Fixing a smile, she opened the door, but it couldn’t have been very convincing because Rashid immediately asked, ‘Are you feeling well?’
Polly brushed a hand over her eyes. ‘I’m fine. I’ve just rung home.’
‘Are there problems?’
‘My mother assures me everything is “wonderful”, but I don’t believe her.’
‘Polly,’ Rashid said, stepping close. The lines around his mouth were more defined than she had ever seen them. ‘Polly, if there is anything you are worried about, at Shelton, please talk to me.’
She laughed, the sound breaking on a hiccup. She believed Rashid was a man who could move mountains, but the problems at Shelton Castle were beyond his fixing. ‘I think you’ve got enough going on in your life without me pouring out the nonsense in mine.’
Polly turned away to search the drawers for the blue lihaf Bahiyaa had insisted she pack.
‘Polly—’
She found the scarf and pulled it out. ‘I ought to take this. It’s so hot out there.’
Rashid nodded, his expression unutterably weary. His beautiful, strong face. Polly felt a sharp pull on her emotions, an intense compulsion to smooth the worry lines from his forehead, to reach out and cradle his face between her hands and kiss away everything that was bothering him.
He must be under so much pressure from all sides. It put her troubles into perspective. The future of a kingdom was surely more important than that of a house, however beautiful.
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ she said.
‘Of course.’
‘Really?’
‘I would like to spend time with you.’
If she hadn’t fallen for him before, she’d have fallen then. Rashid held out his hand and Polly put her own in it, trying to ignore the sense of nervous anticipation.
‘Where are we going?’
‘You will see.’
The curl of excitement in her abdomen spread. ‘Are we walking?’
Rashid smiled down at her, his eyes softening. ‘You will see.’
He wasn’t going to tell her, but it didn’t matter where she was going. She was collecting memories, storing them up against a future that was going to be without him. Rashid led the way back to the glass lifts and, before the doors opened, released her hand, resting his in the small of her back, guiding her in.
She was a twenty-first-century woman, used to holding her own doors open, but that tiny gesture made her feel protected and cared for. Polly glanced surreptitiously up at the darkly handsome man beside her, his skin tawny gold and his chin firm. Tall, broad-shouldered and powerful. She was no size zero but he managed to make her feel delicate. And the expression in his eyes when he looked at her made her feel desirable.
It had been a long, long time since she’d felt that.
Rashid didn’t touch her again, but she could feel the energy pulse between them. Intense, scary and completely wonderful. She wanted him with a passion that surprised her. One that made a mockery of her morality.
She’d never been promiscuous. Far too much of a people watcher to ever want to be. She’d never understood women who slept with men who clearly viewed their relationships as recreation.
Men like Rashid. He might not be prepared to accept an arranged marriage, but when the time came she was sure he wouldn’t choose any of the women he’d been linked to in the British press.
But she was tempted. More than tempted. Would it be wrong? Loving him, would she survive the inevitable parting?
The lift doors slid open and Polly held back as a man stepped forward and bowed. ‘All is ready, Your Highness.’
Rashid spoke in Arabic. Then turned back to her. ‘The helicopter is waiting for us.’
‘We’re going by helicopter?’
‘Yes, of course.’
Of course. In his world it was just another form of transport. He was an Amrahi prince. He lived in a palace. And for today, right now, he was hers. She wasn’t going to think outside this moment.
Where were they going?
‘I’ve only got a few hours before I’ve got to meet the boys in the foyer.’
‘You will not be late.’
‘Rashid—?’
He laughed softly. ‘Patience.’
For a while she said nothing more, content to be with him. She watched as he went through the pre-flight checks, loving the strength of his hands on the controls.
‘Just us?’ she asked in surprise as the last of his staff prepared to leave them.
Rashid looked at her. ‘We will be safe enough where we are going. Are you scared?’
Not about going without security, no. Of how she reacted to him, yes. She didn’t quite recognise the woman she was when she was near him. It was frightening, but exciting, too.
‘There is no need.’
‘I suppose not,’ she managed. ‘We’re not going to be where anyone expects us to be. That has to be safer than following a planned itinerary.’
He smiled and Polly settled back in her seat. This was a golden day. A day that would live on in her head always as being pure magic.
And she still had absolutely no idea where he was taking her. She managed a few minutes, but then she couldn’t resist asking again.
‘You are a hard woman to surprise,’ Rashid said as he took the helicopter along the line of the coast.
Polly turned her head away from him to hide her smile. ‘I’m not really used to it.’
Below her the harmonious blend of Al-Jalini’s sandstone buildings gave way to a bizarre collection of…houses. Were they houses? She peered closer. ‘What are the buildings with the brightly coloured plastic roofs? There.’
Rashid barely needed to glance below him. ‘Homes. Traditionally they’d have been thatched, but people improvise with what they have.’
Plastic?
‘The walls are made with interlocking sticks. Farther inland it tends be flattened-out oil drums. Over the border into Oman there are barasti, which are homes built from palm leaves. It’s what’s easily available and will provide shelter at little or no cost.’
She hadn’t seen that in Amrah before. Samaah was a vibrant and affluent city, Rashid’s palace pure fantasy. This was grinding poverty.
