Monarch of the Sands (12 page)

Afterwards, she wondered if she communicated something of her desire to him—for why else did he lift his hand to her cheek and lay it there, like a blessing?

‘Goodnight, Francesca,’ he said softly.

‘Goodnight,’ she whispered back. The warmth of his hand against her skin was beguiling and she turned her head, just by a fraction—but enough for her lips to graze against his palm. It hadn’t been intentional—or at least, she didn’t think it was—but it was enough to make him expel a sudden, shuddering breath of air.

‘Are you trying to test my resolve?’ he demanded unsteadily, but he left his hand exactly where it was and he could feel the warmth of her breath against his skin as she mouthed a single word.

‘No.’

Slowly, his thumb began to trace the trembling outline of her lips. ‘I’m not sure that I believe you.’

‘I’m no … no … liar, Zahid.’

‘No.’ He knew that. But suddenly he wanted her to be. He wanted her to be devious and manipulative so that his conscience would allow him to pull her into his arms and start making love to her. He wanted her to be
something
—something other than this fresh-faced and blue-eyed girl he’d known for ever, who was making him feel a desire he had no earthly right to feel.

He gave a low laugh as he tilted her face upwards, but his mood was dark as well as anticipatory for deep down he knew this was wrong.
And shouldn’t he be the one to stop it—stop it now, before it was too late?

‘Zahid?’

Her tentative question crept into the stillness of the night and hung there.

‘Maybe we should stop torturing ourselves and just
give into the inevitable,’ he bit out. ‘Because what’s the point of fighting something neither of us has the heart to fight?’ And without giving her a chance to respond, he pulled her into his arms and drove his mouth down on hers in a kiss which had been much too long in the waiting.

Caught off guard by the heated pressure of his lips, Frankie swayed, but he pulled her even closer, so that she could feel the hardness of his body and the wild beat of his heart through the silk of his robes. She should have been daunted by all that unashamed masculinity—but somehow she wasn’t. How could she be when he was kissing her with a passion which was overwhelming her—
swamping
her with a rush of pure pleasure? Simon had never made her feel like
this
.

She felt both weak and strong—any lingering doubts vanquished by the sheer potency of Zahid’s hungry male body as it pressed against hers. It was as if she’d accidentally fallen into a stream and been taken up by a powerful current—then finding that she was too helpless to fight against it.
And she didn’t want to fight against it. She wanted this, and more of this. More of him.

‘Z-Zahid.’ With another breathless moan, Frankie reached up—wanting to tangle her fingers in the thick darkness of his hair. But his head was covered and as her fingers met the barrier of his headdress they halted there—unsure of what to do next.

Zahid froze. The soft yielding of her body was intoxicating—but a woman touching his headdress was a rare enough action to make him jerk back and stop kissing her. He only ever made love in western clothes, he realised—and the irony of that didn’t escape him.

For once he would not have the tiresome unzipping of trousers and unbuttoning of shirts—because the loose form of his silken robes would allow him almost instant access to her …

And for once it was not going to happen …

Reaching up, he caught hold of her hand and pulled it away from his head, aware of the pulse which hammered so frantically through the delicate skin at her wrist. What had he been
thinking
of? Did all the noble pronouncements he’d made about women at dinner count for nothing?

Yet as he stared down at the disappointed trembling of her lips he recognised how easy it would be to take her. One swift and seamless de-robement and he could be deep inside her, driving into her moist warmth and spilling his seed. Was she as easy as this for all men? he wondered, his mouth tightening with fury.

‘This wasn’t supposed to happen!’ he ground out as he took a step away from her.

Distractedly, she nodded—aware of the soft pooling of desire which was making her feel as weak as a kitten. ‘No, I know it wasn’t,’ she whispered. ‘B-but—’

‘No buts, Francesca,’ he put in fiercely. ‘Definitely no buts.’ With an angry growl, he opened the bedroom door, his hands infinitely more gentle than his words.

‘Just go to sleep,’ he said roughly—and with that, Zahid pushed her inside the gilded bedroom and firmly closed the door behind her.

