Breaking the Sheikh's Rules

Her head whipped round and her heart stuttered to a stop as she saw the impossibly tall and broad figure of Sheikh Nadim uncoil from the vehicle. He was dressed all in black, and looked so ridiculously gorgeous and exotic that Iseult felt weakness invade her limbs. She told herself it wasn’t abject relief at seeing him there.

He strode over to where she stood, and Iseult was rendered speechless. At his brusque, ‘I trust you had a pleasant flight?’ she just nodded helplessly.

He gestured then to the men in uniform, who had stopped a respectful distance away. ‘These men are from Immigration in Al-Omar and Merkazad. They’ll check through your documents and issue you with the work visa that I’ve organised.’

Iseult’s head was spinning as she murmured something that she hoped was coherent. This wasn’t what she’d been expecting at all, and being faced with Sheikh Nadim like this was making treacherous butterflies erupt in her belly. It was very disturbing to know that this man had completely upended her life in the space of thirty-six hours, and what she felt for him had morphed from intense antipathy and mistrust to something much more nebulous and scary.

In no time at all the smiling men had handed Iseult back her passport, which was now covered with various official-looking stamps. Sheikh Nadim was with the vet and leading Devil’s Kiss out of the hold, down a ramp.

He looked at Iseult as she approached. ‘He fared well through the journey?’

Iseult looked to the vet for confirmation. He nodded his head. ‘Yes, he was fine.’

‘That’s good news,’ Sheikh Nadim said. ‘Sometimes if a horse does not weather its first air journey well, it’s an indication of problems.’

Iseult was trying to ignore the persistent feeling of relief—and also the way Nadim’s big graceful hands, smoothing over Devil’s Kiss’s flanks, was making her feel hot inside.

Together they installed Devil’s Kiss in the most luxurious horsebox Iseult had ever seen, and after saying goodnight to the vet Sheikh Nadim made sure Iseult’s luggage was installed before they got into the Jeep.

It was only as they were driving out of the airfield that Iseult noticed two other similar Jeeps come into position—one before them and one behind them. She guessed that they must be his bodyguards. It was only then that she saw all the Jeeps had ceremonial flags attached on either side of the bonnets, reminding her of the status of the man beside her.

Once they were on a well-lit and sleek-looking motor-way, Iseult said nervously, ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you at the airfield.’

Sheikh Nadim flicked her a cursory glance and said coolly, ‘I had a meeting with the Sultan of Al-Omar, but he got called away on sudden business so I decided to return home tonight. I have a meeting in Merkazad in the morning that I don’t want to miss.’

Iseult’s hands twisted in her lap. Of course he hadn’t come to meet her out of anything other than pure practical necessity.

She was acutely aware of the Sheikh’s huge rangy body beside hers in the luxury Jeep, and was so tense she nearly jumped out of her skin when he said, ‘You’ll have time to rest and settle in once we get to my stables. I won’t expect you to start to work straight away.’

Iseult looked at Nadim, taking in his harsh but beautiful profile. Being taken out of her comfort zone so spectacularly was making her feel intensely vulnerable. ‘It has been a bit of a whirlwind… This isn’t exactly what I was expecting.’

He inclined his head. ‘My head groom is called Jamilah. She’ll show you around in the morning and tell you how things run. It’ll be up to her as to how she sees fit to use you.’

Iseult was taking this information in, and her silence must have sent a message to Sheikh Nadim, who sent her a mocking glance. ‘You weren’t expecting that I’d employ a female head groom?’

Iseult flushed and said defensively, ‘It’s not that common. Even in Ireland it’s more usual to find stables largely run by men.’

‘You’ll find that women are widely employed in all kinds of jobs in Merkazad—although outside the main towns and cities things are still more conservative and traditional. If anything, we try to cling onto that. It’s a pity the more traditional nomadic Bedu way of life is becoming a thing of the past. The Bedu warriors are the ancestors of my people. Merkazad has always been a defensive stronghold.’

Despite her tiredness, Iseult was suddenly fascinated to know more. But she felt too shy to ask, and instead just asked how far they were from Merkazad.

‘Our journey won’t take long. Ordinarily we would fly my horses into B’harani, the capital of Al-Omar, but it adds a couple of hours onto the journey. Sometimes we use that airfield, which is closer to the Merkazad border. We’re in the process of building an airstrip and a small airport in northern Merkazad, but it won’t be ready for at least another year.’

‘Oh…’ Iseult fell silent and looked out at the impenetrable darkness outside, wondering what lay beyond. Was it desert? She’d seen them cross over the Arabian Sea as they’d flown in to land, so they weren’t far from the coast. She’d read up on Merkazad last night on the internet, and had learnt that it was tiny—literally just about one hundred miles from north to south, and two hundred miles from east to west. It had a natural border of a mountain range within Al-Omar, and had been ruled by Sheikh Nadim’s father before his death some twenty years before, when it had passed to Nadim.

The little information apart from that had told her how it had been fought over for many years by various rulers of Al-Omar, before Sheikh Nadim and the current Sultan of Al-Omar had reached a momentous peace agreement fifteen years ago. Iseult had realised that Nadim must have been only about twenty-one then, and had felt stunned to think of someone that young taking on such responsibility.

They were climbing into the mountains now, and Nadim explained to Iseult, ‘Once we’re through the mountains the altitude drops again. The country literally sits within them, almost like a plateau. It’ll probably surprise you when you see it if you’re expecting a desert. We have our own ecosystem, thanks to the geography, and we’re the only region that experiences a monsoon. We’ve just come out of it, so the land is still relatively lush.’

Before long Iseult could feel that they were indeed driving down, and within the hour she finally saw lights ahead. She was reminded of footage she’d seen on TV of what it was like to approach Las Vegas in the desert at night.

There were no skyscrapers or buildings taller than two or three storeys, but everything glittered and looked very clean. It was late, so not many people were on the streets. A beautifully ornate mosque was floodlit against the night sky and stars. The architecture of the buildings was a mix between something very Arabic and also something much more European, and she recalled reading in its history of a brief invasion led by colonising Portuguese. The roads were wide and straight, with tall palm trees swaying gently in the night breeze.

Not long after driving through the intriguing city and into a more suburban area Sheikh Nadim turned onto a long winding road which eventually led to a white-walled compound where a lit-up sign read al Saqr Stables. The huge heavy gates opened slowly and the Jeeps filed in.

Iseult’s eyes opened in wonder as the interior was revealed. A massive courtyard held all sorts of vehicles: horseboxes, Jeeps and cars. There was an enormous g

reen grassy area, where a water fountain shot high in the air, falling down in a glittering cascade into an ornate pool.