Arabian Nights with a Rake by Bronwyn Scott Page A

would be all they needed. This gathering was a happy occasion. A moussem like this one brought the wandering tribes together for a celebration and the exchange of news. It would be a prime opportunity to hear from many tribes at once.
    Truth be told, Alex was looking forward to the moussem. There would be food and dancing, competitions and music. They approached the outer circle of tents and Alex smiled. If he was charming and careful, there’d be women too. Ah, life was good.
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    She would get one chance to escape. If she was over-careful, she’d miss her opportunity. If she was over-hasty…well those consequences were too horrific to contemplate.
    Susannah Sutcliffe eased back into the tent, letting the flap fall discreetly. For six months, since her father’s death in a desert skirmish, she’d lived in the awkward limbo of the captive-slave. Muhsin ibn Bitar desired her greatly, which meant she’d not been sorely used in labor. But it also meant she owed him her gratitude. So far, she’d been able to satisfy him with entertainments and sitting at his feet during his meals.
    They both knew those acts were nothing more than an extended prelude to his final seduction. He would not be put off any longer. He’d told her as much when they’d set out for the gathering. If she did not please him by the end of the moussem she would be given to another. That other was likely his brother-in-law, Bassam.
    Susannah shuddered at the thought. Bassam was a man known for his love of diverse pleasures in the bedchamber. But neither did she prefer the company of the sheikh himself, who desired her as an earthly houri. That left only one option; taking her chances in the desert, a most dangerous option in itself. A wrong direction could lead her away from the settlements and caravan routes. It was easy to die in the desert and she would only be able to carry a few days worth of water at best.
    Her plan was simple. She would steal a hardy desert horse or, if necessary, a camel and set out at night while everyone slept. With all the people here for the moussem , it would be hours before anyone noticed she or the beast were gone. There would be no margin for error.
    She would stake it all on a single action. Camel or horse thievery was a grave crime among the Bedouin. She doubted if the sheikh’s desire for her would be great enough to protect her from Bedouin justice. She would live or die on the success of her plan.
    Part of her argued against taking such risk. She could stay. Surely there was no shame in pleasing the sheikh. Surely, she could bear it if it meant she could live. If she lived, there might be a better opportunity later. What was it her father used to say? Live to fight another day? But he’d also been fond of saying Never surrender . She would face the desert and complete her father’s mission. When she returned to the consulate in Algiers, she’d have the information her father had been sent to seek.
    A girl slipped into the tent, holding a collection of filmy fabrics in her arms. She held them out to Susannah. “The sheikh bids you attend him. I am to wait and help you with your hair.”
    Susannah nodded. Her knowledge of Arabic had grown enough over the months that she understood the commands. So the game begins, she thought as she dressed. By English standards, the garments were scandalous, far more revealing than any good Englishwoman’s nightgown. By Bedouin standards, the outfit was sumptuous. The sheikh had spared no expense. Of course, she understood it was important to put on a display of his wealth. She just didn’t like being part of that display.
    The girl combed out her hair, letting it hang long and loose behind her. A woman entered with a soft bag containing jewelry and placed a small gold circlet on top of her head and bracelets on her wrists. She should be used to the routine by now. This would not be the first night she had danced for the