Sexy Sheikh Bundle (Harlequin Presents)

by Sharon Kendrick

  Trapped inside the house, unable to go out without fear of being accosted, Sienna was sitting in the kitchen at the back of the house with the blinds drawn down when Kat came in and handed her the telephone with a look which said everything.

  She pressed the phone to her ear. She wasn’t aware she’d actually said anything, but she must have made some sort of sound because she heard his deep and silky voice.

  ‘Sienna?’

  She bit her lip. Closed her eyes. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. But the sound of his dear voice was almost more than she could bear. ‘Yes, it’s me.’

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Ask me another. How about you?’

  He ignored that. ‘The press are still there?’

  ‘Well, not so many of them. I think they got fed up because I refused to say anything.’

  ‘Good. If you feed a story it only grows.’

  ‘Oh, Hashim—how the hell did they get hold of it? How did they even find out about it?’

  Hashim’s mouth tightened into a grim and forbidding line. He suspected that someone in Qudamah must have informed the foreign press about a juicy piece of gossip in their Ruler’s life. In the power-play that was his life Sienna’s past had become a weapon. And he must protect her from the fall-out.

  ‘These things have a habit of getting out,’ he said slowly. ‘That’s the way the world works.’

  He sounded almost weary, as if he had seen sides of the world she did not know—and of course he had. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be a sheikh, but she was fairly sure that it would be very hard to trust people’s motives towards you. ‘Yes,’ said quietly. ‘I imagine so.’

  The silence between them seemed huge. ‘I am sending some people to look after you, Sienna. If I come myself it will only add fire to the story. Is there somewhere you can go?’

  She was suddenly and acutely aware that this conversation was a purely practical one, and not personal at all. He didn’t want to talk—not really talk—and besides, what was there left to say? This was damage limitation time.

  She bit her lip. Where did she always turn when she wanted an escape route? Who would always accept her with open arms and no questions asked? Who wanted the best for her no matter what. ‘My mother wants me to go to her.’

  ‘Then go. Let me arrange it.’

  ‘Hashim—you don’t seem to understand!’ she said frustratedly. ‘I have existing contracts to fulfil. And the phone hasn’t stopped ringing with work requests—I’ve never been so popular. I think it’s the curiosity factor,’ she added acidly. ‘Having your party planned by a so-called “Glamour Model.” But some of the calls are from journalists pretending to be clients. I’m certain of it.’

  He felt the dark dagger of self-contempt as he remembered that he too had done just that. Pretended. Masqueraded. Finally got his way by seducing her—and now what had happened? Had she ever deserved this because of some rash youthful decision made with all the best intentions? ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly.

  She shook her head as if he was in the room, hating to hear his apology—so stilted and formal—like one stranger talking to another. ‘It isn’t your fault, it’s mine. I should never have done it in the first place—I just didn’t realise it was going to come back and haunt me in such a big way.’

  ‘But that is down to me. To your relationship with me.’

  The most precious thing in her life. Past tense, she reminded herself. She sighed, wanting to lean on him yet knowing she shouldn’t. And anyway, she couldn’t—not really. He was at his Palace, thousands of miles away, and she was holed up in her tiny terraced house in Kennington. There were no arms to hold her, no heart to beat next to hers, no hand to stroke her hair.

  ‘Can you get someone else to honour your existing contracts and ignore all the others?’ he demanded.

  ‘And who is going to pay my mortgage in the meantime?’

  There was a moment’s silence, and Hashim chose his words with fastidious care, knowing that he trod on very sensitive ground here. ‘That is simple. You must let me help you, Sienna.’

  She froze. ‘What do you mean—help me?’

  He could hear the bristly defensiveness which spiked her voice and, while he silently applauded her fierce pride, he knew that it would not and could not serve her well—not in circumstances such as these. ‘Just hear me out without interruption. That is all I ask of you. Please, Sienna, it is vital,’ he said softly. ‘If I took care of your mortgage for you—would that not free you up to get away for a while?’

