One Desert Night (7 page)

'What about the man who shot you? What happened to him?'

'Right now he is languishing in a prison cell in the city. He was taken there last night by my guards.'

Farida patted down the silk
hijab
that covered her hair, neck and shoulders, and looked perturbed. 'There is no chance that one of his men will try and seek revenge and hurt you again, Zahir?'

'If they dare, my punishment will ensure they will never pick up a firearm or a weapon again. Not in this lifetime!'

But even as he contemplated such a repugnant reality, a wave of doubt and concern rolled through him.
Had he made a huge error in judgement, thinking that he could reason with such a lawless band?
Now wasn't the time to consider such a disturbing notion—not when Farida was so clearly worried and upset.

He laid his arm reassuringly round his sister's slender shoulders. 'The palace is a steadfast fortress that has stood the test of time. No amateur trigger-happy fool is going to get at me here. They would be crazy to even try. Now, enough talk about that. Let us discuss more pleasant things, hmm? What are you planning on doing with yourself this day?'

They were walking back along the shaded pathway, and the balmy agarwood scented air seemed to ease Zahir's troubled mind with its rich and mysterious fragrance as they walked.

'I hope to spend some time with Gina Collins, actually.'

'You have met Dr Collins?' Stopping dead in his tracks, Zahir stared at his sister in surprise.

'Yes, I have met her, and I like her very much. She said something rather wonderful to me about Azhar that gave me great comfort. I don't have many girlfriends around my own age, so it's very nice to have someone like Gina staying at the palace for a while. As you have employed her to make an inventory of some of the more important family artefacts, I thought I might be able to assist her? What do you think?'

The little speech she had just made was so surprising, so unexpected, that it took Zahir a few moments to digest it properly. It was the first time since Farida had been so tragically widowed that she'd shown even the slightest interest in anything other than her own misery. If Gina had been able to effect such a dramatic change—even in the short time she'd been here—what else might her presence be able to achieve? Zahir's mind raced with something that felt very much like hope.

'I am sure that if I speak with her on your behalf she would be only too happy to have your help. Do you by any chance know where she is now?'

'I was just about to go and look for her.'

'Let me do that. Why don't you stay out here for a little while in the shade and relax? When I've discussed your suggestion with Dr Collins I will send Jamal to come and fetch you, okay?'

'She is very pretty brother…don't you think?'

She is beautiful beyond imagining,
his mind answered immediately. But Zahir curbed the words that hovered on his tongue for something a little more measured. After all, he didn't think it wise to alert Farida to his deepening interest in Gina—or the fact that he had asked her to become his mistress!

'Yes,' He allowed the briefest smile to touch his lips. 'She is very pretty…clever, too.'

He turned away before he had the urge to elaborate further on all Gina Collins's very appealing attributes…

On returning to her luxurious rooms the previous night, Gina had known that sleep would elude her for the rest of the night-time hours. After her encounter with the man who set her heart racing like no other, finding him injured and then
furious
when she refused his offer to become his mistress, she'd been both distressed and heartbroken. It shocked her that he had such apparent disregard for his own safety—so much so that he would venture into a lawless region of his kingdom to deal with some gun-toting rebels. Did he not realise how much the people close to him cared for him?

But she was hurt, too, because all he seemed to be interested in as far as she was concerned was appeasing his lust. Had she imagined the tender words and fervent feelings he'd declared when they'd first encountered each other in the Husseins' garden? Then she'd been so sure of his mutual love and affection that she'd given him her most precious gift. Had that meant
nothing
to him?

At breakfast out on the terrace, she ate very little. Her obvious lack of appetite even prompted Jake to comment.

'Are you feeling all right, Gina? You've got dark circles under your eyes and you've barely touched your food.'

'I'm fine,' she murmured. 'Just a little tired.'

'The heat can do that. Best take things easy today,' her companion responded consolingly.

