Maddeningly, Kadir had been nothing but diplomatic from the moment their motorcade had arrived at his impressive palace, whose soaring towers, golden cupolas and domed windows had taken her breath away yet also managed to daunt her with its sheer size and majesty. Not wishing to distress Cameron, she had forced herself to behave with exaggerated politeness towards the man who had brought them here without permission—and her own acting ability had taken her by surprise. Why, to the casual observer, she and the Sheikh might have seemed like a pair of amicable partners as he led her through the seemingly endless marble corridors and pointed out the many attractions of the royal palace along the way, sounding once again a bit like the seasoned tour guide he had seemed back in London.
‘This is the recreational library, and in here are volumes in English of just about every classic book ever written, but my staff will always be able to get their hands on anything you can’t find.’
‘Thank you,’ she had replied stiffly, though her eyes had widened with anticipation on seeing rows and rows of beautifully bound books in a stunning room which overlooked a dramatic sculpture garden.
‘And here is the film room.’ He had opened the door so that Caitlin could peer in at a luxurious space with twenty comfortable seats and a screen as large as her local cinema at home. ‘I have arranged for many suitable children’s movies to be available for Cameron, that’s if you are happy for him to watch them.’
‘Thank you,’ she had repeated, because it had seemed churlish to do otherwise. But that thin veneer of civility she was presenting to the outside world didn’t hint at the bitter truth which was raging inside her like a boiling cauldron.
That she felt as if she had walked into a living nightmare...forced into unwilling proximity with a man she resented and desired in equal measure.
Yet, Cameron had shown no such reserve, happily greeting whoever passed him and generally behaving as if to the manor born. As if he were used to being surrounded by a gaggle of doting servants. As if, on some fundamental level, he understood that one day all this would be his. How could she, his mother, have then created a scene—grabbing at the arm of the first senior official they met and demanding to be allowed to call the British Ambassador before being ferried home?
To Caitlin’s fury, Kadir had also been right about Morag, who hadn’t reacted to being spirited off to a far-off desert country with any of the indignation Caitlin might have expected from the middle-aged matron. In fact, she had actually smiled and remarked that nothing like this had ever happened to her before and she was quite enjoying the adventure—not to mention the prospect of spending an unspecified amount of time in a royal palace, especially one which had such beautiful gardens.
‘But we’re being kidnapped!’ Caitlin had snapped as they had been shown into the large part of the palace which had been given over to them and whose north-western light Kadir had insisted was the best.
‘Well, you keep saying that and I suppose that is one way of looking at it, dear. But Cameron doesn’t seem to mind and neither do I. And the boy really should get to know his father, Caitlin, especially since he’s a king.’ Morag had given a sigh which had sounded positively girlish. ‘And a desert king, at that. Why, it’s like something out of a fairy story!’
Caitlin remembered blinking at her in astonishment. Whoever would have put the normally staid nanny down as a romantic?
But Morag had recently retired to her own suite of rooms which adjoined Cameron’s—citing jet lag as her excuse to miss dinner and have an early night and leaving Caitlin alone with Kadir in a way which felt almost premeditated. As if he were planning to target her when she was on her own and at her most vulnerable.
Was he?
Because if that was the case she must not let him.
They needed to talk, yes. They needed to discuss ‘the situation’, as he had described it so infuriatingly on the plane. What they didn’t need—or rather what she didn’t need—was to wander around the dreamy-looking palace grounds, all washed in moonlight, which had painted the statues a glowing silver. Because wasn’t the faux romance of her surroundings making her have thoughts which were very troubling? Thoughts which involved Kadir taking her into his arms and kissing her again—except that this time she wasn’t certain she’d be able to stop it from going any further. She let out a heavy sigh. Her body felt so responsive when he was close—as if it had been programmed to react that way around him, and all the reasoning in the world didn’t seem to make the slightest difference. And wasn’t her physical vulnerability a warning sign that she needed to be on her guard against her own feelings, for fear of where they might take her?
Which was why she shook her head in answer to his suggestion—no matter how much the potent perfume of the frangipani cried out to her to inhale it long and deeply. Because she needed to be strong. She must never forget that she was on his territory, and he was a king. An all-powerful king with hot and cold running servants and what seemed like no contact with the outside world. And she was going to have something to say about that.
‘No, thanks,’ she said, as she heard a nearby clock beginning to toll the first of eight chimes. ‘I’d rather just go straight into dinner. For this discussion about our future which we’re supposed to be having.’
He inclined his robed head, his black eyes glittering and unreadable. ‘As you wish. Please. Follow me.’
Kadir kept his eyes straight ahead as Caitlin accompanied him, though it was difficult not to be diverted by her athletic grace, which made the filmy material of her robe cling rather distractingly to her bottom as she walked. Stepping back, he ushered her into one of the less intimidating dining rooms, where a table had been set with crystal and gold and festooned with crimson roses. He watched as she glanced around the room, as if committing it all to memory, and once again he found himself mesmerised by the red-gold gleam of her hair, which was highlighted by the fractured gleam from the chandeliers.