‘S
O WHERE
exactly are we going?’ Frankie injected what she thought was just the right amount of polite interest into her voice as she sat back in the passenger seat of the enormous four-wheel drive.

To hell and back, thought Zahid grimly. Sharply, he turned the key in the ignition and eased away into the shining brightness of the desert morning. ‘To the new horse-racing stadium, so that you can see it for yourself before you start work on the diaries.
I
want you to give me your opinion on how well you think the women’s facilities are being catered for—as honestly as only you can, Frankie.’

Great, thought Frankie, blinking her eyes furiously behind the welcome covering of her shades, not knowing if she was trying to hold off tears or tiredness. You get rejected by yet another man and spend a long sleepless night thinking about him—and then he tells you that your day will be spent inspecting the ‘women’s facilities’ at Khayarzah’s new racing track. It really didn’t get much worse than that, did it?

‘Fine with me.’ Forcing a neutral smile, she risked a glance at the hawklike profile and hard, unsmiling lips. ‘Why are you driving—and not one of your chauffeurs?’

Zahid’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Why did she think he was driving? Wasn’t it obvious? To give him something to do other than give into the temptation of finishing off what they’d started last night. Something to look at other than the soft temptation of her lips and thinking about where on his body he would like them to be placed. He glanced in his mirror to see the dark shape of the security car behind, which was shadowing them.

‘I like to drive. Especially in the desert. The roads are flat and straight and you can put your foot right down in a way you can’t do anywhere else in the world.’

‘Right.’ Frankie settled back in her seat. Think positive, she told herself. Don’t let him realise that you’re hurting, or that you can’t stop thinking about the hot brush of his lips and the way he made you feel when he held you in his arms last night. She forced herself to concentrate on the road ahead. ‘Well, I quite like driving myself—so maybe later on, I can have a go.’

There was the split second of a pause. ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible,’ he said pleasantly.

‘Really? I’m sure that as Sheikh you can get me emergency cover on your car insurance, Zahid.’

He bit back a reluctant smile. ‘It’s nothing to do with the insurance. It’s a very powerful machine.’

If she hadn’t been feeling so pent-up and rejected she might have just let that go. But now Frankie was pleased to have something to concentrate on other than the fact that for the first time in her life she was experiencing an intense kind of frustration.

‘Fortunately I passed my driving test on the first attempt,’ she said sweetly. ‘And not just the section for “delicate little women who shouldn’t be allowed behind
the wheel of a big car”.’ A new sense of determination filled her. ‘So I’d like to have a go at driving, if that’s all right with you.’

‘Actually, it is not,’ he said, flexing his fingers as he anticipated her reaction to his next statement. ‘I’m afraid women aren’t allowed to drive in my country.’

This time the pause was longer. ‘You
are
kidding?’

He shot her a glance. Today she was wearing a tunic and trousers in ice-blue—a cool and untouchable contrast to the hot question which burst from her lips. ‘No, I’m not.’

‘Women aren’t allowed to drive?’ she verified, and when he gave a terse nod she raked her fingers back through her hair in agitation. ‘Why not?’

Zahid’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. He had brought her here to type his father’s diaries—not to challenge him or the laws of his land!

‘Don’t ask me, the laws have been in place for decades.’ Frankie’s lips fell open as she turned her head to look at him.

‘I keep thinking that you’re going to come out with some sort of punchline and tell me that it’s some kind of joke.’

‘I know it seems outdated to you—and to me in fact. But the previous sheikh was not a moderniser. His view—which is still shared by many—was that men and women should not mix freely. At the moment it’s just the way things are.’

‘I realise that now—and I assume that’s the same reason you won’t let women go to university.’ She saw him nod his head before turning on him angrily. ‘But
why
would you stop women from mixing freely with men?’

‘Because it is felt that women need to be protected.’

‘From who—or what, exactly?’

‘From men, of course—and from themselves!’

‘And you call that protection?’ Frankie shook her head. ‘Some people might reasonably describe it as a kind of prison.’

