‘Lunch?’ she offered hopefully.
He bit her gently, then inched his way to the edge of her neck, muzzling in a manner that sent a renewed surge of sensation arrowing through her body. ‘We could have an early dinner.’
‘Alternatively, I could go into the kitchen and bring us back a snack.’
‘You’re hungry for food?’ he asked, and she responded teasingly,
‘I need to keep up my strength.’
He levered himself easily off the bed and reached for his clothes. ‘Stay here,’ he commanded gently.
A slow, witching smile curved her lips, and her eyes sparkled with amusement. ‘I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.’
Shalef returned with a tray of chicken, salad and fresh fruit. After they’d eaten they talked, discussing anything and everything from early childhood memories to world politics, books, movies, art. Then they made leisurely love, and she became an avid pupil beneath his tutorage, taking pleasure from the depth of passion that she was able to arouse.
When the sun began to descend in the sky they rose from the bed, shared the spa-bath, then dressed and went to the dining room for dinner. And later, when the stars shone bright in an inky night sky, they made passionate love until sleep overcame desire.
It became the pattern for the next three days. Days that were filled with lovemaking and laughter, and with the passing of each night Kristi became more aware that to walk away from this man would bring unimaginable heartache.
Seize each moment, a tiny voice bade her. Treasure it and hold it close.
Yet such time-honoured axioms did nothing to help her sense of approaching despair. They couldn’t stay here for ever. Sooner or later a phone call or a fax would summon Shalef back to the palace.
It happened on the morning of the fourth day. They arrived back from their early-morning ride to find a servant waiting for them with a cryptic fax which had come through in their absence. Shalef scanned it, then folded the sheet in three and thrust it into the side-pocket of his thobe.
‘We have to return to Riyadh. Negotiations for your brother’s release have been successful.’
Kristi couldn’t believe it. ‘Shane is to be freed?’ Her face mirrored the immense surge of joy that tore through her body. ‘How? When? Where?’
‘Later today. He’ll be transported out of the country and receive debriefing before being put on a plane to London.’
‘When will I be able to see him?’
‘The media circus will begin within hours of his arrival in England, I imagine,’ Shalef declared as they crossed the compound. He cast her a dark, probing look. ‘It would be advisable for you to be there before he arrives.’
Kristi felt her heart sink. Within a very short time the helicopter would deposit them at the palace. In less than twenty-four hours she would be on a plane to London.
Mission accomplished.
‘I agreed to pay any expenses.’
His eyes darkened with anger. ‘You insult me.’
‘Why?’ she demanded.
‘I requested a favour from a friend,’ he said silkily, ‘without any pressure that it be granted.’ He looked as if he wanted to shake her. ‘There was no cost that you have not repaid me.’
Kristi absorbed his words, and felt part of her slowly die. It took tremendous effort to summon a smile, but she managed a passable facsimile. ‘Thank you.’
Shalef inclined his head in silent acknowledgement, his eyes hooded, his features assuming a harsh mask.
It was over. The words echoed inside her brain like a death-knell. Without a word she turned and followed him indoors, showered, collected her spare set of clothes, and was ready to board the helicopter when it arrived less than an hour later.
CHAPTER NINE
THE wheels of the large Boeing hit the tarmac, accompanied by the shrill scream of brakes as the passenger jet decelerated down the runway, then cruised into its designated bay at Heathrow airport.
Kristi moved through the terminal, showed her passport, then made her way to the revolving carousel, waited for her luggage to come through, collected it and completed Customs.
Securing a taxi was achieved without delay, and Kristi sank into the rear seat as the driver stowed her bags in the boot. Minutes later the vehicle eased forward into the queue of traffic seeking exit from the busy terminal.
The weather was dull and overcast, cool after the heat of Riyadh, and she fixed her attention beyond the windscreen as the taxi moved smoothly along the bitumen.
A complexity of emotions racked her body, not the least of which was relief that Shane was safe.
