Monarch of the Sands (15 page)

‘You … do?’

‘Of course I do,’ he growled. His eyes met hers, and he felt another urgent leap of desire as he registered her quick rise in colour. ‘Isn’t it crazy for us not to enjoy each other for a little longer?’

Frankie’s cheeks burned and her heart raced. She agreed with every word he said, yet she wished he hadn’t approached it quite so cold-bloodedly. Couldn’t he have just pulled her into his arms and told her between urgent kisses that he couldn’t bear to let her go—rather than making it sound like something which was on the agenda at a board meeting?

But Frankie recognised that it was an indication of Zahid’s sense of decency that he was not blinding her with emotion, or trying to sway her with more glorious sex. He was putting an offer on the table into which nothing should be read. He was offering her a brief interlude—to be enjoyed by them both while it lasted.

What was there to think about?

‘It might be crazy,’ she whispered, ‘but what’s wrong with a little craziness from time to time?’

With a moan, he pulled her towards him—brushing his mouth over hers as if he had been starved of contact for days instead of mere minutes. He felt the thunder
of his heart and the urgent hardening of his groin as her soft breasts pressed against him. ‘We’re going to have to be discreet at all times—because my servants are all-seeing,’ he warned softly. ‘We must not flaunt our affair in front of them, for that would also be disrespectful to them.’

And what about me? wondered Frankie with a touch of desperation as he whispered his lips over her hair. Did her feelings matter less than those of the servants?

But she recognised that she must not waste precious time wishing for the impossible. She must enjoy what was on offer and applaud Zahid’s honesty towards her. He might not be giving her the fairy-tale version of a love affair, but at least he wasn’t lying to her—and surely that was showing her respect of the most fundamental kind?

‘Come on,’ he said, with one last, lingering kiss. ‘We’d better go.’

He reached down to press the remote control and the automatic blind floated back up over the window. Frankie blinked, realising that the exceptional brightness she’d noticed before was due to the reflection of sunlight on water. Walking over to the window, she peered out and in the distance she could see the shimmer of water and the unexpected lushness of green foliage.

‘Is that a river?’ she questioned, in surprise.

He went to stand beside her, his hand lingering briefly on the curve of her bottom. ‘Indeed it is—we call it the Jamanah river, which means “silver pearl”.’ He looked down and shot her a mocking look. ‘I suppose you thought that all desert kingdoms were entirely without water?’

‘I try to avoid generalisations like that.’ Frankie screwed up her eyes as she tried to remember back to her geography lessons. ‘Does it happen to have its source outside the country?’

‘Bravo,’ he affirmed softly. ‘It’s what is known as an exotic river and it flows from the neighbouring country of Sharifah.’

‘Isn’t that the one you had all the wars with?’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Bravo again, Francesca. How on earth did you know that?’

‘My father told me, of course. He was very interested in Khayarzahian history.’

‘And you’ve remembered it all?’

‘Most of it.’ She smiled to herself as they left the house and got into the car. Of course she had remembered it all! Didn’t she used to collect and store up facts about Zahid like other girls used to collect Barbie dolls? Because hadn’t it always fascinated her, to learn what she could about the dark sheikh she so adored and the land which was so precious to him? ‘I have a very retentive memory,’ she said primly.

His gaze flicked over her. ‘You are a surprising woman in many ways.’

‘That sounds awfully like a compliment.’

‘That’s because it is,’ he murmured.

Frankie glowed with pleasure as he started up the engine and in that moment she couldn’t ever remember feeling happier. Bathed in the warm afterglow of sex, it was easy to forget that Zahid had warned her about any long-term hopes or dreams about their relationship.

Along the way, he pointed out landmarks and the country which she’d grown up hearing so much about slowly came to life. His voice lulled her with tales of
battles fought by his ancestors as they drove along the straight and dusty road through the desert, while the sun set like blood on the sand which surrounded them.

It was only when they arrived back at the palace that a subtle change occurred in him. As soon as the ornate golden gates had clanged shut behind them he went from lover to King. His expression became as remote as the distant mountains and the closeness which she’d experienced in the car all but disappeared. There was no brief pressing of flesh or brush of skin against skin as they parted. No honeyed words of affection. Instead, his tone was clipped and flat.

