Lucy and the Sheikh

by Diana Fraser

  She glanced at his nose and then back to his eyes. Somehow she’d moved closer to him until her body pressed lightly against his legs. It seemed entirely natural when his other hand curled around her cheek.

  “Where on earth did you come from, Miss Gee?” His breath was warm on her face, heating her skin and seeping down inside her body.

  “From the sea, like your own taniwha.”

  “But one should run from one’s monsters, not embrace them.”

  “One doesn’t always do what one should.”

  “Indeed.” He held her hand tight against his chest and she could feel his heart beat as rapidly as hers. Then his hand slid through her wet hair and brought her face to his. She closed her eyes as her body relaxed against his. When his lips touched hers it came as no surprise, no shock, simply a spreading warmth of familiarity, as if her body had been needing, wanting, looking, for this man’s touch her whole life.

  His lips were more powerful, more possessive upon hers, than she’d imagined. He was so proper and courteous, despite the sensuality that she sensed in him, that she hadn’t imagined that he’d so expertly capture her mouth. But he did. His lips held hers, moving against and opening hers until the slow burn low in her body caught and ignited. She gasped against his mouth and felt his breathing quicken.

  Slowly he slid into the water and pulled her tight against his body, drawing her close until their bodies were molded one against the other. The buttons on his shirt dug into her breasts and stomach, the silky material slid against her bare skin. The heat of his body against hers was hotter than the thermal waters. He was like fire—fire playing with fire.

  She put her arms around him, exploring the muscles of his body through his wet shirt, before pushing the material out of the way, so she could feel the texture and heat of his skin directly against her own skin. Her mind drifted into a sensory heaven that held only their mouths and bodies. There was no longer any thought of who they were, of what they were doing there—there was only feeling. And it was a feeling she wanted to intensify. He groaned and for one instant she pressed her hips close to his and felt his hardness, before he pulled away.

  “Lucy.” His voice was husky with desire.

  “Umm…” She sought his lips again, not wanting to surrender that sense of completeness. His hands felt like bliss against her starved skin. She held her face close to his, her lips a kiss away from his own, inviting him, enticing him.

  “Lucy.” Her name sounded like a caress against her mouth. But slowly, he let his hands fall from her back until they rested loosely around her waist. He shook his head and moved away until he was no longer touching her.

  She gazed into his dark eyes, eyes that reflected the myriad lights from around the cave. “What is it?” She hardly recognized the low, husky voice as her own.

  “This isn’t right.” He shook his head. “Look at you. I would be taking complete advantage of you here, alone, wearing so little.”

  “But—”

  His finger touched her lips briefly. “No. It’s not right.”

  Slowly the beat of her heart settled and the truth of his words sunk in. She closed her eyes tight at the thought of how the kiss might have progressed.

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.” She bit her lip. She hadn’t behaved so rashly since she was a teenager when she’d been full of rage and desperate for affection. Nothing good could come from it. She knew that for a fact.

  “Neither of us were thinking straight. I’m a stranger to you now. But I don’t intend to be one. I’ll see you again.”

  “You sound so sure.”

  “I am. I will see you again and we will take up from where we left off tonight. But here, now, we must leave it.”

  Razeen was like no man she’d ever met before—so caring, so intent on doing the right thing. Lucy frowned and turned away uncertainly.

  “Are you sure you like me?”

  That laugh again. “Quite sure. But now isn’t the right time.”

  She smiled and her fingers found their way to his chest. “You’re right. Thank you.”

  “I don’t want you to have any doubts; I don’t want you to regret this.” Her smile faded. She knew she wouldn’t regret it but she also knew that she wouldn’t be seeing him again. She’d be gone from the bay in the morning. “Come, it’ll soon be dawn.” He lifted her onto the ledge of the pool and pushed himself back out after her. He took her hands and rose, lifting her to her feet at the same time. “You should be getting back to the boat.”

