Lucy and the Sheikh

by Diana Fraser

  They rolled onto their sides, still connected and kissed once more, but tenderly this time. He pulled away as if to see her but she curled her head against his chest. For some reason she couldn’t name, she didn’t want him to see her. Giving herself physically was one thing, but emotionally she’d always held herself in reserve. Razeen had blasted through that barrier and she felt more naked than she’d ever felt in her life.

  “Lucy, what is it?”

  She shivered slightly. “Nothing”

  “You’re cold? Come.” He withdrew from her and stood up, reaching out his hand to hers. “I’ll warm you in a hot shower.”

  He pulled her to his side and they walked naked up to the lodge, leaving their clothes behind. Droplets of water ran from his hair, down his body in slim rivulets that shone in the moonlight, before catching in the hair that tapered down from his stomach. Lucy pressed her fingers against his tight stomach, smiling to herself as the muscles clenched under her touch.

  He smelled divine, too: of salt and of the night air. Her hand smoothed over his hips and caught the underside of his behind, her fingers curling under his bottom, as he walked. Aroused once more, she brought her other hand to the front and smoothed her hand down his semi-erect length. He growled, caught her hand and quickened his step until she had to run to keep up with him as they entered the Lodge.

  As soon as they’d stepped inside he turned and kissed her fiercely, pressing his aroused body against hers. Too soon, he drew away and pulled her into the bathroom. He flicked the huge wet-room shower on full blast and Lucy gasped as the hot water hit her body. The gasp was taken from her mouth as he pressed his lips against hers. Then he moved his lips down her body, pressing scorching hot kisses against her skin, hotter than the water that poured over them both. His mouth descended to her nipples, suckling them long and hard, making her cry out and fall back against the cold, tiled walls, her arms and hands splayed out on either side of her, seeking balance as she closed her eyes and water poured over her hair, face and body.

  She was drowning in sensation as the suckling intensified and coils of tightness merged and flowed inside her body, building up to an intensity that she longed to release. Suddenly his fingers pushed inside her and she cried out, her body flexing over his fingers that stayed there, playing, rolling around her wetness before releasing her and massaging her, making her legs suddenly weak.

  He held her in his arms while he slid on a condom. Then he pressed his body against hers, lifted her and slid straight into her as she wrapped her legs tight around him. He was so strong; it was as if she were nothing in his arms. She fell against his body, her arms wrapped around his neck, her mouth on his skin, tasting the residue of the salt and sweat that slowly drained away, leaving only the essence of him.

  He filled her inside and outside: it was as if she was being consumed by him and, yet, at the same time she felt as if she were consuming him—they were one. And again, came as one together.

  As the light slowly filled the room, Lucy lay quietly in Razeen’s arms, listening to the soothing murmur of the calm ocean below the Lodge and the wild call of some exotic bird flying overhead. She’d never felt so sated, so complete, so… at home.

  “You have just two more weeks here before your return?”

  His words hit her like a body blow. Was he seeking reassurance that she wouldn’t become a clingy lover? He wanted the end defined after the night they’d shared together?

  “Yes, just two more weeks. Then I must go.” She risked a quick look at him. He appeared more relaxed, as if a decision had been made. She sighed and gazed out at the sea. “I love the sea.”

  “Perhaps you’re a mermaid, a siren of the seas. That would explain…”

  Uncharacteristically, he didn’t complete his sentence. “Explain what?”

  Slowly the shadows drifted away, absorbed by the light, until the familiarity of the dark dissolved into the strange reality of the day. She shifted away slightly. He stopped stroking her arm and moved so he could see her face. “What is it about the sea that fascinates you?”

  “It takes you away.” She hesitated. “I was brought up by the coast. I used to look out over the sea wall at the darkness of the sea and wish I were on it. So I could keep on moving.”

  “You were unhappy then, at home?”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  “You can’t go on moving forever. There’s nothing that would make you stay.”

