The Defiant Princess Page 22

  She was almost to safety when something hit the back of her head and everything went black. The last thing she realised was that she was falling …

  ***

  “Where is the Queen?” Khalid demanded as he strode into the Rhajian palace.

  “She’s gone to the fire, Your Royal Highness,” a servant told him with a note of admiration in his voice. “She wanted to see if she could help.”

  Damn! Of course she had, Khalid thought. Sabihah would want to be in the thick of things without any thought to her own safety. She’d already proven that. It was just one of the things he …

  “Prince Khalid,” an advisor rushed toward him. “The Queen is missing.”

  Khalid shook his head. “I’ve just been advised she’s gone to the fire. I’m about to go and join her.”

  “No, Your Highness,” the advisor continued with agitation. “Queen Sabihah was at the fire. She ran to the aid of a young boy and was hit by debris as she tried to run with the child to safety.”

  The room tilted as he processed the news. “What the hell happened?” Questions hammered in his brain demanding quick answers, while his heart pounded and his gut churned.

  “A person at the scene said a doctor came forward to treat her,” the advisor relayed, “and she was carried into a house nearby. Her security team guarded the entrance to the house. The bodyguard was ordered out by the doctor.”

  A sickening sense of foreboding greater than he’d ever experienced flooded through him as he absorbed every new piece of information.

  “After only a few minutes, the bodyguard thought he should try to go back inside. He went back but the house was empty. It’s feared the Queen has been abducted.”

  Sharp talons of fear ripped through his flesh. “Have you checked to make sure she hasn’t been taken to the closest hospital?”

  The man was moved to tears as he nodded. “An elderly man said he saw a woman with her hands bound and a sack over her head being carried out the back door of the house. He alerted police.”

  Clutching his abdomen, Khalid suspected he was going to vomit. Sabihah was everything to him. He couldn’t lose her when he’d hurt her so much and hadn’t even had a chance to make it right.

  “There’s something else, Your Highness. The fire was lit deliberately. Two witnesses saw a man fleeing the scene. They claim he was Ali Badurek, Mustaf’s former right-hand man.”

  Mustaf.

  The waves of bile grew more insistent as they roiled in his gut. Khalid had never felt so panicked. He had never required so much control to keep calm in a crisis situation. “Get me the head of security and the chief of police immediately,” he ordered.

  “They are already co-ordinating the search from the throne room, Your Highness.”

  Striding toward the throne room, trying to hold himself together, Khalid was consumed by fear and rage. He tried desperately to combat it. He needed to put his emotions away and think rationally if he was going to save his wife—the one person who was more important to him than life itself.

  If Mustaf was responsible and the information he’d received in Turastan was accurate, he at least had an idea of where to look for her. He only prayed he wouldn’t be too late.

  ***

  When Sabrina regained consciousness, the tight ropes cutting into her flesh at her wrists and ankles told her immediately she was being held prisoner. Her limbs were cramped, her vision a little blurred and the back of her head throbbed where it had been hit.

  “Your Majesty, she’s awake!”

  Sabrina scanned the poorly lit room for the source of the voice. A rough-looking individual was calling into another room. She heard a chair scrape and footsteps approach. The door opened wider and a tall man walked in. She blinked in shock when she recognised her captor.

  “The one who would dare call herself Queen.” Mustaf sneered at her. “I hope you enjoyed your short reign. By the time I’ve finished with you, Princess Sabihah, you’ll wish you had died in a desert storm when you were a child.”

  It was futile, but she tried to move further away as he approached. All she could do was turn her head.

  His hand snaked out and grabbed a fistful of her hair so hard that tears formed in her eyes. Her head was forced upward, his face mere inches away. The putrid stench of his breath made her gag.

  “You look like your mother,” he said with contempt. “A foreign whore.” A sadistic smile curved his lips. His eyes were wild—the eyes of a madman. “She was a bitch who got what she deserved. She wasn’t so pretty when she was blown to pieces by the car bomb.”

  Sabrina couldn’t stop her shudder of horror.

  Mustaf raised a hand and slapped her hard across the cheek. She whimpered once at the severity of the blow before she pressed her lips together and glared at him with all the hatred she felt.

  He laughed. It was the laugh of a deranged man. “You won’t be so lucky, little princess. Your death will be slow and painful because you’ve caused me no end of grief. I had everything then you came back from the dead and took it away.” He turned his head and shouted into the other room. “Bring me the razor blades.”

  Sabrina’s empty stomach lurched. Her gaze darted around the room frantically, desperate for any means to fend him off, any means of escape if she could somehow manage to get him to unbind her. She was powerless against him with her wrists and ankles bound. Her back ached as she tried to remain upright to lessen the pain from the hold he had on her hair.

  Her fear was so acute she could taste it. There would be no reasoning with this madman. His menacing smile told her he relished the situation and was intent on causing her as much pain as possible.

  “You will welcome death. You’ll beg me for it,” he told her with great delight.

