Read Online The Sheikh's Jewel by Melissa James - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Melissa James
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could he stand it again so soon? If Alim was taken or, God forbid, dead—his only brother, the only one he had left in the world—
He had to get out of here! When a guard came in, he’d be ready. He jerked to a sitting position, looking around the room for something, anything that could be used as a weapon.
Amber’s tiny murmur of protest let him know he’d disturbed her. He dragged in a slow breath, taking a few moments to reorient himself. If anything had happened to Alim, right now he couldn’t do a thing about it. Getting Amber out safely had to be his first priority—but even if they managed to escape, how could they reach home, almost completely undressed?
He’d wondered what kind of kidnapper would put him on a bed dressed in almost nothing, lying beside his scantily clad wife, but now he saw the point all too well. Without clothes, with no dignity, what could he do?
Find some clothes—and I will find a way out of here.
Slowly, gently, he got to his feet, making a face at the swishing slide of the shorts against his skin. He wore silk clothes only for ceremonial occasions, preferring cotton. Jeans and T-shirts had been his favoured fashion in his private time, until it had been made clear to him that, as replacement sheikh, he had to be seen to be the perfect Arabic man at all times.
With only two rooms, searching their cage didn’t take long. Besides the bed, the dining set, the chairs by the windows, and the cupboard, there was only a prayer mat. He realised that was what had woken him, the call to prayer being made somewhere behind the building.
But even with his hands tied, he could look around.
The massive double door was locked. The only other doors, to the bathroom and the balcony, showed no chance of escape. The room they were in was five storeys up, without convenient roofs nearby to leap onto. Even if there were, he couldn’t ask Amber to leap from one roof to another, and he couldn’t leave her alone to face the consequences of his escape.
On the bedside tables were water glasses, and paper tissues. In the drawer on Amber’s side there were about twenty hairpins.
They even knew how she preferred to do her hair, he thought grimly.
He crawled awkwardly under the bed, finding only dust. Using both hands together, he opened the cupboard—nothing at all but the hanging rail.
That had possibilities, if only he could get it out. But pulling and tugging at the rail made his head spin.
He checked through the bathroom, including the two small cupboards there. Even the most basic of bathroom goods could be used together to create something to help them escape.
‘No floss, not even toilet paper in here,’ he muttered moments later, resisting the urge to slam a cupboard, or throw one of the little bottles of oil at the wall. ‘What kind of crazy kidnappers give their captives scented oils for their bath?’
Then his mind began racing. With the right oils, combined with the toothpaste and some water—he assumed they’d be fed and given water, at least—he might be able to make something…perhaps one of Alim’s infamous stink-bombs from childhood, or some kind of fluid to throw in their kidnappers’ eyes.
How he wished he’d paid more attention to Alim’s scientific pranks when they were kids!
The bathroom held no more secrets. The bath was old and large, scrubbed clean. The toilet had a hose beside it. The towels were close to threadbare, useless for anything but basic drying. Their abductors weren’t taking any chances.
He’d run out of options for now. With a clenched jaw, Harun let the pounding of his head and eyes dictate to him. He fell back on the bed, closed his eyes and breathed in the scent she wore. Intoxicating as an unfurled desert bud, soft and tender as a mid-spring night—was it perfume or the essence of Amber herself? He wished he knew. Drinking it in with each breath, savouring an intimacy so new and yet somehow familiar because of so many dreams, he returned
He had to get out of here! When a guard came in, he’d be ready. He jerked to a sitting position, looking around the room for something, anything that could be used as a weapon.
Amber’s tiny murmur of protest let him know he’d disturbed her. He dragged in a slow breath, taking a few moments to reorient himself. If anything had happened to Alim, right now he couldn’t do a thing about it. Getting Amber out safely had to be his first priority—but even if they managed to escape, how could they reach home, almost completely undressed?
He’d wondered what kind of kidnapper would put him on a bed dressed in almost nothing, lying beside his scantily clad wife, but now he saw the point all too well. Without clothes, with no dignity, what could he do?
Find some clothes—and I will find a way out of here.
Slowly, gently, he got to his feet, making a face at the swishing slide of the shorts against his skin. He wore silk clothes only for ceremonial occasions, preferring cotton. Jeans and T-shirts had been his favoured fashion in his private time, until it had been made clear to him that, as replacement sheikh, he had to be seen to be the perfect Arabic man at all times.
With only two rooms, searching their cage didn’t take long. Besides the bed, the dining set, the chairs by the windows, and the cupboard, there was only a prayer mat. He realised that was what had woken him, the call to prayer being made somewhere behind the building.
But even with his hands tied, he could look around.
The massive double door was locked. The only other doors, to the bathroom and the balcony, showed no chance of escape. The room they were in was five storeys up, without convenient roofs nearby to leap onto. Even if there were, he couldn’t ask Amber to leap from one roof to another, and he couldn’t leave her alone to face the consequences of his escape.
On the bedside tables were water glasses, and paper tissues. In the drawer on Amber’s side there were about twenty hairpins.
They even knew how she preferred to do her hair, he thought grimly.
He crawled awkwardly under the bed, finding only dust. Using both hands together, he opened the cupboard—nothing at all but the hanging rail.
That had possibilities, if only he could get it out. But pulling and tugging at the rail made his head spin.
He checked through the bathroom, including the two small cupboards there. Even the most basic of bathroom goods could be used together to create something to help them escape.
‘No floss, not even toilet paper in here,’ he muttered moments later, resisting the urge to slam a cupboard, or throw one of the little bottles of oil at the wall. ‘What kind of crazy kidnappers give their captives scented oils for their bath?’
Then his mind began racing. With the right oils, combined with the toothpaste and some water—he assumed they’d be fed and given water, at least—he might be able to make something…perhaps one of Alim’s infamous stink-bombs from childhood, or some kind of fluid to throw in their kidnappers’ eyes.
How he wished he’d paid more attention to Alim’s scientific pranks when they were kids!
The bathroom held no more secrets. The bath was old and large, scrubbed clean. The toilet had a hose beside it. The towels were close to threadbare, useless for anything but basic drying. Their abductors weren’t taking any chances.
He’d run out of options for now. With a clenched jaw, Harun let the pounding of his head and eyes dictate to him. He fell back on the bed, closed his eyes and breathed in the scent she wore. Intoxicating as an unfurled desert bud, soft and tender as a mid-spring night—was it perfume or the essence of Amber herself? He wished he knew. Drinking it in with each breath, savouring an intimacy so new and yet somehow familiar because of so many dreams, he returned
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