  Was it a question or a statement? She didn’t know. She shook her head in his arms.

  He paused a moment before slipping his arm from under her. He kissed her lightly and rose. “Good. It fits with my plans. I will be busy in two weeks’ time.”

  “Two weeks it is then.”

  Two weeks, she repeated in her mind, wondering at the confusion of feelings the two words engendered. She didn’t do commitment, she reminded herself. She couldn’t—not after what happened. But, for the first time since she was fifteen she felt vulnerable and it wasn’t a good feeling: like a heavy boot, digging into her gut, reminding her of the pain that lay just below the surface. It was just as well he was a commitment-phobe as she had no intention of releasing the pain of her youth.

  “It’ll be daylight soon. We must leave soon. I’ve cancelled most of my appointments, but I’ve a few meetings at the palace I must attend.”

  “Sure.” She watched him move around the room, his broad, well-muscled body almost a taupe-grey in the dim light. He had an ease of movement she’d noticed in his people, which must have been inherited from his people: a sure-footedness, a grace, despite his height and powerful build. But she also sensed something else. He’d moved away from her slightly. She swung her legs off the bed and pushed her fingers through her unruly hair. She couldn’t regret their night together. It had been the most magical of her life. He’d made her no promises and she’d told him in no uncertain terms she would be leaving in two weeks. It had been magic but she knew magic couldn’t continue, didn’t she? It wouldn’t be magic if it did.

  Lucy had to tell Razeen the real reason she was here. Now she knew him better, now she trusted him and knew he spoke the truth when he said he invited no one here. But for some reason she hesitated. How would he respond to her suspicions?

  “We’d better move, Lucy. I’m late. We’ll breakfast at the palace.”

  “Sure. I’m ready when you are.” Lucy’s smile was met with a light kiss and a narrowed gaze. “I travel light.”

  He slipped his hands around her body and pulled her to him. “We’ll have to stop at the pontoon to collect your bikini on the way.” All thoughts of the confession that hovered on her tongue, fled at the memory of last night. She wasn’t inhibited but the thought of their love-making on the beach brought a blush to her cheeks. She grinned and looked down.

  His unshaved cheek brushed roughly against hers, as his lips found hers. “Just the thought of you slipping naked through the water makes me want to postpone my meetings.” He kissed her long and hard. “You’re a bad influence on me, making me forget who I am, what I have to do.”

  “Works two ways. I have very important things to do too, you know.”

  “Such as?”

  Lucy drew in a deep breath. She had to tell him. “Razeen, I—”

  The phone rang but Razeen didn’t move. “Go on.”

  “I came here for a purpose.”

  “Yes, of course you did. Sitra isn’t somewhere one comes to by accident. You wanted to experience a new culture, do a bit of sight seeing. Isn’t that what you said?”

  The phone continued to ring, unrelenting and urgent.

  “That wasn’t the reason. I was, I am, looking for someone.”

  He frowned. “I didn’t think you knew anyone here?” His frown deepened. “A friend, lover? Who?”

  The continuous shrill ringing of the phone, together with a change to the tone of his voice—suspicion, jealousy—conspired to constrict her throat. Tension coiled inside her. “None of the ab
ove.”

  “Good.” His frown faded and he shrugged and walked off to answer the phone.

  “Razeen, I must—”

  He held up his hand. “One moment, Lucy.”

  He spoke rapidly in Arabic before looking up at her. “I won’t be long.”

  She sighed, frustrated that her attempt at telling Razeen about Maia had been lost, and wandered off.

  The previous evening and night had been so intimate with Razeen—physically and emotionally—she felt she knew him. But she didn’t know him. There was a hint of something in his voice, jealousy or irritation, when she’d said she’d another reason for coming to Sitra that disturbed her. How would he respond to her distrust of him, her suspicions? But she had to tell him because she needed his help. Now that he wasn’t a suspect, she needed to find out what exactly had happened to Maia after the photo had been taken.