Saying goodbye to Shalef as she’d transferred from his Lear jet onto a commercial flight in Bahrain had been the most difficult part of all. Despite her resolve to keep their parting low-key, his brief, hard kiss had stung her lips, and his words of farewell had held the courteous tones of a business associate rather than the emotional intensity of a lover.
What did you expect? she demanded silently. You were attracted to the man, succumbed to his magnetic sex appeal, and shared a few days and nights of passion. Don’t fool yourself it was anything other than that.
A week from now you’ll be back in Australia, and a romantic interlude in the desert with a Saudi Arabian sheikh of English birth will gradually fade into obscurity.
But she knew that she’d never be able to forget him, and that no man could take his place.
Love, desire, passion. Were the three interdependent, or could they be separated and judged alone? The cold, hard fact was that women were far more prey to emotions than men.
Kristi viewed the streets of London, the traffic, and watched dispassionately as the taxi slid into the wide parking bay adjacent to her centrally placed hotel.
Within a matter of minutes a porter had taken charge of her bag and she was traversing the wide carpeted foyer to Reception.
On being shown to her room she unpacked only what was necessary, discarded her clothes, took a long, hot shower, then opted for a few hours’ sleep, for despite it being mid-morning her body-clock was attuned to a different time-zone and she hadn’t closed her eyes during the long flight.
When she woke it was early evening, and she donned a robe, made herself a cup of tea, then perused the room-service menu. After dinner she’d ring Sir Alexander Harrington and apprise him of Shane’s release.
At nine she switched on the television and alternated channels until way past midnight, slept briefly, then rose and showered ready for an early breakfast.
Loath to venture far from the hotel in case a message came in regarding Shane’s expected arrival, she met Georgina in one of the hotel’s restaurants for an extended lunch.
‘Tell me,’ Georgina cajoled when they had eaten the entrée, done justice to the main course, and were partway through a delicious concoction of fresh fruit and ice cream.
Kristi lifted her head and met her friend’s teasing smile. ‘Tell you what?’
‘Shane’s release is wonderful. It made the initial subterfuge worthwhile.’ Georgina’s eyes sparkled with intense interest as she leaned forward. ‘But give me the details on Shalef bin Youssef Al-Sayed.’
‘What details?’
‘I refuse to believe you weren’t attracted to the man.’
It would have been so easy to confide in a trusted friend, but to do so would only have caused Kristi pain and, perhaps, a feeling of regret. ‘He was a very gracious host,’ she said carefully.
‘Kristi,’ Georgina admonished her, ‘you’re being evasive.’
‘OK, what do you want me to say? That he’s a wildly sensual man who has women falling at his feet with practically every step he takes?’ As you did, a silent voice taunted. She’d been gone two days. Had he contacted any one of his many women friends in Riyadh—Fayza?—dined with her, perhaps sated his sexual appetite in her bed? Dear God, even the thought made her feel physically ill.
‘Aren’t you going to finish dessert?’
Kristi collected hers
elf together. ‘No. Shall we order coffee?’
That evening she dined with Sir Alexander and Georgina, and when she returned to the hotel there was a coded message indicating that Shane was due to arrive the following morning.
Sleep was almost impossible and caught in intermittent snatches. With no knowledge of what flight he’d be on, or where it was coming from, she could only wait.
The telephone call came through shortly before midday, and at the sound of her brother’s voice all the pent-up emotion culminated in a rush of tears.
‘You’re in the same hotel?’ She couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t believe it until she saw him. ‘What floor, what room number?’
‘Order a meal from Room Service, a magnum of champagne, and give me twenty minutes to shower and shave,’ Shane instructed, adding gently, ‘Then I’ll join you.’
He made it in fifteen, and once inside her room he swooped her up in a bear hug and swung her round in a circle before depositing her on her feet. ‘Hi there.’ His smile was the same, his laughter as bright as ever, but he looked tired and he’d lost weight. He was tall, his hair darker than hers—a deep brown with a hint auburn—and he had strong features and a skin texture that bore exposure to the sun.