‘Change takes time,’ Rashid said, his eyes on her profile. ‘And people are resistant to change. My father insisted affordable housing was built on the outskirts of Al-Jalini, and there are jobs here, but many have preferred to remain in their own communities.’ Rashid took the helicopter sharply inland.
‘How much farther?’
She caught the edge of his smile. He didn’t answer, concentrating on bringing the helicopter down on a flat plain near a dusty hillside.
‘Here?’ Polly sat up straight in her seat, looking out of the window in disbelief.
He laughed.
‘There’s nothing here.’
‘Look closer.’
She did, and looked out at a collection of puny trees clinging to an arid dusty hillside. A desolate, bleak place.
‘As far back as five thousand BC this area was an important centre for frankincense.’
‘What happened? Is this climate change?’
Rashid laughed again, jumping down from the helicopter and walking round to help her. He reached up and Polly put her hand in his. She looked down at him and her smile faded as the air crackled between them.
‘Jump.’ The rich timbre of his voice seemed to reverberate in her chest. His eyes, and the sensuality in them, sent heat to every extremity of her body.
Being with him felt like that. Like jumping. Not sure how safe the landing would be, but knowing the experience would be worth it. If she dared.
‘Come.’
Polly lowered herself down, steadied by Rashid’s grip on her hand until her feet touched the ground and she became aware of his left hand resting low on her waist. He was so close. She could feel the strong, hard planes of his torso. Even feel the beat of his heart.
Neither moved. A h
andful of centimetres apart and the moment stretched on. And on. Polly waited, her eyes caught by the fierce intensity of his.
She dragged air into lungs that had seemed to forget they had a function as his hand moved to cradle her cheek, his palm warm against her face. His eyes impossibly tender. He moved so slowly. There was time, plenty of time to pull back if she’d wished to, but she didn’t.
She stood there waiting to breathe.
This kiss was different. Different from before. This time she knew she loved him and that changed things. Polly closed her eyes, savouring his breath on her lips before the first fleeting touch of his mouth.
So teasing. Warmly sensual.
His touch was almost reverent.
Polly felt the fear recede. She wanted this. For however long, whatever he could give her.
She wanted him to remember this moment.
Remember her.
Her lips parted and Rashid’s hold on her head became firmer, his kiss more insistent.
Warm. Soft. Sexy. She felt as though she were melting from the inside out, and that had nothing to do with the strong Amrahi sun.
His tongue traced the line of her bottom lip and her hands clung to him as passion engulfed her. A tsunami-type wave that swept away everything before it. And, finally, she understood what had prompted Elizabeth to leave her family.
This. It was this.
The desire for this and its discovery. There was nothing clean and sanitised about this emotion. It was raw. Dangerous. Compelling.
Her fingers closed on the material of his dishdasha, the air warm and sultry around her and her senses full of the scent of his skin, of spice and musk.
Slowly, his eyes watching for her reaction, he pulled back. His right hand moved to pull the band from her hair, the silky softness falling about her face as Rashid reached for her again. His mouth compelling and sensual.
She loved him.
Loved him.
His tongue slipped into her mouth and she felt her tremble the length of her body, a fierce dragging sensation of need low in her stomach. His hands, either side of her face, held her prisoner.
‘Polly.’ Rashid’s voice was hoarse, almost desperate. His arms held her close, his forehead resting on hers, waiting for the world to steady.
He eased back, one thumb tracing the line his tongue had taken over her sensitised bottom lip. ‘You enflame me.’
And you me.
‘I do not wish… I have no right to seduce you.’
Polly reached out and traced the deep indenture by the side of his mouth. ‘I kissed you back,’ she whispered.
‘Polly, I…’ The words seemed wrenched from him, his hold on her convulsive. ‘Not now. This cannot happen.’
He was right, of course. He couldn’t make love to her on a dry and dusty hillside, but the feeling of rejection was intense. She’d all but offered herself to him. And she’d never done anything like that before in her entire life.
This cannot happen.
She wanted to ask why. More than anything she wanted to change his mind. But Rashid had already stepped back.
‘This afternoon was supposed to be for you. I wished…’ He rubbed an impatient hand across his face. ‘I want you to have memories to take away with you. Good memories.’
So did she. She wanted those memories filled with him.
‘Polly, I—’
‘Don’t!’ She didn’t want to hear any explanations of anything. She was doing well to be still standing. If it had been possible she’d have taken herself away to a dark place and curled herself in the smallest possible ball. ‘I understand.’
‘Polly.’
‘No, really. It’s fine.’ She neatly sidestepped him and stood looking out at the desolate place he’d brought her to. ‘Where does frankincense come from now?’
‘Here.’ Rashid moved closer. ‘The fabled golden city Queen of Sheba saw has long gone, but the trees are still here.’
Polly blinked hard, fiercely determined to pretend she was just fine.
‘All that has really changed is its commercial value. Frankincense is no longer as valuable as gold. Once upon a time men made their fortunes trading it against spices from India and caravans took it across the entire continent.’
