The Sheikh's Last Mistress
Rachael Thomas
Promoted to Princess!Destiny Richards knew she was playing with fire when she accepted charismatic Sheikh Zafir Al Asmari’s job offer, but it seemed like a fair price to pay to start her life over again. Until the temperature reached boiling point and Destiny found herself spending one-out-of-this-world night with the Sheikh!When powerful Zafir seduced English Rose, Destiny, he never anticipated she would hold the title of his Last Mistress. But their scorching affair has shocking repercussions. Now, before their nine months are up, Zafir must convince Destiny to make their arrangement more permanent!
‘I shouldn’t want you—I can’t want you—but I do.’
Zafir kissed her neck and she leant her head back against him, allowing him more access. A shiver of anticipation darted around her body as his lips touched every bit of naked skin on her neck.
‘Neither of us should want this, but we do.’ Destiny’s words were a ragged whisper as her heart thudded in her chest. She wanted to turn to him, to press her lips against his, but at the same time couldn’t break the tenuous contact they now shared. ‘Let’s just forget the rest of the world for a few hours—forget everything except what we feel now.’
His kisses stilled and she felt his chest expanding against her back with every deep breath he took. Had she said too much—again?
‘I want to forget it all,’ he said, and pressed his lips into her hair, inhaling deeply as if taking in her scent. ‘I want you in a way I’ve never wanted a woman before. But I can’t be like other men. I have a duty to my country.’
‘Just for these hours of darkness,’ she whispered, and opened her eyes to look once again at the stars. ‘That’s all we need, Zafir, just one night.’
RACHAEL THOMAS has always loved reading romance, and is thrilled to be a Mills & Boon author. She lives and works on a farm in Wales—a far cry from the glamour of a Mills & Boon Modern story—but that makes slipping into her characters’ worlds all the more appealing. When she’s not writing, or working on the farm, she enjoys photography and visiting historical castles and grand houses. Visit her at rachaelthomas.co.uk (http://rachaelthomas.co.uk).
The Sheikh’s
Last Mistress
Rachael Thomas
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For James, Marian and David.
Contents
Cover (#uf990583e-14aa-5f63-a522-6b5db4cb106b)
Introduction (#u69295882-1e40-5aa0-93a2-8e98321f50a3)
About the Author (#uc70cb52e-234c-5e9e-b661-76e8d3007cb4)
Title Page (#ud411fe55-25f9-52b1-ade4-1cf99a878bcb)
Dedication (#u44339421-1f4b-5f21-be74-2f19ed628265)
CHAPTER ONE (#u998fe248-fcd3-55bf-9f07-f9de0db93bf0)
CHAPTER TWO (#uf0f2d460-5021-55eb-b20d-cbec0d88dcb8)
CHAPTER THREE (#uaf7943ed-bc92-5858-819f-7f3eb9e5de63)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_b83fa981-a8b8-592c-9107-d9b0ba15edb4)
ZAFIR AL ASMARI WAS SCEPTICAL as he drove towards the old red-brick house, which was a stark contrast to the immaculate penthouse he’d just left in London. Was it possible the woman he was seeking really worked here? This riding school, nestled in the countryside beyond London, certainly looked as if it had seen better days—not at all where he had imagined finding Destiny Richards. Her reputation with difficult horses had made him travel from Kezoban personally to seek her out.
He parked his black sports car and got out, unsure if he should even continue with this madness. He must have been misinformed. Destiny Richards wouldn’t be working somewhere so ordinary. Nothing about the old house or tired-looking sheds gave any hint of being professional stables. He was on the point of leaving when movement inside the shed beyond the house caught his eye.
Zafir walked forward, his shoes crunching on the grit of the driveway, and, unable to contain his curiosity, looked into the building being used as the riding school. Through an open door, he could see a tall, slim young woman lunging a chestnut horse around her. Intrigued, he walked down the side of the house, intent on seeing exactly who this woman was. If she was Destiny Richards, he could settle his unease and confirm he’d done the right thing by hiring her before coming to meet her personally.
‘Ah, you have arrived.’ A sharp female voice behind him dragged his attention from the young woman and horse. He stopped, turning abruptly to an older and somewhat overenthusiastic woman. ‘Are you here for the Sheikh? To see Destiny work her magic?’
Zafir narrowed his eyes. Instinct warned him of this woman’s insincerity. Her overzealous attitude jarred his nerves, but if she thought he was here for the Sheikh instead of actually being the Sheikh, then so much the better. He could ascertain if Destiny Richards did indeed possess the gift of horse whispering, something he very much hoped was true, but right now, given the surroundings, he was inclined to think he’d been misled.
‘I am and I don’t have time to waste. Where is Ms Richards?’
‘My daughter is in the school. This way.’ She gestured with a smile which didn’t reach her eyes, backing up his first impression. It didn’t bode well that Destiny Richards was this woman’s daughter. First impressions counted for a lot in his culture and he was far from impressed, but had to remember this might be Majeed’s last chance.
Without another word, he made his way to the school, aware the woman was following. Quietly he entered, stood against the wooden interior wall and watched. For a while the young woman he now knew was Destiny Richards had no idea he was there and he couldn’t help his gaze sweeping over her, appreciating her tall and shapely figure and how the tight-fitting jodhpurs and T-shirt clung, in a way only a hot-blooded male could, just as he’d always done before duty had brought him to heel.
Her dark hair was pulled up high on her head into a ponytail, which swayed like a dancer to an unheard tune with each move she made. She was distracting and not at all what he’d expected, especially after having just met her mother.
The horse slowed to a walk, then stopped at her calm command. Destiny waited for the horse to walk to her and, as she touched its face, Zafir could hear the sound of soothing words, seeing the obvious connection of trust the horse had with her. Then she turned round, her eyes meeting his instantly.
Despite the distance something passed between them, jolting him with its intensity. She was beautiful and, for the first time since he’d inherited the title of Sheikh of Kezoban, he felt his interest stirring, awakening everything he’d turned his back on. He pushed that thought aside. Now was not the time to be distracted by a woman, not when Royal protocol dictated he had to select a bride. As the last remaining member of his family, providing his country with an heir was paramount.
‘Destiny, this man is here for the Sheikh. You know, the one we told you about.’ The older woman’s voice held a hint of warning, despite her smile, and the sudden tension in the air between mother and daughter was palpable, like storm clouds about to break over a hot city.
He crossed the sandy surface towards Destiny as her mother continued to talk. He was sure he saw a flash of defiance rush across Destiny’s beautiful face as she glanced briefly at her mother before looking at him once more. Her fine brows arched in disbelief and her lips set into a firm line of disapproval. He couldn’t help wondering what kissing away that disapproval would be like, confident it would be as intense as the attraction he felt for her.
‘I remember.’ Her voice was soft and gentle, but he didn’t miss the underlying note of determination. She stepped towards him, the horse moving with her, staying loyally at her side as she offered her hand in a Western handshake and smiled at him. ‘Destiny Richards. How can I help you?’
A smile pulled at the corners of his lips. He liked the feisty spirit she was working hard to conceal, reminding him of a young horse that would rather run free with the wind across the desert sands than be confined and controlled. He’d had to put such ideas to one side after his father had died six years ago, his days of being the wild playboy Sheikh his father despaired of abruptly curtailed. For the first time since that day he wished he was free; the attraction for this woman was so intense all he could do was imagine taking her in his arms and kissing away her defiance.