‘Hi, yourself,’ Kristi said softly, leading him to the table set at one end of the room. The food had arrived only minutes before, and she watched as he took a seat, uncorked the champagne, then filled two flutes.
‘Here’s to being back in one piece.’
‘Unharmed?’
‘As you see.’
‘I think,’ Kristi ventured unsteadily, ‘you’d better consider assignments in less politically volatile countries. I don’t want to go through this again in a hurry.’
His eyes—deep brown flecked with topaz like her own—speared hers. ‘Point taken. Off the record, whose influence did you employ to gain my release?’
‘Shalef bin Youssef Al-Sayed’s.’
An expressive, soft whistle escaped his lips. ‘Should I ask how you made contact with him?’
‘Initially through Sir Alexander Harrington.’
‘And?’
She effected a faint shrug. ‘I gave my word.’ There was no need to say why, or to whom. Shane possessed the same degree of integrity with his sources.
‘Do I get to meet Al-Sayed?’
‘Possibly. Maybe.’ She lifted a hand and smoothed back her hair. ‘I’m not sure.’
He noted the nervous gesture, the faint tenseness at the edge of her mouth, and clenched his teeth. If she’d been hurt, by anyone, there would be hell to pay.
‘So, tell me what happened,’ Kristi encouraged, and Shane took up the story from the time of his capture. She recognised the holes he failed to fill, and accepted them.
‘This afternoon a statement will be issued to the media,’ he concluded with weary resignation. ‘I’ll be caught up with interviews, television. Then I fly back to Sydney tomorrow afternoon.’
‘So soon?’
‘The Australian media will want their piece of the action,’ he said wryly. ‘Then I’m going to lie low for a while.’
‘Maybe I can get the same flight,’ she said pensively. It seemed an age since she’d left home, and she wanted to resume her life from where she’d left off...how long ago? Five weeks? It felt like half a lifetime.
‘No. That wouldn’t be advisable. Give it a few days, then follow me.’
She looked at him carefully, seeing the visible signs of strain and tiredness, and expressed her concern. ‘You should get some sleep.’
‘I will. I’ll ring through when I can, but it may not be until tomorrow morning,’ he warned as he stood up.
Kristi saw him out, then closed the door behind him.
Within hours of Shane’s departure Kristi secured a flight for Sydney for a few days ahead. Once the booking had been made and she had her ticket, her leaving seemed more of a reality.
Filling those days required little effort as Georgina took charge, first of all dragging her into Harrods, then following it with dinner and a show. The following morning was devoted to attending a beauty parlour for a massage, facial, pedicure, manicure, followed by lunch and a movie.
‘Tonight is mine,’ Kristi declared as they emerged from the cinema in the late afternoon. ‘I’m going back to the hotel, ordering room service, followed by an early night.’ She gave her friend a stern look. ‘And no arguments. I have a long flight ahead of me tomorrow afternoon.’
‘So what? You sleep on the plane.’ Georgina was carried away with enthusiasm. ‘We could go to a nightclub.’
‘And get home at three in the morning? No, thanks.’
‘Ifs your last night in town,’ Georgina protested. ‘You can’t spend it alone.’
‘Watch me.’
‘You leave me no choice but to ring Jeremy and have him take me out.’
‘Enjoy,’ Kristi bade her, offering a wicked grin, and Georgina laughed.
‘I will, believe me.’ She leaned forward and pecked Kristi’s cheek. ‘You only have a block to walk to the hotel. I’ll catch a taxi. See you at the airport tomorrow.’
It was almost six when Kristi entered the hotel foyer and took the lift to her floor. There were no messages, and she ordered room service, then stripped off her clothes and pulled on a robe.
