The Sheikh's Destiny (Harlequin Romance) by Melissa James Read Free Book Online

coating them further with every movement.
    Alim followed Hana around the hut to the fields, heading towards the only path out, his concentration on two things—being quiet, and trying with all his might not to cough or sneeze. The neckerchief she’d given him to cover his nose and throat was so thickly coated in dirt it was hard to breathe. His scarred skin began to pull and itch in moments.
    At the head of the path, she thrust a canteen in his hands. ‘Wet the bandanna using as little water as possible, and wring it out,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘We have to stay flat until we reach the stream bed. Our last opportunity to fill the canteens for fifty kilometres will be there. Move slowly, and try not to let your sweat touch ground. We can’t afford to make a sound, or give off any scent. The dogs don’t have assault rifles, but they can tear you apart in seconds.’
    So that was why she’d only brought dried, wrapped food, and double-wrapped everything in tight-tied bags. Fightingthe unwanted arousal her lips against his ear had given him— damn his body for all the stupid ideas it had—he nodded and kept following her. Elbows thrust forward and sideways, then a knee, one side then the other, measuring every movement in case it was too big or would dislodge a pebble and make a noise to alert the dogs.
    The next hour was excruciating. Breathing through a wet bandanna, don’t move too fast, don’t cough or sneeze, don’t itch, don’t break into a sweat, don’t make a noise or you’ll become dog meat. He was forced to follow her, his head pounding with concussion and the stress of aching to go forward, to take the lead and somehow protect her, but this was her turf. She alone knew the way out of danger.
    For the first time in his life he had to trust a woman in a life and death situation—but from everything she’d already done, all without flinching or complaint, he knew if there was one woman on earth he could hand control to without fear, it was Hana.
    Finally, as he knew he had to breathe clean air or pass out, the flat ground gave way, and they slithered slow and quiet down a little slope; the dust became hard, crusty earth, the cracked mud of a dead stream, and when he heard Hana give a soft sigh he sensed they’d passed at least the first of the current menace facing them.
    He slipped the bandanna from his nose and mouth, and dragged in a breath of fresh air without a word. Never had breathing felt so luxurious.
    â€˜No water here.’ She sighed. ‘Our task just got harder, and you’re still concussed. Are you sure you’re up to this? Once they know we’re gone there’s no turning back.’
    â€˜I can do it,’ he reiterated through a clenched jaw. Did she think he couldn’t take a little hardship just because of a bump on the head, a touch of fever?
    â€˜We have to turn north as soon as we can.’ The wordsbreathed in his ear, softer than a whisper, slow and clear, making him shiver in sensuous reaction. ‘We still have fifty kilometres to the truck.’ The second zephyr of sound stirred his hair and left a small trail of goose bumps.
    â€˜Maybe we should leave it where it is and travel south toward the refugee camp by night,’ he whispered, as soft as he could. ‘If they’ve found the truck they’ll expect us to come for it.’
    â€˜You’ll never make it to the camp by foot with concussion—it will only worsen without rest. And the boundaries for the warlords change almost daily. If we cross one unseen line, you’re dead, and I soon will be, once Sh’ellah finishes with me.’
    He shuddered with the force of the flat whisper. ‘It’ll take three more days to reach the truck, and then we have to backtrack. A hundred and sixty kilometres through enemy lines in a truck so noticeable it practically screams foreigners .’
    She looked at him, her