He took her hand and the jolt of something new and exciting sizzled through him. The deep brown of her eyes, which reminded him of polished mahogany, mirrored the attraction. ‘Forgive me for the intrusion. Your ability to work with horses that have been traumatised has come to the attention of the Sheikh of Kezoban. He has made an arrangement with the owners here for you to travel to Kezoban to work with his prized Arabian stallion, but he sent me to personally meet you before my return.’
The deceit slipped easily from him. He was preserving his sanity by omitting the truth, sure that her mother would make matters far worse for him and probably Destiny if she knew his true identity.
‘I see. And if I don’t wish to travel to Kezoban?’ That firm edge in her voice was more pronounced now.
‘Then we will have a problem. It is all arranged—subject to my confirmation that you are as gifted with horses as the Sheikh has been led to believe.’ Zafir pressed his lips firmly together as Destiny’s spirit shone through. Would she have spoken to him in such an honest and open way if she’d known he was the Sheikh, the man who’d made the deal for her presence in Kezoban?
‘I have to see the horse first before I commit or agree to anything.’ Was that a challenge he saw glittering in those dark eyes? He liked a challenge. He raised his brows in a silent answer.
‘Destiny! What are you doing?’ Her mother’s shock was obvious. So too was his. He’d almost forgotten she was there. For a few brief moments as he and Destiny had spoken, it had just been the two of them. Nothing else had existed. The exclusive contact between him and a woman was not a sensation he was accustomed to at all.
‘You may leave us.’ The command in his voice was brittle as he turned his attention to the older woman, but it worked. She bowed her head very slightly in deference to him and backed away. So Destiny hadn’t inherited her spirit from her mother.
‘If you will excuse me, I need to deal with this horse.’ Destiny didn’t wait for his consent, but walked away. He stood and watched her go, slightly unnerved by the fight for control he was experiencing, a totally new concept for him.
Determined to settle the agreement, Zafir followed at a distance as Destiny led the chestnut horse out of the school. Usually he was more than able to appreciate good horse stock, but right now his attention was riveted to the very alluring woman leading the horse. Her strong will and defiance stirred something deep inside him, something he had shut out of his life years ago.
Desire.
Why this woman? She was beautiful, but not in the glamorous way he’d liked his women before his days as Kezoban’s ruler. She had an earthy innocence about her and was far from compliant if the last minutes were anything to go by, but there was something which had connected to a forgotten and neglected part of him the second their eyes had met.
She walked the horse into a stable, shutting the door, making it clear he was to stay outside. He leant his arms on the top of the stable door, watching as she untacked the horse and brushed it down, her gently rhythmic movements appreciated by the animal as it pulled hay from the rack, munching noisily.
‘So, have I passed the test?’ She paused and looked at him over the back of the horse, directly into his eyes. Again he had the distinct impression a challenge was being laid down—and he never refused a challenge.
‘Yes. I have seen enough.’
‘But you have not passed my test.’ She angled her head slightly, her ponytail swinging gently. ‘I want to know exactly what is expected of me.’
Zafir could only admire her courage. Nobody challenged him. Ever. Would she have been so unguarded if she knew who he was? Briefly he was tempted to tell her, but he was enjoying this sparring so he decided to allow her to continue under the misapprehension of his identity that her mother had started. He had no wish to set her right just yet.
‘You will travel to Kezoban where you will work with Majeed, the Sheikh’s prized stallion.’
She looked at him, her brown eyes regarding him warily as she resumed brushing the horse. Zafir didn’t appreciate the look of mistrust in those deliciously dark eyes, but he had no option other than to wait patiently for her response—and waiting was something he was not used to.
‘What is the problem with the stallion?’ She glanced briefly at him as she finished with the horse and came to the stable door.
Zafir stood back to allow her out, shocked that already her question was dragging up the past. He knew that would have to happen if he ever stood a chance of soothing Majeed’s tortured spirit, but he hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Neither had he envisaged being under her scrutiny.
‘The stallion was involved in a tragic accident which claimed the life of the Sheikh’s sister.’ He was strangely detached as he spoke of his sister, referring to that night as if it hadn’t really happened. Despite this temporary reprieve from guilt, he knew it didn’t lessen the blame he’d set firmly at his own feet. He was the one Tabinah had been running from, the one who had made her unhappy. The knowledge of that would never leave him.
* * *
Destiny looked at the handsome man who seemed somehow unsuited to the jeans which hugged his long legs and the light blue shirt, open at the neck, giving her a tantalising view of dark hair against olive skin. She already knew him to be a man of the desert and, despite his casual clothes, she could just imagine him in white robes. He had a raw essence of power about him and was handsome enough to melt her vulnerable heart. But from the upright stance of his body and the regal tilt of his chin, she knew he was also very much used to giving orders—and having them obeyed.
Well, she wasn’t about to be ordered around by anyone. She’d had enough of being the one who always had to give in to the demands of others. Her stepmother had gone too far this time, accepting the job before she’d even spoken to her. Everything was about money for her, never the person and least of all the horse involved.
Her stepmother was as cold as her father and equally controlling, which only reinforced Destiny’s need to escape them. She couldn’t stay here any longer. The stables might be entwined with precious childhood memories of her mother and the few short years of happiness before her death, but she had to leave. Just as her younger sister, Milly, had done. And she had to do it before her stepmother completely obliterated those happy memories.
‘I’m very sorry about the situation the Sheikh is in, but I cannot help.’ She kept her gaze locked with his, trying to meet his aura of power with determination, wanting to convey the message that she would not be controlled—not any more.
His eyes, as black as onyx, narrowed with irritation and his jaw clenched beneath the dark trimmed beard, so precise it was barely more than stubble. ‘That is not the arrangement I have come to with Mrs Richards. She assured me you would be available to travel to Kezoban immediately.’
The words fired out at her but she stood her ground, adamant she would not to be ordered around be either this superior man or her stepmother.
‘Firstly, I am her stepdaughter and, secondly, she had no right to make any such arrangement without consulting me. Not even with a wealthy Sheikh. So I suggest you look elsewhere for the help you require.’
She moved towards him, intending to walk past him and away, wanting only to turn her back on this man who exuded a potent mix of masculinity and sexuality which terrified yet enthralled her. His eyes, full of fiery intensity, met hers as she came level with him, but it was the enticing aura of this powerful man as she came close—too close—that made her step falter. It became impossible to do anything other than stand and look directly into his handsome face.
Her stomach somersaulted and, like a teenager in the throes of a first love, her heart skipped a beat. Not that she knew anything about first love, having shied away from all that, using horses as her shield. She was angry with her stepmother and not at all affected by this exotic man. She reminded herself of that fact, but struggled as his gaze continued to hold hers.
‘The deal is agreed, Miss Richards. You will travel to Kezoban in two days.’ The control in his voice, the hardened words and the command he exuded made anything other than looking up at him impossible, even though she wanted to get as far away from the effect he was having on her as possible. The anger glittering in the blackness of his eyes reminded her of the night sky, full of stars.
