Monarch of the Sands

Was he not guilty of hypocrisy—taking western lovers as and when it suited him, while keeping the females of Khayarzah shackled in the past? Yet there was a solution. And Francesca had made him see that such a solution would be possible. It would be difficult to change, and painful, too—but change was part of life and to try to stop that was as futile as King Canute trying to turn back the tide.

And did he have a choice? Could he bear the thought of going through his own life without his strong and sapphire-eyed Francesca beside him? The woman who had shown him what it meant to love?

He turned to face her. ‘The legislation cannot be changed overnight,’ he warned.

She heard the promise in his voice and knew that she had to meet it halfway. ‘But I know that you wouldn’t drag your feet, just for the sake of it.’

Zahid smiled. There! She had done it again. By voicing her confidence and her trust in him, she had made it morally impossible for him to do anything but obey her!

‘I will drag my feet on nothing,’ he growled. ‘Especially not this.’ And he strode across the room and pulled her into his arms, his eyes blazing as he looked down at her. ‘I love you, Francesca O’Hara—you and only you, for the rest of my life. You are the only woman I have ever truly wanted and ever shall want. You have captured my heart and my soul and my body—and I am asking you once again, will you marry me?’

‘Oh, yes, my darling,’ she said softly, her fingertips moving to trace the outline of his sensual mouth. ‘Yes and yes, and a thousand times yes.’

For a moment Zahid just enjoyed the unfamiliar sensation of pure contentment and the sudden warmth which flooded through his veins until his heart felt as if it were on fire. Remember this moment, he told himself fiercely. Remember it for as long as you draw breath. He brushed aside the dark lock of hair which had fallen over her cheek and, lowering his head, he began to kiss her.

EPILOGUE

IT WASN’T, as Zahid remarked to Francesca on their wedding night, the most straightforward of unions. For the sheikh and his English bride began their married life with more challenges than most newly-wed couples had to contend with. But they had always known it would be that way.

First, there was the challenge of getting his country to accept a western wife who was also a commoner, rather than someone of noble blood who had been born and reared there. But here Frankie was at a definite advantage. Her late father had been known and ador

ed by the people of Khayarzah—and her own obvious love of the culture shone through in all she did and said.

She charmed them by adopting a traditional Khayarzahian wedding gown for the emotional ceremony which took place over four days. And then proceeded to amaze them by saying her vows in flawless Khayarzahian—the product of her hard and ongoing work on the tricky language, for she was determined to be fluent one day. But mostly she was accepted because the people saw how deeply their king loved her. As she loved him. It was as clear as the night-time moon, they said.

So they named her Queen Anwar, which meant ‘rays of light’. And the single wedding day photo which was issued to the world’s media showed the two of them gazing rapt into each other’s eyes, as if nothing outside that moment existed for either of them.

The second challenge was getting such a traditional male-led society to accept that changes were needed and that they were going to be made. The move to allowing women to drive and to attend universities didn’t happen overnight, but it did happen, albeit very slowly. It came too late for Fayruz to go to college in her own country—but Frankie felt a fierce determination that the bright young girl should fulfil her intellectual potential. Thus, with her husband’s blessing, the new queen sponsored her former servant to attend Cambridge University, where she excelled in both her degree subject of Middle Eastern politics, and on her college swimming team.

The final challenge was Frankie’s alone. It meant saying goodbye to a way of life she had always known in England—and embracing a brand-new one in a desert land which was radically different. But that was no hardship for her, not even for a single second. Her father had taught her how to love Khayarzah, and she had loved Zahid from the very first moment she had known him. She would have walked to the ends of the earth for him.

In fact, she would do anything to make her beloved husband happy—and when he confided that he was worried about Tariq and the life he was leading, Frankie suggested inviting his brother to Khayarzah for an extended stay. Whether or not that would happen, who could say? Because Frankie knew that the future was like a handful of pebbles dropped to the ground—you never knew where they were going to fall.

Her only disappointment was in never seeing one of the fabled leopards, which her father had told her so much about—although she lived in hope. And Zahid regularly took her for a picnic in the lush foothills of the eastern heights, just in case. The place where they’d had their furious row—where their future had seemed so bleak and hopeless—had become their own, special place.

It was there that she told him that she was pregnant. And where one day—a month before she gave birth to their beautiful black-haired twins—he withdrew a slim leather box and handed it to her.

‘What’s this?’ she questioned, with a smile.

‘Why not open it and see?’

The chain was fine and gold and from it hung a glittering, stream-lined charm. A sleek animal, captured in mid-leap, its elegant body studded with diamonds and onyx—its eyes two rare and gleaming emeralds.

‘Why, it’s a leopard,’ she said slowly as she held it up to the light and looked up at him with shining eyes.

Zahid’s smile was tender as he took it from her and put it around her neck, fastening the clasp and then touching his lips to her neck in a lingering kiss. He moved round to pull her into his arms as the fertile swell of her belly pressed against him.

‘Indeed it is. It’s a way of saying that if reality doesn’t always give you what you want, sweet Francesca—then you must reach out and create your own. Just as we have done.’

It was also, he knew, yet another way of telling her how much he loved her.