Her meal arrived, and she picked at it, then pushed the plate aside. Television failed to hold her interest, and at ten she cleansed her face of make-up, brushed her teeth then slid into bed, only to lie awake staring at the ceiling, fervently wishing that she had agreed to go out with Georgina. At least the bright lights and loud music would have done something to alleviate this dreadful sense of despondency.
She must have fallen asleep, and when she woke the next morning it was late. A shower did much to restore her equanimity, and she ordered breakfast, then made a start with her packing.
A double knock at her door heralded the arrival of Room Service, and she moved across the room to unlock it and allow the waiter access.
But no waiter resembled the tall, dark-haired, immaculately suited man standing in the aperture.
CHAPTER TEN
‘SHALEF.’ Kristi hadn’t realised that it would hurt so much to say his name.
Cool grey eyes raked her slender form, lingered briefly on the soft curve of her mouth, then slid to meet her own. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me in?’
She dug deep into her resources and managed to display a measure of ease, all too aware of the rapid pulse beat at the base of her throat. ‘Would there be any point if I refused?’
‘None at all.’
He moved into the room as she stood to one side, and his expression hardened as he saw the open suitcase on the bed.
‘You’re leaving?’
She looked at him carefully, seeing the inherent strength, the indomitable power that allowed him to shape life in the manner he chose. ‘Yes.’
The silence in the room was such that it almost seemed a palpable entity, and her nerves stretched until they felt as taut as a finely strung bow. The sensation angered her unbearably, and she silently damned him for being able to generate such havoc.
He looked at her for what seemed an age, his eyes dark, their inscrutable depths successfully shielding him from any possibility of her gauging his emotions.
When at last he spoke, he appeared to select his words with care. ‘We need to talk.’
There wasn’t a thing she could say that wouldn’t sound inane, so she remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
‘I’ll be in London for a month, then I fly to Paris,’ he revealed. ‘I want you with me.’
The breath caught in her throat and threatened to choke her.
‘No comment, Kristi?’ he queried with a degree of mocking cynicism.
‘As what?’ Was that her voice? Even to her own ears it sounded impossibly husky. ‘Your mistress?’
He didn’t answer for several long seconds. ‘There are many advantages.’
The tis
sues around her heart began to tear. Her eyes met his and held them without any effort at all. ‘I won’t be content with second best, waiting for a stolen night or two whenever you could slip away.’ She was breaking in two, and the pain was so intense that she was sure it must be clearly visible to him. Her throat began to ache with the constriction of severe control. ‘I would rather not have you at all.’
‘Then marry me.’
For a moment she was robbed of the ability to speak. ‘Why?’ she demanded at last. Her eyes clung to his, searching for some hint of passion, any intensity of emotion by way of reassurance.
‘You’re a rarity among women of my acquaintance,’ Shalef said with quiet emphasis. ‘Intelligent, courageous. Equally at ease among the social glitterati as you are with my Bedu friends in the desert.’
She closed her eyes in an effort to veil the pain. ‘That’s hardly a reason for marriage,’ she managed slowly.
‘You refuse?’
She looked at him carefully, wanting, needing so desperately to accept, yet knowing that if she did she could never be content with good sex and affection as a substitute for love.
It would be so easy to say yes. To accept what he offered and make do with it. Yet she wanted it all, and he wasn’t ready to give it.
‘I’m flying back to Australia on the early-afternoon flight. Shane is already in Sydney, and it is more than time we both attempted to attend to business.’
‘You know I will follow you.’
She looked at him with clear eyes, the pain hidden deep beneath those liquid brown depths. ‘Please don’t.’ Not unless you love me, she added silently.
‘You are prepared to discard what we have together?’
It will kill me, she thought. ‘Without love there is very little to discard.’
She was mad, insane to consider turning him down. A faint bubble of hysteria rose in her throat with the knowledge that she had to be the only woman on any continent in the world who would consider rejecting Shalef bin Youssef Al-Sayed.
The Helen Bianchin Collection Page 107