The Sheikh's Baby Omnibus (20 page)

Sam looked yearningly towards the rear exit to the tent. She
was closer to it than she was to the dais. It would be easy enough for her to
slip away and avoid the formal introduction. But of course it was impossible for
her to do that. Apart from anything else it would be a grave breach of protocol,
and indeed almost an insult to the Ruler.

She looked with distaste at the plate she was still clutching
and then, feeling a bit guilty, bent down to slip it beneath the nearest chair
before filing into the queue behind James.

It would be
her turn next. So far
Sam had managed successfully to avoid looking directly at the new Ruler, but
that hadn’t stopped her heart thumping as heavily as though someone were
wielding it like a sledgehammer, and now her palms were clammy with nervous
perspiration. She was uncomfortably conscious of her bare shoulders and her
casual attire. Would he think she had chosen to dress like this deliberately, as
some kind of statement, or even worse in an attempt to lay claim to some kind of
privileged status?

James was bowing his head. Sam heard him laugh, and then to her
horror he turned to her and announced cheerfully, ‘If you’ll take my advice,
Prince, you’ll keep an eye on my fellow cartographer here. She’s already been
checking up on the source of your river. The next thing you know she’ll probably
be challenging your borders as well. Trust a woman to want to meddle, eh?’

Sam could feel herself shaking with a mixture of disbelief and
furious outrage at James’s wholly unprofessional and untruthful allegations.
With a few supposedly casual words he had painted a picture of her for the man
who was now in charge of their venture that could only mark her out as a
troublemaker, determined to ignore the guidelines they had been given from the
start—guidelines which the man now staring very hard and very coldly at her had
only just repeated.

The words
That’s not true
hovered
on her tongue, only to be choked back. Any kind of protest or argument from her
now would only make her position worse.

Ignoring James, she made a determinedly low obeisance to the
Prince and said quietly, ‘Highness, I am aware, of course, of the purpose of our
being here, and I thank you and the other Rulers for granting us the opportunity
to work here. It is a unique opportunity and a privilege to be permitted to
learn something of the mystery of the desert.’

Without waiting to see what kind of reaction her words were
receiving Sam backed away, waiting until her place in front of the Ruler of
Dhurahn had been taken by someone else before straightening up ready to turn
round. But before she did so she couldn’t prevent her gaze from seeking his. She
wanted to look at him as the woman she had been in the hotel corridor, and him
to be the man who had looked back at her with such fierce, sensual hunger.

He was not that man now, though. Now he was an Arab prince. The
Ruler of an Arab State—a man, his dismissive gaze was telling her, as far
removed from her as it was possible for him to be. His cold refusal to engage
visually with her, never mind acknowledge or recognise her, confirmed everything
that Sam had already guessed. He didn’t want to know. The look he had given her
earlier on the path confirmed that he had recognised her as immediately as she
had done him, but now he was letting her know that he was the Ruler of Dhurahn
and she was a European woman he wanted to pretend he had never met.

It was an indication of just how foolish she was that she
actually felt achingly saddened to discover he was the kind of prince who was
ready to enjoy the sexual advantages of his power and position in private, but
at the same time determined to deny that he had availed himself of them in
public.

All these weeks while she had been dreaming her stupid dreams,
suffering her tormented longings, no doubt he had exorcised any desire she might
have aroused in him speedily and effectively with someone else. Or maybe with
several some one elses. No doubt to a man like him one woman was much the same
as another—a piece of flesh to be used and then discarded.

It was relief
that was burning that
ice-cold fury into him, Vere told himself. Relief because now he had good
reason—had he needed it, which he didn’t—to treat her with disdain and
suspicion, to make sure that he did not give in to his unwanted physical desire
for her. And it was only physical, he assured himself.

Everyone had left
the tent now, and
Sam looked round for James. She might not have been able to say anything in
front of their visitor, but she certainly intended to tackle James about the
comments he had made—and sooner rather than later.

Once she could see him she made her way determinedly towards
him, ignoring his cheerful, ‘So, what do you think of our new boss, then?’

‘Why did you try to give the Prince the impression that I’ve
been questioning the legality of his country’s rights to the river, when we both
know that I haven’t done any such thing?’ she demanded coolly.

‘Oh, come on. It was just a bit of banter that’s all.’ He
shrugged and shook his head. ‘What is it with you women that makes you take
everything so ruddy seriously and go all hormonal and emotional?’