‘I must go to speak with my advisors,’ he said. ‘So I’ll leave you with the opportunity to rest after your afternoon in the heat. Before dinner I’ll show you the diaries and where you’ll be working—so that tomorrow you may begin. How does that sound?’

‘That sounds fine,’ she answered awkwardly, aware of the formality which had suddenly entered his voice.

And that was that. Nothing more. He was gone with not even a secret shared look or smile to remind them of the intimacy which Frankie now remembered with almost painful clarity. Was it really possible that just a couple of hours ago she’d been naked in his arms and thrilling to the brand-new experience of being made love to? Yet now he was turning away from her as if she were a stranger.

She was standing watching him walk away when Fayruz appeared, as if she had been summoned. And maybe she had, thought Frankie. Probably all the palace machinery had started whirring the moment the sheikh had driven them into the palace forecourt.

At least there was enough time for Frankie to take
extra-special care in dressing and, after she’d dismissed the servant, she looked at the array of silk clothes in her wardrobes. What had Zahid said to her, in one of those quieter moments when his lips had grazed over hers and made her shiver with longing? That her eyes were the most beautiful blue he had ever seen—bluer even than the precious mosaic stones of lapis lazuli which studded the walls of his palace?

His words made her choose a tunic and trousers in deep sapphire blue and she twisted her hair up into a knot on top of her head. It was a bold look and one she wouldn’t usually have dared try—but having a man like Zahid purring compliments like that did wonders for a woman’s confidence.

Fayruz came to collect her an hour before dinner and took her to where Zahid was waiting in the palace’s ancient library. It was an exquisite gilded room, lined with the most beautiful books she had ever seen.

His black eyes were watchful as she walked in, but the faint curve of his smile was unmistakable, even to her. Frankie might not have been the most experienced woman on the block, but she could tell that her lover approved of her appearance. She stood before him as he dismissed Fayruz, wondering if he might quickly pull her into his arms and murmur his appreciation. But the complete absence of softness on his face made her feel nervous.

Nonetheless, her mounting nerves were suddenly subdued by the sight of the intricately inlaid box which stood on a nearby table and which he opened to reveal a neat stack of leather notebooks inside.

All thoughts and worries about her relationship with Zahid were forgotten in the light of this tangible slice
of history and Frankie reached into the box with eager care, gently withdrawing the nearest volume.

The pages were a little dry but completely intact and the flowing handwriting was—thankfully—extremely legible. Some pages were full of closely written script, while others—clearly written in times of great trouble or stress—were more bald and succinct. How her father would have loved to have seen these, she thought as her gaze skimmed over them.

After a few minutes she remembered where she was and she looked up to find Zahid watching her with a curiously intent look in his black eyes.

‘I gather you like what you see,’ he observed.

‘I do—and I can’t wait to start,’ she said.

And at this, Zahid gave a rueful smile. Had he thought that she might be difficult to deal with—having had time to reflect on her sexual awakening? Imagining that she might become demanding—or start behaving inappropriately? Yet there was none of the limpet-like looks he’d anticipated—nor any soft reproachful comments that he hadn’t kissed her.

No, she was currently picking up another volume of his father’s work and looking as if she would like to sit down at one of the nearby tables and begin reading it from cover to cover right now! It was the first time in his life that he had ever been overlooked by someone deep in a book!

‘Are you not hungry, Francesca?’ he questioned drily.

Blinking, she glanced up from the diary. ‘Hungry?

Yes, of course I am.’

‘Then perhaps you could bear to endure having dinner with me before losing yourself in my father’s work.’ He arched her a sardonic look as he saw her reluctantly
close the book and he smiled as he saw a glimpse of the earnest schoolgirl she had once been. ‘You can start transcribing first thing in the morning. Come on, let’s go and eat.’

Frankie felt a sense of unreality as she walked beside him through the marble corridors. In those few moments she felt so close to him and yet so far apart. If it had been anyone but Zahid, then wouldn’t they have laced fingers together and walked along, hand in hand? She now knew his body intimately and yet she had not so much as touched him since they’d returned to the palace.