  ‘I’m not letting you pay for me!’ Her voice lowered. ‘You must be able to see why I stand so firm on this issue.’

  For a moment he had to control the instinctive lash of his tongue. Stubborn woman! Could she not see that he was only trying to help her?

  Drawing on diplomatic reserves he had never had to call on before, he tried again. ‘Sienna,’ he said patiently. ‘I admire your independence and your spirit, but this is not some showering of expensive baubles on a mistress—this is me trying to help you get out of a bad situation which is mostly of my doing. To make some kind of amends. Will you not let me do that for you? Would not all that has grown between us be completely worthless if you will not allow me to behave as any true friend would towards another?’

  There was silence. How appalled he would be if he knew that her thoughts were not of indignation that he was trying to buy her out of something but instead had fixed upon a word which resonated cruelly round and round in her head. Who would ever have thought that the acknowledgement that he was her friend could have unwittingly caused so much heartache?

  ‘Will you let me?’ he said.

  What choice did she have? To brazen it out in London, aware of the eyes which followed her? The curious glances? Women looking down their noses at her and men looking…? Well, she didn’t even want to go there.

  ‘In a few weeks all the fuss will have died down,’ he continued smoothly. ‘The news will have moved on. That’s what happens.’

  And, stupidly, that upset her even more—for once it had died down it really would be over. And wasn’t there a part of her—ever while loathing all this fuss and attention—that was secretly glad because it had brought Hashim back into her life when she’d thought that he had gone for good?

  ‘All right. I’ll go to my mother’s,’ she said.

  At the other end of the phone, Hashim closed his eyes with relief. Outside his private study the court was in uproar, and Abdul-Aziz was prowling round the palace like a starving tom-cat, but Hashim didn’t care. She was safe. She would be safe—he had the resources to protect her.

  ‘I will have a car sent immediately,’ he said, glad now that he could rely on action, for this was something he always felt comfortable with. ‘And bodyguards will be placed at the entrance to your mother’s home.’

  She opened her mouth to say that he didn’t even know where her mother lived, but then shut it again. Of course he did. He knew everything—and if he didn’t he could get someone to find out for him. Hashim could get anything he pleased.

  ‘Thank you, Hashim,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t thank me,’ he said fiercely. ‘Just stay strong. Can you do that?’ He nearly said for me—except that in the circumstances he knew he had no right to ask.

  She allowed herself to picture him, and knew she would not crumble. ‘As an ox,’ she said huskily.

  Hashim closed his eyes. ‘Or an eagle,’ he whispered.

  ‘Goodbye,’ she whispered back, and put the phone down before she began to cry. Because although the structure of her life had been torn apart it didn’t even register on the pain-scale.

  Nothing touched her and nothing could—other than the heartbreak of not being with the man she loved.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘DARLING, calm down, sit down, and drink that cup of tea before it gets cold!’

  Sienna sniffed and smiled, and took a sip of the fragrant Earl Grey. How some things nev
er changed!

  ‘That’s better,’ said her mother approvingly, brushing some mud from the leg of her jodhpurs and dunking a digestive biscuit into her own tea.

  ‘Mum, I’m so sorry—’

  ‘Oh, fiddlesticks!’ said her mother cheerfully. ‘It’s done my reputation no end of good locally—I’ll never be asked to judge the prize cauliflower section at the village show again!’ She sighed. ‘I was getting rather bored with it, if the truth were known.’

  ‘No, I’m serious.’

  ‘And so am I, Sienna,’ said her mother firmly. ‘In my opinion you look rather lovely in those photos—and if you compare them to some of the nudes in our national galleries, why, they’re positively tame! It’s all a question of perception. I admit that when you first did it I was angry—but not for long. How could I be when the money you earned from it meant that I could have my operation? I thanked you then from the bottom of my heart and I still do.’ She finished her biscuit and edged her fingers towards another. Better not. Now, what I really want to know is—what’s this young sheikh of yours really like?’

  This, in a way, was even harder than explaining that for the time being there were two hefty bodyguards stationed at the front gate.