His jibe about her being emotional found its mark, but she
wasn’t going to let let him see that.

‘You’ve got equality now, you know,’ he continued tauntingly.
‘And that means—’

‘I know exactly what equality means, James.’ Sam stopped him,
firmly taking charge of the conversation and fully intending to repeat her
earlier demand that he explain his reasons for his comments to Prince Vereham.
But before she could do so he had turned away from her to hail one of the other
men.

A call for fellow male support? Sam wondered wryly, and her own
inbuilt awareness of the bigger picture urged her to refrain from forcing a
confrontation that could only lead to ill feeling. She had, after all, made her
point and let him know that she was both aware of what he had done and annoyed
about it. Involving herself in a battle of words that might descend into
childish verbal gender taunts wouldn’t do anything to enhance the
professionalism on which she prided herself.

The triumphant smirk James was giving her still irked her,
though. He plainly thought he had got away with something—and if she was honest
so did she.

But she wasn’t here to indulge in petty squabbles with a
colleague who seemed to have unresolved issues with working alongside women on
an equal footing—and she was certainly not here to moon around thinking about a
man who had unequivocally proved that he neither wanted anything to do with her
nor would have been worthy of her if he had been.

With her back ramrod-stiff with determination and pride, Sam
made her way back to her tent.

Knowing that today was the day when control of the venture was
handed from Zuran to Dhurahn, she had deliberately planned not to go out in the
field but instead to work on her computer, so that she could compare the
information she had gathered on the ground with that picked up by the GPS
systems overlooking the area. Only then would she be in a position to start
preparing a comparison between what the landscape showed now and what had been
recorded over fifty years ago.

The three Rulers had thought of everything that might be needed
in a practical sense to make the venture a success, providing everyone with
power and internet access for their computers, so that within minutes of
entering her tent Sam should have been accessing the GPS information she
needed.

Instead, though, she was typing into an internet search engine
the name of the Ruler of Dhurahn...

CHAPTER FOUR

T
HE
formalities were over, and Sheikh
Sadir and his entourage had taken their formal leave of him and begun their
return journey to Zuran.

His own people were busy familiarising themselves with the
site, and Vere had beside him the very latest printouts of the reports on
various initiatives being undertaken by those working on the joint venture.

By rights he should be studying those reports. One of them,
after all, could have grave repercussions for him and for his country. Instead
he had been studying a plan of the camp and a list of those living in it.

Vere frowned and stood up, walked over to the exit of his
personal quarters and pulled back the opening, causing the guard standing
outside to jump to attention.

His own tent was set apart from the others, shielded from view
by palm trees and close to the oasis, as befitted his status, with the tents of
his private entourage surrounding it.

Beyond them were the tents of the team working on the project,
arranged in a neat pattern, with wide walkways between them and those tents that
housed the communal areas set in the centre. By Vere’s reckoning, from the plan
he had been studying, the tent housing Ms Sam McLellan was several rows away
from his own but, like his, backed onto the oasis.

The last thing he had been prepared for when he had arrived
here had been that he would see her. He had recognised her instantly, of course,
and he could still feel the shock of that recognition deep down within his own
flesh. As always, when he was reminded against his will of his reaction to the
kiss they had shared, Vere was filled with a furious need to deny that it had
had any kind of long-lasting effect on him at all. It was unthinkable that he,
who abhorred the modern relaxed attitude towards casual throwaway sex, should
have been involved in such a situation in the first place, and it was his
weakness in allowing that to happen on which he needed to focus—not the
irrelevant fact that, try as he might, he could not force his body to give up
its physical memory of her.

Even harder to admit was the emotional impact the event had had
on him, unleashing all the inner insecurity that the loss of his mother had
brought him.
No!
Vere could feel the angry denial
exploding inside himself. He felt as though he had been plunged into a war
within himself and against himself.

He had something far more important to think about than his
unwanted desire for Sam McLellan.

Drax had telephoned to tell him that he had received
information that suggested that the Emir of Khulua intended to try and win a
bargaining tool for himself in future negotiations between their two countries,
by paying a member of the team assessing the changes within the desert
boundaries to suggest that Dhurahn had laid claim to lands to which in reality
it had no legal rights.