For the last sixteen years, since her stepmother had become a permanent feature in her and her younger sister’s lives, she’d done her stepmother’s and father’s bidding, putting aside all of her dreams and aspirations. She’d wanted to be there for Milly as she grew up but more recently it had become all about helping Milly set herself up in London and escape their father’s oppressive control. Now that Milly was settled and happy it was time she did the same.
Milly had left home earlier in the year and there was no one to protect now, no one to look out for but herself. She was free to do what she wanted. Now this man, with his high-handed attitude, thought he could waltz in and more or less demand she go to a desert country because it was what his Sheikh wanted. Surely the Sheikh had enough money to hire the top professionals in the field.
Could this man, this bizarre offer to travel to a desert kingdom she knew nothing about, be her opportunity of escape?
Her love of horses had been all-consuming as she’d grown up, leaving no room for any other kind of love and giving her the perfect excuse to escape from reality. Could she use her ability to connect with horses as her means of escape?
‘I don’t care what deal you have made. I will not go.’ The words flew from her lips as the oppression of living under her father’s strict rule surfaced. Going to an unknown country at the request of another equally controlling man was not something she’d planned for herself. All she wanted was to get away and as tempting as this offer was, it wasn’t what she needed. She would find another way to gain her financial independence and ultimately her freedom.
‘Majeed is a majestic creature. He wants only to please.’ His words cut through her thoughts, tugging at those emotional heartstrings she always had for an animal. ‘It is as if he knows the woman who rode him into the desert and fell from his back was the Sheikh’s sister, as if he blames himself.’
Destiny looked up at him, her interest captured as she imagined the horse, but she couldn’t be drawn into this man’s problems. She had her own to solve.
‘She died.’ The words were hard and short, the pain within them tugging at her sentimental heart. He must genuinely love the horse and want to serve his master.
‘I’m sorry for the Sheikh’s loss, but really I cannot help.’ Still she clung firmly to her refusal.
‘The horse is living in torment. He is unapproachable, almost impossible to handle and a danger to himself and others. It has been a year since the accident. Many have tried to calm his troubled spirit. You are the Sheikh’s last hope and if you cannot help Majeed there is only one other option.’
She drew in a sharp breath as the implications of his words hit her. He could stand there all day and argue about the deal he’d made with her stepmother and she wouldn’t care, wouldn’t back down. But as soon as he’d talked of the stallion, the compassion in his voice showing he at least cared about the horse and its fate, she knew she would go. But she wasn’t about to let this man know that yet, not when she had her own deal to strike, one that would finally set her free from a life she would never have chosen for herself.
‘What are the terms of the agreement you have made?’ She continued to stand glaring up him, the injustice of her situation filling her with the kind of courage which had evaded her for many years.
‘The arrangement is that you will travel to Kezoban for a minimum of two months, to work with the stallion. A substantial amount of money has already been agreed.’ His tone remained as commanding as ever, but something in his expression softened slightly. Was it possible a hard man such as this could soften? No, she must be mistaken. He was as dominating and controlling as her father. She might be about to use him as a chance to escape her father’s iron rule, but she was under no illusions: this man was the epitome of supremacy. Her terms needed to be laid firmly down.
‘This substantial amount of money has been agreed with my stepmother, no doubt.’ Destiny tried to keep the icy coldness from her voice as she thought of the woman who had replaced her mother. She knew now that her father had never been happy and loving, as she’d thought when she was a young child. That had all been pretence. The day her mother had died, everything changed. He’d stopped pretending. He’d become cold and mercenary, finally meeting his match in his new wife. Now he was allowing her stepmother to use his daughter’s gift to extract money from the Sheikh of a far-off desert kingdom.
‘It has, yes. To cover your absence here. You are a valued member of her team.’ The man’s words remained gentle and coaxing, maybe because he sensed her impending agreement. But his chosen words made her want to laugh out loud. Her stepmother did not value her, always reminding her she was nothing, just a stable girl. It was the money such a deal would generate she valued.
But Destiny couldn’t let him know that his Sheikh’s offer was going to be her way out, her chance to finally to do what she wanted in life and travel. If she could help the Sheikh’s stallion in the process, all the better. It was, after all, something she was good at.
‘I will, of course, have expenses to cover.’ She knew she would never see any form of payment from her stepmother or the business; creating her own expenses was the only way to enable her to return to England and start a new life with money of her own. ‘Double the original payment should be sufficient—and paid to me.’
‘Naturally.’ Was that a hint of sarcasm in his deep voice? His dark eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion and she thought she’d gone too far.
‘I would need to see the horse first.’ She kept her tone brisk, her gaze fixed on his handsome face, hardly able to believe he was accepting the conditions she was attaching to the agreement.
‘In that case, my private jet will be at your disposal to fly you to Kezoban as soon as you are ready.’ A smile of satisfaction touched his lips and those intensely dark eyes held hers, sending that spark rushing through her again, but she pushed the sensation aside, wanting only to ignore it.
‘Your private jet?’ Surely an aide to a Sheikh wouldn’t have his own private jet? He must have meant the Sheikh’s jet, but such details were insignificant now. Her much longed for escape from the ties of her father’s rule were on the horizon and excitement fizzed inside her so much that she couldn’t help but smile up at this strikingly handsome stranger who’d somehow turned her world upside down.
* * *
Zafir was on the verge of confessing that he was the Sheikh, that he’d allowed her to continue with her assumption that he was merely an aide sent to ascertain her ability, but, despite the brightness of her smile, the suspicion in her voice as she’d questioned his last words held him back. He couldn’t risk her turning down his offer, not when his most precious horse still lived the nightmare of the night his sister had died. Everything in his life had spiralled out of control after that night and it was beyond time to put it right.
The marriage he’d known for years he’d have to make was looming, but Tabinah’s death last year had put even more pressure on him to do his duty. And he would, once Majeed was healed. Only then could he put the nightmare of his sister’s unhappiness at the marriage he’d arranged for her aside and fulfil his duty to make his own arranged marriage.
‘My apology—the Sheikh’s private jet.’ His words were sharp but, lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t notice. ‘Do we have a deal, Miss Richards?’
He pushed down the guilt and shame of the night his sister had fled the palace. He would do anything to turn back the clock to the day he’d all but ordered Tabinah to do her duty and marry the man he’d selected for her. He hadn’t been a brother to his younger sister, hadn’t known how desperately unhappy she was. He’d just been the ruler of Kezoban, unaware she’d hated him, wanting only to shut him out of her life. The guilt that he’d made her so unhappy would always remain with him, even as he tried to piece his life together again, but soothing the tortured spirit of his stallion Majeed would help him finally put that night in the past.
He looked at Destiny, her soft brown eyes full of compassion, despite her bravado in standing up to him. Not only was he sure she possessed the gift to heal Majeed, he was certain she had the kindness in her heart the horse needed, unlike the others who had tried and failed.
‘Yes, we do. I can be ready to leave in two days.’
Zafir offered his hand, wanting to seal the deal and return to his homeland. The dark-haired woman who’d captured his attention in more ways than one took his hand and the warmth from hers spread through him. It was as if their spirits were joining, recognising one another on an as yet undiscovered level. She looked up at him and the same confusion which consumed him blazed in her eyes.