  Mustaf’s henchman entered. Sabrina couldn’t bring herself to look at the blades she knew he carried. Every muscle stiff, she closed her eyes. She would not give Mustaf the satisfaction of seeing the terror that must be reflected there. She willed herself not to cry or scream as she waited for the first slice of the blade.

  “No begging for mercy, Princess Sabihah?” Mustaf asked. “I was rather hoping you would.”

  The sharp prick of the razor blade against her cheek had her clenching her teeth together.

  “Let’s see. What would you prefer? Slashes down your cheek or across?” He made a sound as though he was giving it great consideration. “I know. We can play noughts and crosses. Did you play that game in Australia as a child?”

  She refused to answer him as she waited for the physical torture to begin.

  All she could think of was Khalid and the child she would have had. She prayed that Khalid would find happiness one day. Prayed that he would allow himself to love and be loved. If she couldn’t be that woman for him, at least with her death he would be free to choose his next wife without losing his throne. Even though he’d denied it, his choice must surely still be Inaya considering he’d had her brought to the Turastani palace to his bed.

  As much as she squeezed her eyelids tight, she couldn’t prevent a tear from rolling down each cheek.

  The prick of the razor tip was gone and so was the pressure on her scalp as Mustaf clapped his hands together in glee. “Finally the waterworks begin!”

  A huge crash from the outer room made her open her eyes. She saw Mustaf spinning around toward the source as he yelled, “Abdul! What the—?”

  A split second later there was the sound of shattering glass from behind her, both to her right and left. She ducked her head in a reflexive action as shards of glass flew across the room, but was powerless to protect herself with her hands and ankles still bound.

  Mustaf swore loudly. Glancing up, she saw his face contort into an ugly mask of thunderous rage.

  There was a single discharge from a firearm and although everything happened in rapid motion, she registered the details with horrific clarity.

  Mid-curse, Mustaf fell backward, his eyes wide and terrified, his mouth gaping, the spray
of blood and a single round red mark right in the middle of his forehead.

  “Sabihah!”

  Khalid! She swung her head as far as she could to her left and saw him. Relief and joy made her weep. Her husband was here. He’d left Inaya and come to rescue her. He’d put his own life in danger for her. Surely he cared for her if he was prepared to do that?

  He had a rope tied around his middle and carried a firearm. She became aware of movement to her right as well, and instantly turned that way to search for danger. There was a second man, also with firearm and rope.

  She watched Khalid unclip the rope around his waist and she tried to make sense of what had happened. Khalid and the other man must’ve abseiled from the roof and smashed through the window feet first. One of them had shot Mustaf. The man who’d abseiled in with Khalid moved to the door, gun raised and ready to fire.

  From the outer room and what must have been other rooms downstairs, she heard men yelling. More gunfire sounded, and there were crashes as though the furniture was being knocked over.

  Khalid crouched in front of her.

  “You came for me!” The words were barely coherent between her sobs.

  “God, Sabihah! Where else would I be?”

  She blinked hard to clear her eyes; to see if she was imagining it or whether her hero truly had tears coursing down his cheeks.

  “Are you badly hurt?” Fear edged each of his words as his eyes ran over her and he cursed.

  All she could do was sob his name.

  Very gently, he touched along her cheekbone and she winced.

  “I don’t think it’s broken, my darling,” he told her.

  But it felt puffy and bruised from where Mustaf had slapped her.

  Khalid’s bones stood out in stark relief as he cut through the ropes that bound her and inspected her wrists. He placed kisses on the inside of each one and it was her complete undoing.

  She couldn’t help herself. At that moment, she didn’t care that Khalid didn’t love her. He was here and had rescued her and she needed to be in his arms as desperately as she needed to breathe. “Hold me!”

  “Sabihah.” There was a wealth of emotion in the way his voice hitched as he said her name. “My love, I was terrified I wouldn’t find you. I’ve never been so afraid.”

  As he straightened and extended his arms to her, she threw herself against his chest. The dread and terror she’d damned up broke free, bursting from her throat in a strangled sob as tears flowed freely. She wasn’t capable of analysing his words. She was far too emotional for coherent thought, but there was something more in the way he held her—a fierceness in his hold that felt like he never wanted to let her go.

  “Habi—” His crooned endearment was cut off by the entry of a special forces Turastani soldier.

  “Your Highness!”

  Khalid turned away from her momentarily and looked at the soldier.

  “Your Majesty.” The man bowed low. “We have contained the area. All threat has been removed.”

  Her hellish experience was over and her body sagged against him.

  “Well done. We’ll be down shortly.”

  Alone again, Khalid caressed her hair as he held her close. She was overwhelmed by the concern in his eyes and the endearments he murmured. She was like a rag doll with no strength or will to move. Nothing existed for her except for her place in his embrace. Her body was weak beyond belief from stress combined with the morning sickness. Her mind simply wanted to shut down.

  “Sabihah, it’s over. Are you injured anywhere apart from your cheek?” Khalid repeated his former question.

  Unable to speak, she simply shook her head.

  “Thank God.” He planted kisses against her hair and forehead. “I love you, Sabihah.”

