She wanted to correct him but for once she didn’t bother. Because these weren’t academic matters she was dealing with—straightforward facts which could be verified or negated. Matters of the heart didn’t conform to any particular set of rules, she was discovering. Of course not everything was possible for Zayed—it wasn’t possible he could ever love her, was it?
They planned their trip for the end of the following week, travelling across the vast reaches of the country by one of the royal aircraft. Before she left, Jane sent an email to David Travers, enquiring tentatively about possible openings within the Foreign Office. Because she had to start looking to her future. She knew that when this was over she couldn’t return to her old job. How would it look to have the newly divorced Sheikha back in her basement office, wading through dusty reams of documents? Apart from anything else, what would happen when Zayed came to visit? Would she have to pretend that they’d been nothing to one another—or, worse still, to remember exactly what they’d done, and how?
She hadn’t received a reply from David by the time they touched down and she forgot all about it in the light of the surprise which was awaiting her. Jane had been expecting to be taken straight to the city, but instead they had landed in the vast emptiness of the desert. She blinked. Well, not completely empty because before her loomed a vast tent—with a group of other, smaller tents in the distance. Against the flaming splendour of the sunset rose a pyramid-shaped roof and through the open flaps of the entrance to the main tent she could see the faint gleam of embellished wall-hangings.
She turned to Zayed. ‘What...what is this?’
‘Surely you recognise a Bedouin tent?’ he questioned mockingly. ‘Did you not once tell me that your heart’s desire was to stay in one?’
Yes, she had said that. Soft words of longing which she’d confided to him during those early days of sexual discovery, when she had been able to enjoy pleasure for pleasure’s sake—before the unrealistic demands of her heart had made her want so much more. She could hardly turn to him now, could she, and voice her concerns that the sheer romance of the setting would cause her unnecessary pain? So she followed her husband into the interior, where lavish wrought-iron lamps hung from the canvas ceiling and cast a golden glow. Priceless silk carpets adorned the floor and low divans were covered in rich and heavy brocade.
‘One of the maidservants will take you away to be bathed,’ said Zayed softly, and, as if she’d heard his words, a young woman appeared in the doorway.
Jane wanted to protest as she was led away to where a bath had been prepared for her. How on earth had they managed to produce this much warm water in the middle of the desert? she wondered as she lowered her body into the milky depths. But for once her questioning mind was silenced by the delicious sensation of the scented oils rippling over her. Afterwards, the maidservant rubbed the silkiest cream into her skin, so that she smelt the drift of sweet oranges and bergamot as she was helped into her clothes. And what clothes. She’d never seen these silk-chiffon robes before and they were the most exquisite thing she’d ever laid eyes on. In deep indigo—as rich and as dark as the desert sky—the robes were delicately embroidered with silver and studded with tiny gems which glittered as she moved, so that she felt as if she were wearing the night sky wrapped around her.
Her hair was left loose and she made her way towards the main tent beneath a sky dazzling with a blaze of stars and the perfect shining scimitar of a golden moon. This must be what it had been like for his ancestors, she thought suddenly. Because out here in the beautiful starkness of the desert, nothing had really changed. Inside the tent the overhead lights had been extinguished and in their place were dozens of candles, which reinforced the fairytale feel. As Zayed heard her enter and turned to greet her Jane thought she would recall that look on his face for as long as she lived. Or would she try to forget it on the grounds that it would be too achingly poignant to remember? For in that unguarded moment she saw desire, yes, but wasn’t there something else flickering in his black eyes? Some other emotion which looked like a deeper kind of longing than mere lust.
Maybe she was just guilty of transferring her own feelings onto him. Imagining what she wanted to see instead of what was really there.
‘You like it?’ she questioned, only her voice did not sound like her voice at all. It sounded husky and tremulous.
‘I...’ He hesitated and that in itself was rare. ‘I have never seen a woman more beautiful than the way you look tonight, my Queen.’