Of course, as Drax had said and Vere knew, the Emir had no
intention of going so far as to try to make a claim on such lands. He was a very
astute man, after all, and he knew that it would be impossible for him to make
such a claim stick. However, what he could do was use the laws of Arab protocol
and interaction, to put pressure on Dhurahn to make favourable concessions in
his favour, as public recompense for and acknowledgement of ‘past dues owed’,
which would tie them up in protracted useless negotiations for years to come. It
was the kind of subtle game of politics and power that men like the Emir
loved.

Vere knew that the Ruler of Zuran would not think too kindly of
either of them if he were to be drawn into such a quarrel—especially if it
affected the ongoing development of Zuran as a tourist destination. The
situation that might develop would be one that would demand a considerable
amount of time and subtle negotiation. However, with Dhurahn’s bid to host the
Arab world’s first independent financial sector and stock market now accepted,
but still in its all-important first year and being monitored closely, Vere knew
they could not afford either the time to become engaged in delicate convoluted
negotiations with the Emir, nor the fall-out effect on their reputation if an
outright argument were forced on them by him should they refuse to bargain.

It seemed perfectly obvious to Vere that the person in the
Emir’s pay had to be Samantha McLellan. She, after all, was a cartographer, and
responsible for mapping any changes in the shared boundaries. She had also,
according to her colleague, already been spreading rumours about the validity of
those boundaries—even if she herself had denied it.

It was surely a logical step from knowing that to working out
that the supposed accidental meeting between them in Zuran, when she had bumped
into him, had been no accident at all and instead had been deliberately
contrived.

No doubt she had hoped to tempt him into a sexual liaison with
her that would have allowed her to cloud the issue of the borders even more with
planned lies. Perhaps claiming that Vere had admitted to her that there were
irregularities with them.

It wouldn’t matter that it was untrue. The Emir would still be
able to use it in his Machiavellian plan to cause discord and discredit. Honour
and good faith were vitally important in the Middle East, and once lost they
were impossible to recover.

Had she really thought that he would be so easily taken in?
That he would be deceived on the strength of one passionately sensual kiss and
the feel of her body against his, combined with a look that suggested she had
found her world in him?

How many other men had she practised that look on? Pain shot
through him, splintering into shards of unexpected agony which he forced himself
to bear as punishment for having dropped his guard long enough to have
registered her lying eyes.

He was, though, completely safe from any kind of vulnerability
towards her, knowing what he did. It was totally impossible and completely
beneath him for him to desire her now. Her duplicity was his salvation. His
salvation? His pride reacted as though it had been spurred. He had no need to
seek salvation from the likes of Sam McLellan, a woman whose morals and whose
flesh were up for sale. Again anger burned fiercely inside him because she had
dared to think he might be gullible enough to be taken in by her and her risible
attempt to foster a sexual intimacy between them that she could use to
manipulate him.

She must have been furious when her colleague had betrayed her
with his comment about her views on the true legality of Dhurahn’s borders. Vere
had no doubt that she must have been acting on the Emir’s orders, trying none
too subtly to lay the foundations for some kind of spurious claim about their
border based on some farcical trumpedup evidence.

However, much as he longed to confront her with what he knew,
Vere realised he could not do so. The first thing she would do would be to tell
the Emir, and he and Drax were both agreed that their best course of action at
the moment was to gather together as much evidence of the Emir’s plans as they
could and then confront him privately, having first laid the whole thing before
the Ruler of Zuran. That way they could avoid humiliating the Emir in public,
whilst making it plain that they had seen through his machinations.

Vere had no doubt that in such circumstances the Emir would be
forced to back down—if only so that he could save his own face.

Meanwhile Vere knew that his duty to his country meant that he
must do all he could to find out exactly what Samantha McLellan was doing. Once
he had, he would need to get her to admit that she was being paid by the Emir to
corrupt the details of her research in order to throw doubt on Dhurahn’s
original borders.

And there was only one realistic way in which he could do that,
Vere thought cynically.

A woman like her, who had been bribed by one man, could be
bribed by another to betray him. So, much as the thought revolted him, he would
have to let her think that he was not averse to being propositioned by her, Vere
decidedly grimly. He would have to act as though he wanted her—as if he was
completely taken in by her.

