Desert Sheikh vs American Princess (23 page)

Everyone else was checking their email on their phones. Or trying to figure out what the crazy foreigner thought was so special that she stared at it for five solid minutes.

"Um, good idea." They should get a move on before the pursuers caught up. "Let's get a move on."

Back in the truck, she barely got her belt buckled before the engine lurched forward.

Seemed like every guard, every driver, and every servant in the palace was one of Suzette's nieces or nephews. With the flick of a finger, the cook had arranged this excursion. Five trucks, twelve people, and the supplies for all of them to stay for a couple of days.

It wouldn't be a couple of days, though. They didn't have that kind of time. They'd be lucky if they got overnight, and Noelle doubted even that.

No problem getting her out of the palace, of course. Two more of Suzette's nieces had been on guard. One of them even jumped into the last truck in the lineup.

She was beginning to wonder if Walid really ruled Askar, or if he only imagined he did.

How much longer?
Bonnie asked, in true eleven-year-old style.
Can this guy drive any faster?

I don't know, and no
, she shot at her friend, but cool relief popped into her at hearing from Bonnie. She'd been silent since they left the palace, making Noelle wonder if she was into this.

Bonnie had seemed gung-ho when they'd first started examining the map, and not put off by the whole altar thing falling through.

The chapel and everything in it had been the ruse. The map was the real thing, though--and she'd managed to figure out what an entire battalion of the German army hadn't. She hugged the knowledge to herself. Maybe there'd be magazine articles about her.
Archeology Monthly
or something.

Once she'd figured out nothing in the chapel worked, that you couldn't trust any of the ceiling spotlights, she'd moved on.

Secret ink,
said Bonnie.
Secret ink is a classic.

Drawing on her knowledge of pirate maps, Noelle had seen what no one else who'd ever held the map had. What Sheikh Osman had hidden in plain sight.

She'd lit a candle and held up the map. Close to the flame, but not too close, of course. In the middle of the desert an icon had appeared. A palm, woven into the fabric with fiber that only stood out when lit from behind. Before going to Walid with it, she'd consulted Suzette, who'd told her about this palm tree, and that the one on the map corresponded to the real-life one.

In fact, the real palm was the only item on the freaky map that was in the right spot. So, didn't it have to be the location? Plus,
Palm of Askar
? The location was right there in the name of the jewel.

It was so simple, and so twisty. The truth in a lie that wasn't a lie.

Then she'd gone to ask Walid to come with her to find the jewel. Nope, he'd been arranging his arranged marriage instead.

She shoved that out of her head and concentrated on the magazine story. This was going to be awesome. Especially when Walid's gold-rimmed eyes turned relieved at not having to marry Kalilah. She couldn't wait to get to the palm.

Not to mention that clock tick-ticking in the back of her mind. They were being followed. No way they weren't being followed. He was coming.

Their convoy had to get to the tree before they got caught and dragged back to the palace. Just
had
to.

"How much longer?" She leaned forward as far as her seatbelt would let her and asked the driver, "Can you drive any faster?"

*****

Walid fumed behind the wheel of the 4x4, as he had been doing for over two hours. Again, he had
felt
her leave the palace grounds. How? How did that happen? Why should he be able to feel where Noelle was?

A pull that he could not ignore had wrenched him from the day's business and forced him to the palace garage. Not his private one, but the place where the motor pool was stored.

He had wasted fifteen minutes arguing with his security team over the wisdom of him going on his own, losing moment after moment as Noelle sped away from him. Finally, he had simply chosen the nearest vehicle, walked to it, and begun to drive. He paid no attention to his security detail rushing to organize into the few remaining 4x4s and come after him.

Agatir Oasis. He knew exactly where she was going. Any student of the map would.

Of all the ridiculous stunts Noelle had attempted, this one was--well, not worse than jumping out her bedroom window, but truly, it was a reckless act.

She was punishing him for her encounter with the Farouks. There could be no other reason for this. Her possessiveness of him and jealousy had eclipsed her rational thought. All she had desired was to get revenge on him for even thinking of another woman only hours after leaving the bed where they had spent a night of passion and sharing, becoming ever closer.

Her thinking mind was not engaged. She was operating solely on jealousy.

His potential fiancée did not care enough to be jealous. Kalilah had made it clear he was free to do as he wanted, even after their marr--

The word would not form, even in his mind. His
engagement
, he corrected.

And here was Noelle, who was so jealous of another woman he had no interest in that she ran into the desert, pulling it around her like a blanket.

Ridiculous.

Yet if it was so ridiculous, why did he savor the thought? A woman--not simply any woman, but one who also happened to have a pirate princess living in her head--wanted him all to herself. Had anyone ever been jealous of him that way? Had anyone taken the kind of interest in his life, in him, that she had? The only reason she would do such a thing was if she cared about him.

A novel concept. Someone who cared about him. She cared about him. Noelle Oldrich cared about him.

It felt... strange.

And he was making plans to get engaged to another woman. Perhaps Noelle's actions were not the ridiculous ones.

No. No, he must do what was right for Askar. That meant acquiring the money required for the pipeline. Getting engaged to Kalilah.

He had driven through Agatir Oasis on autopilot and was now coming to the grove of the palm. He recognized some of the rougher vehicles from his motor pool.

A dozen of his servants scrambled around, pitching traditional-style black tents, lifting faded carpets out of 4x4 trucks. A circle of men argued around a pile of loose twigs and wood that would eventually become a fire, he supposed.

