Surrender to the Sheikh

He wondered if she had any idea how privileged she was to accompany him in this way! If it had been anyone else, he would have flown them over separately. But he had not wanted to take the risk of her refusing to come…

‘I don’t imagine that you would wish to be subjected to the wild conjecture which your appearance would inevitably provoke.’ His tone was dry. ‘The less we announce your presence, the less tongues in the city will gossip.’

She got some idea then of how public his life had to be, and how rare the opportunity to play any of it out in private, and, in spite of everything, she felt her heart soften.

‘Yes, of course. I understand.’ She nodded. ‘I’ll go and freshen up as you suggested.’

He laughed. ‘Why, Rose—that’s the most docile I’ve ever heard you be!’

She put on a suitably meek expression. ‘And you like my docility do you, Oh, Prince?’

The breath caught in his throat and dried it to sawdust and his heart clenched inside his chest. ‘No. I like you fiery,’ he told her honestly. ‘You make a worthy combatant.’

Which pleased her far more than remarks about the colour of her hair or the sapphire glitter of her eyes. Her looks she’d been born with and were just the luck of the draw—her personality was a different matter. And if Khalim approved of certain facets of her nature…now, that really was a compliment!

Just don’t get carried away by compliments, she reminded herself.

She enjoyed the luxury of the aircraft’s bathroom, which contained the most heavenly sandalwood soap. Rose picked it up and sniffed it, her eyes closing for a moment. It smelt of him. She washed her hands and her face with it, and it was as though the essence of Khalim had seeped into her skin itself.

Stop it, she told herself as she brushed her hair and slicked on a little lipstick. You’re walking straight into his honeytrap.

She stepped back to survey the results in the mirror, thinking that at least she looked cool and unflappable. Only the slightly hectic glitter of her eyes betrayed the fact that inside she was churned up by conflicting emotions—and the most disturbing one of all was the fact that Khalim was beginning to grow on her.

Grow on her? Who did she think she was kidding? Why, it was as if he had taken up root inside her mind and managed to invade most of her waking thoughts. Whatever had she thought about before Khalim had entered her life?

After twenty minutes, he returned to the aircraft, by which time Philip had joined her in the main salon.

‘Rose and I will go in the second car with the bodyguard,’ said Khalim imperturbably. ‘Will you take the first car and prepare them at the palace for my arrival?’

‘Of course.’ Philip gave Rose a curious glance, before bowing to the prince.

‘Why does he look at me that way?’ asked Rose, after he had gone.

For a second he experienced a rare moment of indulgence. ‘What way is that, sweet Rose?’

‘You saw.’

Khalim sighed. Would the truth go to her head? Fool her into believing that her presence here had an ultra-special significance? Or a future?

‘Because you are the first woman I have ever brought here to Maraban,’ he admitted, on a growl.

She didn’t react. ‘Should I be flattered by that?’ she questioned drily.

He found her coolness utterly irresistible. Even though it was rather galling to be shown nothing in the way of gratitude! ‘I would not dare to presume it—not of you,’ he murmured. ‘Come, Rose—enough of this sparring—let me show you my country.’

The hot air hit her with a heated jolt, even though it was now September and Khalim informed her that the temperatures were already cooling down towards the icy winter which followed.

And the drive to the palace was a feast to the senses! Rose stared ou

t of the limousine window with fascination at the scenes which unfolded before her. Maraban’s capital was absolutely heaving with people and there were cars and carts and camels all vying for space along the congested roads of the city. She could see dusty boxes of oranges, and live chickens in a cage.

The main thoroughfare had obviously been cleared for Khalim’s arrival, and she could see crowds jostling to catch a glimpse of the enigmatic profile through the smoked-glass window.

The palace was some way out from the main drag of the city, and Rose’s first sight of it was unforgettable. In the distance, tall mountains reared up in jagged peaks, and against the cloudless blue cobalt of the sky stood the palace itself—gleaming purest gold in the honeyed light of the afternoon sun.

Rose was silent and Khalim looked at her, taken aback by the rapture which had softened her features into dreamy wonder.

‘You like my home?’ he asked, knowing deep down that such a question was redundant.