Did she feel the pull of attraction too? Did she feel the connection, as if they knew one another, knew that they were fated to cross paths?
He pushed the thought aside. He didn’t have the luxury of choosing his path through life, and this woman, whilst the kind of distraction he would have sought once, was not what he needed now—or ever again.
She intrigued him in a way no woman had ever done and, after the tragedy of the last twelve months, he liked the way she made him feel as her eyes met his. She was as spirited as a stallion and yet as nervous as a young filly foal. Today she’d been bold and fearless addressing him, but what would she be like once in Kezoban? Would she still have that feisty spark when she knew he was the Sheikh?
‘Very well. I will return and prepare for your arrival.’
‘And if I feel that I am unable to help the stallion?’ Her hesitation lingered in the air. ‘Can I leave?’
‘You will not be a prisoner, Miss Richards. You will be the Sheikh’s honoured guest and may leave whenever you wish.’
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_400d45ab-0459-5df3-85f0-fa7616a05490)
DESTINY LOOKED DOWN at the arid landscape below as the jet prepared for landing. The old town, seemingly carved from the desert, rose up around a rocky hill and next to a river; on the other side was a building of such splendour it could only be the Sheikh of Kezoban’s palace. Around it, newer and more prosperous-looking buildings nestled, as if for safety, and beyond that lay an expanse of desert. Everything intrigued her and she wished she’d had more time for researching the place before she’d left England.
As the sumptuous jet touched down her excitement grew. This was to be her home for the next two months and, if she was really honest with herself, she was somewhat naively looking forward to seeing the Sheikh’s aide again. It was only after he’d left the stables she’d realised she had been so intent on taking charge of her life she had no idea of his name. It had been his job, she’d reassured herself, to be controlling and demanding. Then there had been the moment he’d taken her hand, the memory of it still tugging at her unfulfilled romantic dreams.
There had been something about him, other than his undeniable good looks, and she’d been drawn to him with an attraction she’d never indulged in before. Despite the control he exuded, she’d briefly seen a different man as he’d spoken of the Sheikh’s stallion. Then the hard exterior had slipped back into place, shielding the real man from her scrutiny.
This thought still played out in her mind as she left the cool air-conditioned interior of the jet and stepped out into the desert of Kezoban. Instantly a wall of heat almost pressed her back into the jet but, as a black SUV pulled up alongside the steps of the jet, she descended, hoping to see at least one familiar face.
She was alarmed, not just at her disappointment but that the man who’d come to the stables wasn’t there. To hide it, she pulled the fine cream scarf she’d chosen to use as a headscarf a little tighter against her face and got into the SUV as the door was opened for her by a man in desert robes who seemed completely indifferent to her. If this was her welcome, what would the Sheikh be like when they finally met?
The drive from the airfield was short and she tried to glimpse the scenery as they passed from the dry desert land to the town. The streets were busy with people going about their daily lives and she longed to be among them—the anonymity, exploring the vibrant market. Soon the imposing walls of the palace loomed ahead of them and her stomach flipped over with nerves.
She was ushered from the SUV up cool marble steps and into the palace, where she was swept along by an entourage that made taking in anything more than a glimpse of the intricate and ornate design of the palace impossible. Her anxiety level rose as two large doors were swept open before them and all but two members of her escort left.
She just had time to glance around the high-ceilinged room, admire the blue and gold designs and the view into what must be the palace gardens before another set of doors opposite her opened.
The relief she felt at seeing the Sheikh’s aide almost made her sigh, but that relief quickly changed to confusion as those around him bowed their heads and stepped back, leaving them alone but for the two men standing like guards by the door she’d entered.
She looked at the handsome face, framed by the white headdress he wore which served only to heighten his handsome features. His midnight black eyes looked directly into hers and she couldn’t say anything as he walked towards her. His robes suited him far more than the jeans and shirt she’d first seen him in. With fine gold cloth over the robes, he looked positively regal.
‘Allow me to introduce myself.’ He spoke with a calm accented voice that had the velvety edge to it she remembered from that afternoon at the stables. ‘I am Sheikh Zafir Al Asmari of Kezoban.’
Destiny fought against confusion, her words almost faltering. ‘The Sheikh’s aide?’
‘No. The Sheikh.’
He had never told her his name, but he had definitely allowed her to believe he was the Sheikh’s aide. Had he been testing her?
‘It would have been nice to have known exactly who I was speaking to when you visited the stables.’
She should probably have spoken with more respect and, judging by his expression, he had expected her to. He took another step towards her and she tried to quell the tremor of attraction she felt for him, just as she had done that day at the stables. Even when she’d believed he was just the Sheikh’s aide she’d known he would never notice someone like her, but that hadn’t stopped the romantic in her dreaming of being swept away to his kingdom instead of being ordered there. Now she knew exactly who he was those romantic notions were about as likely as getting drenched from a storm cloud bursting above her head right now.
Everything about him suggested power and control; she just hadn’t wanted to admit it—not when it put him in the same league as her father. Now it was worse. He wasn’t just an aide to the Sheikh; he was the Sheikh. A leader. A man who should have power, and she despised controlling men. So why did her stomach flutter as his dark eyes locked with hers before his gaze slid down her body? She stood tall beneath his scrutiny, glad she’d opted to dress in keeping with the country’s culture.
‘It was your assumption that I visited on behalf of the Sheikh of Kezoban. I did not intend to mislead you and for that I apologise. Your stepmother made the assumption and I allowed it to continue.’ He moved closer but she remained where she was, determined not to be intimidated by him. ‘I trust we can move forward from the misunderstanding.’
His accented words were faultless English, his ability to use the language impressive, but it only added to his aura of command, the same command that had been absent as he’d talked of the Sheikh’s sister—his sister. She’d assumed he’d been thinking about the stallion as emotion and pain had filled his words in England. He’d seen through her stepmother, making him seem more human, more feeling, and that was something this man, who stood regally watching her, could never be.
‘I am here to work with your stallion, not pass judgement on you.’ She lifted her chin and tried to ignore the sizzle racing around her body as his gaze locked with hers once more.
As she’d accepted the contract to work for this man she’d thought it was like stepping out of the shadow of her father’s iron will and into the furnace of a much greater force. How right that had been. His ability to allow her to believe he was merely an aide to the Sheikh reinforced that, but working for the Sheikh was a gateway through which she must travel in order to start her new and independent life. It was the chance she’d been seeking and one she would take, no matter what.
* * *
When Destiny had been shown into his office Zafir had been overwhelmed to see her dressed modestly with respect for his culture. It should have stopped the hot thud of attraction which had surged through him from the moment he’d first seen her in England, but it didn’t; it only served to intensify it. That day at the stables something had ignited between them and, if he wasn’t mistaken, she was as reluctant to admit its presence as he was. Which only fuelled his ardour and intensified his curiosity to sample the forbidden.
‘You have had a long journey. Tomorrow you will meet Majeed and begin your work. Tonight, as my guest, you will dine with me.’ It was customary for him to dine with visitors but, from the look on her face, it was the last thing she’d expected.
