
He shrugged and leaned back against the side table. “Of course. I imagined you were as you first appeared—an English tourist.”
She scanned his face, trying to find something of that earlier expression which had so baffled her. Perhaps she’d imagined it.
“I did not,” he continued, “imagine your family came from Sirun. It is unusual. Sirun is a traditional country with a traditional culture. Few people leave to move elsewhere permanently. But, it seems, your grandfather was one of the few.”
She really didn’t want to reveal what her grandfather had told her about the deaths of her parents. He’d warned her it would be dangerous to divulge it to anyone. She opened her mouth to speak, but smiled and shrugged instead, turning away to hide her confusion. But the light touch of his hand on her arm stopped her from moving away. She turned to him.
“And I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. “No doubt you are here to find out more about your roots.” He withdrew his hand.
She nodded, relieved he understood. “Yes, I knew nothing about Sirun until shortly before my grandfather died. You see, he’d kept it from me my whole life.” She shook her head, still unable to understand. “That’s the whole reason I came here. Ineedto know.”