  She looked around, forcing herself to re-focus, to pull away from the intensity she’d experienced with this stranger. “Yes, of course.” She glanced down at her bikini-clad body and then back at him. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t usually do this sort of thing.” She gave an embarrassed laugh. “There must be something in the air here in Sitra.”

  “Maybe. Or perhaps it’s us. I’ll see you again, Lucy and then we’ll find out whether it’s the night air, or us.”

  She shook her head slightly, so slightly that he wouldn’t know she was declining. It had to have been here and now or nothing. Lucy Gee didn’t do relationships. She wouldn’t be seeing him again. Once she reached the city of Sitra she’d be leaving the team. She had a mission of her own to accomplish in that city.

  He took her hand and they made their way through the dark tunnel, back to the beach once more. The soft, filmy light of dawn filled the sky. She scanned the beach and could now see what she hadn’t seen in the darkness of the night—a lone vehicle parked beyond the trees that fringed the beach.

  “Your car.”

  “Yes.” In the pale peachy light he seemed less real to her than he had in the dark, when sight was the least of the senses that had drawn her to him. He was a stranger now. She let her hand slip from his. He must have felt some of what passed through her because the expression in his eyes appeared to harden a little as he stepped away from her.

  “Your boat,” he glanced toward the Explorer, now also clearly visible.

  She nodded. “They’ll be waking soon and will want their breakfast.” She couldn’t drag her eyes away from him, his damp clothes clinging to every contour of his muscled body. She could see he was still thinking of her, that his body still wanted her. “Thank you for tonight. It was beautiful.”

  “Your hair is curling now it’s beginning to dry.”

  “It has a mind of its own.”

  “Like you.”

  “Like me.” She stepped away, backwards at first before turning and running into the sea.

  He watched as she ran into the sea, the flimsy purple bikini that he’d spent so much time contemplating, barely covering her slim hips and full breasts. Then she turned and waved as the swell of a wave surged around her, covering her body and shoulders with water, before she turned back and dived into the water and was gone: arms swiftly taking her back to the boat.

  He’d said he’d see her again. And he would. She didn’t know it, but they already had an appointment.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Lucy traced the line of her sister’s face on the iPad. There was nothing unusual about the slightly out-of-focus photograph of Lucy’s sister—beautiful designer clothes, expensive smile, on the arm of a handsome man—only the best for Maia. No, the unusual thing was that it was the last photo she’d seen of her in four months, the last photo her sister had posted on Facebook.

  Where are you, Maia?

  Lucy scrolled up the page, skimming over the more recent messages Maia had supposedly posted, and frowned. The messages had definitely been written by Maia—no one else could have known the details she posted—but they weren’t current. Maia hadn’t been where she said she’d been. Lucy knew because she’d checked. She’d been to the places Maia was supposed to be and no one had seen her. Also, Maia wasn’t replying to any messages or comments, which wasn’t like her.

  They’d made two pacts with each other as teenagers: one, to live life to the full and the other, to stay
in contact. They were, after all, the only family each other had. Hence Facebook, hence Twitter. But for some reason Maia had stopped keeping in touch. Lucy wasn’t fooled by the recent updates. Something had happened to Maia and her only clue was this last photo: of Maia with the King of Sitra.

  Lucy carefully tucked away the iPad into her rucksack and wished she could put away her concern as easily. Her fears for Maia were always with her, like a sharp tension running through her body. She swung the bag on her back and stepped out onto the deck.

  They were sailing around the outer point of Sitra harbor. As they inched around the lighthouse that clung to the rocks, the pristine coastline gave way to the rambling terra cotta and sand-colored buildings of the medieval city of Sitra. The soft earth tones of the city’s buildings were interspersed with the grey-greens of date palms, pomegranate and fig trees, revealing the city’s oasis origins. The fresh water and strategic coastal position had made it a key port in the export of incense to the Mediterranean and India. Now, it was a backwater of outdated systems—a country rife with intrigue. And somewhere amidst the maze of winding streets, of ancient buildings and robe-swathed people, was her sister.

