Sandstorm Read Free

escorted Abby to the nearside door and when one of the men opened it, he propelled her inside. She panted briefly, 4p the aftermath of keeping up with his long-strided gait, and then hastily scrambled to the far side of the car as he climbed in after her. The two men took their seats in front, and the glass partition between successfully isolated them in a cocoon of supple leather and tinted glass.
    The engine fired at the first attempt, and Abby sank back uneasily against the upholstery as the long Mercedes moved away. It was almost two years since she had ridden in such arrant luxury, and while resentment simmered at this unwanted encounter, her limbs responded to the sumptuous comfort of her surroundings.
    But she was no longer seduced by such things. Time, and experience, had taught her that it was people and not possessions that ultimately governed one's life, that no inanimate object, no matter how extravagant, could compensate for disillusionment.
    'You have been working in New York,' Rachid said now, half turning towards her on the cushioned seat, and Abby made a gesture of acknowledgement.
    'I thought you didn't know where I was?' she countered, and he expelled his breath on a sound of impatience.
    'Since your return to London, I have learned everything about you,' he retorted. 'Daley is not as secretive about his employees as you would obviously like. With the better half of a bottle of Scotch malt beneath his belt, he had few inhibitions.'
    Abby pursed her lips. 'You mean—you pumped Brad?'
    Rachid shook his head. 'Not me, personally, no. But I do have some friends.'
    Abby felt a surge of indignation. 'You mean you have influence with people!' she asserted coldly. 'You use people, Rachid.' Her lips curled. 'You always did.'
    Rachid's expression was hidden from her, but she sensed his heated reaction to the insult. Wives of Middle Eastern princes did not answer back, that much she had learned in her years in Abarein. At least, they hadn't, until she came on the scene. But she had been stupid enough to imagine she had been different, that she and Rachid had had a deeper relationship than those foolish acolytes who only hovered on the brink of their husband's notice.
    'This conversation is getting us nowhere,' he said at last. 'I have been very patient, Abby, but now my patience is wearing thin. I want you back. I want you to return with me—to Xanthia.'
    Abby choked. 'You're not serious!'
    'But I am,' he assured her, in that calm, implacable tone. 'You are my wife, Abby, and as such you belong in my house. I do not intend that this situation should continue any longer. I need a wife—I need you. I expect you to adhere to my wishes.'
    Abby felt a rising sense of incredulity that threatened to explode in hysterical laughter. He couldn't be serious, but he was! He actually expected her to give up the new life she had made for herself and return with him to Abarein, to the palace at Xanthia, which he shared with his father and the rest of his family.
    Abby pushed forward on the seat and reached for the handle of the door. 'I think you're right,' she said, momentarily surprising him by what he thought was her submission. 'This conversation is getting us nowhere. If you'll ask your driver to stop here, I can take a bus‑'
    Rachid's utterance was not polite, and she turned startled eyes in his direction. 'You are not getting out of this car until I have the answer I seek,' he told her grimly, 'and I suggest you give the matter careful consideration before creating circumstances you will find hard to redeem.'
    Abby gasped. 'You said you were not abducting me!' she burst out tremulously. 'And now you say‑'
    'For God's sake, you are my wife, Abby!' he overrode her harshly. 'How can I abduct my wife? You belong to me!'
    'I belong to no one,' she retorted, her breathing quickening again. 'Rachid, you have no right‑'
    'I have every right. By the laws of your country and mine--‑'
    'Laws!' Abby cast an anxious look through