“I’m not an ornithologist.” Meaning a lot of it was less than thrilling from her perspective. “I’ve studied art, education, geography and politics,” she said.
“Training for the family job,” he guessed.
“Pretty much.”
“And the preschool thing?”
“I love children.”
“Really?” There was skepticism in his tone.
“You doubt me?”
“It sounds like training for a royal mother.”
She didn’t have the energy to lie. “I expected to get married and have children,” she admitted.
“To Harrison.”
She shifted in the floating tube, not wanting to open up that topic for Alex’s scrutiny. “Let’s talk about you.”
“You already know I’m a lawyer.”
“And a soldier, and a pilot. So what do you do for Harrison?”
“Honestly?” he laughed. “Mostly, I dress up, give speeches, write letters and travel.”
Brittany lifted her hands in mock amazement. “We have the same job.”
“Only, I suspect my speeches and letters are a lot nastier than yours.”
“That’s because you’re an inherently nastier person.”
“Where you’re good and kind and compassionate?”
“Exactly.”
“You are not.”
She matched his light tone. “Are you accusing me of lying, Mr. Lindley?”
He shifted closer. “You, Lady Livingston, are a seething, boiling, repressed cauldron of rebellion.”
“Against whom?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know yet. Your family-”
“I love my family.”
“The constraints of the upper class?”
“Those constraints come with a lot of perks.”
“Your duty?”
“I’ve never resented the obligations that come with privilege.”
“Then how about yourself?”
She stared at him in confusion.
“That’s it, isn’t it?”
“You can’t rebel against yourself.”
He nodded, straightening as they bobbed their way under another bridge. “That’s it. At the top of the first slide, you weren’t scared.”
“I was so.”
He shook his head. “There was something inappropriate and undignified about jumping into an inner tube and shrieking your messy way down a waterslide.”
“I was scared,” she insisted.
“You have a wall of propriety built up so high and so thick that you’re all but screaming to get out. But you won’t let yourself out.” He sat back with a self-satisfied smile. “You’re rebelling against
“You have a psychology minor to go along with that law degree?”
“Common sense,” he replied.
“What you call a wall, I call etiquette.”
“You can’t practice good etiquette 24-7.”
“The world would be a better place if we did.”
His lids grew heavy and his eyes went soft. “Sometimes, Brittany, you gotta forget appearances and shriek your way down the waterslide.”
“I did.” She glanced away, trying hard not to react to the sensuality of that gaze. “There you go. I’m cured.”
Julia found herself reacting with amazement to the man who sat opposite her at the dinner table in the main house at Khandi Oasis. This friendly, open, accepting person couldn’t possibly be Nuri’s brother.
Ahmed had warmly welcomed them to his home, introduced his wife, Habeeba, and his three daughters.
While the outside of his house was plain and modest, bleached white like all of the buildings in the village, inside, Ahmed boasted all the amenities of the Western world. Led by the development in Dubai, he’d explained, the entire UAE was enjoying prosperity.
The colors were bright, the furnishings decidedly California in style, with light woods, rattan and many cushions, while a computer, DVD player and television were discreetly situated in one corner of the main room. The overall effect was cheerful and modern.
“No one has knowledge of the man with no nose,” said Ahmed, dipping his lamb kofta into a bowl of yogurt.
“He has a nose,” said Julia, and both men glanced at her. “It’s only the tip that’s missing.”
“They have no knowledge,” said Ahmed apologetically.
Julia glanced to Harrison, worried they’d mixed up the description.
“What about a phone?” asked Harrison. “It would be helpful to contact Alex Lindley.”
Ahmed said something in Arabic to his eldest daughter, and she slipped away from the table.
Harrison nodded his thanks.
“You say the police are involved?” asked Ahmed.
“Somebody designated Julia a person of significance.”
“So there are two parties looking for you,” said Ahmed.
“So it seems,” said Harrison.
Ahmed looked at Julia. “If you go to an airport, the border guards will stop you. If you run across the desert, the man with no nose might capture you.” He thoughtfully dipped another kofta in the yogurt. “I think…”
Julia waited, strangely comforted by the compassion in his eyes.
“While we determine a solution,” he told her decisively, “you should eat.”
She glanced down at her untouched pita bread and hummus.
Ahmed seemed like an intelligent man. And he didn’t seem overly concerned about the danger. Maybe it was just a matter of time until they came up with a solution.
In that case, eating made sense.
She lifted the triangle of bread, as Ahmed’s daughter Rania arrived with a satellite phone.
Rania handed it to Harrison, and he stood, taking a few steps away to stand in the entryway while he dialed.
“It’s not a secure line,” Ahmed warned, and Harrison nodded his understanding.
Julia took a sip of the spicy tea and forced down a bite of the thin bread while she waited.
“Alex?” Harrison began. “It’s me.”
Then he listened.
His eye squinted, and he glanced at Julia.
“No,” he said, and his glance veered away.
She took another bite of bread, and another sip of tea.
Whatever news the phone call brought, starving herself wouldn’t make it any better.
“Are you sure?” asked Harrison. “No name?”
Another silence, while the entire family watched and waited.
“No. You’re right. Thanks.” He shut off the phone.
Suddenly, there was a loud banging on the door behind him.
Harrison spun, while Ahmed jumped to his feet.
He issued rapid-fire instructions in Arabic, and Habeeba quickly ushered Julia into a small, windowless
