Master of the Desert

‘Land?’ Antonia demanded with amazement. ‘What land?’

‘Oh, please,’ Ra’id said, shaking his head. ‘Can’t you do better than that? You will never rise from the ranks of the chorus to become a full-blown leading lady if you can’t put on a better act.’

‘This is no act,’ she protested, feeling as if a vice were closing around her chest. ‘I had no idea my mother even knew your father, let alone that she was his mistress.’

‘That’s a polite name for it.’

‘Stop, Ra’id—please, stop it!’ Holding out her hand as if to fend him off, she willed him to stop heaping insults on top of the confusion inside her. Then it occurred to her that as her heart had just been ripped in two he couldn’t do any more harm.

She returned quietly to the table where she sat down and scrutinised the documents. She had inherited land in Sinnebar and a property from her mother. She couldn’t have been more surprised. The news that Helena had been the late sheikh’s mistress on top of this…

But Ra’id gave her no chance to recover. ‘Do you still pretend you know nothing of this?’

‘Nothing—I swear.’ It was hard to take in the facts. Not only had her young mother been the late sheikh’s mistress, but Helena had been paid off when the sheikh had tired of her with this gift of land. It was clear the late sheikh had thought nothing of this valuable gift of territory within Sinnebar, while Ra’id viewed it quite differently. Ra’id was the highly principled conservator of a kingdom and guardian of his people, and no greater sin could have been committed as far as he was concerned. She could understand his resentment. She had inherited a parcel of his people’s land. It was a gift that had been passed from Helena to Antonia, who was not the daughter of the late sheikh but Antonio Ruggiero, the man who had rescued her mother from this life of…

She had no idea what her mother’s life had been like, Antonia realised with a sharp pang of regret. Raising her gaze to meet Ra’id’s hard, uncompromising stare, she knew she’d get no pity from him. But he still dazzled her, unreachable as he was. He was like a dark force framed in light, and one she must soften if her proposal for the charity was to succeed.

‘I will use the land for the good of your people,’ she said, feeling her strength and her courage return as a plan began to take shape in her mind.

‘You can only do that with my permission.’

‘But you will—’ She had sprung up too quickly, and now she was paying the price. ‘You must,’ she said weakly, clutching the table for support.

‘Are you ill?’ Ra’id demanded, observing her keenly.

‘No, I’m not ill,’ she managed, instantly protective of her baby. Ra’id’s child was a royal baby and could be stolen away from her by the stroke of his pen. She had to be cautious now.

‘A drink of water, perhaps?’ he suggested.

Antonia nodded, glad of the reprieve, and also relieved that even in his darkest rage Ra’id still had some flicker of humanity left in him. She sucked in a deep, steadying breath as he poured some water for her. Pregnancy might have weakened her, but what it couldn’t do was lessen her resolve, and she would not fail for want of defending herself against Ra’id’s unfair accusations.

‘This doesn’t change anything,’ he said, handing her the glass of water. ‘You have your mother’s blood in you.’

‘As you have your father’s,’ she flashed back. Ra’id might frighten her, but she was no doormat to be insulted by anyone. She wouldn’t give up, her gaze plainly told him; she didn’t know how to. This was her last chance to find out about her mother, to build a branch of the charity here and make it thrive. ‘It would be a tragic mistake if you allowed your feelings for me to impact negatively on what we can achieve together with the charity.’

His expression remained unchanged. It was as hostile as ever. It wouldn’t be so easy this time to build a bridge between them, Antonia realised, but she was as determined to push her proposals for the charity through as she was determined that her child would know its mother. Ra’id might be all ruthless, barbaric force, while she only had a dream to sustain her, but she had a store of stubbornness she hadn’t even begun to draw on yet. ‘I’ll need planning permission.’

‘To do what?’ he demanded.

‘Having read through this document, I see there’s an old fort on the land I have inherited.’ Ignoring his darkening expression, she went on. ‘I shall restore that.’