Beckoning Jamal over to the table, after Jake had returned to his rooms to locate a book, Gina nervously enquired about Zahir's condition. The taciturn servant told her that His Highness was 'comfortable' and back on his feet, but she should be prepared for the possibility that she might not see him at all that day. His physician had told him that he must rest.

She then politely asked if she could use the palace library. Informing her that he was instructed that she and her colleague Dr Rivers should be aided wherever possible to undertake their work, he agreed. If the man had any thoughts about why the Sheikh should have summoned her last night to his private rooms when he had just been injured, neither by word nor deed did he give them away.

A library had always represented a comforting safe place to Gina. Often, during her childhood, she had taken refuge there when life had felt hard and there hadn't seemed to be a lot of love or affection going round. Books were her friends—constant loving companions that didn't let her down.

Zahir's library took her breath away. It was a repository for the written word that only the richest and most devoted imagination could conjure up. Shelf upon shelf of books ancient and modern confronted her, practically reaching up to the sky. Amid the shelves of books were sumptuous couches and chairs in which a browser could relax and peruse the book they'd selected. The ambience was not unlike that of a breathtaking cathedral, with a high-vaulted ceiling made of sandstone and granite interspersed with mosaic.

Gina had a plan. She was going to try and delve more deeply into Zahir's family, going right back through as many generations as possible. There must be hundreds of history books on the region here, chronicling the dynasty through the centuries. If luck was on her side she might even come across old family journals…
they
would be her primary sources. She wanted to discover as much extra information as she could on the family's association with the famed Heart of Courage, but she had to be discreet. If Zahir found out what she was doing he could very well put her on the next plane home and forbid her from visiting Kabuyadir again…

'There you are.'

Immersed in the pages of a fascinating book she'd pulled from a shelf, Gina spun round in shock at the sound of Zahir's voice. He was as imposing as usual, in his dark robes and broad leather belt, his ebony hair like a velvety dark river rippling down over his shoulders. Straight away she noticed there was a light sheen of sweat on his brow, and she realised he must be in pain.

'What are you doing up and about? Shouldn't you be resting after what happened?' Anxiously she clutched the dusty volume she'd been examining to her chest. A ray of sunlight beamed in through the cathedral-like narrow windows and warmed her back.

'I've been walking in the garden, getting some air. I cannot stay confined to my bed for twenty-four hours a day just because I took a couple of small flesh wounds. Jamal told me I would find you here. What do you think of my library?'

'It's truly magnificent. A person could spend a lifetime in here and barely get through the books on even
one
shelf.'

Her comment drew the hint of a smile to his lips. Moving towards her, he moved his hand briefly to his side.

'Are you hurting?' she asked. The distressed catch in her voice sounded loud to her own ears.

'That question is a double-edged sword. The truth is that my pride is stinging just as much as my physical wounds.'

'Why's that?'

'I…' He seemed to swiftly reconsider what he'd been going to say and lightly jerked his head towards the book Gina pressed to the white silk of her blouse. 'What have you got there?'

'It's a history of the Byzantine empire.' She sent up a silent prayer of thanks that he hadn't discovered her with an incriminating family journal, but she still couldn't help colouring guiltily.

'A little light reading, eh?' he joked, brown eyes twinkling.

Her insides melted like butter over a hot stove. Staring back at him, she fell into a hypnotic semi-trance.

'I am sorry I treated you as I did last night,' he murmured, 'my behaviour was reprehensible.'

Now he was tipping up Gina's chin, gazing at her as though he, too, was hypnotised.

'You were hurt and angry…I understand, Zahir. I understand and I forgive you. But right now you clearly should be resting—not up and about like this, putting a strain on your wounds.'

She held her breath as his fingers moved across her cheek and into her hair. 'Could any man blame me for wanting you so much?' he said, and his usually strong voice sounded distinctly unsteady.