He felt his pulse quicken. In truth, he could hardly believe she was here—or that his audacious plot had proved quite so effective. Such dramatic and high-blown behaviour wasn’t his usual modus operandi—and he was aware that by behaving in such a way, he was helping perpetuate the common myth of desert kings being nothing but primitive men who simply stormed in and took what they wanted. Yet Kadir had seen his actions as his only option and in a crazy kind of way it had felt right. For hadn’t he secretly enjoyed playing the powerful macho sheikh and showing the pale Scottish redhead exactly who was boss? And hadn’t she brought such a drastic measure on herself? If she hadn’t been so intransigent in her dealings with him, they could have worked out a far more conventional way for her to arrive in his homeland, with young Cameron in tow.
But in reality he couldn’t really envisage any other solution than this. Even if she had been amenable to future visits, would he have readily waved goodbye to his son—even temporarily—and left him behind? How did he know he could trust her—and that she wouldn’t try to keep his son away from him again, as she had already done for four long years?
Once again he felt a flicker of regret as he thought about how much of Cameron’s young life he had missed. But coupled with that regret was a complex cocktail of feelings which did not sit comfortably with him, for he could not deny his own part in what had happened. Just as he could not deny that his desire for Caitlin was as intense as ever. It still pulsed through his body each time he saw her, despite the fact that she made no effort to adorn herself.
And she never had done, he reminded himself grimly. If she had, he might have been on his guard when he’d stumbled across her on that wild Scottish moor.
Memories came back to taunt him. The first time she had touched his naked body, he had felt as if he might dissolve. And when he had joined with her... He swallowed. When he had spread wide her glistening folds to thrust deep inside her warm and liquid heat, he hadn’t known where he ended and she began. Many
times he had wondered if that was the effect she had on all men.
Yet he didn’t want to feel like this. As if he could explode with frustration every time she came close—a visceral need to be inside her again.
So what was the secret of her enduring appeal? he wondered. Was it the flame of her hair, which contrasted so vividly with that pale, freckled skin? Or eyes which were the colour of a Xulhabi spring sky—the most delicate blue you could imagine? Clear, soft eyes, fringed with pale lashes. When he’d met her, she had been ignorant of his status—something which had made her unusually candid in his company—and that had been rare enough for him to be charmed by her.
Was it that simple charm combined with a powerful sexual awakening which had stamped her memory so indelibly on his mind all these years? Which had haunted him during the long years of battle so that his promise to himself had been, If I survive this, then I must see her again.
It had proved a powerful enticement—powerful enough for him to ignore the wound which had gushed from his thigh and the fact that he had been forced to go without water for almost two days. He had nearly died during that last battle—that long and bloody battle, during which he had lost his one true friend and ally.
Rasim had been like a brother to him. Yet despite his strength and seeming indestructibility, he had lain broken and mortal as he’d breathed his last in the Sheikh’s arms. Kadir remembered staring down at the waxen death mask of his friend in shock, and the reality of that awful image had almost taken him under. But a vision of Caitlin had sustained him as he’d hovered on the edge of consciousness—her pale face and bright hair never allowing him to slip into timeless oblivion. No wonder he hadn’t been able to shift her from his mind afterwards, for he had associated her with his own personal resurrection.
He made no further comment until they were seated on opposite sides of the table and he observed her glancing somewhat askance at the gleaming array of solid golden knives. ‘Just work from the outside in,’ he advised, with a sudden flicker of benevolence.
‘I know that,’ she replied, with force. ‘I may live in the north of Scotland, but I have actually visited a restaurant before!’
He gave a sudden laugh and saw a startled servant turn and look at him, before quickly composing himself and busying himself with the drinks. And now Kadir found himself wondering how long it was since he had laughed out loud.
‘Forgive me for my presumption,’ he murmured.
‘It’s something I’m fast coming to associate with you.’
‘It comes with the job—and the territory. People neither wish nor expect their leader to prevaricate. It makes them feel safer if he is prepared to go out on a limb to make the right decision,’ he acknowledged drily.
‘And do you?’ she challenged. ‘Always make the right decision?’
‘Not always,’ he said, in a surprisingly candid admission. ‘But on balance, yes.’
‘How unsurprising that your ego is so healthy, Kadir.’
Unapologetically, he shrugged and waited until the servant had filled their goblets and various dishes of local delicacies had been placed in front of them, then dismissed the hovering staff.
‘So,’ he began, once they had both picked at their food without much interest. ‘You are happy with your accommodation, I hope?’
She gave a little tsk at this and her fork clattered down onto her plate with a gesture of irritation she didn’t bother to hide. ‘I’m hardly going to complain about a suite of rooms the size of a football stadium, am I? Or the fact that whenever I so much as cough, a servant comes running to find out whether there’s anything I need.’
He inclined his head. ‘I will take that as an affirmation.’
‘Kadir,’ she said, giving an impatient sigh as she took a sip of water. ‘We can’t sit here pretending that nothing’s happened. I want us to go home. All of us,’ she added pointedly.