Sam pushed the
hair off her face and
rubbed her eyes sleepily, before giving a shame-faced look at the screen in
front of her. Had anyone told her four months ago that she would be doing
something like this—scanning the internet and trying to pry into the private
life of a man who had already made it clear that he wanted nothing whatsoever to
do with her, a man who was a world away from the kind of man with whom she could
realistically expect to share her life—she would have been appalled and
defensive, instantly rejecting the very idea. She would have said, and genuinely
believed, that she was far too well grounded, far too modern and way too
practical to waste time doing something so pointless. Anyone who spent hours on
the internet, pathetically prying into the life of a stranger, was surely to be
pitied and told to get a life of their own.

What was it she was hoping to find out? She already knew
exactly how he felt about her—or rather how he didn’t. Trawling the internet
wasn’t going to alter that, given that he had made it so plain that he wanted
nothing to do with her, was it?

Wasn’t this the kind of thing that could lead to unhealthy and
obsessive behaviour?

What did it matter what information about him the internet
might hold? She had no intimate role to play in his life, nor he in hers.

Everything she was telling herself was quite true, Sam
acknowledged, but she still couldn’t quite bring herself not to give in to the
temptation of looking. That was the trouble, wasn’t it? she admitted to herself
guiltily. Where he was concerned temptation seemed to be something she was
incapable of resisting.

She had found any number of sites describing the history of the
State of Dhurahn, but none of them contained any personal information about its
current ruler.

She had also visited a site that gave a lavish description of
Dhurahn’s plans to create an independent Middle Eastern business and financial
centre of excellence on land set aside for that purpose, complete with visuals
of the office blocks and buildings. She had found, too, eloquent descriptions of
the traditions of the country, preserved now and incorporated into national
celebrations. There was even a piece about the current project, showing the
original borders agreed when all three States had first been created.

But about Prince Vereham al a’ Karim bin Hakar there was
nothing—not even a photograph. Merely a clipped line in one of the free online
encyclopaedias giving his date of birth, the names of his parents and
grandparents, and the fact that the Rulers of Dhurahn had a tradition of
choosing European women for their wives.

Sam’s heart gave a small flurry of over-excited thuds as she
re-read this information.
European
wives... Now she
was being a fool.

Angry with herself for her silliness, she closed down the site
and then opened up a new search for Khulua. Anne had mentioned that the state
and its ancient ruins were well worth a visit. She had some leave days due in
another month, and taking a short break away from the camp might do her good and
bring her to her senses, Sam decided determinedly, as she checked out and then
booked flights and a hotel for Khulua for a month ahead.

That done, Sam went to bring up the satellite map of the area
which she used to work on.

As always when she studied this map, she was drawn to the area
around the source of Dhurahn’s river. She highlighted and magnified the river’s
source, fascinated all over again by her conviction that at some stage and for
some reason the course of the river, not far from its source, had been changed.
There might have been any number of reasons for this—none of them having any
bearing on the state’s border with Khulua—but Sam’s natural curiosity burned to
know exactly what that reason had been. Logically there was no reason why the
original course of the Dhurahni river should have been changed, which made her
certainty that it had all the more mystifying.

The fact that Sam was engrossed in what she was doing, and had
her back to the entrance to the tent, gave Vere the opportunity to stand and
watch her unobserved before he started towards her.

As he began to walk in her direction, he knew he had certainly
not made any sound that would have alerted her to his presence—and yet, as
though he had commanded her to do so, within a heartbeat of him entering the
tent she suddenly tensed and then swung round, saying, as she had done that
morning when she had seen him by the oasis, ‘
You!
I
mean... Your Highness,’ Sam corrected herself quickly, half stumbling over the
words as her brain struggled to come to grips with the fact that she had known
he was there without hearing him or seeing him.

Her heart was thudding into her ribs so heavily that it almost
hurt, and it was certainly making her feel weak and light-headed—or maybe that
was caused by the fact that suddenly there didn’t seem to be enough air in the
tent for her to breathe properly, and what air there was had turned warmer,
somehow, pressing against her and bringing with it unwanted memories of their
first meeting.

Sam prayed that he wouldn’t come any closer. She was already
acutely aware of the sound of his breathing and the scent of his body. In trying
to avoid looking into his eyes she had instead focused straight ahead. Now,
though, she recognised that this was a mistake—because her eyes had impacted on
his hands, strong and sinewy, with long fingers, hands that could easily support
the weight of a hunting falcon, or secure the trembling body of a yearning
woman. She was starting to tremble, sweat beading her forehead as unwanted
images crashed through her defences. She didn’t think she could bear this. She
really didn’t. But she must—or else risk giving him the opportunity to snub her
again the way he had done earlier.