T
HE
spell he cast was so profound, so intense, it was as if the rest of the world suddenly ceased to exist. There were no boundaries or walls any more—just Zahir and her, suspended in a weightless loving universe where who you were and the roles you assumed in life—whether antiquities expert or sheikh—ceased to matter. All there was were two souls recognising each other and silently rejoicing.

Her eyelids drifted closed as every cell vibrated with anticipation, waiting for his kiss that was bound to come.

It felt as though everything in his life had been teetering on the brink of disaster for a long time. Now, studying the entrancing beautiful features before him, Zahir thought that here was one thing that was right…that made him feel good…after talking to his sister
even
hopeful.

From his head to his feet his body yearned for this woman. He could scarcely think of anything else but losing himself inside her. His longing overrode even the unholy biting sting of his gunshot wounds.
And then he saw it
… A slightly raised scarlet abrasion on the plump pink flesh of her lower lip. Her mouth was naked this morning—free from make-up—so it was plain to see. Instantly he recoiled—the memory of the savage kiss that had been his parting shot last night dousing the heat that enveloped him like ice-water.

'I did this?' He winced as he stroked the pad of his thumb over the lightly swollen wound.

The incandescent long-lashed eyes appeared startled. Realising what he meant, she coiled her slender fingers gently round his wrist. 'You didn't mean to.' Her tone was warm and whisper-soft. 'It's nothing to be concerned about.'

'I meant to make you pay for my frustration, and that is not the action of a man who is honourable. A thousand apologies, Dr Collins it will not happen again.'

He made himself withdraw in every way—physically, psychologically, mentally. It was agony, but Zahir had to do it.

Her face was a picture of confusion. 'It's nothing to feel guilty about. It happened in the heat of the moment.'

'Even so…' Inside, he was thinking,
I do not deserve her forgiveness. I acted like an arrogant fool.
'The reason I came to find you,' he continued, 'is to ask something of you that will mean a lot to me.'

'Tell me.'

'My sister Farida informs me that you have already bumped into each other. It appears she has taken a great liking to you. It's the first time she has shown an interest in anyone or anything outside of the palace since she lost Azhar, so naturally I want to encourage it. She wants me to ask if she can help you with your inventory of some of the more important palace artefacts. I know. I have not officially asked you to undertake such a project, but I am asking you now. Will you do it? Both conduct an inventory and allow Farida to assist you?'

She stroked her palm down over her hip in the pearl-coloured silk harem pants she'd matched with a tunic in the same delicate hue. Her troubled glance told him she was mentally regrouping—trying to make sense of his request.

'There must be countless important artefacts in a palace this size. Such a project could take months and months. What about my job at the auction house back home?'

'I have no doubt your employers would see it as an honour for one of their staff to undertake this task. There is no doubt in my mind that they will jump at my offer. If you are in agreement with the plan, I will make sure the remuneration you receive is generous.'

'It's not a question of money. What about Jake—I mean Mr Rivers? Do you want to employ him, too?'

A flash of annoyance assailed Zahir that she should mention her colleague. Mockingly he raised his eyebrow. 'No. It is
you
who is the antiquities expert, is it not?'

'I also told you that my father isn't well. I can't just disappear for months on end with no contact.'

Biting back a jealous retort at yet another show of consideration for her father rather than him, Zahir breathed in deeply. Such a response was beneath him.

'You can telephone him and talk to him all you want. I perfectly understand that you need to do that. If he needs a nurse, go ahead and hire one. The palace will foot the bill. As far as Farida is concerned, would you be willing to utilise her help?'

Looking torn, Gina lightly shrugged her shoulders. 'If I undertake to do the inventory, I'm sure her help would be invaluable. Her knowledge of your family treasures must be considerable, having live with them all her life.'

'Good. Then you agree to do this?'

Zahir could hardly contain his impatience as he waited for her answer. His sister's enthusiasm for Gina's presence had unwittingly given him a legitimate reason to keep her there longer. Now that reason had entered his head he refused to entertain the possibility that his request might be denied.

