The Sheik Who Loved Me by Loreth Anne White Read Free Book Online Page B

to the mirror. But as she did, a bright-white light stabbed through her head. She gasped. Her hand shot to the neat line of stitches under her hairline. It was as if she’d seen something. As if dark glass had cracked and let in a painful bright shard of memory. A memory that had something to do with the color of this jade-green silk. Something more than just the color. But as sharp and fast as it had come, it was gone.
    Sahar’s heart pounded. She carefully set the dress back onto the bed. She couldn’t possibly put it on. She had to find a way out of this without upsetting Kamilah.
    But before she could speak, the unmistakable sound of galloping hooves once again thudded into her brain. The Arabian horseman—David Rashid.
    She spun around and peered out the window inexplicably hungry for another glimpse of the man on his stallion.
    She saw him coming back up along the ridge at a hell-bent pace, spurts of red dust shooting up behind the stallion’s hooves, the horse’s mane and tail flying free with the wind of speed. Her breath caught once again at the primitive image of the powerful man astride his white horse.
    “That’s my daddy,” said the small voice at her side.
    Sahar released her breath in a whoosh. “Wow, he sure can ride. What a beautiful horse.”
    “He’s got lots of horses. That’s Barakah, his stallion. He’s just broken him in.” Pride for her father had burst out in a spurt of words that left the little girl looking shell-shocked at the sound of her own voice.
    Sahar chose not to comment, to go with the flow as if nothing was unusual. “You’re kidding? He’s totally in control. That stallion must be a devil to ride, but your dad makes it look like he was born on the horse.”
    Kamilah shrugged.
    “So, was he born on a horse?”
    A smiled struggled across Kamilah’s lips. “Kind of.”
    Sahar crouched down again. “How so?”
    “My…my daddy, he used to ride with his daddy, Sheik Omar bin Zafir Rashid, when he was very little, in the desert. That’s where he learned how.”
    “Sheik? Your grandfather’s a sheik?”
    The little girl nodded.
    “And does he live here, too?”
    She shook her head. “He’s dead now. Like my mummy. He was the leader of a nomad tribe in the desert. Now daddy is the sheik.”
    Curiosity quickened through Sahar. Somehow, instinctively she’d known David Rashid was connected with the Sahara. And the fact he was titled slotted into her brain like a missing puzzle piece. “So is that where your father is from? The Sahara desert?”
    Kamilah nodded.
    “But he’s also got a bit of an English accent.”
    She nodded again.
    “So he’s from two places? From England and the desert?” She felt a twinge of guilt at pressing the child like this for information on her father, but she couldn’t help herself.
    The child smiled shyly. “Yes, and he’s been teaching me to ride. Horses and camels, too.”
    “Your daddy must be very, very proud of you.”
    Kamilah shook her head solemnly. “He’s upset with me.”
    “Oh, sweetheart, why on earth would he be upset with you?”
    “Be-becau-because I…I can’t talk.” She stumbled over her words, suddenly self-conscious again.
    “Oh, honey,” she bent down, took Kamilah’s hands in her own, “you are talking. Beautifully. Listen to yourself.”
    Tears pooled along the rims of the child’s big eyes. “I…I can talk to you…but…I…I can’t talk…to my daddy. Or…or anyone.”
    “Because I’m a mermaid? Is that why you feel you can talk to me?”
    “Yes,” she said in a tiny voice. “Because I knew my mommy would send you from the sea.”
    A swell of emotion choked Sahar’s throat. “And that’s why you were waiting for me? You knew your mother would send you something from the sea, because that’s where she went?”
    Tears spilled from Kamilah’s eyes and ran in a sheen over her smooth brown cheeks. Sahar took the child’s shoulders in her hands and looked into her eyes. “Kamilah,