  She wandered over to the bookshelves and trailed her hands bumpily along the rows of books. Her sister would have loved it here. She’d been the bookworm in the family. This was just the sort of place she’d make a beeline for.

  She heard Razeen’s deep voice in the background, the language flowing and rolling between his lips like a river tumbling easily over smooth rocks. It was a very peaceful language, Lucy decided. She smiled to herself at the fanciful thought and continued to walk alongside the bookshelves until she came to a window seat piled with books. She sat and crossed her legs on the seat. She was practically hidden here behind a swag of curtain and the books. She leaned back on the cushions and scanned the horizon. It was slightly rougher, but the skies were as blue as ever. She wondered if Razeen had been mistaken about a storm coming. Only the increased swell of the sea suggested anything was brewing. The pontoon was bobbing with more vigor this morning. She grinned at the thought of her bikini lying there and flushed at the thought of their lovemaking.

  To distract herself she picked up one of the books that lay on top of a small pile and frowned. It was one she remembered from her childhood—her mother had used to read it to her. And then after her mother had died, her sister had read it to her, even when they were much older. The memory of those times, of the tight bond between the two sisters and of their shared sorrow filled her, and she pulled out the book and flicked it open. It was an even older version of the book than they’d had at home. She let it fall open in her hands and she stared, stunned at what she was looking at.

  A bookmark. But not just any bookmark. It was made of a long strip of well-worn leather finished at each end with a small token. Lucy smoothed her fingers over the small ceramic image of the kiwi bird, whose color was almost rubbed off and pulled the other end free of the book, her heart pounding so loudly that Razeen’s sonorous voice and the dull roar of the surf on the beach were drowned out. At the other end of the bookmark was a dolphin. The end of its tail had been snapped off.

  She pressed it between her fingers, disbelieving for several long moments. She rubbed her thumb over the worn end of the dolphin’s tail. She remembered the day Maia had broken it. Lucy had been so cross because she’d saved the money and bought it for Maia. The dolphin represented Lucy and the kiwi was just like Maia, because she came alive at night. She turned it back and forth in her hand. There were no two ways about it. It was Maia’s bookmark.

  Maia had been here. Maia had been drawn to the books, like she knew she would have been. And Maia had picked up the book, drawn by the same memories as herself. Maia had stood where she was standing and…then what? Had she left in a hurry? Left with whom? Razeen?

  A wave of nausea filled her. Razeen had lied. He’d damn well lied and she’d fallen for it. Just as Maia had no doubt fallen for his charm. Her head pounded and she dropped her head in her hands, holding it tight, willing herself to calm, to edge out the panic and think straight. A door slammed closed behind her and Lucy jumped up, her heart beating a rapid tattoo as adrenalin surged through her body.

  “Lucy?”

  By the time he checked the window seat, Lucy’s panic had subsided and the book was back on the pile, but with a page no longer marked. Lucy’s hand patted her pocket just to make sure and she fingered the outline of the kiwi.

  Don’t worry, night bird, I’m coming for you.

  “You ready?”

  She looked up at him, into the face of the stranger he truly was. But she nodded, determined, now more than ever to find her sister. He’d soon find out just how ready.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The sea heaved under the boat with a menace that reflected the turmoil of suspicion and guilt that filled Lucy. While Razeen guided the boat across the crests of the quickened waves, Lucy searched the shoreline—not visible in last night’s darkness—wondering where Maia might be.

  They stopped only to maneuver the boat alongside the pontoon to collect her bikini which he tossed into the boat with a brief smile that quickly turned into a frown. He obviously sensed her withdrawal; she’d never been good at hiding her feelings. She turned away, tormented by the confusion that raged within her. On the one hand she couldn’t help watching his muscles bulk out as he pulled hard on the rudder, her fingers flexing as she contained an urge to reach out and touch him. And yet on the other, she was sickened by her physical responses, in the knowledge that she’d betrayed her sister.