At the center of it all, with her back to the palm and somehow managing not to be overshadowed by the vastness of the tree, stood a calm figure, letting the others orbit around her. Noelle's eyes followed the progress of his vehicle half-lidded. Her flat-lipped, head-cocked expression gave no clue to the emotions driving her. Her hands were folded demurely in front of her long dress.

He tore at the wheel to turn into the circle of their makeshift camp and pounded on the brakes. He ripped at the emergency brake and didn't even bother pressing the off switch before leaping from the truck.

He marched in a straight line toward Noelle, ignoring the servants who had to rush out of his way or get stomped on by His Royal Majesty.

She stood her ground, lifting her chin into the air in regal style. As he got closer, he saw her hands were not just folded, but her wrists were caught in a pair of handcuffs. Someone had dared to do that to her.

Rage blossomed, a heat in the base of his stomach, and before he remembered that he did not raise his voice, he shouted for the keys to the cuffs. In moments, the metal had been removed from her and she rubbed her wrists, which blushed red.

"Thanks," she said, blandly, and eyed his outfit. The dark Italian suit was not the ideal clothing for the desert. The polished dress shoes were already scuffing in the sand. "Didn't have time to change out of your suit?"

"What do you think you are doing?" His voice was still raised, for some reason. "Why were those on you?"

He turned to yell at the nearest servant, but they seemed to have all retreated to behind the circle of vehicles. A neat trick. "Why were these on her?"

He felt a light touch on his jaw, her fingers turning his face back to look at her. "I was the one who insisted on the cuffs. To show you I wasn't trying to run away."

Her words made no sense to him. She could not have known that he would arrive at this place after she did. His dark sea of rage and frustration, a torrent that had been rising since he had known she left the palace, had burst the thin dam that had held it back.

"What do you imagine you are doing? Once again, you have stepped into territory you do not understand, with barely anything to protect yourself. This impulsive behavior must stop, do you comprehend me?"

About this point in his rant, Noelle seemed to become intrigued with a point about a yard behind his head. To anyone who was not in his position, looking into her eyes, it would appear she paid rapt attention to every word he said. Only he could see that her gaze was not focusing on him, that, in fact, she was effortlessly ignoring each phrase unleashed from his mouth.

Yet he could not stop himself from speaking. A symphony of anger rushed out of him, a masterpiece of pent-up irritation. It was only when the final echoing chord of the performance had drained to silence that her focus came back to him, not that distant horizon.

"I assume you're done now," she said, her tone as pleasant as if he'd been asking her how her day had gone. "I'm glad you're here."

Walid refrained from putting his hands to his temples to stop his head from spinning. "Why would that be?"

She grinned, pure mischief in her smile. "We're about to find the Palm of Askar."

"Noelle, I understand your enthusiasm, but you will not find anything here." Shaking his head, he gestured in a wide wave to the surrounding area. "The treasure is not buried here. I studied the map as well, when I was a child. No doubt you realized that the only feature of the map that is correct is the icon of the palm tree. The jewel is not here. You can no longer see the holes, but this area was carefully excavated, inch by inch, by the Germans."

Noelle shrugged. "I know. Suzette told me."

"If you know, then what are you doing here? What do you imagine you will find?"

She rolled her eyes. "I told you. We're going to find the Palm of Askar. But we're not going to dig it up."

He opened his mouth to object, but before he could, she continued.

"Walid, we're not going to dig it up." She pointed to the top of the massive palm. "We're going to bring it down."

*****

"You," said Walid, "are not going up there."

You're not the boss of us,
pouted Bonnie.
He's not the boss of us, Noelle. We can do what we want. Tell him. You tell him!

Noelle's mouth went dry. Well, drier than it already was in this desert outpost.

It would take three people with their arms extended to circle the base of the tree. The wide green fronds hung over two hundred feet above their heads. Her inner eleven-year-old was dying to grab the equipment sitting nearby and scramble up, thumbing her nose at gravity.

But even a pirate princess had to acknowledge her limitations.

Bonnie, this isn't the backyard maple from back home
, she told her friend.
It's time to be the captain, not a bilge rat. There are people around here who climb trees for a living. Not to mention that this tree is sacred to them. We need to respect that.

You're just like your dad. You don't want us to have any fun.

Stop it. Today is about the jewel and that's final
, she ordered her friend.

"Of course I'm not climbing the tree," Noelle told Walid, as if there hadn't ever been any question. "What an idea. Someone with the skills will do that."

The major industry of Agatir was date farming. The crop had originally been a huge contributor to caravans being able to travel the Silk Road. Dried dates were easy to carry and held a lot of food energy. They didn't require any water to be edible--they could be eaten as they were.

The industry had survived. Of course, now the dates were dried, packed in plastic, and shipped to North America and China on ships, not by camel.

Many of the inhabitants of Agatir were involved in the harvest for the local date factory. They made their living climbing palms to collect the fruit that hung from stalks just under the leaves, far at the top of the trees. A lot of the dates were harvested using modern machines--forklifts with buckets on them or the vehicles known as "cherry pickers." But there were still--and would probably always be--people who could run a leather strap or rope around the tree and climb up by just holding the rope tight, leaning back, and essentially walking up.

Which someone would have to do now, since there wasn't a forklift in the country that could get anyone up two hundred feet.

The jewel was up there, she knew. Hiding in the leaves, safe since 1941.

With Walid's wrath defused, Noelle noticed that Suzette's family had inched toward the base of the tree, while keeping a respectful distance from their king. They weren't alone. Dozens of oasis natives had shown up and milled around, excited and curious about the sudden excitement in their small town. In addition to the inhabitants of the oasis and Suzette's nieces and nephews, now Walid's security detail (which had arrived a few minutes behind him) had joined in the gathering.