One Desert Night

by Maggie Cox

  On the last word Gina lowered her gaze, because she didn't really want to know if his trip had been good if 'good' meant that he'd become officially engaged to the Emir's daughter.

  'If you are asking if I had a safe and uneventful journey, then the answer to that question is yes. As for the hospitality of the Emir—that lived up to its famously high standard, as always, and did not disappoint.'

  Making a slow, measured approach, Zahir was suddenly in front of her. His leather boots were buffed to a mirrorshine, she noticed, and just as her eager glance travelled upwards to examine the rest of him he dropped down to his haunches, so that their gazes were level. The fine calf leather of his boots creaked a little as he lowered himself, and the arousing scents of agarwood and sandalwood made a potent assault against senses that were already under siege.

  It was all Gina could do to keep her fingers laced together in her lap and not reach out to touch her.

  'I'm glad that you're back safe,' she said softly.

  'I confess it is good to be home again. You have a pencil smudge at the corner of your mouth. Here...' He leaned forward and gently rubbed at it.

  Gina all but held her breath. 'It's a bad habit of mine, I'm afraid,' she murmured. 'Chewing the end of pencils, I mean.'

  Smiling into her eyes, Zahir withdrew again. 'Those urns were two of my father's favourite pieces,' he commented, nodding his head towards them.

  'Were they? Your father must have had impeccable taste, then, as well as being a bit of a historian. Was he interested in history?'

  'He was, as a matter of fact. How could he not be when he lived amongst so many incredible historical treasures in this palace?'

  'What was he like? Will you tell me?' Again Gina almost held her breath. As yet he had never shared with her any personal details of his family, or how the loss of his parents—particularly his father—had affected him. She knew how a son's relationship with his father and the example he'd had from his first and most important male role model shaped their future.

  'He was definitely the authority figure in our home, but he was never cruel or unfair. He loved us all very much and showed it daily. He was also revered by our people. 'Trust me...' he grimaced ruefully 'he was a very hard act to follow. It devastated me when he died not very long after my mother. Sometimes I imagine I can still hear the deep rumble of his laughter, or the firmness of his voice instructing the guards echoing round the palace walls. Anyway...he is gone now.'

  Gina said softly, 'You must miss him very much, Zahir.'

  'Every day.' He quickly shielded the emotion that she had briefly detected in his tone. 'I came to find you not just to say hello, but to inform you—at my sister's request—that dinner will be served in the dining room in about one hour. See how she makes me useful? Perhaps you should finish what you're doing and go and get ready? Farida tells me it is a special meal to welcome me home.'

  'Of course... I completely forgot the time.' Getting herself ready to stand, she was taken by surprise when Zahir stood up first, then reached out his hand to help her. He held on to her for several long seconds as his dark eyes roamed her face.

  'I never knew that just three days away from the people I care about could seem like a lifetime, but it did...' His voice was suddenly pitched sensually low. 'It did.'

  Desperate to ask him what he meant by 'the people I care about', Gina nevertheless remained silent. Was he including her in that exclusive little group? If so, what about his engagement to the Emir's daughter? It was so frustrating not to know what he intended. Didn't he realise it was all but killing her to imagine him married to someone else?

  'I'd better go and get ready for dinner. I know Farida's been busy organising the menu with the kitchen staff all day,' she murmured.

  'Do you have anything else in this colour?' Zahir nodded his head towards her silky aquamarine kaftan. 'If you have, I would like you to wear it. It complements your eyes and reminds me of a too rare glimpse of the sea. I like it very much.'

  It wasn't exactly easy to mentally assess her wardrobe right then, when he'd made such a surprisingly personal request, but Gina managed a shrug and answered, 'I think I might have something else in the colour. I'll check when I go back to my room.'

  'Good. I will look forward to seeing you at dinner, then.'

  He was walking back down the corridor, his long robes swirling round his booted calves, before she could even think to move and gather up her papers from the carpeted floor...

