Monarch of the Sands

His gaze flicked over her. ‘You are a surprising woman in many ways.’

‘That sounds awfully like a compliment.’

‘That’s because it is,’ he murmured.

Frankie glowed with pleasure as he started up the engine and in that moment she couldn’t ever remember feeling happier. Bathed in the warm afterglow of sex, it was easy to forget that Zahid had warned her about any long-term hopes or dreams about their relationship.

Along the way, he pointed out landmarks and the country which she’d grown up hearing so much about slowly came to life. His voice lulled her with tales of battles fought by his ancestors as they drove along the straight and dusty road through the desert, while the sun set like blood on the sand which surrounded them.

It was only when they arrived back at the palace that a subtle change occurred in him. As soon as the ornate golden gates had clanged shut behind them he went from lover to King. His expression became as remote as the distant mountains and the closeness which she’d experienced in the car all but disappeared. There was no brief pressing of flesh or brush of skin against skin as they parted. No honeyed words of affection. Instead, his tone was clipped and flat.

‘I must go to speak with my advisors,’ he said. ‘So I’ll leave you with the opportunity to rest after your afternoon in the heat. Before dinner I’ll show you the diaries and where you’ll be working—so that tomorrow you may begin. How does that sound?’

‘That sounds fine,’ she answered awkwardly, aware of the formality which had suddenly entered his voice.

And that was that. Nothing more. He was gone with not even a secret shared look or smile to remind them of the intimacy which Frankie now remembered with almost painful clarity. Was it really possible that just a couple of hours ago she’d been naked in his arms and thrilling to the brand-new experience of being made love to? Yet now he was turning away from her as if she were a stranger.

She was standing watching him walk away when Fayruz appeared, as if she had been summoned. And maybe she had, thought Frankie. Probably all the palace machinery had started whirring the moment the sheikh had driven them into the palace forecourt.

At least there was enough time for Frankie to take extra-special care in dressing and, after she’d dismissed the servant, she looked at the array of silk clothes in her wardrobes. What had Zahid said to her, in one of those quieter moments when his lips had grazed over hers and made her shiver with longing? That her eyes were the most beautiful blue he had ever seen—bluer even than the precious mosaic stones of lapis lazuli which studded the walls of his palace?

His words made her choose a tunic and trousers in deep sapphire blue and she twisted her hair up into a knot on top of her head. It was a bold look and one she wouldn’t usually have dared try—but having a man like Zahid purring compliments like that did wonders for a woman’s confidence.

Fayruz came to collect her an hour before dinner and took her to where Zahid was waiting in the palace’s ancient library. It was an exquisite gilded room, lined with the most beautiful books she had ever seen.

His black eyes were watchful as she walked in, but the faint curve of his smile was unmistakable, even to her. Frankie might not have been the most experienced woman on the block, but she could tell that her lover approved of her appearance. She stood before him as he dismissed Fayruz, wondering if he might quickly pull her into his arms and murmur his appreciation. But the complete absence of softness on his face made her feel nervous.

Nonetheless, her mounting nerves were suddenly subdued by the sight of the intricately inlaid box which stood on a nearby table and which he opened to reveal a neat stack of leather notebooks inside.

All thoughts and worries about her relationship with Zahid were forgotten in the light of this tangible slice of history and Frankie reached into the box with eager care, gently withdrawing the nearest volume.

The pages were a little dry but completely intact and the flowing handwriting was—thankfully—extremely legible. Some pages were full of closely written script, while others—clearly written in times of great trouble or stress—were more bald and succinct. How her father would have loved to have seen these, she thought as her gaze skimmed over them.

After a few minutes she remembered where she was and she looked up to find Zahid watching her with a curiously intent look in his black eyes.

‘I gather you like what you see,’ he observed.

‘I do—and I can’t wait to start,’ she said.

And at this, Zahid gave a rueful smile. Had he thought that she might be difficult to deal with—having had time to reflect on her sexual awakening? Imagining that she might become demanding—or start behaving inappropriately? Yet there was none of the limpet-like looks he’d anticipated—nor any soft reproachful comments that he hadn’t kissed her.

No, she was currently picking up another volume of his father’s work and looking as if she would like to sit down at one of the nearby tables and begin reading it from cover to cover right now! It was the first time in his life that he had ever been overlooked by someone deep in a book!

‘Are you not hungry, Francesca?’ he questioned drily.

Blinking, she glanced up from the diary. ‘Hungry?

Yes, of course I am.’

‘Then perhaps you could bear to endure having dinner with me before losing yourself in my father’s work.’ He arched her a sardonic look as he saw her reluctantly close the book and he smiled as he saw a glimpse of the earnest schoolgirl she had once been. ‘You can start transcribing first thing in the morning. Come on, let’s go and eat.’

Frankie felt a sense of unreality as she walked beside him through the marble corridors. In those few moments she felt so close to him and yet so far apart. If it had been anyone but Zahid, then wouldn’t they have laced fingers together and walked along, hand in hand? She now knew his body intimately and yet she had not so much as touched him since they’d returned to the palace.

But they ate in the same dining room as the previous night—which at least gave her the comfort of familiarity. Exotic platters of food were brought in and, although she ate some of the delicious morsels, Frankie was sure that she didn’t do them justice. How could she, when Zahid was sitting opposite her and driving every thought from her head other than how it had felt to be made love to by him? Was it the same for him—or did one woman simply blur into another, the sexual experience forgotten once it was over?

‘You’re very quiet, Francesca.’

It sounded more like an observation than a question and she gave a little shrug. ‘Am I?’