But they ate in the same dining room as the previous night—which at least gave her the comfort of familiarity. Exotic platters of food were brought in and, although she ate some of the delicious morsels, Frankie was sure that she didn’t do them justice. How could she, when Zahid was sitting opposite her and driving every thought from her head other than how it had felt to be made love to by him? Was it the same for him—or did one woman simply blur into another, the sexual experience forgotten once it was over?

‘You’re very quiet, Francesca.’

It sounded more like an observation than a question and she gave a little shrug. ‘Am I?’

‘In Khayarzah we have an expression—“if you give me your thought, I will give you an almond”.’

‘In England we say—a penny for your thoughts.

Yours is much more poetic.’

‘And do you like almonds?’

‘I love them.’

‘So?’ His gaze roved over her questioningly.

‘Who’s Katya?’ she asked suddenly.

His eyes narrowed. ‘Katya?’

The question she had buried now came bubbling to the surface. ‘The woman who rang that day in London, in the hotel. The one who was very sniffy with me.’

Zahid frowned. He wanted to tell her that Katya was none of her business, but something in the way she was biting her lip made him relent—and he
had
asked. ‘Just a woman.’

Just?
Somehow Frankie kept her expression ambiguous, wondering if she too was
just
a woman. Would someone one day refuse to let
her
speak to the sheikh when she telephoned—some smart and confident female who was currently the star in his firmament? She saw the future flash before her eyes and felt her heart sink. ‘I can’t think that any woman would care to hear herself described like that.’

‘Okay, perhaps that wasn’t the most diplomatic way to put it. She’s a Russian model I had an affair with. Satisfied?’

It wasn’t the best word to use in the circumstances and Frankie hated the next stupid and insecure question which seemed to blurt from her lips. ‘And was she … was she very beautiful?’

He smiled at the predictably feminine response. ‘No, she was as ugly as an addax.’ He saw her lips wobble and lowered his voice. ‘She was a model, Francesca—ergo, she was beautiful. But it’s over. The affair is over—it’s been over, ever since I became Sheikh. And anyway, why are you doing this,
anisah
—and why now? We’re not going to spoil a beautiful affair with petty jealousies, are we?’

She shook her head, trying to ignore the dark claws of envy which were scrabbling at her heart. And hard
on the heels of envy came the even more paralysing feeling of fear, even though Zahid had done nothing but speak the truth. This
was
an affair—nothing more, she knew that because he’d told her that right from the start. If she wanted more from the relationship, then not only would she be disappointed, but she would risk ruining what they already had. Somehow she dredged up a smile and hoped it looked more convincing than it felt. ‘No, of course we’re not.’

‘Good. I am very pleased to hear it.’

So she played her part of being the polite guest rather than the jealous lover—and began asking him about the eastern mountains and the fabled leopards which lived there. And it wasn’t until tiny little cups of thick, sweet coffee had been brought to the table that she slanted him a look.

‘Zahid?’

‘Mmm.’ Steeling himself against another bout of female possessiveness, he arched his dark brows in question.

‘What’s an addax?’ she asked.

‘It’s a desert antelope—famous for its ugliness.’ He smiled with a sudden, comfortable indulgence. Her sense of humour and quickness of mind stimulated him, but not nearly as much as the soft thrust of her breasts. ‘Go to bed, Francesca,’ he commanded, in a soft and urgent tone. ‘And I will join you as soon as the moon has risen.’

T
HE
soft light of dawn crept through the shutters of her bedroom and, lazily, Frankie stirred beneath the rumpled sheet, her legs willingly trapped beneath the weight of the sheikh’s hair-roughened thigh. ‘Don’t go,’ she murmured—a request which seemed to have become a morning ritual.

‘I have to go,
anisah bahiya
.’ Zahid’s voice was regretful, but resolute. ‘Don’t make this any harder for me than it already is.’

‘But I thought that’s what you liked …’ Her fingers drifted down to tiptoe over the heavy throb of his arousal.