  They were dining in a room Gina had not had the privilege of seeing before, but once seen it would be hard to forget. Above the long burnished table at which they sat was a vaulted ceiling, with a stunning circular dome made up of several different sections of vividly coloured glass. On the walls were lavishly painted murals of scenes depicting days of a powerful empire long gone, and a theme of arabesque patterning could be seen throughout, inlaid to particularly stunning effect in the marble floor. The space was lit tonight by softly glowing candles encased in lanterns—both on the walls and on the beautifully laid table. With the scent of spices and incense hanging in the air, it was like walking into a magical scene from the country's magnificent past.

  After they'd washed their hands in a ritualistic vessel filled with warm water, they sat in silence as the servants passed various aromatic dishes of food from guest to guest.

  Relieved to find it was just to be the three of them tonight, Gina tried hard to relax—but it wasn't easy with Zahir sitting opposite her, his darkly hypnotic glance frequently locking with hers and making her insides jump.

  Of the three of them, it was Farida who seemed most at ease. Tonight her pretty face was literally glowing with pleasure at having her brother safely home again.

  The servants departed—including Jamal, at Zahir's express request—and Farida raised her glass of fruit juice in a toast. 'To Zahir, in honour of your safe return from Kajistan after what has been a difficult time for us all...and for your steadfast, dedicated and wise rule of the kingdom. Our father would have been more than proud.'

  He seemed taken aback. Was that a flush of hot colour beneath his bronzed skin? 'I have only ever wanted to honour his great memory by doing justice of his faith in me,' he murmured. 'And if I can do that even in a small way I should be very glad.'

  'To Zahir.' Gina flushed as the handsome recipient of the toast glanced her way. Should she have said Your Highness, instead of addressing him so personally? But he was smiling, and for a moment she breathed a little easier.

  'Thank you, my sister...and you also, Gina. Like I said earlier, I am very glad to be home again. I've returned with some important news.'

  Gina's reprieve from anxiety was not yet over. Her insides tightened painfully. Was this where he announced that he was officially engaged to the Emir's daughter? If so, was she willing to remain in Kabuyadir as his mistress, knowing that he would never wholly be hers? Returning her glass to the table, she nervously brushed an imaginary piece of lint from the long sleeve of the aquamarine top that matched her long silk skirt.

  Her expression equally concerned, Farida's voice was falsely bright. 'Perhaps we should enjoy our meal before you tell us your news, Zahir?'

  He frowned. 'It is most unlike you not to want to hear my news straight away, Farida.' Narrowing his gaze, he silently assessed her for a moment. 'I think you must have undergone a serious change of character while I've been gone if that is the case.'

  'Not at all. I have simply been much more at peace with Gina here to keep me company. I've very much enjoyed working alongside her on the inventory. It has really helped me find some purpose at last. These things have occupied my time and my mind much more than idle speculation about what news you might bring from Kajistan.'

  'So to ponder on the news I bring from that place is "idle speculation"?' He grinned. 'You really know how to deflate a man's ego, my sister! Well, whatever else is happening, it is very good to learn that you are in a much better place and that your spirits have lifted. Now—regardless�
��I will tell all.'

  With her tummy full of fluttering butterflies, Gina held onto her drinking glass as though it was an anchor in wildly stormy seas. Again, her appetite for any sustenance other than Zahir's drugging, passionate kisses fled.

  'As you know, I had talked about the possibility of marriage with the Emir's daughter.'

  'And I believe I told you I did not think that was such a good idea,' the girl at Gina's side piped up accusingly.

  At the side of Zahir's bronzed cheekbone a muscle ticked irritably. 'As always, sister, your views are never kept hidden from me. In a strange sort of way I suppose I appreciate it that you care enough to share them with me.'

  The corners of his mouth were duelling with a smile again, and Gina wondered how that was possible when he was just about to break her heart into a million shattered pieces.

  'All right, Zahir. Just put us out of our misery and get on with it, will you?'

  Now his sister's voice was petulant. In answer, Zahir wiped his hands on his fine linen napkin, then let it drop back down onto the table again. 'My news is that I will not be getting engaged to the Emir's daughter after all.'