She regarded him suspiciously and he fought the need to smile. This was the first time he’d encountered a woman’s reluctance to dine with him, but then he’d never invited a woman from another culture into his palace. Prior to inheriting the title of Sheikh of Kezoban he’d always kept his affairs confined to either London or New York.
‘Thank you, but I am sure you have far more important things to do than entertain me.’ Again the spark of fire leapt to life within him as her soft voice all but caressed his senses. He must have been living with the weight of duty for too long because he’d almost forgotten what such a sizzle of attraction could do to him. But never had it been so insistent.
‘I always entertain my guests, Miss Richards. You will not be an exception.’
‘Is it absolutely necessary?’ The question was accompanied by the lift of her delicate eyebrows, but the courage of it didn’t go unnoticed. Nobody would dare to address him like that, question his orders. He should be angry, should be making her error known, but he didn’t want to. She wasn’t speaking to him as Zafir the Sheikh but Zafir the man. Since he’d taken on the role of Sheikh of Kezoban after his father’s death, no man or woman had treated him as anything other than that.
‘It is.’ He moved a little closer to her so that he could inhale her light floral scent and wished he’d dismissed everyone from the room. Right now all he wanted was to kiss her, taste the sweetness of those full lips.
He stepped back. What was he thinking? He was a desert ruler, a man of power with a duty to uphold. Kissing this woman, however much he wanted to, was not something he could ever do, especially when she was here in his palace as his guest.
‘Then I look forward to it.’
‘As will I.’ It was the truth; he wanted to spend the evening in her company. ‘We have much to discuss about your intended work with Majeed.’
He walked back to his large and ornate desk, where he turned and faced her once more. Distance was most definitely needed between him and this beautiful Western woman who had stirred the emotions and wild desires of the man he used to be.
‘I appreciate it will be painful for you, but I will need to know all about what happened that night and how the stallion was before the accident.’
‘And you shall.’ But only what he absolutely had to say. He could never confess to anyone that he’d been guilty of neglecting his young sister so terribly. That the marriage he’d insisted she make had forced her to take such drastic steps. No, he could never allow anyone to know that. For the last year he’d been in the grip of that guilt and the way this woman was making him feel intensified it. He had no right to desire any woman when he was about to make an arranged marriage, not after insisting Tabinah did the same.
* * *
Destiny’s nerves fluttered as she followed her escort through the cool interior of the palace to join the man she now had to keep reminding herself was the Sheikh of Kezoban. A man who had concealed his true identity, but she couldn’t yet understand what he had to gain from that—apart from control.
She should have been able to relax in the luxury of her suite, with its views over the stunning palace gardens, but the thought of spending the evening with a man who intrigued and excited her as much as he irritated her with his need for control meant she was far from relaxed.
Darkness was falling and the palace was lit with lanterns at each of the ornate archways she passed through, giving everything a dreamlike quality. Then her escort stepped aside and gestured her through an arched doorway and along a vast walkway to another part of the palace gardens. She could see what resembled tents, draped almost completely in pale gold chiffon; lanterns glowed inside. It looked far too intimate for a formal dinner with the man who was effectively her boss for the next two months.
Then she saw him, his headdress discarded, giving him a more relaxed look, and her pulse leapt. Since when did the sight of a man do that to her?
‘Good evening. I trust you are rested from your journey.’ His deep sensual voice matched the mood created by his chosen venue for their meal and a brief skitter of panic raced over her before she dismissed it. As if this powerful Sheikh would be remotely interested in her. He probably had a harem of beautiful women.
‘With such a gorgeous suite, how could I not be?’ She couldn’t look directly at him as heat infused her cheeks.
When she did glance his way, it was to see his lips lifting upwards in a smile, one that sent a spark of amusement to his dark eyes. It was the first time she’d seen anything other than a severe or commanding expression on his face. It was also a smile that would melt hearts, hers included if the heady beat of her pulse was anything to go by.
‘I appreciate the effort you made today.’ She frowned at him, not sure what he was referring to. ‘You dressed to fit in with my culture and so this evening I wanted to show you a sample of life in the desert.’
‘Thank you.’ She forced the words out, totally taken aback by his thoughtfulness. Not at all what she would have expected from the man who had all but demanded she come to his country or the man who’d stood in his office just hours ago, an aura of power surrounding him.
‘I only regret I could not have shown you the real desert.’
‘This is lovely,’ she said as she walked into the tent. The warm night air played with the pale gold curtains and candles glowed within ornate lanterns, lending a romantic ambience to the setting.
Should she be worried by this gesture? She glanced anxiously at the man she knew very little about—she had placed herself at his mercy, thousands of miles from home. Who was she trying to fool? This was a desert king. A man whose life was so different from hers he would never think inappropriately of someone like her and the sooner she got that idea fixed in her head the better.
‘Does it not please you?’ A hint of a feral growl sounded in his voice and she realised her silence had cast doubt on her appreciation of all he’d done.
‘It’s perfect. Utterly beautiful.’
* * *
Zafir watched as Destiny, wearing loose-fitting white trousers and a long top, looked around. The pale pink scarf she wore on her head made her appear as delicate as a bloom in his prized gardens. She took in every detail and he found himself wishing they were in the middle of the desert, far away from anyone and, even more importantly, his duty. Not that family duty and honour were a trait she understood if the tension between her and her stepmother were anything to go by. She was here under duress and she’d clearly stated her terms, but that didn’t stop the sizzle of desire which flowed through him like the river his city was built around.
He wanted to tell her she was more beautiful than anything around them, but he hadn’t brought her here to seduce her. This was his palace, his home and he’d never entertained any woman here, even throughout his wild playboy days. He also needed to remind himself of the marriage he had to make. This was a woman he couldn’t afford to be distracted by for so many reasons.
‘I’m pleased you approve.’ He kept his voice as neutral as possible in an attempt to hide the effect she was having on him.
‘I’m also looking forward to seeing your stallion tomorrow.’ She glanced at him and he saw the apprehension on her face before she spoke again. ‘I do need to know more of the incident.’
‘By “incident” you mean the night my sister rode him out into the desert and met with her untimely death?’ This was the last thing he wanted to talk about. All the guilt from that night rushed back at him. He would have to share a certain amount of information with Destiny, but he wasn’t ready yet to reveal everything.
‘If I am to help the horse then I am afraid I need to know.’
The sympathy on her face only made his guilt worse. She must think he was so heartbroken after the loss of his sister that he couldn’t talk about it. Nothing could be further from the truth and nothing would make him admit the guilt he harboured.
‘First we eat,’ he said as his servants arrived with their meal. He gestured to the table, set with his colours, the same bright purple and gold that would adorn his private tent when he spent time in the desert, something he did several times a year.
She smiled at him and he could see his brusque tone had unsettled her, but it was necessary. Duty meant he could never let his emotions influence any decision he made. Duty also meant he could never have needs himself. It was always at the forefront of everything he did, just as it had been when he’d arranged Tabinah’s marriage, resisting her pleas for him to reconsider.
‘This is not what I expected to be doing this evening,’ she said as she settled herself on the cushions around the low table. The excitement on her face made her skin glow and her eyes sparkle. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Just as when he’d first met her, she appeared totally unaware of her beauty, almost as if she was intent on hiding or remaining out of the spotlight.