  Where was she? Who was she with? Was she being held against her will? Either Maia was holding back the truth or someone was preventing her from communicating with Lucy. The thought made her sick to her stomach. She had to find her. Lucy’s mind drifted back to the photo of Maia and the King. It was all she had to go on.

  A low wolf whistle drew her attention to Alex, the captain. She grinned and did a twirl, allowing the soft folds of her one and only dress to swing around her legs. She knew the white of the dress contrasted well with her deep tan. Then she let her sunglasses tip down her nose and peered over them in a come-hither look she’d seen her sister practice many times.

  “Well, don’t you scrub up well? Still wearing your old compass though. Never know when you’ll need it, eh?”

  Lucy fingered the antique compass that she always wore on a chain around her neck, one of the few reminders of her mother, and turned to Alex with a smile. He was leaning against the railings of the boat watching the city slowly draw near. She wandered over to him and leaned back against the railings. He ruffled her hair out of her carefully prepared French twist and she grinned. He might be a control freak with the rest of the crew but outside work hours he treated her like a kid sister and he felt like the brother she’d never had.

  “Don’t want to get lost out there.”

  “I don’t think you’re someone who gets lost easily. Anyhow, you look lovely.”

  “Why thank you. Thought I’d better look my best for the King.”

  “Good idea, but you’re wearing the wrong clothes. If you want to stay here a while, you need to get on the right side of the King and his people. What you need to do is wear this.” He passed her the robe that he’d slung over one shoulder. “I thought you wouldn’t be prepared.”

  “A burqa?”

  “No, the black coat is called an abaya and you wear this scarf—it’s called a hijab—over your hair. As a non-Muslim you don’t need to cover up with a burqa.”

  “But—” spluttered Lucy.

  “When in Rome, Luce.”

  “But I’m not in Rome, I’m here—”

  “In a Muslim country. Exactly. If you want to get a stamp on your passport you’ll need the King’s support. Nothing goes on around here without his knowledge, or approval. If you want the King’s support, wear this.”

  She sighed and took the robe. “I just thought with the King’s reputation that I’d be able to wear what I liked.”

  Alex laughed. “Inside the palace, yes. But outside? No.” He squinted at the horizon. “See over there, on top of the ridge, that long white building? That’s the palace.”

  Lucy narrowed her eyes, intent on focusing on the building, until her eyes watered with the effort. Had her sister stayed there? Or had she somehow disappeared into the sprawling city. There were many questions but she knew only one fact. Alex’s words echoed in her mind.

  Nothing went on without the King’s knowledge. Nothing.

  The small car wove its way carefully through the narrow streets of the old city. The stone walls of the merchant houses, painted soft shades of ochre, terra cotta and lime white, were peeling in places. Small shops opened out onto the street displaying the kinds of goods that had been traded for millennia: incense such as frankincense and myrrh from Sitra itself, spices from India and silks from China. The smell of freshly baked bread drifted into the car from the many street stalls, making Lucy’s mouth water. It was a long time since breakfast and she’d been up most of the night.

  Despite trying to focus on what was before her, her mind lingered on the man she’d met on the beach. Just the thought of him sent flutters into her stomach. He’d said they’d meet again but she couldn’t see how they would. He knew the name of her boat, knew her captain, but that was all. No one knew her real purpose in coming to Sitra. And that’s the way it had to be.

  It was curiosity only that had made her try to elicit information from Alex earlier that morning. But it hadn’t been forthcoming and she hadn’t dare to press it. For all his kindness to her, he was a stickler for rules and his “no swimming at night” rule was non negotiable. Her reveries were suddenly interrupted by a sharp shove in her ribs.

  “As much as I hate to stop the day dreams that seem to having such a pleasurable effect on you, we’re here.”

  Lucy followed Alex and the others out of the car and into a large, formal courtyard. Here, the heat of the morning sun was filtered through a tracery of branches interwoven to form an overhead canopy to protect visitors. A phalanx of white-gowned men awaited them. All tall, armed and wearing stony expressions, they were obviously designed to impress and intimidate—and they did. Lucy was glad she was wearing the abaya now. It gave her a feeling of protection, no matter how small, something she could hide behind.