  'You won't? I mean, you're not?' Farida's brown eyes were twin mirrors of stunned surprise.

  Meanwhile, after the unbearable tension of waiting for his announcement, Gina almost crumpled with relief.

  With a heartfelt sigh, Zahir studied both girls. 'The most surprising thing happened. I learned that the Emir does not want to relegate his beloved only daughter to a loveless marriage—no matter how influential or beneficial. It seems he is much influenced by the legend attached to our infamous family jewel, and is breaking with his family's tradition by now believing that she should only marry a man who adores her. Also, he does not believe it would be a good thing for a descendant of my father to go against the prophecy and marry merely for convenience or dynastic alliance. He admitted he fears possible "supernatural" repercussions if I were to go against it. So...' an intriguing but puzzling little half-smile played about his lips '...it seems there will be no dynastic marriage to bring our two powerful kingdoms together after all.'

  'That's wonderful!'

  At her brother's reproving glance Farida blushed, then quickly tried to play down her obvious delight.

  'I don't mean it's wonderful that our kingdoms will not benefit from a marriage between our houses. I just mean that it's great that the Emir believes his daughter should only marry a man who adores her. I am happy for her...that's what I meant. Underneath her dull exterior she's a sweet girl, and deserves to be in love.'

  'You are happy for her, are you? What about your poor brother?' Zahir's silky dark eyes belied his reprimanding tone. They were positively twinkling...

  'Perhaps...perhaps you could revise your opinion about the jewel and open your mind to the possibility of being with someone that you adore as well, Zahir? It's not outside the bounds of feasibility that a woman—a lovely woman—might fall in love with you.'

  His powerful shoulders lifted in what might have been a resigned shrug. 'Maybe... It is definitely a consideration.' The smile now touching his lips grew wider. 'In fact, it would not be a lie to admit that I am coming round to believing that perhaps it is completely the right thing to do after all...to marry a woman I adore and cherish.'

  As he finished speaking his dark chocolate gaze was drawn to Gina. And as her hungry eyes were magnetized by his she felt them well helplessly with tears.

  'Gina and I found our great-great-grandmother's journal, and in it she mentions the Heart of Courage,' Farida related eagerly. 'She affirms that she had total belief in the truth of the prophecy because all our ancestors before her had enjoyed very happy, successful marriages, and most of them died of natural causes. There was no mention of any terrible tragedies being visited upon them.' She took a deep breath, and her smile was wistful and sad for a moment. 'It was a terrible blow for me to lose Azhar...but I will not rail at the heavens for it. I think that would be sheer arrogance—because clearly I do not know the mind of the Divine, or for what reason Azhar was taken from me so young. But just because that happened to me, Zahir, it does not mean that it will happen to you. You mustn't spend your whole life dreading such a thing. As for our parents—we already know that Father had a weak heart. It simply gave way because Mother died. It was his time...'

  Reaching across the table, Zahir tenderly covered his sister's small hand with his own much larger one. 'You are very brave, Farida...I am truly blessed to have such a one as you as my sister. I know Azhar was the love of your life, but perhaps, given time, you might open your heart to the possibility of loving again? You are young yet, and have too much to offer to be alone.'

  Relaxing back in his chair, he almost immediately moved his attention to Gina again. His intense examination of her gave her goosebumps. It made the hope rising inside her almost bubble over—just as though she had imbibed too much champagne. She felt quite heady with joy. Yet an old fear that she might not get her heart's desire after all dampened it down a little. Whoever heard of a boring academic marrying the handsomest Sheikh in the world? it mocked.

  Determined to ignore it, she pulled her glance determinedly away from the strong, handsome face at the opposite side of the table, to contemplate the delicious selection of food on her plate instead.

  'You are hungry, Gina?'

  Zahir's tone was teasing but she found she didn't mind it...didn't mind it at all. 'I am as a matter of fact,' she admitted shyly.