‘What did you expect? That I would banish you to your room and lock you up unless you were working with Majeed?’ Although it was meant in jest, he was shocked to see her cheeks flush with colour.
‘No, not that,’ she said softly, a hint of nerves in her voice. ‘I just didn’t expect such special treatment or the effort you’ve gone to.’
‘You are here as my guest, Destiny.’ It was the first time he’d used her name in conversation and it all but sizzled on his tongue and a spark of lust hurtled through him. ‘I like to show all my guests what my kingdom and its people can offer.’
He had to add that, had to try and refocus his attention away from the way she was making him feel as she sat opposite him, her partially visible dark hair gleaming in the light from the lanterns and looking so soft he wanted to touch it, to feel its silkiness and slide it through his fingers as his lips claimed hers.
What was he thinking? He should not be entertaining such thoughts. Not just because she was here to do a job, or even because she was a woman from a different culture. He could never think about any woman that way, not even the woman he was soon to select as his bride.
‘I am here to do a job.’ Her words were stronger, confidence filling them as they had done the first time he’d met her. ‘And to do that I need to know about certain events.’
He waited whilst his servants cleared the table and watched her face fill with delight and disbelief as an array of desserts were placed between them. As the servants quietly withdrew he wished Destiny was here as his guest, wished that he didn’t have to reveal anything about the night Tabinah died. Inexplicably, it mattered what this woman thought of him.
‘Tabinah was unhappy with the man I had chosen for her to marry. It was a marriage of duty on both sides, uniting two wealthy and powerful families. Unfortunately, Tabinah didn’t share my view on duty. She wanted nothing but her freedom.’
‘Her freedom?’ Destiny’s brows drew together as she tried to process the information, confusion clear on her face.
‘She claimed to be in love with another man, one totally unsuitable for the sister of the Sheikh of Kezoban.’ His words were dry and monotone. It was the first time he’d told anyone that his young sister had declared her love for a man other than the one she was engaged to. He knew it was talked of within the palace. He was no fool. He’d heard the whispered speculations. He’d just never admitted it to anyone before.
‘I’m sorry.’ She lowered her lashes, obviously embarrassed to look at him.
‘It is of no consequence. Many arranged marriages do not contain any love at all,’ he stated flatly as he wiped his fingers and signalled for the remains of their meal to be cleared.
‘It is sad.’ She looked directly at him and he had the distinct impression she was challenging him. How, he wasn’t yet sure. ‘Everybody needs love.’
‘Have you ever been in love, Destiny?’ He narrowed his eyes as anger simmered beneath his cool composure. So she believed in love and probably believed in fairy tales where everyone lived happily ever after. He, however, believed in real life.
‘I have love in my life, yes.’ The defensive tone of her voice goaded him to prod for more.
‘As do I. Love for my people, my country and my family honour, but that is not what I asked. Have you ever believed you were in love?’ Suddenly it mattered that she had the same foolish notions as Tabinah, that she was filling her head with romantic dreams of happiness.
* * *
‘No.’ Destiny fired the answer back at him, not liking the way his dark eyes were watching every move she made, every expression which crossed her face. She’d seen love in her mother’s diary, felt it as she read the pages, but the fact that her father had remarried so soon after her mother had died told her all she needed to know. Her mother had loved, but had never been loved. Something she would never allow to happen to her. She would only give her heart to a man who loved her completely.
‘And you have not married,’ he said. It wasn’t a question and silently she watched him. His expression was stern.
‘My work has kept me busy.’
She followed his lead and stood up from the table, but when he approached her she couldn’t ignore the sudden racing of her heart. She wanted to back away, give herself space, but his dark gaze held hers, mesmerising her.
‘You shouldn’t hide behind your work.’ His voice was deep and sensuous and that little tremor she’d felt when she’d first seen him slipped down her spine again.
‘I don’t.’ She couldn’t help how defensive her voice sounded. ‘I love my work. It’s more than just work and that’s why I’m here. I came here for your horse, not because my stepmother arranged it or because you demanded it, but to help your horse.’
For a moment she thought she’d gone too far, crossed that invisible line of protocol which she had realised surrounded this man within minutes of her arrival in Kezoban. But what she’d said was true; she was here primarily because he’d implied that she was the stallion’s only hope.
The sound of insects from the darkness of the garden and the heady scents of the exotic flowers wrapped around her, making everything, from the man before her to the setting in which she’d just enjoyed the most delicious meal, even more romantic. She was tired from travelling yet her body fizzed with a new and strange fiery need.
‘For that I am indebted to you. Tomorrow you will begin your work with Majeed and I am sure a spirited yet sympathetic woman such as you can help him.’
He moved towards her, his handsome face set in a firm mask of control, his dark eyes almost piercing hers. Was he teasing her? No, of course not. He was a powerful man, a ruler and used to getting what he wanted at all times.
‘I’m looking forward to seeing the stallion. It will be an honour to work with such a majestic animal.’ She tried to keep the conversation on the job, the reason she was here instead of allowing her mind to imagine he was looking at her with desire in his eyes.
‘It will, no doubt, be a challenge.’
‘I’m ready for a challenge.’
The smile which pulled at the corners of his lips did something to her, making her stomach flip as butterflies took flight. ‘I shall walk you to your suite. This way.’
He gestured a path through the flora of the exquisite garden where small lights twinkled, giving it a magical appearance. She pushed aside her hesitancy and walked side by side with him, aware of his tall and strong body next to hers, just as she had been when they’d stood talking at the stables.
‘Your gardens are so beautiful. I would never have expected it in the desert.’ Again she talked to draw her attention away from the way he made her feel.
‘I have spent many years researching irrigation in desert regions and now own a successful company doing just that.’ The pride in his voice was clear and she looked at his profile, but when he turned to her she blushed, looking quickly away. ‘Bringing water and better lives to my people is my passion.’
‘Very impressive and interesting.’
‘That pleases me.’ His tone was more regal than she’d heard yet, reminding her just who this man was.
He opened a gate set beneath an arch of a white wall inlaid with intricate designs and stepped back to allow her through. ‘These are the public palace gardens. You may walk in them whenever you wish.’
She walked beside him, more aware of him than she had ever been. He unsettled her with his raw masculinity and his overwhelming power, but more unnerving was the fact that she found him incredibly attractive.
She recognised the terraced area outside her suite but before she could say another word he stopped. ‘I will bid you goodnight.’
She looked up at him, the intensity in his eyes sending a tremor of awareness surging through her. ‘Thank you. For this evening.’
‘The pleasure was all mine.’
A heavy silence fell over them, shrouding them in something profoundly powerful until she could hardly breathe. For one bizarre moment she thought he was going to kiss her and her body instinctively swayed towards his. Just in time she caught herself and stepped back. ‘Goodnight.’
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_d4ccae06-cee3-5d8d-bcef-66a9c9ad339c)
DESTINY DIDN’T SLEEP much that night. Her dreams were disturbed by the image of the man she’d spent the evening with. Zafir had infiltrated her mind, filling her thoughts with images of them together. She’d never behaved like this over a man before and, angry at her reaction, she got up early, going to sit on her private terrace, watching the sky turn from a dark orange to a bright and cloudless blue, bringing the warmth of a new day.