  Their small group was ushered through the massive, solid double doors and into an empty hall, in which the slap of their sandals and shoes echoed too loudly. Lucy’s heart thumped heavily in her chest and sweat trickled down her back. It was far more formal, far more awe-inspiring than she’d imagined. They waited for several minutes in the hall until they received a signal from a guard who opened an adjoining door. They entered the vast reception room and were ushered over to a group of rococo gilt-edged chairs ranged at one end. The room was filled with ornate furniture, magnificent paintings and priceless rugs covered the marble floor.

  “You may wait here.”

  They sat on the chairs that were grouped around a low table, opposite one empty chair, and looked around.

  Lucy’s heart thumped in her chest. Four months of planning, sixteen weeks of worry, one hundred and twelve days of waiting, to meet the only known lead she had to her sister’s whereabouts, were finally over. The heavy tick of an over-sized clock marked the passage of long minutes as the others, also feeling some kind of tension, fidgeted.

  “Do you think he’ll give us permission to continue the research?” whispered the lead scientist.

  Alex shrugged as he glanced around at the paintings. “Maybe. Although the Sheikh’s got enough on his plate here—”

  “Sheikh? I thought he was a King?”

  Alex grinned at Lucy. “He is King. We used to call him ‘the sheikh’ at school—it used to really piss him off.”

  Lucy frowned. “At school? How many people do you know in Sitra?”

  It was Alex’s turn to frown but anything he was about to say was interrupted by one of his team.

  “So what do you reckon the chances are we’ll receive permission?”

  “As I was saying, although he’s busy sorting out the country he’s inherited—he’s still committed to preserving the environment, and the reef in particular. It could be a big tourism earner for the country eventually.”

  “Money!” Lucy scoffed. “It always comes down to money—so mercenary.”

&nb
sp; A deeper hush descended on them and Lucy felt a prickle up her spine and a light sheen of sweat bloom over her body. The expression on the lead scientist’s face was one of sheer panic. Alex’s deep frown lightened immediately and turned into a wide grin. The faint rustle of robes turned into the whisper of soft shoes against marble as footsteps moved behind her and up to the chair on the other side of the low table.

  Lucy closed her eyes with embarrassment and regret. She hadn’t heard the silent advance of the King and his party. What a way to start. What a way to repay Alex for all his kindness to her. When she opened her eyes she found two bodyguards, standing either side of the empty chair, staring at her disapprovingly. She swung round to see Alex and a robed figure hugging each other, clapping each other on the back. The sun caught the white, silk folds of the man’s robes that fell in undulating ripples from broad shoulders. Then he turned and eyes as dark as chocolate held hers with an intensity and curiosity that took her breath away.

  She gasped and studied the floor in panic, as memories of the man she’d met in the night merged with the man who now moved slowly toward her as Alex introduced him to the team, one by one.

  He’d known: all along, he’d known that they’d meet again. She’d told him they were meeting the King the next day. So he’d known all along but hadn’t said anything. She recalled the night’s events slowly, as if flicking through photographs, as she tried to remember what had been said, what had been done. But her mind didn’t move beyond the kiss as her body responded just as it had in the night.

  She kept her eyes lowered and bowed, just as she’d been told to do. But she couldn’t stop her nostrils flaring to catch the deep leathery tones of his aftershave, so masculine, so reminiscent of the stranger she’d met on the beach. She could feel the King’s eyes upon her, their force keeping her head bowed.

  “And this is Lucy Gee, a fellow New Zealander,” Alex said. She looked up to find the King standing before her, an amused expression on his face. “It’s Lucy’s culinary expertise that’s kept us going. She’s a nutrition nut and had us eating all the healthy stuff.’ Alex grinned at Lucy and glanced at the King expectantly. But there were no words of welcome as he’d uttered to the others. Instead there was a long pause during which Alex’s puzzled expression moved first from one amused face to the other, blushing face. It was the amused face that spoke first.