Phoebe was tired.

She had been riding all day and the motion of the camel made her feel queasy. She was hot, stiff and uncomfortable and was looking forward to making camp at sunset. A cool bath was what she needed to set her up again.

The caravan wound ahead of her. It was not safe for travellers to set out on their own, so those who wished to travel over the desert would gather at the oasis until there were sufficient numbers to afford protection.

Most of her companions were traders with camel-loads of goods for the markets further inland. Her own small party consisted of just herself and her brother, Albert, who was going inland to convert the infidel. He felt that those on the coast were beyond redemption but that there might still be some hope for those who had not yet savoured the joys of civilisation. Despite the heat, she shivered.

Suddenly she heard a cry from up ahead and, looking up whe saw a cloud of dust on the horizon. What could it be?? A dust storm? Then she heard the thunder of hooves and the caravan was surrounded by horsemen, faces covered against the desert sand and brandishing scimitars.

The leader barked out a command and the camels sank to their knees. Glancing around the terrified merchants his eye lighted on Phoebe. Turning his horse he approached her. All she could see of him through the enveloping robes was his eyes blazing blue beneath black brows.

She had seen those eyes before. "You!!" she cried.

"Who else." she could hear the smile in his voice.

Leaning down from his magnificent black stallion he lifted her up and threw her across his saddle. She promptly fainted and knew no more of the fate of her companions. Nor did she remember the wild ride to ........

When Phoebe opened her eyes she found herself lying amid soft cushions in a silken tent. She felt cool and luxurious and glancing down she realised that she was clothed in a soft silken robe in a beautiful azure colour. A blush crept up her body to her face. Who had dressed her thus?

She sat up and looked around her, relieved to find that she was alone. The tent was richly furnished with large cushions scattered around the floor. Low tables held bowls of fruit: oranges, peaches and apricots lent their scent to the air. A flask of wine and a goblet stood by her makeshift bed. Should she drink it?? She felt that it was vital to keep her wits about her but she was very thirsty. Was it safe to have a drink?

Sighing, she poured a small amount of wine into the goblet and drank deeply. A feeling of relaxation stole over her. She was just sinking back into the cushions when the tent flap was rudely brushed aside and in strode .........

Sheik Alad bin Rasche.

He had removed his head dress and was clothed in a black robe which accented the flashing blue of his eyes and the black of his hair which waved down to his shoulders.

Looking at him she remembered ....

That night in the garden. She recalled the scent of the roses and the song of the nightingales. She felt again his arms around her and the pressure of his rising passion. Her heart beat rapidly but it must be said ..

"I can never be yours," she had cried, "My brother needs me to assist him in his ministry. And besides, *sob* I could NEVER marry a native! What would the neighbours say."

Angrily he flung her from him.

"I will make you love me. You WILL be mine!"

Leaving her lying amid the roses he turned on his heel and strode off into the moonset.

And now he was here and she was in his power. She shivered!

His smouldering eyes looked down at her but his voice,when he spoke, was strangely gentle.

"The maidservant undressed you." there was a laugh in his voice, "Whalebone corsets are not really suitable for this climate and definitely not to be worn when riding a camel."

The maidservant!!! Phoebe gave a relieved sign. But what use would a man like Alad bin Rasche have for a maidservant - surely he would be served best by his men. A faint suspicion crossed her mind, instantly to be dismissed. Of course he would need a woman to do the cooking and the cleaning. How silly of her not to have thought of that.

"Why have you brought me here?" she burst out, "You had no right to ... to KIDNAP me that way."

He spoke again.

"I really could not let you accompany your brother into the interior. It is not safe for women there, and especially not for white women."

"But to bring me here ..... wherever it is!!" she cried.

"I told you that I would make you love me. Here you will have all the time you need to get to know me properly. You will stay here until you agree to marry me. There is no escape from the Lost Oasis."

"My brother, Albert, will find me and save me." she said defiantly.

Alud bin Rasche threw back his head and laughed; and then he was gone, leaving Phoebe to wonder what fate had in store for her on the morrow.

She eventually fell asleep amid the silken cushions, and dreamed of warm nights and the scent of roses.

On awaking she saw that the wine goblet had been removed and in its place were two cups and a jug of coffee. There were small cakes, cheeses and fruit. Was he going to join her for breakfast? She was determined that he would not find her tamely waiting for him . Leaping from her bed among the cushions she ran from the tent and out into the sunlight.