The big blue eyes still mirrored doubt, but at last she nodded slowly. 'For someone in my profession it's obviously a great opportunity to deepen my knowledge, as well as a privilege—so, yes …I will do it.'

'
Inshallah
… I will make the necessary phone call to the auction house, letting them know what we have agreed.'

'What about the Heart of Courage?'

'Be assured, everything will take its course as it should in that regard. When I have had some time to recuperate we will discuss the rest of your findings concerning the jewel. Now I will send my sister to you here in the library. After that I must go and rest. My doctor will not be happy when he discovers I am not in my bed, where he left me!'

He spun on his heel, grimacing as the sudden movement made him feel as though a sharp-bladed knife had sliced through his ribcage…

It gave Gina a real lift to see less hopelessness and grief in Farida Khan's engaging brown eyes. To be Gina's assistant would give her a purpose, she'd confessed, and knowing that she was helping her beloved brother Zahir, too, would be doubly satisfying.

After the two women had met again in the library, and discussed a plan on how to proceed, Farida had disappeared for a while to locate the necessary keys—keys that would open some of the cabinets that were kept locked. They moved from room to room and floor to floor. She was showing Gina some of the palace's most prized treasures—possessions that were usually only seen by family and close friends. This was to be only a preliminary tour—the work of cataloguing everything would come later—but as she accompanied Farida on her mission to reveal the palace's most revered objects Gina was all but stunned into silence by what she saw.

She knew already how opulently decorated and sumptuous the interior of the palace was—nevertheless room after room seemed to outdo the one before with the riches it revealed, and everywhere she gazed the architecture was a dream. And that was
without
the abundance of extraordinary artefacts hidden away that she was privileged to be shown. Aladdin's Cave had nothing on the palace of the Sheikh of Kabuyadir.

Zahir was never far from Gina's mind as she trailed after Farida.
Whenever she thought about his gunshot wounds, she winced and bit her lip.
It was torture to imagine him in pain. Earlier, she had wanted to weep when he didn't kiss her as she'd believed he would. But she'd also been moved that the vivid evidence of his passion the night before had caused him to believe he'd both hurt and offended her. That he cared about that gave her hope.
She didn't want him to forget that they'd shared the most extraordinary connection three years ago that went far beyond mere desire…

After learning that Jake had gone on a tour of the old part of the town for the evening, Gina ate dinner with Farida. Both women confessed to feeling tired afterwards, so retired to their quarters early.

After reading over her notes, then taking her evening bath, Gina tucked her legs beneath her on the opulent bed and let down her hair. Then she rang her father in the UK. They were three hours ahead there time-wise, so he would still be up and about—in his study working, most likely.

'Professor Collins.'

'Dad, it's me—Gina.'

'What a lovely surprise! How are you getting along in Kabuyadir? Does it still have the same magic for you that it held last time?'

A little taken aback, she smiled. 'I'm afraid it does—so much so that I've agreed to stay on quite a bit longer than I'd planned. The Sheikh has offered me a job cataloguing some of the more important palace artefacts, as well as presenting my findings on the Heart of Courage.'

'You must have impressed him. That's quite a coup for the auction house as well as you personally.'

'He thinks so, too.' Her comment was wry.

'What's he like…His Highness?'

Gina struggled to find adequate words especially when all she could really think of was that Zahir was hurting. Was he resting as he should? Might his wounds get infected? Her insides clenched anxiously. But she also had a confession to make.

'I met him once before, Dad,' she admitted softly. 'When I was here the last time. He's the man I told you about—though I didn't know at the time that he was going to inherit his father's title of Sheikh. He's the man I wanted to come back to before Mum died.'

At the other end of the telephone, apart from a few long distance connection crackles, all was silent. 'Dad?'

'Well, well…' he said, and Gina could imagine him rubbing his hand round his jaw and shaking his head in bemusement. 'Do you still care about him, Gina?'

