Sheikh's Castaway by Alexandra Sellers Page A

Noor stifled her reaction to that, except for the flashing glance that bounced right off him.
    He led her along the beach towards the rocks and the higher ground at the southern tip. He wanted to measure out the island, get more of an idea of where they were, before he risked a trek in among the trees.
    It was a beautiful walk along the increasingly rocky beach in the morning sunlight, with birdsong coming from a forest that was much more extensive than it had appeared—a giant oasis.
    Noor resolutely refused to voice her surprise. But Bari answered the unspoken question.
    â€œThe islands, like the coastal regions of the Barakat Emirates and, to a lesser extent, Bagestan, are very fertile,” he explained. “Even after thirty years of Ghasib’s mismanagement. Several herbs that grow only here are known for their healing properties and used to be exported to the mainland by the islanders.”
    Reluctant laughter burst from her. “I thought that was just my parents’ fantasy of the old country! They always said it was the Garden of Eden.”
    â€œThere is good rainfall here, probably the same climate that covered a much larger area in antiquity. Some geophysical archaeologists suggest that a huge area—from the Mediterranean to the mountains of Parvan—once was as lush as this tiny area of the gulf. But catastrophic climate change affected the rainfall and, bit by bit, turned the once-fertile land into desert.”
    She was tacitly agreeing to a truce, perhaps because the nature of their expedition made them both feel they should be united. Exploring an unknown world, however benign it might prove, made comrades of them.
    â€œNo one knows why this tiny area escaped the march of the desert. The prolonged drought in Bagestan has raised fears that the process of desertification may even be starting again. But for the moment, we live in the last corner of the paradise that Adam and Eve knew.”
    Paradise. Alone in paradise with Bari al Khalid.
    I don’t think so! Noor told herself dryly.
    The black rock, when they began to climb, wasn’t as hard on her bare feet as Noor had feared. It was smoother than she had guessed from a distance, a little glassy, as if, perhaps, from a long-distant volcanic eruption. And she supposed it was exercise of a sort, if not as regimented as her workout.
    â€œThis rock is mysterious in origin,” Bari continued in tour-guide mode. “It exists in the Gulf of Barakat and nowhere else on the planet. Experts argue as to its origins. There is little agreement.”
    They found a trail, narrow but freshly used, as they climbed higher.
    â€œDo you think there’s someone living here after all?” Noor asked, a little breathless with exertion and hope.
    Bari shrugged.
    â€œIf so, they have arrived only recently. After Ghasib leased the development rights for all the islands to the Gulf Eden Resort chain a couple of years ago, the inhabitants of the islands were forcefully evacuated, and their homes and villages destroyed. The developers planned to create an isolated luxury resort for tourists.”
    â€œIt was a big story at home,” Noor remembered. “People were so outraged.”
    â€œYes, an international outcry delayed the development, and now the Sultan is under pressure to turn the islands into a wildlife sanctuary. But the evacuees have to be considered. Many had lived on the islands for generations. Since the Return, some have been trying to reestablish their homes on the islands.”
    Noor looked hopefully around for signs of human occupation. People meant boats. Boats meant getting away from her ex-husband-to-be and his insistence on a return to stone-age living.
    Bari knelt to examine some spoor. “Sorry,” he told her dryly, as if her face had been too revealing. “This path has been created by animals. Goats, possibly.”
    â€œNot my lucky day, then,” said Noor sharply.
    They couldn’t