  'Then, seeing as I do not want to be responsible far my treasured guest fainting with hunger, please go ahead and eat. You too, Farida.'

  The grin hijacking his wonderful features elevated his handsome face to the most stunning male visage Gina had ever seen, and for a few moments it was all but impossible for her to look anywhere else.

  'Let us enjoy this wonderful feast that my sister has organised for us,' he continued. 'There will be plenty of time for conversation afterwards.'

  'A thousand apologies, Your Highness.' The twin doors opened abruptly, and Jamal appeared. He went straight to Zahir.

  'What is it?'

  'A telephone call from the house of Masoud.'

  The rest of the servant's explanation was in their own language, and both Gina and Farida tensed as Zahir stood up from the table and threw down his napkin. As he surveyed them, his dark eyes were fever-bright. Was that fear she saw reflected there? Gina thought anxiously.

  'I have to go out, I'm afraid,' he said. 'My secretary Masoud has taken a sudden turn for the worse. Please try and enjoy your food without me, and I will see you both later.' Turning to Jamal, he laid his hand on the other man's shoulder. 'I am charging you to look after my sister and my guest,' he said clearly.

  As he swept towards the door, his handsome profile grimly resolute, Gina shot up from her seat and rushed round the table towards him. 'Zahir!' She stopped him in his tracks, and for a jittery moment wondered at her own audacity.

  'What's wrong?' he asked, not without a hint of impatience.

  'Let me go with you.'

  'That is out of the question.'

  'Please... I've heard in your voice how highly you regard Masoud, and I thought—I thought I might be able to be of some help.'

  'Help? How? A medical doctor is what I need right now—not an expert in antiquities!'

  Ignoring his barbed retort, Gina pressed on. 'I don't like the thought of you keeping a lonely vigil. At least if I was there you'd have someone to share your thoughts and concerns with. Please, won't you change your mind and let me go with you?'

  'No. I want you to stay here with Farida. Like I said before, I will see you both later.' And with that he swept through the double doors and was gone.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  It had been a long night—a night during which his loyal secretary and friend Masoud had literally been fighting for his life.

  The medical staff at the small exclusive hospital that Zahir had had him flown to by helicopter had worked like Trojans t
o keep him alive. Earlier that day another virus had taken hold of him, leaving him dangerously ill, but in the early hours of the morning the senior doctor in charge had at last given him the all-clear, and informed Zahir that the man was over the worst. Only the days to come would tell whether he had enough strength left in his compromised immune system to pull through completely.

  Grey-faced and anxious, Zahir returned to the palace. In his room he collapsed on the bed, and stared up at the gently whirring blades of the ceiling fan. Like his friend Amir, Masoud had been to school with him. He, too, was like a brother. To see his gaunt face and black eyes staring blankly up at him from a hospital bed, his body wired up to countless tubes and drips, had left him in a state of mounting fear and despair. Was he to lose yet another person he cared about?

  He had no doubt he was being tested by Allah—although it felt more as if he was being mocked. Just when he'd decided to give love a chance, he had again been shown how precarious his future with Gina might be if he should lose her. He was strong, but not that strong. If she should die young—either by some dreadful accident or through an illness of some kind—he honestly didn't think he could bear it. With his heart and mind in turmoil, Zahir shut his eyes and prayed harder than he had ever prayed before...

  It seemed as though Zahir had retreated from her in every possible way. Gina had got over the abrupt way he'd told her that he needed a medical doctor, not an antiquities expert, telling herself it was because he'd been so distressed on hearing the news about Masoud. He had been so curt—and it had wounded her when he'd so brutally dismissed her offer of help.

  More troubling behaviour was to come.

  The morning after he'd rushed to Masoud, Gina saw him on the way to his rooms. His handsome, unlined face was haggard.

  'Zahir.' She hurried after him. It appeared that he was reluctant to stop even for a moment to talk to her.

  'What is it?' he asked wearily, rubbing his hand across his eyes.

  Her heart knocked hard against her ribs. 'How is Masoud?'