Kidnapped by the Sheikh by Katheryn Lane Page B

but Sarah could see her eyes and guessed that she was a teenager, or a young woman. The woman bowed down in front of the sheikh and kept her eyes focused on the ground. He spoke to her for several minutes, but he was so quiet that Sarah couldn’t hear what he was saying. He then turned to Sarah and said, “Lady Amanda, this is my niece. She will look after you. If you need anything, please tell her.” He touched his forehead and then his broad chest to salaam Sarah, before walking off in the opposite direction.
    Sarah followed the woman into her tent. It was hung with heavy tapestries and on the floor were ornate carpets. Sarah had been in the country long enough and knew enough about Arab culture to remove her shoes before walking in. Her feet were covered in dirt from the journey; however, an older woman, possibly of African descent, came forward with a bowl of water. She gestured to Sarah to sit so she could wash her feet. Once the serving woman had finished, the sheikh’s niece invited her into the heart of the tent for some food.
    Sarah hadn’t eaten since breakfast and didn’t realise how hungry she was until she saw the spread that was laid out in front of her, which consisted of feta cheese, freshly baked flat bread, hummus, and tabouleh, a finely chopped salad of parsley garnished with tomatoes. She knew that if she was going to get through her stay here, she had to eat and keep up her strength.
    Once she finished, Sarah sat back on one of the heavily embroidered cushions and drank a glass of very sweet mint tea. The African woman cleared away some of the dishes and went outside with them. The other woman, the sheikh’s niece who had brought her into the tent, sat silently in the corner. She had taken off her face veil and Sarah could see that her estimation of the girl’s age was correct. She was an attractive teenage girl with thick black hair and soft, delicate features. Sarah tried to talk to her.
    “Thank you for the food. My name is Sa—” Sarah stopped just in time and corrected her error. “My name is Lady Amanda Bolton. Can I ask you your name?”
    “My name is Minna. I am the daughter of Sheikh Omar Al-Zafir,” she replied, looking up for the first time. The girl was obviously proud of her lineage, so Sarah tried to look suitably impressed.
    “It is a pleasure to meet you, Minna. I hope that God blesses you and your family,” Sarah said, trying to observe Arabic etiquette. It was possible that she would be there several weeks until the British Embassy negotiated her release and there was no point in alienating this girl, who probably had nothing to do with her capture.
    “God has cursed my family,” Minna said.
    This wasn’t the reply that Sarah had been expecting at all. “Why do you say that?” she asked.
    “My mother died before she could bear any sons and then my father died last month, leaving me alone.”
    “But you have Sheikh Akbar to look after you, don’t you?” Sarah knew that in a country like Yazan, a woman without a family was extremely vulnerable. Hopefully, this girl’s relatives had not exploited her situation.
    “Yes. I am very lucky. He is my father’s brother and he is now the leader of our people. I don’t have any parents, but he has honoured my father’s wishes and arranged for me to be married.”
    “That’s good. I hope you’ll be blessed with many children,” Sarah replied, trying to observe the girl’s cultural customs. “Do you have a wedding date yet?” she asked.
    “Yes, I’m to be married in a few weeks. That’s why you’re here. Your ransom will pay for my wedding. My uncle is a good man. He has promised me that he’ll honour the bride price my father agreed to before he died.”
    So that was why they’d kidnapped Sarah, or rather, the British ambassador’s wife; they needed money to pay for a wedding. She wondered how much they were thinking of asking for as a ransom—probably several thousand dollars. Although the embassy