He started towards the stony and uneven ground. Polly followed, still bemused as to how this bleak landscape could ever have been a golden city. Rashid stooped and picked up a sharp stone, which he then jabbed against the flaky tree bark.
Polly watched as an oozing blob of sap bubbled up out of the slash in the tree. ‘That’s frankincense?’
‘And it’s still harvested today and sold around the world.’ He pulled a bit and rubbed it between his finger and thumb. It gathered together into a glutinous ball which he flicked away.
‘I’d no idea it came from trees.’
‘As a child I thought it was magical.’ He seemed to be lost in thought, as though a bittersweet memory was crowding in around him.
His father was dying.
Immediately Polly felt guilty. There must be so much going on in his mind. Huge pressures crushing in on him. Nothing mattered so much in the face of that. She reached out and caught his hand. ‘Thank you. For showing me this.’
Rashid looked down to where their fingers were joined. His thumb moved against her palm. ‘There is somewhere else.’
‘Wh—?’ she began, but he shook his head.
‘You will see. Come, there is plenty of time yet.’
It would have been possible to negotiate the uneven ground alone, but she liked the feel of his hand in hers. ‘Can you land these things anywhere?’ she asked as they approached the helicopter.
Rashid lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss against the inside of her wrist. ‘That depends on the skill of the pilot.’
‘Can you land them anywhere?’
His blue eyes took on a sinful glint. ‘You had better hope so.’
Polly’s stomach performed a complete somersault. She climbed up into the helicopter and settled herself into the seat. Was it really possible to fall in love so completely and so quickly? Or was this like a desert mirage, nothing more than a distant reflection?
She glanced over at his strong profile. She only knew she’d give up everything to be with him. If he asked her to. This place, this country… She could love it.
Within moments they were airborne, the frankincense trees dotted below her. ‘Has anyone tried to find the city?’
‘Archaeologists. Adventurers.’ Rashid turned his head to look at her and smiled. ‘Your great-great-grandmother. No one has yet found incontrovertible proof one way or the other. Amrah is a country which holds its secrets closely.’
A mystical land. Polly stared out of the window as the stony land gave way to scrubby sand and, in the distance, wide-open desert. She turned back to Rashid. ‘The Atiq Desert?’
He nodded and excitement whipped through her body.
‘Not where you plan to film, but my home. The place I return to.’
The Atiq Desert stretched out endlessly. Not as she’d imagined it. It was a landscape studded with volcanic remains. Jet-black against the pale gold of the sand.
‘It’s amazing.’ Then, ‘There are people.’
‘Bedouin. “Conquerors come and go, but it is only the Bedouin who stay,”’ Rashid quoted softly.
‘Camels! Rashid…’
Rashid wished he could watch her face, but he needed to concentrate on landing safely. Her excitement was contagious. Whether or not the reality of Bedouin life would live up to her romantic dreams he couldn’t say, but he wanted her to experience it.
In many ways, if it didn’t it would help when the time came to watch her leave. And she would leave. She’d return to a life he was dismantling. Khalid would already have acted on his instructions. He’d wondered, today back at the hotel, whether her mother had said something and that was why she’d been crying.
She had been crying. And he’d ached for her. For what he was about
to do to a place she loved so much. If she knew would she still quiver in his arms? Bahiyaa’s words echoed in his head: ‘I do not think she will be able to forgive you that, Rashid.’
‘Have they come to meet us?’ Polly asked, turning back from the stationary cameleers and their bad-tempered charges.
Rashid landed the helicopter with minimum sand disturbance. ‘You wished to ride a camel.’ He smiled at her inarticulate squeal beside him.
‘You arranged this. How? But, how did you do this in such a short time?’
‘I am a prince,’ he teased, ‘and we princes of the desert have a centuries-old method of communicating with our own.’
Polly wasn’t fooled for a minute. Her eyes sparkled. ‘You used a mobile.’
‘Even the Bedouin have cell phones these days,’ he agreed.
She was addictive, Rashid thought, loving the low chuckle she gave. If he could he would do more than this for her. Any dream she had he would strive to give her.
Anything that did not touch on his honour.
Anything but Shelton’s reprieve.
‘This is incredible! And Elizabeth came here?’
‘With King Mahmoud. Without a doubt. This is his tribe. His people.’
‘Am I dressed all right?’ Polly asked suddenly, reaching down for her lihaf.
‘You are beautiful. And you are with me. These men are my friends, my kin.’
Her beautiful eyes looked up at him.
‘And,’ he said with a smile, ‘they will think you are dressed very unwisely.’
Polly smiled and twisted the scarf around her head, the blue of the lihaf bringing out the deep sapphire colour of her eyes. She was more than beautiful. And he felt a fierce spurt of pride at the thought these men would think she was his.
His.
A possessive word. A word that sounded good to him.
Kareem, the man who had first sat him on a camel, came forward to greet them, bowing low.
Rashid moved close to Polly, saying quietly, ‘They do not speak any English.’
There was no time for any more before the chanteur offered his welcome. ‘Ahlan beekum. As-salaam alaykum.’
‘Wa alaykum as-salaam,’ Polly replied formally. She shot a mischievous look in his direction. ‘How was that?’
Desert Jewels & Rising Stars Page 167