Free Heather Graham by Arabian Nights

bother her a great deal more to be forcibly disrobed by the pair of guard dogs. With little finesse she ditched her Arabian robes and scrambled from the khaki trousers and shirt she wore beneath them, then crawled hastily and with even less grace into the elaborate tub. At first the impact of the heated water on her flesh almost made her cry out, but after the initial shock, the permeating, soothing heat felt delicious. Alex closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the relaxation of her bruised and abused muscles.
    Her eyes flew open again as she felt a touch upon her arm. The young Arab woman stood beside her.
    Touch me again, Alex thought, and you’ll be in for a fit you won’t believe.
    But the woman merely handed her a vial and touched her own hair. Shampoo, Alex thought, nodding as she accepted the vial. The woman moved away discreetly and took a kneeling position upon the center rug to check the brewing coffee.
    The water in the tub was oiled. It smelled faintly and pleasantly of almond and jasmine, and the feel against her skin was luxurious after the scorching sun and blistering sand.
    It was absurd to appreciate being forced to take a bath, but for a brief moment of gratitude, Alex was thankful. A large Greek sponge floated upon the surface of the water, and she realized quickly that soap was within the sponge.
    She had no choice but to take the bath, she might as well enjoy it. No choice … Alex scrubbed her skin with a fury as she again fought desperately to be calm and analytical. Where was she? In an oasis—an oasis in the direction she had been traveling. It was logical to assume that this oasis was the domain of Ali Sur Sheriff. Had it been the powerful sheikh himself who had abducted her? But she knew that Sheriff spoke English; he had, if memory served her, spent time in the United States. And even the official in Abu Dhabi had assured her Sheriff was civilized.
    Alex ducked her head beneath the water to wet her hair. When she recalled the man who had so crudely abducted her, she felt strange little shivers of déjà vu, as if she had seen him before. There had been something about his eyes, the piercing, coal-black stare …
    It was as if the answer to a riddle was evading her.
    No, she thought, working the shampoo from the vial through her hair. She knew no Bedouins in this tiny country. Until recently the United Arab Emirates had been nothing but interesting reading to her when its strange conflicts of past poverty and modern wealth were mentioned in the financial pages.
    There was something familiar about the man because he was an Arab and she had been in Egypt for the past two and a half weeks. The Arabs tended to have beautiful, mesmerizing eyes.
    Oh Lord, Alex thought, I’m sitting here worrying about a man’s eyes when I’m in more trouble than I’ve ever been in during my entire life.
    Was the man Sheriff? If so, why wouldn’t he talk to her? What did he want from her? He probably just wants to find out who I am and why I am trespassing on his lands, she reasoned. I’ll explain the entire situation, and if he is Sheriff, I will have reached him; and if he isn’t Sheriff, then surely he can tell me how to reach him.
    Logical, Alex, beautifully logical. What if he’s just a backward tribesman, determined to grant you a permanent place in his harem? Eight years of education just to become an ornament.
    The idea made her feel as cold as ice despite the heat of the water, which still steamed. Alex felt suddenly as if she were drowning, and she clenched her teeth, swallowed and took several deep, long breaths to fight away the panic.
    A softly spoken word alerted her to the Arab woman’s presence nearby. Alex opened her eyes to see that a large linen towel was being offered her. She accepted the towel, and as the girl turned away again, she rose and wrapped herself within its massive folds. She squeezed the water from her hair as best she could and fluffed it vigorously with the towel.
    Her