‘It depends on your point of view.’ Zahid put his foot down on the accelerator. ‘Proximity equals sex—and sex before marriage isn’t always a good thing. You should know that better than anyone, Francesca—since the man to whom you gave yourself is no longer a part of your future. What a waste of time
that
was.’

If he hadn’t made her so angry then she might have told him that he was leaping to false conclusions. As it was, his arrogant statement so irked her that she turned the accusation on
him
.

‘So you go away on your foreign trips and have as much sex as you want, on the clear understanding that you will one day return home to marry a Khayarzahian virgin?’ she demanded as a hot little spear of jealousy lanced through her like a sabre.

He shrugged. ‘I am now the king,’ he said quietly. ‘And that is what is expected of me.’

And despite knowing that he was a victim of his own circumstances, Frankie could not bite back her burning sense of injustice. ‘Meaning that it’s one rule for men and another for women?’

He looked in his rear mirror. ‘I’m afraid so,’ he answered, softly. ‘And it has always been that way, no matter how much the feminists might protest.’

Frankie stared out of the window as the car shot along the long and straight desert road and tried to quell
her rising tide of indignation. What century did he think he was he living in?

‘Well, if men and women should not be mixing freely in Khayarzah—then why on earth did you bring me here?’

Behind his shades, Zahid’s eyes narrowed as the roads became fringed with towering date trees, and he slowed down to pass a horse-drawn cart which contained sacks of rice. He felt the familiar flicker of lust licking at his groin. ‘You think I haven’t already asked myself that very question and realised that I was mistaken in doing so?’

‘In what way mistaken?’ she flashed back.

For a moment, he didn’t answer. But was there any point in pretending, after what had happened last night? One stupid little kiss which had dominated his thoughts ever since, no matter how hard he tried to push it aside. One kiss which had made him wonder whether there was any point in holding back any more. One kiss which had kept him hard and aching all night long and which was making him hard right now …‘Thinking that I could resist you. That resisting you would be a useful test in self-control.’

‘But you
did
resist me,’ she pointed out. ‘So you’ve passed your stupid test.’

He gave a short laugh. ‘I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you.’

‘Neither can I.’ But even as she said it Frankie realised that it wasn’t quite true. Because despite the fundamental disagreements which lay at the heart of their heated discussion, she was aware of an intimacy which existed between her and Zahid, which had never been there with Simon. Was that because she’d known the
sheikh for so many years that she felt she could be
herself
with him, no matter how huge the differences in their circumstances? Because she’d known him as a
person
before this inconvenient sexual attraction had reared its seductive head?

‘Look over there,’ he said suddenly. ‘We are skirting the outskirts of Calathara, which is our second biggest city—famous for its diamonds and carpets and the sweetest oranges on the planet. And if you look carefully you’ll see the stadium in the distance.’

She was relieved to be able to change the subject and as they approached the stadium it was difficult not to be impressed by the amount of money and work which had clearly been poured into the new building. A gleam of chrome and glass rose up to greet them and Frankie studied the sleek design as she stepped from the car to greet the now-familiar deputation which awaited them.

Walking just behind Zahid, she marvelled at the state-of-the-art racetrack, whose lush grass track curved like an emerald snake—made all the more startling by its stark desert location. She’d once gone to a Boxing Day race meeting in England with her father—but the racecourse had been nothing like this.

Here, no expense had been spared. Not anywhere. Everything was brand-new and the very best that money could buy. There were dining rooms and function rooms—as well as fabulous facilities for the horses and their jockeys. The women’s section was separate and lavish, filled with beautiful containers of showy orchids, and there was a dazzling array of French perfumes and soaps in the washrooms.

In one of the executive dining rooms, they drank strong, sweet coffee from dinky little cups and ate cake
which had been flavoured with honey and cardamom. And Frankie thought how animated and proud Zahid seemed as they sipped at their coffee.

‘I want to make this track part of the international circuit,’ he said. ‘And for the Khayarzah Cup to be one of the most treasured trophies of the twenty-first century—on a par with the prizes offered at Ascot and Cheltenham and Melbourne.’ He put down his cup and looked at her. ‘So what do you think of it?