All she wanted was to begin her work with the Sheikh’s stallion, but she would have to wait until she was escorted to the stables—or anywhere else within the palace. That much had been made clear to her on her arrival, making her feel more like a prisoner than a guest.
When a young boy knocked on her door and informed her he was to escort her to the stables it only reinforced that thought. She followed him through the bright white corridors of the palace, glimpsing the public part of the garden through the archways as she went, feeling the rising heat of the desert battle with the cool air within the palace.
Finally she reached the stables and the young boy introduced her to the man in charge, but nothing could have prepared her for what she saw as she walked through another archway adorned with intricate metalwork. Beyond it she could see an almost endless row of stables on each side, all so elaborate it was hard to believe horses actually lived in them and a far cry from the stables her mother had started, which were now sadly neglected by her father. She used to think it was because he’d loved her mother so much that he couldn’t face doing anything to them, but then she’d stumbled across her mother’s diary and that myth had been shattered.
‘Sheikh Al Asmari’s stallion is stabled at the end,’ the man said in almost perfect English, dragging her thoughts back from home. His plain white robes flared slightly as he walked towards the end of the long passageway, his feet almost silent on the sandy-coloured mosaic floor. He stopped and turned to her, caution and warning in his voice as he continued. ‘The stallion will not leave the palace walls. Fear is in his eyes and mistrust in his soul. Many have tried to reach him, but none have succeeded.’
‘He has not been outside these walls for almost a year?’ Destiny knew a moment of panic as she realised this was a more serious problem than she’d been led to believe.
‘Not since the Sheikh’s young sister rode him out the night she died.’
‘Then I have much work to do. I will need to spend time with him before I do anything else.’ She was anxious to get started, wanting to see the horse for herself, needing to gain his trust. Only then could she begin to work with him and determine how long it would take, but already she wondered if the two months the Sheikh had stated would be adequate.
‘This way.’
She followed the man to the end stable and couldn’t help a gasp of admiration escape her. The stallion’s black coat gleamed. He was as regal as his owner and easily had as much power and command surrounding him.
‘I will groom him first.’
The man inclined his head in acknowledgement and a few moments later handed her several brushes. ‘The bridle is hanging here.’
‘Thank you.’ She looked at the fine leather bridle adorned with bright coloured tassels, not sure any horse she’d worked with recently would tolerate such things on their bridles. Maybe Majeed wasn’t so bad after all.
As the man walked away she entered the stable and stood, waiting for the stallion to accept her presence. His ears twitched as he inspected her from the corner of his stable, his head high and regal, his eyes wary.
‘You’re very handsome,’ she said softly as she stood and waited for the stallion to relax. ‘Almost as handsome as your master.’
Zafir’s face came to mind in an image so clear it shocked her. She’d only seen him three times and already every last detail of those dark, attractive features was imprinted in her memory. If that wasn’t a warning sign she was letting her imagination run wild, dragging her in too deep, she didn’t know what was. The last thing she needed was the added complication of being attracted to the Sheikh.
* * *
Zafir had wanted to escort Destiny to the stables but had had to bow to protocol. She was here as his guest, a British woman employed to do a job and, as such, it wouldn’t be right to be seen offering her extra favours. Especially now, when he was finally accepting his duty to marry and produce a future generation to rule Kezoban.
He entered the stables just in time to see Destiny go into Majeed’s stable, apparently about to groom him. Not at all how others had approached the task. He frowned, then dismissed his doubts. He’d sought her out because of recommendation and he would have to accept her way of doing things—for now at least.
Silently he walked towards the stable and couldn’t stem the satisfied smile as she spoke to the horse, complimenting both Majeed and him. It pleased him to know she was not as immune to him as she had led him to believe last night. It also notched up the simmering desire just being near her provoked.
As he’d walked her through the garden last night he’d known that if they were anywhere else but his palace he would have taken his attraction for her further. He would have kissed her. For the first time since he’d taken an oath to serve his people he wished such duties didn’t exist, that he was free to explore whatever it was between them. As she’d looked up at him, her lovely face in partial darkness, he’d wanted to take her in his arms and savour her kiss, to hold her against him and become intoxicated by her sweet scent.
Had she known that? Had she wanted it too? Was that why she’d suddenly bolted last night as they’d stood by the terrace of her suite? He watched her now as she put out her hand, allowing Majeed to smell her. She didn’t move, but the curious horse came to her. She touched his muzzle, then gently took hold of his head collar.
‘Do you need any help?’ He decided it would be best to make his presence known before he gave her and the horse a fright.
‘How long have you been there?’ She blushed and he knew she was worrying if he’d heard her earlier compliments to him and the horse.
‘I have just arrived.’
She relaxed a little, then turned her attention to the horse. ‘I will brush him for a while so that I can touch him all over, ensure he isn’t unnerved by me. Then I will begin my work with him.’
Zafir found his thoughts wandering to how it would feel to be touched all over by her and for the first time in his life he was jealous of a horse. This woman seemed to bring out a magnitude of new emotions within him. What would be next?
He watched as she turned her back on him and began to brush Majeed’s shiny black coat. She wore the traditional Western jodhpurs he’d seen her in when he’d called at the stables in England but, unlike then, she now wore a long shirt which covered her arms and the sexy bottom he’d studied briefly as he’d first watched her. She was bowing to his country’s dress codes as much as her job would allow. For that he was grateful, but he couldn’t help wondering what she’d look like in the silks women in his country wore. The thought intrigued him and he decided it would be something he would discover before she returned to England. He would give her a gift of the finest abayas and silks to wear.
‘Very well, I will wait.’
She turned to look at him, her hand resting on Majeed’s shoulder. ‘For what?’
For a moment he couldn’t speak. Nobody ever talked to him in that tone of voice. ‘To see you work?’ His tone was sharp with shock but the challenge in her eyes made him clench his jaw against further words.
‘I don’t work with an audience.’
‘I am hardly an audience. I am the owner of this horse and, as the Sheikh of Kezoban, I expect to get what I want.’ The audacity of the woman! How could she not know he would get just what he wanted and when he wanted it?
‘Then we have a problem.’
‘A problem?’ Briefly he floundered, like a man stumbling down a large sand dune, his balance disrupted. ‘I am not about to allow anyone to work with my horse without my knowledge of what is happening.’
She moved away from the horse, put down the brush and came to the door. ‘Then it seems we have wasted one another’s time.’
Had the world tipped on its axis? Had everything been turned upside down? He gave orders, not took them. He made demands, not met them.
She looked directly into his eyes, the shyness she’d displayed last night gone and in its place fierce determination.
‘Can you help this horse?’ He snapped the question out, his patience tested to the full and not just by her impertinence but by the way his body craved hers.
‘Yes, I can, although it appears his master is in need of some help too.’ Her words were spoken in a low tone with smooth flowing syllables, but the unrelenting strength in them was unmistakable. Was it possible she knew how long he’d tortured himself with the guilt of not being there for Tabinah, of not hearing her pleas or understanding her unhappiness?
‘You are not here to analyse me.’ Maybe his presence here would affect the outcome. Was it possible Majeed sensed his guilt? This was all too deep for him. He didn’t explore emotions—ever.