  Arching her neck so she could look up at him, the anxiety in Khalid’s eyes registered, but his words made no sense to her. Surely her mind was befuddled and she was merely imagining that he was saying the words she longed to hear

  ***

  Some of the tension drained out of Khalid’s body as he held Sabihah close to him. Thankful beyond belief that he’d arrived in time, he held her tight, stepped around Mustaf’s body and carried her out of the building and toward the waiting ambulance. Khalid climbed in with her, determined to be the one to place her safely on the stretcher in the back of the vehicle. He never wanted her out of his sight again.

  “I’m fine. I don’t need to lie on a stretcher!” she protested weakly.

  “Straight to the hospital,” he ordered the driver. Placing his hand on her chest to keep her lying down when she wanted to sit up, he all but growled at her. “You may outrank me at present in royal circles, Queen Sabihah, but as my wife, you’ll consider my duty to see to your needs and you’ll do this without protest.”

  Her instant compliance worried him more than it pleased him. God knew what she’d been through and whether or not she had any internal injuries. She was unnaturally pallid, and it had been reported that she’d been struck on the head by debris at the fire site.

  Just as the ambulance door was closing, an army officer called out, “Prince Hamil has been killed, Your Highness.”

  It was good news, but barely registered against his concern for his wife.

  “Sabihah?” Terror gripped him as her eyes rolled back a little and her eyelids fluttered closed. “What’s happening?” he demanded of the paramedic who was attending to her.

  The paramedic frowned as the fingers of one hand pressed against Sabihah’s wrist tofind a pulse and he reached for a stethoscope with the other. Khalid had never felt quite so helpless sitting doing nothing as the paramedic examined Sabihah.

  “Her pulse is strong,” the paramedic pronounced at last. “More than likely she’s just passed out from the sheer stress of what she’s been through. However, apart from the rope burns around her wrists and ankles, she has had a blow to the head. I’ll organise a scan as soon as we get to the hospital.”

  Khalid closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

  She had to be alright.

  He’d promised to guard her with his life. Had he been at her side instead of back in Turastan, she would never have fallen into Mustaf’s clutches. Once again he’d been responsible for placing someone he loved in danger. The bilious taste of guilt rose to his mouth as he cursed his actions.

  Holding her hand, he was struck by how cold it felt.

  He couldn’t lose her now.

  She stirred briefly. “Khalid?”

  “I’m here,” he assured, raising her hand to his lips and sending up a prayer of thanks.

  A slight nod of her head and she lost consciousness again.

  The trip to the hospital seemed to take forever. The wait for the results of the brain scan took even longer. All the while, Sabihah drifted in and out of consciousness, and he watched each minute tick by as he waited for the test results and what he prayed would be good news.

  “There is a very small degree of swelling to the back of the brain,” the neurologist pronounced at her hospital bedside an hour later, “but it’s nothing to be overly concerned about. There’ll be no permanent damage, Prince Khalid. The IV fluids will help hydrate her and with a good rest I suspect she’ll be herself again after a few hours.”

  Khalid felt his spirits lift. For the first time since he’d left Rhajia for Turastan, he felt some peace. He was where he should be—with Sabihah. With his wife. Nothing else mattered except her recovery.

  ***

  It was late afternoon when Sabrina finally stirred. The smell of antiseptic and the beeping of a monitor by her bed made her realise she was in hospital before she managed to prise her heavy eyelids apart.

  Blinking awake, her eyes met Khalid’s and her heart flipped as he pressed a kiss to her forehead and smoothed back the hair from her face. He was still drop-dead gorgeous despite the strain etched into his features.

  “You rescued me,” she croaked, as she struggled to sit up against the pillows.
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  “Take it easy. Just move slowly.” He moved one arm around her shoulders and held her firmly under her other arm so he could help her into a more comfortable position. Then he reached for a glass of water. “Here, drink this.”

  As she sipped through the straw he’d placed at her lips, the cool liquid soothed her parched mouth and throat. Each swallow loosened the constricted muscles.

  “You’re safe now. Mustaf and his son are dead.”

  She shuddered, replaying the scene with Mustaf in her mind. She didn’t feel well, and her memories were a little sketchy and surreal. “I shouldn’t be pleased about death, but I am. Mustaf was going to kill me, but not until he’d disfigured and tortured me.”

  Khalid cursed. “He was a madman and his son was sadistic to the core.”

  “I don’t want to talk about them anymore. I don’t want to think about them.” But she wanted to know where she stood with her husband. “I was shocked that you came to rescue me. How did you find me?”

  “I received information about Mustaf’s whereabouts while I was in Turastan, and I’d returned to Rhajia with a crack team from the Turastani Special Forces to hunt him down. He’d been moving between five locations so it was a matter of investigating each address. The place where you were being kept was the closest to the fire so we checked that location first.” He sat on the edge of the bed and took the empty glass from her fingers. “Would you like more water?”

  She shook her head and it throbbed. Sinking back against the pillows, she sifted through what he’d said. “You’d returned to capture Mustaf.” He hadn’t come back because she’d been abducted or because he’d wanted to right the wrongs in their marriage. He’d left his lover only so he could find Mustaf. “And Inaya?”