Breaking the Sheikh's Rules

‘When I was eighteen I’d already travelled the world on my own—twice.’

Iseult took in the arrogant look on the Sheikh’s face. Her blood boiled ominously again. ‘You come from a very different part of the world—’

‘Not so different. I was educated in England.’ His voice was dry as toast. ‘Not around a campfire in the desert, as you might imagine. And yet I took off as soon as I tasted my chance of independence. Your siblings are grown-ups and you are not their mother.’

Iseult flushed at having her prejudice pointed out to her and choked back the need to say, But I have been their mother. Ridiculously, she felt tears threaten. Her responsibility to her family was so ingrained she felt as though she truly was a mother being asked to turn her back on her children.

Before she could say anything, though, Sheikh Nadim continued bitingly, ‘I know very well what it’s like. I lost both my parents at a young age and had to take responsibility for not only my own younger brother but also for my country. It will do your siblings good to know that you won’t always be here for them, and it will do your father good to step into his role more fully. He will be here if they need him.’

Somehow Iseult managed to swallow back her emotion, recognising on some level the merit in what Sheikh Nadim said, while also being intrigued at the glimpse into his own personal history, of which there had been very little on the internet. The unexpected empathy she felt blindsided her momentarily.

‘But…what would I do in…in Merkazad?’

‘You will become part of my staff. Initially you will work at the stables, and in time I may allow you to stay involved in Devil’s Kiss’s training—once I’m confident of your ability. My ambition is to race him as a three-year-old in the Prix de l’Arc next year, with a view to the Dubai World Cup the year after, so my main concern now is that he’s not peaking too early.’

Despite the fact that her world was being upended around her, Iseult felt a quiver of excitement deep in her belly at knowing that she was being offered the chance to stay near Devil’s Kiss. This man, after all, was the man who had thrown the racing fraternity into disarray just last year, and he had a growing reputation as a thoroughbred owner, breeder and trainer to be matched with the best in the world. But even so what he was saying was too huge to process. Still she resisted. ‘What if I refuse to go?’

Sheikh Nadim strolled towards her then, and she had to fight every impulse to run. She stayed standing in front of him. He stopped just mere feet away and she looked up, her throat drying again in acknowledgement of his sheer height and powerful build. That too-beautiful face with its harsh lines. It made her think of the desert and wonder how he’d look in that environment.

Nadim reacted forcibly to something deep within him not to give Iseult any way out other than his way. ‘It’s quite simple, Iseult. If you refuse to go then you will be escorted off this property for good. If you refuse then I won’t have you working for me in any capacity.’

‘You can’t do that,’ she blustered, desperately scared that he could. ‘My father would still be here.’

‘I could arrange for that to be otherwise. Like I’ve said before, I’m still not convinced he will be an asset to this stud.’

Iseult had a horrible vision of her brothers and sister being told that they’d lost their home. She rushed to a quick defence. ‘My father is a brilliant trainer. He’s just been through a difficult time, that’s all. He just couldn’t—’

She stopped. She’d already said too much. Sheikh Nadim filled in the gap when he said with deceptive softness, ‘Cope? Is that the word you’re looking for?’

Iseult’s eyes felt gritty, but she refused to be too intimidated to look this man in the eye. Her voice quivered with passion. ‘My father is a good man and he knows his business inside out. He taught me everything I know, and he will turn this stud around…with help. All he needs is a chance.’

Sheikh Nadim seemed to ignore her last words. ‘Was he the one who taught you to be so wilful?’

Iseult bristled. ‘Where I’m from women are encouraged to be independent and to have an opinion and not be scared of sharing it. I’m sorry if you’re not used to that.’

Nadim smiled mockingly. ‘I don’t think you’re sorry at all. I think you’ll find that women in my country are encouraged to do exactly the same thing—’ here his eyes ran her up and down and clearly found her lacking ‘—but they go about it in a rather more genteel way.’

Iseult’s fists clenched, emotion surging easily again. What was it about this man? He seemed to have taken control of some inner emotional barometer she’d never been aware of before. She’d never felt so conscious of her tomboyish state as she did now, and deep down in the very centre of her anger was a secretly treacherous desire to be as genteel as those women Sheikh Nadim spoke of with such respect in his voice. She hated him even more for making her feel like that.

Every righteous bone in her body quivered. ‘So my only option is to go and work for you, or face being thrown off this land that has been in my family for generations?’

Nadim’s jaw hardened. He had to consciously not give in to the compelling need to force this woman to bend to his will. ‘I think you’ll find that you’re being offered an opportunity that many would give their right arm to experience.’ This was said with not a little arrogance. ‘And you do have a choic

e, Iseult. There’s a whole world out there. I’m not stopping you from leaving to seek employment elsewhere. I’m sure with your experience and crude training ability you’ll find a job soon enough—and who knows? You might even become a trainer of some recognition some day.’

Iseult opened her mouth with a hot response, but Sheikh Nadim put up a hand to stop her. Her mouth closed ineffectually.

‘But if you come to my stables you’ll have the chance to be taught by the best in the business. And if and when you do return here to work, it would be beneficial for you to know how I run my stables and stud. You would also have the chance to see Devil’s Kiss mature into the greatness we both believe he has within him. Can you walk away from that?’

A sense of inevitability washed through Iseult. Of course she couldn’t walk away from that. Devil’s Kiss was the last in a long line of horses they had owned and bred themselves—the last of her grandfather’s legacy. They’d had to sell all the others off just to survive.

She’d nurtured Devil’s Kiss like her own baby, and the thought of not seeing him come to fruition after showing such promise was too painful to contemplate. It hurt to recognise the fact that if not for this man she could very well have been waving goodbye to Devil’s Kiss the following day, only being allowed to follow his progress secondhand in the papers or on the internet. She might also have been facing the prospect of leaving her house and home too—for good.

All she had to do was sacrifice her own desire to remain here, and that would keep her father, the kids and Mrs O’Brien safe and secure. How could she not do that? How could she deny Mrs O’Brien the chance to receive a wage again after months of working for just board and food?

Her fears had stemmed from hearing stories of other rich buyers coming and firing countless lifelong employees, only to instal their own hand-picked staff. That had been one of the reasons for Iseult’s fierce antipathy to this buyout: the fear of the same happening. But it wasn’t. Sheikh Nadim was, as he’d already pointed out, being more than generous, and if Iseult wasn’t careful she would be the one to sabotage everything.

She lifted her gaze from somewhere to the left of Sheikh Nadim’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. Some little stone of resistance within her made her ask, ‘Why are you doing this? I mean, why aren’t you just letting us all go?’