'Yes.' Staring down at the receiver in her hand, she sighed with relief that she'd been able to admit the truth. 'Yes…very much. But he's still angry with me for not coming back when I said I would, and now I don't think he'll ever trust me again.'

'But he's asked you to stay on to catalogue the artefacts? That doesn't sound like a man who has no trust in you, my dear.'

'I'll just have to wait and see how things pan out, won't I?'

She could almost hear her father thinking hard. 'It was selfish of me to stop you going back, Gina. I was distraught about your mother, and fearful of the future without her. Yes, I wanted you to pursue a rewarding career—but I took advantage of your innate kindness to get you to stay at home. I was afraid of losing you to a man thousands of miles away from me. I've since realised what a dreadful thing I did. Now I need to ask
your
forgiveness.'

Tracing one of the swirling patterns on the bed's silk counterpane, Gina swallowed hard. 'There's nothing to forgive, Dad. You needed me, and I chose to stay. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be…me and Zahir. Anyway, how are
you
doing? Do you mind if I'm away so long?'

'Mind!' Her father sounded surprised that she would even think it. 'Of course I don't mind! This is a great opportunity for you to make a bit of a name for yourself as well as to advance your career—
if
that's what you want. And if you decide it's Zahir that you want then that's fine, too, and you have my blessing.'

His words stunned her.
He was definitely changing,
she realised. 'Thank you. By the way, how's your new housekeeper working out?'

'To tell the truth, Lizzie has been an absolute godsend. Not only is she a marvellous cook, but history is one of her passions, too. She's a bright girl…extremely intelligent—and a very good mother to that son of hers. He, by the way, is very bright as well. He's already sorted out that hiccup I had with the computer. Yes, we all get along like a house on fire, so there's no need to worry, Gina. Just give me a ring from time to time and let me know how things are going with you, will you? And don't hesitate to call if you need anything…anything at all.'

Struggling to swallow across the lump in her throat, Gina nodded. After spending many years believing that he scarcely regarded her at all, it was almost overwhelming to hear such love, concern and acceptance in her father's voice. Especially when she considered that she was so far away, and it might be quite a while before they saw each other again.

'I will, Dad.'

'Well, goodbye for now, dear. We'll speak again soon.'

'Bye.'

Drawn to his balcony by the great glowing ball of orange fire that was the sun going down, Zahir experienced the familiar quickening in his blood that was always a given when he witnessed the phenomenon. It made him feel that he was part of much, much more than the mere sights and sounds that daily met his eyes. The realisation humbled him, and he silently gave thanks.

Then the incandescent moment passed and the ache in his side brought him back to more earthly matters—back to the frustration he felt at the thought of being confined by his discomfort for even the shortest time.

Right now he longed for the freedom and vast open spaces of the desert…longed to be pounding along the sand on his beautiful Arabian stallion with the warm wind in his hair and the sun on his back…to forget he was ruler of Kabuyadir for a while. Into his daydream came another tempting facet. On the stallion's back in front of him—his arms keeping her safe—was a woman: the woman who for the past three years had nightly haunted his dreams, the woman who by an incredible quirk of fate was now staying in his palace.

He hadn't written off the idea of making Gina his mistress, despite the fact that he'd said he wouldn't allow his desire to transgress her sense of safety or honour. Tomorrow he would continue his campaign to persuade her—to help her see that it was a natural solution to the inflammatory attraction that gathered force whenever they were together.
If she were to become his mistress he wouldn't have to risk his heart as he had done before,
he told himself. In a way he could hold her at arm's length except for when they were in bed together. Fear of her letting him down again would always ensure he would not wholly trust her.

Even so, his tension lessened a little at the idea she wasn't far away, and that soon
— very
soon—they would share a night together. Zahir released a long slow breath.

'Jamal!'

'Yes, Your Highness.' The loyal servant appeared almost instantly from one of the connecting rooms where he waited on Zahir's instructions even all through the night.