He spread his hands out, the palms opening towards her in an expansive gesture. ‘In theory, nothing is preventing you from leaving.’
‘In theory, yes. But you are perfectly aware that I don’t have the means to get myself to the airport. And although most of your servants speak English, every time I ask someone if they can arrange to have a car sent for us in the morning, they act mystified.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘Although I notice they understand perfectly well when I request another jug of water or for Cameron to have a slightly firmer pillow!’
‘Caitlin—’
‘And another thing,’ she continued, barely giving herself time to draw breath. ‘Every time I’ve tried to use my phone, it’s failed to connect. And the Internet isn’t working either.’ She glared at him. ‘Almost as if there was some malevolent blocking device at work!’
‘Nothing malevolent about it, I can assure you,’ he returned smoothly. ‘The signal is notoriously bad here. We’re in the middle of the desert, for heaven’s sake!’
‘My point exactly. So will you please get us out of here?’ she said, from between clenched teeth. ‘ASAP.’
Kadir carefully set down his goblet and leaned back to study her. ‘You know I can’t do that, Caitlin.’
‘Can’t, or won’t?’
Unwillingly Kadir felt another smile tug at his lips, because her feistiness was exhilarating. Uncomfortably so. He could feel the heavy pulse of his blood and his groin had grown so hard that it was impossible to think straight. Difficult to concentrate on anything other than how much he hungered to see the splendour of her naked body again and to feel her in his arms. But he forced himself to put such distracting thoughts aside, because lust would weaken him. Would detract him from his primary purpose.
‘All I’m asking for is time for Cameron to get to know me. I would like to do those things I promised him. To show him the palace stables and take him to the capital of Azraq so that he can see the mighty golden dome for himself. To teach him chess and educate him about his ancestors. There is a whole rich culture here of which he is ignorant. Is it not fair for the child to realise that he is part Xulhabian as well as part Scottish?’
She seemed to give this some consideration. In fact, she picked up a glistening slice of iced white peach and chewed on it thoughtfully, before speaking. It was her first obvious enjoyment of her food she had been given, he noted, and he was surprised at how good that made him feel.
‘And after that you’ll let us go?’ she said.
His benevolence vanished and Kadir sighed, because either she wasn’t getting the point or she was refusing to see it. Or perhaps he had been a little too vague. Surely she must have realised that he wasn’t just going to let them go. To do what? For Caitlin to return to her old life and perhaps seek out a man willing to marry her and for their son to be brought up as an ordinary islander? His mouth twisted. Did she really imagine he would allow his only child to think of another man as a father figure?
Perhaps he needed to demonstrate to her that there could be no other father for Cameron.
And no other man for her.
He lifted a damask napkin to his lips. ‘If that’s what you want, then of course I will allow you to leave. All I’m asking is that you allow a little time for you and Cameron to get to know Xulhabi better.’
‘How much time?’ she demanded.
He studied her with calculating eyes. ‘Shall we say a few weeks?’
‘A few weeks?’
‘That seems reasonable.’
‘To you, maybe.’
‘So you’re agreed?’ he said, his air of finality bringing to an end her objections.
She shunted out a breath, but the faint nod of her head indicated that she had finally seen sense. ‘I suppose so.’
‘Good.’ He was careful to keep any sense of triumph from his voice. ‘And now, let’s talk about something else. We’ve spoken about so many things—’
‘You can say that again,’ she said d
arkly, and he might have smiled, if he weren’t determined to discourage interruption.
‘But one thing is still glaringly absent,’ he continued smoothly.
She leaned forward, reaching towards a silver dish of salted almonds. ‘Oh? And what’s that?’
‘So far all the information seems to have been coming from my direction. Isn’t it also time you told me something about your past, Caitlin Fraser?’
CHAPTER SEVEN
CAITLIN, HER HAND hovering over a bowl of almonds, stilled. ‘My past?’ she echoed.
‘That’s right,’ he agreed.
‘And...’ she licked her dry lips, laying the blame on the salty almonds ‘...what do you want to know exactly?’
‘It’s not too difficult. The usual things. Where you were born and how you spent your childhood.’ Kadir shrugged. ‘It has occurred to me that I know practically nothing about the mother of my child.’
She pushed the nuts away and glared at him. ‘Didn’t your spies find out for you when they were tracking me down?’
‘My emissary came back with very little concrete information,’ he admitted. ‘He discovered you were living on a small Scottish island and had borne a son who bore an uncanny resemblance to me, and that your mother had died many years before. Other than that, nothing. There was no mention of a father on your birth certificate.’
‘You looked at my birth certificate?’
‘Why wouldn’t I?’ he questioned coolly. ‘In the same situation, wouldn’t you have endeavoured to gather as much information as possible?’
Caitlin returned the burn of his black gaze, her heart pounding hard beneath her thin tunic. She felt fear and she felt dread, which easily eclipsed her outrage that he had gone poking around in her past. Because everyone had a secret they would prefer the world not to know, and he was about to discover hers.
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