Monarch of the Sands

Zahid’s face tightened with a sense of inevitability. But maybe he should have realised that by giving her access to his father’s work, he would be opening up a part of himself which he had always kept locked away. For a man so fiercely self-contained, it was a disturbing thought that she was delving beneath the surface of his life and seeing into the hidden depths. But this was Francesca, he reminded himself—a woman who knew him almost better than anyone. He could say things to her that he wouldn’t for a moment contemplate saying to another.

‘It wasn’t easy—especially as my father found it difficult to juggle everything,’ he admitted. ‘As well as my mother’s illness, he was busy helping my uncle repair the country after so many years of war. And there was too much going on for him to devote much time to his two lively young sons. It was one of the reasons why Tariq and I spent some of our education in boarding school in England—something which gave us a taste of a very different life. It was far worse for Tariq of course, for he was younger and he … he never really got a chance to know our mother.’

He’d never been quite so forthcoming before and Frankie hesitated, afraid that more questions might make the familiar shutters come down. Yet her need to know overrode her natural caution. ‘It must have been a terrible shock for you, when your uncle died.’

There was silence for a moment. Nobody had ever asked him that. His feelings had never been discussed—for his accession to the throne had been a given. And mightn’t the natural doubts he had experienced at the time have been interpreted as weakness if he had dared express them?

‘It was an utter shock,’ answered Zahid simply. ‘But the worse thing was that his son—the rightful heir—was with him at the time. They should never have been allowed to travel together—and normally they wouldn’t have done. But the light over the mountains was fading, there was only one available plane and the decision was made that they should go on the same flight.’ He paused. ‘And in that split second, their destiny was decided.’

Zahid’s face hardened as he remembered the broken pieces of the aeroplane lying in pieces on the ground. His own father had not long died and then he had to cope with these two new deaths in quick succession—followed by a sombre crowning as he was made King.

He had never wanted to be King and yet he could not have admitted that to anyone. And in time, he had grown into the role which he had at first resented. A role which still carried with it strict boundaries, which he must ensure he never forgot.

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Frankie.

He looked at her, her words breaking him from his reverie and bringing him back to the present. Reminding him with an unwelcome shock of just how very un-kinglike his current mode of behaviour was. He had taken his oldest friend as his lover and at times he had expressed concern about what he was doing to her reputation. But what of his?

Wouldn’t his people be appalled if they realised that he was cavorting with a western woman within the palace walls? And could he really hold himself up as some kind of national moral guardian, when he was rejecting all the values which the Khayarzahian people held so dear?

His eyes were drawn to her face—to cheeks the colour of the palest rose and eyes which were bluer than the desert sky. He found himself remembering how sweetly her arms opened for him every night, and how eagerly her body welcomed him. All the pleasures of the body he had taught her, she had embraced with enthusiasm. How he would like this affair to continue—to carry on, just as they were.

But he was not being fair—not to her, and not to his people. Unlike his brother Tariq, he was not a gambling man—but he knew enough about odds and probability to realise that if they continued being lovers, then eventually they would be found out. And then what?

His mouth hardened. He needed to talk to her—and not in bed where the distractions of her delicious body might cause his resolve to waver. Nor here, where the unseen servants might read their body language even if they could not understand their words. Somewhere away from the palace—a place which she had previously talked about—he needed to say to Francesca the words she deserved to hear.

He glanced at her from between narrowed eyes. ‘Today, my diary is almost empty and I had been intending to catch up on some paperwork. But instead, I shall order the kitchens to make us up a picnic and we will go out somewhere for lunch. Somewhere quiet. Would you like that, Francesca?’

Startled by the unexpected and unfamiliar invitation, Frankie felt the leap of excitement. ‘I’d absolutely love it.’

‘Good. Then it shall be done. We shall be alone.’

‘You mean … your bodyguards won’t be there?’ she ventured, in surprise.

‘They will keep their distance,’ he said softly. ‘Now let me go and organise it.’

They set off just before midday and Zahid drove the big Jeep through the stark terrain. But Frankie was too excited to concentrate on the journey—even when he said that they were heading for the foothills of the eastern mountains. Her father had once told her that it was one of the most beautiful places on earth—and that you could know true peace in a place like that. Yet peaceful was the last thing she felt as she glanced at the sheikh’s hard, hawklike profile and the faint shading of new growth at his jaw.

She was aware of an undeniable feeling of excitement building and building inside her—and she couldn’t quite work out why. Was it because this was the first time they had done anything remotely normal—like a real couple? And did such an action mark a new openness in Zahid’s behaviour towards her?

‘See up there is the mighty Nouf mountain,’ Zahid said softly as they drove towards the massive peak which dominated the landscape. ‘Where the mountain’s shadow and the rare waters which trickle from the top make fertile the land beneath. Where the peaks look purple in the sunset and where falcons soar in the thermal winds.’

‘Oh, but it’s beautiful,’ she breathed.

Her genuine awe made his heart ache as he realised that what he was about to do was not going to be easy. Zahid stopped the car and turned to her. ‘Come, we will take our food and our drink and sit in the shade of the rocks awhile—for you must be thirsty.’

Her throat was dry, but the sweet, iced melon juice he poured into one of the silver cups which they unpacked from the picnic basket quickly refreshed her. Zahid drank deeply and then put his own cup down, removed hers from her suddenly nerveless fingers and took both her hands in his own.

‘I need to talk to you,’ he said.

Something in the tone of his voice unsettled her. ‘That sounds ominous,’ she joked, but a little shiver of apprehension began to whisper its way down her spine.

‘Does it?’

‘Yes.’ She watched as his face became shuttered and her sense of trepidation mounted. ‘Why did you bring me here today, Zahid?’

He traced a butterfly circle on her palm with the tip of his finger and then looked up at her. ‘We need to talk about the future.’

She felt the flare of both hope and fear in the sudden leap of her heart as she stared into the dark gleam of his eyes. ‘D-do we? What about it?’