She wanted to tell him not to talk to her that way and yet she wanted him never to stop. She was glad to take the weight off her trembling knees and to sink onto the embroidered cushions which were heaped in front of the traditional low table. The Sheikh’s favoured foods were brought to them on golden platters, accompanied by the sweet date juice for which the region was famous. But Jane could barely concentrate on the delicacies on offer; she was much too churned up inside to eat or drink. And when the barely touched dishes were taken away, Zayed took her into his arms, smoothing the hair back from her cheeks with his fingers.
‘So pensive tonight, Jane.’
She shrugged. ‘This is quite some experience.’ She looked around the room, desperately seeking to focus her attention on something other than the burning temptation of his eyes. ‘For once I find myself lost for words.’
But he turned her face back to his, his palm cupping her chin so she could look nowhere else but at him. ‘Then perhaps we should occupy ourselves with something which requires no words.’
He kissed her and it should have been wonderful—and in a way Jane supposed it was. They both achieved orgasm that night, didn’t they? Not just once but over and over. He caressed her with his mouth and with his hands. He explored every aching centimetre of skin until she was crying out yet again beneath the renewed heat of desire. But never had Jane been more aware of the shallow nature of their relationship and the fact that they weren’t giving themselves to each other as fully as they could. Because he didn’t want to. Because she wasn’t supposed to be his real lover. She was his convenient wife, that was all, and for only a limited tenure.
Here in the romantic setting of the Bedouin tent it was easy to forget the harshness of their reality and allow herself to be swept away by the fantasy of imagining him as her real husband. And she mustn’t let herself. As she lay in the stillness of the desert night, listening to the sound of Zayed’s steady breathing, she tried to concentrate on her gratitude that he no longer suffered those terrible nightmares. And with an effort she pushed away her growing sense of hopelessness for what could never be.
Despite the matchless beauty and solitude of the place, Jane felt a sense of relief when they left by plane the following morning to install themselves in Zayed’s sumptuous palace in Qaiyama. And she was glad of the opportunity to distract herself from her uncomfortable thoughts by exploring the city which had once been Kafalah’s capital. With its bustling bazaars, enormous square and the famous clock tower which overlooked the ancient temple, it was still very romantic—but in a much more manageable way than the Bedouin tent had been. She had a million questions for their learned guide, most of which he was able to answer but there were a couple which he confessed perplexed him. Jane said she would research the answers herself and let him know, and she saw the curving smile on Zayed’s face as he listened.
She was hot and dusty by the time they returned to the palace and made a couple of quick notes on her computer before going into the bathroom to douse her hot skin with the refreshing splash of a cool shower. It wasn’t nearly as relaxing as bathing by candlelight in the desert, but she reflected that you couldn’t have everything. Her hair was damp and her silk robe brushing against her scented skin when she walked back into the room and saw something on Zayed’s face that she’d never seen there before. She frowned, her senses instantly alert. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
What was it?
‘Everything okay?’ she questioned.
‘Couldn’t be better.’ He began to walk towards her. ‘Did you see how much pleasure you gave to our guide today, when he realised that the new Queen was so literate in Kafalahian history?’
She was about to make a flippant remark about enjoying being a queen while it lasted, but something in Zayed’s eyes stopped her. Something dark and dangerous. But dangerous in an exciting way, if that was possible. Her tongue snaked out to moisten her suddenly dry lips. ‘Is...is something the matter?’ she said.
‘The matter?’ His hand reached out to cup her face and she could feel the roughness of his fingers as they smoothed over her skin and it matched the sudden roughness of his voice. ‘On the contrary, I’m just beginning to realise what a fool I’ve been, Jane.’
‘You? A fool?’
‘Mmm. I know it is difficult to comprehend, but even I am capable of making fundamental mistakes.’
Curiosity overrode her desire to reproach him for coming out with such an arrogant statement. ‘What sort of mistakes?’
He pulled her into his arms and brushed his lips over hers. ‘I want to possess you so much that it’s eating me up,’ he husked. ‘I can’t go on like this for much longer, Jane—and, what’s more, I don’t intend to try.’
Her heart was beating so fast that she could hardly speak. She assumed he was just going to pleasure her in one of the usual ways but suddenly there was a new tension about him which told her something had changed. ‘Do you