  ‘He’s not young, Mum,’ said Sienna. ‘He’s thirty-five.’

  ‘Oh, positively ancient!’

  ‘And he isn’t…’ No, this, this was the hardest part. ‘He isn’t mine. Not any more. He never was, really.’ She put her cup down and stared candidly at her mother. ‘I just had a relationship with him,’ she said defiantly.

  ‘Well, thank heavens for that!’ murmured her mother. ‘I was beginning to wonder when you’d find yourself a boyfriend.’

  ‘Mum!’

  ‘Well, you never seemed really interested.’

  There was a question in her mother’s eyes, and for the first time in her life Sienna spoke to her not as a mother but as another woman. ‘I went out with Hashim years ago—a couple of years after I did the photos, actually,’ she said quietly. ‘And he was a pretty hard act to follow.’

  Her mother replied in kind. ‘I’m not surprised,’ she said softly. ‘He looks absolutely gorgeous.’

  ‘Well, he is—but he just happens to be a sheikh and there’s no future in it. He comes from a fiercely traditional country and anyway—he doesn’t love me.’

  ‘Are you sure he doesn’t?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure!’

  ‘He didn’t have to go to all the trouble of arranging protection for you, did he? Or deliver that gorgeous hamper and massive bouquet of flowers for me.’ She stared happily at the massed display of blooms which were currently making the sitting room look like a florist’s shop.

  How could her mother ever begin to understand that for a man of Hashim’s untold wealth such gestures were mere drops in a limitless ocean? ‘He feels guilty,’ she said flatly. ‘This would never have erupted if it hadn’t been for his position. That’s all.’

  ‘Have it your own way, darling—if you want to be stubborn, then I can’t stop you. Now.’ Her mother beamed at her. ‘Do you want to see if you can fit into your old jodhpurs and give me a hand in the stables? A bit of good old-fashioned fresh air and exercise is just what the doctor ordered. Then later I’ve asked Kirsty over for tea. Cara is three now. Can you believe it?’ She smiled. ‘It only seems a minute ago since you and Kirsty were toddling off to nursery together at the same age.’

  Sienna smiled too, because the thought of seeing her old friend was strangely comforting. It was all too easy to let friendships slip—though time and distance played their part. Sometimes she wondered what would have happened if she’d taken Kirsty’s path in life—stayed around and married a local farmer, then started producing a brood of children. Would that have guaranteed her personal happiness?

  It wasn’t that easy, she decided, as she struggled into her old riding clothes. It wasn’t the place you chose or the job you ended up doing—it was all to do with the man you ended up falling in love with and the path that took you on.

  And she had just had the misfortune to fall for someone who wasn’t taking her anywhere.

  But her mother was right—the fresh air and exercise did work their own kind of magic. Physically, at least. The aching in her heart needed the kind of remedy which never provided instant healing. It needed time.

  She got up at first light and went down to the stables. She did all the mucky stuff and some of the fun stuff too—for there was nothing more rewarding than watching fearful children grow in confidence as they began to master the skill of riding. Life suddenly seemed very simple—and her busy London existence like something which had happened in a past life.

  She had thought she would miss the networking and the hectic pace of making people’s party dreams come true, but she didn’t. She just wished that she had the power to fulfil her own personal dreams, but she didn’t. Besides, you shouldn’t rely on a man to make you happy, she told herself. Everyone knew that.

  And Cara was a delight—homing in on Sienna straight away, her eyes wide when it was explained that Mummy and Sienna had been just the same age as her once upon a time!

  She had a habit of sticking her little tongue out of the corner of her mouth when she was thinking.

  ‘Can I play with Sienna, Mummy?’ she asked one day.

  Kirsty shot her a glance. ‘Oh, Sienna’s far too busy—’

  ‘No,’ said Sienna firmly. ‘No, I’m not, and I want Cara to come and play. We could make cupcakes one day if you like?’

  ‘With chocolate chips?’

  ‘Yes, darling—I love chocolate chips—and we can use those little silver balls too, if you’re very good.’