  She looked toward the palace, gleaming under the harsh sunlight. She’d grown sloppy, grown weak under the spell of this man, this stranger. But she’d be on the alert for Maia now. She’d keep on looking by herself, just for a few days and then, if she’d made no progress, she’d have to ask Razeen. But not now. Only when she knew Alex, and an escape, was available to her. She didn’t know Razeen: she thought she did, but she didn’t. Who knew what he was capable of?

  After he’d tied up the boat in the shed he reached for her hand and she gazed down at his rich brown skin, so beautiful, so seductive, but she couldn’t allow herself to do what she so wanted to do, to curl her fingers around his hands and feel his grip tight around her hand.

  “What’s wrong Lucy?” His brow lowered, the frown line deepening.

  She opened her mouth to speak but for once her mind was too full of conflicting thoughts to give voice to a single one. She shook her head and turned away.

  “Regret getting carried away last night? Or is it something to do with the person you’re looking for. I was waiting for you to mention it again. Obviously you regretted having done so. So many regrets…” His voice had become hard.

  She nodded once. He turned away, but not before she caught sight of an expression that held both disappointment and anger.

  “I would never have taken you away if I thought you harbored any doubts.”

  “I didn’t then. You know that. It’s just…hard to explain.”

  “Try.”

  His cell phone beeped. He swore. “We have to get back. Do you wish to leave Sitra?”

  She shook her head vehemently, appalled at the thought that she could leave Sitra before she’d found Maia. “No, not at all.”

  “Do you wish to see me again?”

  She bit her lip, to stop them from trembling. “Yes.” She had to. He was still her only lead.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. Look, I’m sorry, I’m just not feeling myself this morning.”

  He stepped away, his face remaining impassive as if he didn’t believe her. “I have a few urgent meetings this morning I must attend but I’ll see you later. Is there anything you need while I’m working?” The remote politeness of his enquiry made Lucy wince. But there were more important things she needed than his intimacy.

  “Internet access. Can you arrange it for me?”

  “Come to my office and see my assistant. He’ll give you access to a computer.”

  They strode quickly up the steps and through the luxuriant gardens, dripping with soft morning dew. The gardeners were out in force, trimming and watering, aware the King and his girlfriend were passing by, but obviously too discreet to stare. At the gardens where they were t
o go their separate ways, he turned to her.

  “Talk to me later. Something has happened I don’t understand. And I want to, Lucy. Whatever direction your mind is taking you, know this. Last night was special to me. If our time together is short, that’s not of my doing. I want you.” He pursed his lips together as if wanting to speak further but instead, turned away and left abruptly, without a backward glance.

  Once inside her suite of rooms, she leaned back against the door, suddenly exhausted, closed her eyes and groped for the bookmark that was hidden in her pocket, her fingers worrying the soft edges of the kiwi.

  Maia…where are you?”

  Lucy’s fingers hovered over the keyboard as she glanced furtively around the office. Two assistants were working on papers in a corner while a couple of senior advisers were having a meeting in an outer office. There was a hum of printers, keyboard clattering and the distant sound of a phone on loudspeaker. No one was paying her any attention, presumably used to strangers needing their internet fix.

  She logged into her Facebook account and scanned its contents for anything from Maia. There she was. She clicked on it and read. She slammed the heel of her hand onto the desk in frustration and quickly scanned the office to see if anyone had noticed. Everyone was still absorbed in his or her own business. She continued to read.

  More myths Maia believed would satisfy Lucy. She wrote of parties, of people she was seeing. She wrote of rain; she wrote of Paris. None of it was true. Maia hadn’t been seen in Paris for months. Lucy had been there before she’d joined the boat with Alex. Lucy realized if her own investigations failed she’d have to take the next step and try again to get the police involved. She’d spoken to them in Paris but they’d pointed to her Facebook pages as proof that Maia was OK. They’d also pointed out that Maia rarely stayed in one country for more than a few weeks at a time. She could be anywhere.