‘When I work with a horse, I also invariably work with the owner as well.’ The slight rise of her delicate brows gave her a superiority he found strangely attractive. Something else he didn’t want to look too deeply into. It was time to retreat. Time to gather his strength.
‘Very well. I will meet you in my office this afternoon and I expect your verdict on what Majeed needs.’
‘Thank you.’ She didn’t smile and he couldn’t. She had got the better of him, caught him totally off guard, a sensation which both unsettled and excited him.
* * *
Later that afternoon Destiny waited to see Zafir. She’d spent several hours with Majeed, wanting only to gain his trust, because she could see beneath his fear. She needed much more information about what had happened to change him so much. She sensed he was a gentle creature who only wanted to please, which was all the more reason to take things slowly.
The big problem now was how his master would react to having the death of his sister all but investigated by her.
‘The Sheikh will see you now.’ Zafir’s aide approached and she followed him through the tall doors she’d first entered on her arrival. Was that really only yesterday?
As she stood before him, his gaze slid down her in an imperious way that sent a shimmer of awareness all over her as if he’d actually touched her and she was glad of her continued choice of clothes which fitted in with his culture and, more importantly, covered as much of her as possible.
‘You may leave us.’ He spoke to his aide but kept his gaze firmly fixed on her and she blushed, wishing somebody would stay. He gestured to a large chair in front of his desk. ‘Please, sit.’
She did as he bid her and sat on the gilded chair. The room was so large, with arches opening out onto yet more ornate gardens, but she couldn’t focus on any of that now. Zafir took all her attention. She needed to keep her mind focused and to quash the heady feeling that rushed around her just from being in the same room as him. Was that why she’d been so adamant that he couldn’t stay this morning? Because of the way he made her feel? Or was it the need to test his authority, to push his control back and gain some for herself?
‘Now that you have had time with Majeed, what is your professional opinion?’ His voice was deep with a firm edge to it that highlighted his accent. It also did things to her she had never known possible, like a tingle rushing down her spine and a heavy sensation deep within her.
‘Majeed needs time and he needs to build his confidence by facing his fears. As he has not left the palace walls since the accident I suggest I work towards that ultimate goal.’
Zafir nodded as he sat in his large and very regal chair. She had to keep her nerve, keep her mind from thinking of his dark skin, the trimmed beard that made him so incredibly attractive. But it was his eyes which unsettled her most. Their dark intensity reached within her, bringing out a woman she’d never wanted to be, one who desired a man, wanted him in a way that was as impossible as her being in his kingdom in the first place.
‘I had anticipated that you would say that. Tomorrow morning we will ride out. I will take you to where Tabinah was found and endeavour to impart as much of the events as possible.’ His tone was courteous, his words firm and distinct and she wondered if she’d just imagined the last few moments when something like attraction had sparked between them.
‘That will be good. I understand it must be painful for you, but it is something...’
‘Painful?’ He cut her words off before she could finish the remainder of the sentence. ‘Why would it be painful?’
‘It must be hard after losing your sister because of the need to follow tradition.’
He stood up abruptly, his eyes eagle-sharp, almost pinning her to the spot. ‘I had thought because of the way you have been dressing that you were acquainted with my culture.’
Destiny frowned, unsure what she’d said to have changed things so drastically, but she wouldn’t allow him to intimidate her. She was here of her own free will and would leave if necessary. She stood up as quickly as he had, her chin defiantly lifted even though inside she was trembling. ‘I’m sorry if my sympathy offends.’
‘It does not offend. It is misplaced.’ He tempered his tone and walked around the desk towards her slowly as if he feared she might bolt through the archway at any moment and into the gardens.
‘Misplaced?’ The question came out as a cracked whisper and she could hardly stand, her limbs were so weak. Still he moved towards her, coming so close she could smell the desert on him and the heady, raw masculine scent of power.
‘It was to have been a marriage of convenience. Love was not involved. Just as it will not be when I take a wife.’ He looked down at her and she refused to break eye contact, watching him even though just being this close weakened her knees and made her pulse leap wildly. ‘Marriage is a contract, nothing more.’
‘But what about love?’ She couldn’t help the question slipping from her lips and as she spoke his gaze flicked lower, as if watching her lips move, and she had to fight hard against the urge to bite down on her bottom lip. What was this man doing to her?
‘Love is a concept I have not allowed in my life. Desire, however, is.’ She could see it in his eyes, feel it with every pore of her skin. At that moment he desired her. Light-headed and shocked, she backed away from him, bumping into the chair she’d just leapt from.
‘That is not something I know.’ Why did her voice sound so husky?
‘You have not desired something?’ He was playing with her; she was sure of that. Was it punishment for speaking out of turn?
‘Yes, of course I’ve desired things.’ She let out a long breath. For a moment she’d thought he meant a man.
‘Someone?’
She looked at him, knowing that right now she desired him. What had he done to her? He was a powerful Sheikh, a man used to getting what he wanted and probably had a harem of women tucked away in his palace somewhere. She had to stop this. She was getting in way too deep. If she wasn’t careful, she would go down the same sorry road as her mother, falling for a man who could never love her.
‘No. I have never desired anyone and neither do I intend to.’
‘So if I touched your face with my fingertips you wouldn’t tremble with desire and need for me.’
He reached out his hand and before he could touch her she knocked his arm away, glaring angrily at him. ‘I am not here to become one of your harem. I am here to work with your stallion. Nothing more.’
He narrowed his eyes and she knew she’d insulted him. Was it because she’d touched him or because she hadn’t fallen into a heap at his feet, begging him to make love to her?
‘I do not have a harem of any size and I will be faithful to my wife from the day we are married. No woman has come close to threatening that ideal before today.’ He turned on his heel, his robes flowing out wildly, and went to stand by the archway, the sunlight of the afternoon framing him.
He looked vulnerable and she swallowed down hard, finally able to breathe properly now that he’d stepped away. Last night she’d believed she’d been mistaken when she’d thought he’d been about to kiss her; now she wasn’t sure. Was she doing something wrong? Giving him the wrong message? She was a naive virgin who’d barely shared a kiss with a man and this particular man was so overwhelmingly powerful she couldn’t understand, let alone control, the way he made her feel.
‘You should leave.’ He didn’t look at her and the rigid set of his back made his disapproval all too evident but she wasn’t about to argue with him again.
She needed to get away, to calm herself and work out what was going on between them. Every time they met it became more intense, harder to ignore. Whatever it was.
She turned and walked to the door, about to reach for the large gold handle when she heard his voice again. Deep and soft.
‘Destiny.’
She turned to him, not liking the way her heart lurched at the sight of him. Even across the vastness of his cool marbled office, she could feel his vulnerability, as if every barrier he’d ever used as a weapon was briefly down, exposing the real man.
‘Yes?’ she said stiffly, not willing to be fooled by his soft tone.
He frowned and regarded her suspiciously. ‘Be ready by dawn.’
‘Ready?’ Her heart went into freefall. Ready for what?
‘To ride out. We leave before the sun rises too high.’
His eyes locked with hers across the room and she couldn’t break the contact, couldn’t look away. Instead she nodded, her breath coming hard and fast. Finally she dropped her gaze and turned to pull open the door quickly, her haste to escape whatever spell he was casting on her making her clumsy.
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