Monarch of the Sands

‘Really?’ He registered her spiky challenge with surprise. ‘Then just what do you mean?’

She let the untouched piece of croissant flutter onto the plate. ‘All that stuff last night about what I was wearing and the way I was sitting—and how I’d had too much to drink, when we both know I hadn’t. That was all because you’ve known me all my life and still treat me like a child!’

‘On the contrary,’ Zahid said, sitting back in his chair and regarding her with unsettling scrutiny. ‘On reflection, the reason I said all those things was because you aren’t a child any more.’

Now it was her turn to look to him for clarification. Her brow creased in a puzzled frown. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I think you probably do—if you stop for a minute to think about it. You see, I’m used to thinking of you as a friend—my only real female friend, as it happens.’

The simple accolade affected her deeply and for a moment Frankie was filled with a fear that he was about to snatch it away from her. And suddenly she realised that no job in the world was worth that. ‘Please don’t make it sound as if it’s all in the past!’ she cried, before she had time to think about the wisdom of her words or that they had poured out so emotionally.

‘I have no intention of making it something in the past,’ he said, his voice gentling by a fraction. ‘It’s just that you have grown up into a beautiful and very desirable young woman—and I’m finding it difficult to know how to react to you.’

It was such a stark and honest admission that it took Frankie completely by surprise. She looked at him in disbelief until she found herself blushing and then glanced down at her plate, terrified about what he might read into her embarrassment. Did he have any idea that she had entertained stupid fantasies about him since the year dot?

For a full minute there was silence and when the tension in the air had grown to such a point that she couldn’t take it any more, Frankie risked glancing up into his eyes once more.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ she whispered.

And for once in his life, neither did Zahid.

Looking at the morning light as it fell on the dark gleam of her hair, he knew what he should say. He should tell her he agreed with her—that it was an impossible situation which he hadn’t really thought through. That he hadn’t expected desire to rear its powerful head—and maybe it was best if she did go. Yet to Zahid that smacked of failure, and he didn’t do failure—not in any sphere of his life.

Now his gaze skated over the swell of her breasts, which seemed to transform the demure grey dress into a garment of shocking provocation. Wouldn’t it be a formidable and life-affirming challenge to resist the temptation she represented? Like the times when he and his brother had travelled into the arid centre of the desert and denied themselves the soft comforts of palace life. Such deprivation had been imposed on them by their elders as a deliberate means of making them strong and tough. Wouldn’t this simply be a variation on the same kind of denial?

‘I am loath to let you go,’ he admitted slowly. ‘And the reasons for giving you the job haven’t changed.’

‘No.’

‘But …’ He hesitated. Didn’t they know each other well enough to dispense with coy hints and get straight to the truth? He gave a rueful shrug of his shoulders. ‘We’re worried because something has changed and we’ve discovered that we are sexually attracted to each other.’

At this, she blushed. How anatomical he made it sound. ‘Zahid!’

‘Oh, come on, Francesca—don’t play the outraged innocent.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘It’s what we’ve both been thinking—or are you going to deny this rather inconvenient desire which has flared up between us?’

His black eyes were lasering into her and beneath their intensity she felt positively weak. Inconvenient? Was that how he saw it? She shook her head, because surely she could be honest, too. ‘No, I’m not going to deny it.’

‘The trouble is that you’re no longer the innocent little girl I remember,’ he observed. ‘You’re a beautiful and experienced young woman who’s just come out of a bruising bust-up.’

Experienced? He thought she was experienced? Frankie gave a weak smile in response. Well, of course he did. Why wouldn’t he? Most modern engaged women were having fantastic sex with the man they were going to marry. The fact that she and Simon hadn’t progressed much beyond ‘first base’ she’d put down to some pathetic idea that he was a gentleman—never realising that it was because he was enjoying an illicit passion with somebody else. Should she tell Zahid that? Should she come right out and say it?

Zahid, I’m still a virgin.

Wouldn’t that make her look like a complete loser?

Of course it would.

He leaned back in his chair, watching the play of emotions which shadowed her face. ‘In fact, if it were anyone other than you, I’d be pulling you into my arms and kissing you right now and then dragging you off to the nearest bed before making love to you. But for all kinds of reasons, we both know that isn’t going to happen,’ he added, with a careless air which his protesting body didn’t quite endorse. ‘So you see, I completely understand why you don’t want to come to Khayarzah. The question is whether or not you would be a fool not to do so?’

His words fell between them like a challenge—and Frankie suddenly felt as if he’d tied her up in verbal knots. Hadn’t she been the one who had told him that she didn’t think the job was such a good idea, after all? And wasn’t he the one who had somehow managed to turn it around to make her want to reconsider her opinion?

Yet there was enough substance behind his question to make her reconsider. Because the truth of it was that it had been a long-time dream of hers to see the land which her father had helped mould with his discovery of its oil. A land which he had visited on many occasions and had enthused about with most uncharacteristic passion.

Frankie had always longed to see for herself the fabulous palace at Mangalsutra, the country’s capital—with its beautiful, scented gardens which he had talked about so often. And hadn’t she longed to eat some more of those crystallised walnuts she’d once tasted—bought from the colourful and bustling market which was held in the main square of the city?

‘I’ve always wanted to go there,’ she said truthfully, her eyes shining as she remembered the stories she’d grown up with. ‘My father used to tell me all about the place. He said that in springtime, fields of poppies sprang up overnight—turning the landscape into a scarlet haze. That at night-time the moon was so big that you felt you could almost reach out and lasso it from the sky. And that leopards lived in the high mountains in the east—and sometimes a very lucky traveller might be able to spot one.’

‘Well, then.’ Zahid listened to the faraway note in her voice—and found himself ridiculously touched by her knowledge and obvious love of his country. So many people dismissed the east as just a prolific provider of oil—as if Khayarzah consisted of nothing but refineries and gilded palaces! The only thing she had got wrong was the leopard—for he’d never known anyone who had seen the elusive creatures which were reputed to live on the eastern heights. But he had no intention of telling her that. Why destroy someone’s dreams unless you had to?