Monarch of the Sands

‘I like to drive. Especially in the desert. The roads are flat and straight and you can put your foot right down in a way you can’t do anywhere else in the world.’

‘Right.’ Frankie settled back in her seat. Think positive, she told herself. Don’t let him realise that you’re hurting, or that you can’t stop thinking about the hot brush of his lips and the way he made you feel when he held you in his arms last night. She forced herself to concentrate on the road ahead. ‘Well, I quite like driving myself—so maybe later on, I can have a go.’

There was the split second of a pause. ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible,’ he said pleasantly.

‘Really? I’m sure that as Sheikh you can get me emergency cover on your car insurance, Zahid.’

He bit back a reluctant smile. ‘It’s nothing to do with the insurance. It’s a very powerful machine.’

If she hadn’t been feeling so pent-up and rejected she might have just let that go. But now Frankie was pleased to have

something to concentrate on other than the fact that for the first time in her life she was experiencing an intense kind of frustration.

‘Fortunately I passed my driving test on the first attempt,’ she said sweetly. ‘And not just the section for “delicate little women who shouldn’t be allowed behind the wheel of a big car”.’ A new sense of determination filled her. ‘So I’d like to have a go at driving, if that’s all right with you.’

‘Actually, it is not,’ he said, flexing his fingers as he anticipated her reaction to his next statement. ‘I’m afraid women aren’t allowed to drive in my country.’

This time the pause was longer. ‘You are kidding?’

He shot her a glance. Today she was wearing a tunic and trousers in ice-blue—a cool and untouchable contrast to the hot question which burst from her lips. ‘No, I’m not.’

‘Women aren’t allowed to drive?’ she verified, and when he gave a terse nod she raked her fingers back through her hair in agitation. ‘Why not?’

Zahid’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. He had brought her here to type his father’s diaries—not to challenge him or the laws of his land!

‘Don’t ask me, the laws have been in place for decades.’ Frankie’s lips fell open as she turned her head to look at him.

‘I keep thinking that you’re going to come out with some sort of punchline and tell me that it’s some kind of joke.’

‘I know it seems outdated to you—and to me in fact. But the previous sheikh was not a moderniser. His view—which is still shared by many—was that men and women should not mix freely. At the moment it’s just the way things are.’

‘I realise that now—and I assume that’s the same reason you won’t let women go to university.’ She saw him nod his head before turning on him angrily. ‘But why would you stop women from mixing freely with men?’

‘Because it is felt that women need to be protected.’

‘From who—or what, exactly?’

‘From men, of course—and from themselves!’

‘And you call that protection?’ Frankie shook her head. ‘Some people might reasonably describe it as a kind of prison.’

‘It depends on your point of view.’ Zahid put his foot down on the accelerator. ‘Proximity equals sex—and sex before marriage isn’t always a good thing. You should know that better than anyone, Francesca—since the man to whom you gave yourself is no longer a part of your future. What a waste of time that was.’

If he hadn’t made her so angry then she might have told him that he was leaping to false conclusions. As it was, his arrogant statement so irked her that she turned the accusation on him.

‘So you go away on your foreign trips and have as much sex as you want, on the clear understanding that you will one day return home to marry a Khayarzahian virgin?’ she demanded as a hot little spear of jealousy lanced through her like a sabre.

He shrugged. ‘I am now the king,’ he said quietly. ‘And that is what is expected of me.’

And despite knowing that he was a victim of his own circumstances, Frankie could not bite back her burning sense of injustice. ‘Meaning that it’s one rule for men and another for women?’

He looked in his rear mirror. ‘I’m afraid so,’ he answered, softly. ‘And it has always been that way, no matter how much the feminists might protest.’

Frankie stared out of the window as the car shot along the long and straight desert road and tried to quell her rising tide of indignation. What century did he think he was he living in?

‘Well, if men and women should not be mixing freely in Khayarzah—then why on earth did you bring me here?’

Behind his shades, Zahid’s eyes narrowed as the roads became fringed with towering date trees, and he slowed down to pass a horse-drawn cart which contained sacks of rice. He felt the familiar flicker of lust licking at his groin. ‘You think I haven’t already asked myself that very question and realised that I was mistaken in doing so?’