  At least there was plenty to keep her occupied—leaving little time for wafting around the house missing her lover. But probably the hardest part of all was accepting that it really was over. Because in a way things seemed just the same. Their feelings hadn’t changed and they normally had weeks in between seeing one another anyway.

  If only they could have rowed—or stopped speaking entirely—then she might have found it easier to believe that it was over. Easier? Well, maybe not. That was asking too much. What’s it going to take to forget him? she asked herself. An announcement that he’s going to marry someone else, as one day you know he will?

  Sienna was making more cakes with Cara one afternoon when her mother came rushing into the kitchen.

  ‘One of the bodyguards has just knocked!’ she babbled excitedly. ‘There is a visitor on the way to see you!’

  Sienna’s heart missed a beat. She held the wooden spoon in the air as if it was a magic wand—and, oh, how she wished it was. She would wave it, and…

  ‘Is it Hashim?’ she breathed.

  ‘Oh, darling, no—I’m afraid it isn’t. It’s a man called…’ Her mother frowned as she concentrated on saying his name correctly. ‘Abdul-Aziz.’

  Sienna hoped her face did not betray her disappointment. ‘Then you’d better show him in,’ she said courteously.

  Abdul-Aziz swept into her mother’s low-beamed kitchen as if he owned the place. It had been a long time since Sienna had seen him, and in his way he was no less formidable—his eyes still looked like raisins which had been created in the Arctic and his mouth was set in such a way as to show he meant business.

  But some of the hardness of his features had dissolved, and Sienna found herself wondering if that was down to the calming effects of married life. Or was she in danger of attributing her own wistfulness to other people?

  Five years ago she had been utterly intimidated by him, but a lot had changed since then. For a start she had grown up—but, more importantly, she had shared something very special with Hashim. He had given her confidence and belief in herself as a woman—and nothing could take that away from her.

  Abdul-Aziz’s eyes narrowed as he saw her, and Sienna was aware that she could not have looked worse—old clothes, no make-up, covered in cake mix, with a tiny girl clinging onto her apron an
d demanding to know, ‘Who’s that cross man?’

  ‘It’s someone I know,’ she whispered, and looked at her mother. ‘Would you mind finishing the cakes with Cara while I take my visitor into the sitting room?’

  Cara snuffled a bit, and her mother looked disappointed that she wasn’t going to get a ringside seat to hear whatever the ‘cross man’ had to say, but Sienna felt strangely serene as she led Abdul-Aziz across the hall and into the chintzy room. The worst had already happened and Hashim was not with her. Nothing could touch her now.

  She looked across the room at him, and she’d have been lying if she hadn’t admitted deriving a little pleasure from the look of perplexity on Abdul-Aziz’s face. Had he been expecting her to be lolling around in some over-the-top boudoir, wearing nothing but a pair of racy stockings and suspenders?

  ‘Would you like tea, Mr Aziz?’ she asked politely. ‘I’m not quite sure how to address you.’

  ‘You can call me Abdul,’ he said grudgingly. ‘And, no, I don’t want tea. Thank you,’ he added, as if he had just remembered something.

  Like his manners, thought Sienna wryly—for he gave the distinct impression of a man who was struggling to contain himself.

  ‘What can I do for you?’ she murmured.

  ‘That child.’ He cocked his head in the direction of the door. ‘She is your child?’

  Sienna started to say of course not—but there was no ‘of course’ about it—not in his eyes. If she suddenly produced a spellbook and started chanting incantations she didn’t think he’d bat an eyelid.

  ‘No,’ she answered quietly. ‘She is the child of my schoolfriend.’

  Now he was staring at the tiny golden eagle which dangled around her slender neck and which she never took off.

  ‘And my Sheikh gave you this?’ he demanded.

  ‘I suspect you already know the answer to that one. Yes. He did.’

  He tossed his head back like a stallion about to rear up. ‘You must renounce him!’ he declared dramatically. ‘Unequivocally and immediately!’