Exposed The Sheikh's Mistress

They watched a video of Sienna’s favourite film—an old musical which soon had her sniffing like a hay-fever sufferer.

‘You’re crying!’ he accused.

‘No, I’m not—it’s just a corny old film,’ she said crossly.

‘Come here,’ he said.

And, even though it made her heart ache, she went.

They spent their time doing simple thi

ngs. Wrapping up warm before walking over the crunchy morning frost which hardly had time to melt before a setting crimson sun turned the fields into fire every afternoon.

His bodyguards seemed quite content to be doing their own thing, and there wasn’t a peep out of his phone. Once they even ventured into the small local pub for lunch, and if anyone wondered why there was a big, dark car sitting gleaming in the car park, no body bothered asking.

The real world seemed such a long way away, and part of Sienna fervently wished it could stay that way. If it weren’t for his position they could live a life like this all the time. He was right—shehad always taken her freedom for granted—and never had she cherished it more than during this weekend.

She watched him relax. Saw the dark shadows melt away from beneath his eyes and the tiny, fan-like creases at the corners of his black eyes ironed out as if by magic.

And for Hashim it was a provocative glimpse of a life he could never really know. He had not felt as unencumbered as this since those long-ago days of falconing in the mountains of Qudamah.

‘Ah, Sienna,’ he said on their last morning, when they sat eating pancakes for breakfast. ‘Don’t you wish that life could always be this simple?’

She smiled, knowing full well that there was no point in coming out with a stock phrase like: Itcould be like this. Because it couldn’t.

She put the lid back on the golden syrup. ‘Do you want to listen to the radio?’

Hashim frowned. ‘What for?’

‘Well, Qudamah seems to have been in the news a lot lately.’

Funny how you could look for an opportunity to say something and then find, when it came, that you wished you didn’t have to. He gazed down at the clear amber of the delicate tea. ‘There is going to be an election very soon—and elections always demand a lot of my time.’ He looked at her. ‘I am going to have to fly back tomorrow.’

Sienna nodded. ‘I know you are.’

He drew in a deep breath. ‘And I’m not sure when I’ll be back.’

She felt the tendril of long-held fear finally wrapping itself around her heart. ‘I know that, too.’ Don’t make him have to say it. Accept what is inevitable. Make it easy on yourself. ‘Hashim, it’s okay. You don’t have to say it. I know it’s over.’

He didn’t deny it, but the dark eyes which he lifted to her face were troubled. ‘I do not wish this, Sienna—but increasingly I recognise that my place is in my homeland, not here.’ He gave a restless little movement of his shoulders. ‘There are obligations I now need to fulfil. And I don’t want to tie you down to a relationship which can never go anywhere. Or to make you a promise I am unable to keep. If this fades into failed intentions and meetings which never happen then all that we will have left to remember is bitterness.’ His voice grew hard. ‘And I cannot face that. Not for a second time. Not when…’

The words were there in his mouth, just begging to be said. But words could be dishonest—even if you meant them. They could open up all kinds of unrealistic expectations. If he tried to explain how much she had come to mean to him then would that not tie her to him anyway—no matter how much he tried not to let it? What if she started seeing them as star-crossed lovers instead of just getting on with her life?

She saw the discomfiture on his face and jumped in to rescue the situation—or rather to rescue herself. She had had more with him than any woman could have hoped to have, and she would ensure that he remembered her with dignity.

‘It’s been wonderful. Gorgeous. It was a fine affair,’ she said softly. ‘But now it’s over.’

His eyes narrowed. He had expected…what? That she might at least shed a tear for him! Or that her face might indicate some feelings of dejection! His pride was hurt, yet his pain came from deeper feelings than pride. He pushed them away with an instinct borne out of self-protection. ‘You seem almost pleased about it,’ he observed coolly.

‘Oh, Hashim,’ she said impatiently. ‘Of course I’m notpleased about it—but I recognise that it has to be, so what’s the alternative?’

Women had begged him before—many times. They had shed tears and clung to him. Hadn’t there been a selfish side which had thought that Sienna might do the same? For if she behaved like all the others, then wouldn’t that make it easier for him to walk away from her without another thought?

But there had never been another relationship like this one, he recognised. Nor ever would be again. His destiny would not allow it—for his flings and his freedom must now be curtailed. The luxurious but weighty doors of his royal prison were waiting to clang shut on him, and if he took himself down the path of useless and indulgent analysis then what good would it do him? Or her?

‘Come here,’ he said simply, and opened his arms.

Sienna didn’t need to be told that this was the last time. It was written in his eyes and spoken in every lingering kiss and caress. His hands and his fingers seemed as though they were discovering her for the first time, and yet bidding her farewell as they did so.