Looking around her she realised that the encampment was within the walls of an old roman fort. The walls were crumbling in the hot desert air but they still afforded shelter from the wind and a measure of concealment. There was probably also a well. Hadn't he mentioned that the place was called The Lost Oasis?

She wandered around for a while, exploring the place. Beyond the limits of the fort there was a vast expanse of sand stretching boundless and bare to the horizon. Obviously it was not going to be possible to walk to freedom; she didn't want to die in the desert. Better to be the property of Sheik Alad bin Rasche than that.

Making her way back to her tent, she found him waiting for her.

"Even in this heat, coffee will get cold eventually, " he said, smiling, "May I pour you a cup?"

She sighed.

"Thank you." she said.

Their fingers met as he handed her the cup and she felt the fire of his touch. Her heart beat faster and her breath came in short gasps. She lifted her eyes to his for a second and felt them searing her with passion.

She dropped her eyes and felt a blush rising up through her body. Could this be ....

She swooned!

She recovered conciousness to feel his strong arms around her frail body. Her head was pressed to his chest and she could feel the steady beat of his heart.

"That's better." he said as she opened her eyes.

She noticed that the broken crockery had been cleared away and all that remained of her fall was the coffee stain on the fine silk of her robe.

"Where am I?" she asked.

"Try for something a bit more original." he replied with asperity, "Change out of that wet dress. We are going riding." he gestured towards a pair of full Turkish trousers draped across the cushions which had made up her bed.

"Riding?" she said, "On horses? No more camels, please!! They spit and never do as you ask them to."

"Horses, certainly." he said, "I have a beautiful little mare especially for you."

Escape?? Perhaps she could make good her escape with a speedy steed.

He left the tent whilst she changed into the trousers. Walking into the sunlight again she saw that an attendant was holding The Sheik's black stallion and a beautiful snow-white mare with soft black eyes.

"Oh," she breathed, "She is beautiful. What is her name."

"I call her Paloma." he replied, "After the Empress of Mexico. Here is a sugar lump for you to give to her." Taking the sugar lump, Phoebe stretched out her hand towards the mare and suddenly noticed the saddle.

"I have to ride astride?" she exclaimed in horror.

Just as she was getting ready to swoon again, at the thought of the impropriety of such a method of riding, The Sheik reached out and gave her a little shake.

"Your habit of fainting all the time is getting tedious. You will have to rid yourself of the habit when we are married or people might think that you are mistreated."

"I told you before!!" she cried, "I'll never marry you. And if I have to live here we will never see people anyway."

With that she scrambled up onto Paloma. Grasping the reins firmly she dug her heels into the mare's sides. Paloma took off at a gallop and Phoebe, unused to riding astride was forced to cling helplessly to her mane.

"Help me." she screamed. He was laughing.

Putting his fingers to his lips he whistled. Paloma reared up and spun around. Phoebe hung on grimly as the mare trotted sedately back to her master. She stopped beside him and shook herself delicately. Phoebe tumbled unceremoniously off her back and landed in the sand.

She struggled to her hands and knees.

"Bugger!" she said.

Alad didn't say a word but his lips twitched. Extending a hand to her he pulled her to her feet and into his arms. She felt him hard against her and then his lips lightly brushed her mouth. Lifting his head he looked down into her eyes.

"Back onto Paloma," he said, "we are going riding."

This time he helped her into the saddle and adjusted the stirrups for her. Swinging himself onto Satan's back he moved forward and Paloma came up beside him.

Phoebe enjoyed the ride. It was a beautiful morning. The heat of the desert had not yet built up and the air was fresh on her face as they cantered over the lone and level sands. She found that riding astride was much to her taste after all. Paloma had a comfortable pace, very different from yesterday's camel. Alad talked easily of the birds and animals to be found even in that barren part of the landscape, pointing out different birds as they rode. An occasional antelope blended into the scenery and could be discerned only when it moved.

"There is water here if one knows where to find it, and that brings the animals."

Eventually they found themselves back at the fort, having ridden in a wide circle around it. Alad dismounted and helped her down. She collapsed into the sand once more.

"My legs!!!" she said, "they don't work any more."

Stooping, he picked her up and carried her to her tent.

"You are going to be very stiff and sore tomorrow, ma petite." he said, gently laying her down on her cushioned bed.

Phoebe decided not to swoon this time.

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