Desert Fantasies (Mills & Boon M&B): Duty and the Beast / Cinderella and the Sheikh / Marrying the Scarred Sheikh

by Morey, Trish

  He’d barely finished speaking before Kareem gave an instruction that had Ashid lurching upwards. Polly let out a shriek and looked down to see Rashid’s laughing eyes watching her. She clutched at the makeshift saddle, glad another one of the cameleers had Ashid firmly on a lead.

  She was too busy trying to get her feet up behind her to watch Rashid climb on his own ‘ship of the desert’. The heat was sizzling hot, scorching through the light scarf. Polly looked curiously at the turbanlike headgear the Bedouin wore, but Rashid was too far away to ask anything about it and within moments she was concentrating on adjusting to the camel’s movement.

  Once she’d got used to the bouncing it was reasonably comfortable. The heat was something else. Minty’s insistence they try to film everything during the cooler months made absolute sense. Polly kept her eyes firmly on the tree they seemed to be making for.

  It had the appeal of lights flickering in a cottage window on a stormy night back home. It spoke of safety and rest. But she loved every minute of her camel ride. She turned round to smile at Rashid, so happy she wanted to laugh.

  Her desert prince looked as though he’d been born to ride a camel. Which, in a way, he had. The animal’s uneasy gait didn’t produce the same lurching it did for her. He was able to talk to the men walking beside him, laughing as one of them struck up a tuneless chanting. From the other men’s reactions she assumed the lyrics were probably quite rude.

  ‘So was Bahiyaa right? Do you think riding camels should be reserved for men?’ Rashid asked as she inelegantly climbed off Ashid.

  ‘I think the jury is still out.’ Her legs felt a little as if they’d turned to jelly. Rashid seemed aware of that because he reached out to steady her, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back.

  ‘You did well.’

  She laughed. ‘Surprised?’

  ‘Not as much as I thought I’d be,’ he answered. ‘Now we get lunch and a rest before we head back to Al-Jalini.’

  Polly walked gratefully under the shade of the shrubby tree. ‘Is this an acacia tree?’

  He nodded, pulling the rolled fabric off Ashid and bringing it over for her to sit on.

  ‘How does it survive out here?’

  Rashid came to sit beside her. ‘It has root systems which spread out a hundred feet or more. As you get nearer the wadi there are considerably more than here.’

  She watched as the cameleers tied the front legs of the camels together, turning to Rashid with an impulsive, ‘Does that hurt them?’

  ‘No. Annoys them, perhaps,’ he said. ‘There is a saying among the Bedouin that you should never trust a camel. You can’t take any chances. To lose your camel out here would be like being shipwrecked.’

  Polly had thought she’d read fairly extensively, but there was so much she wanted to know. Everything about the Atiq Desert fascinated her. The men had already lit some kind of a brazier. Kareem was involved in a complicated process of pouring liquid from one pot to another from a flamboyant height.

  ‘Wh—?’ she began.

  Rashid settled back into the shade of the tree, more at peace than Polly had ever seen him. He’d described this as his home, and it seemed it was. His palace home was sumptuous, but it came with much responsibility.

  Here there was just space. Quiet, all bar the sound of camels complaining and munching on the thorny branches of the acacia tree. It felt so much like sitting in the centre of history. The birth place of three world religions. The petty squabbles of Shelton, her concern over its long-term future, suddenly seemed so very unimportant.

  She turned her head to find Rashid was watching her, his blue eyes unfathomable. ‘This is the most amazing place I’ve ever seen.’

  He smiled.

  ‘What is he doing?’ she asked with a look at Kareem.

  ‘Making tea.’

  She looked back as the cameleer poured the liquid into several glasses already laid out on a tray.

  ‘Water is precious here and is treated like vintage wine.’

  Polly knew Rashid’s eyes didn’t leave her face as she first sipped the frothy tea. Over the rim of his own glass, Rashid’s eyes were wickedly teasing.

  ‘Shukran,’ she murmured as Kareem returned her glass a second time. The flavour was slightly different. Sweeter. Perhaps a result of tea and sugar continuing to blend.

  In twenty-seven years Polly didn’t think she’d ever experienced such peace. It was partly Rashid, partly the incredible privilege of being here in a magical place he loved. Real happiness bubbled inside her.

  The tallest man, the one who’d guided Ashid, stretched out some dough rather as you would a pizza. It was all fairly surreal. As meals went it was one of the simplest she’d ever eaten. She’d no idea what the men around her were saying, but she loved the laughter and their easy camaraderie.

  ‘It’s time we were leaving,’ Rashid said, breaking in on her thoughts.

  Polly experienced a wave of disappointment and then her innate sense of responsibility kicked in. ‘I wish… I hope I can come back here one day.’ She smiled up at him, fighting an inexplicable desire to cry. ‘Thank you.’

  Rashid caught her chin, tilting her face so that he could look deep into her eyes. ‘Pollyanna Anderson, you are a remarkable woman,’ he said, almost echoing her words to him.

  It wasn’t a declaration of love, not in any conventional sense, but it felt like it.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE flight back to the Al-Ruwi Palace Hotel seemed to take no time at all. Al-Jalini, beautiful though it was, didn’t have the charm of the desert and the hotel gardens were an unnatural splash of green.

  Polly felt as if she’d left a little piece of her heart behind. She looked down at her watch. ‘I should have time for a shower before I meet the boys,’ she said with false brightness. ‘Then we’re off to the souk. According to Dr Wriggley it’s one of the oldest in Amrah.’

  Rashid nodded. ‘You’ll walk under the same tall arch Elizabeth did.’

  ‘Will you be there?’

  Polly saw the muscle pulse in his cheek and knew his answer before he gave it. ‘There is no need. You will have security with you.’

  She could feel him slipping away from her. ‘What will you do?’

  ‘Work.’ His monosyllabic reply set her at a distance. She knew, logically, that he would have to. He’d taken hours off today to help the film crew, ensuring their safety, and then spending time with her this afternoon. But…

  It felt more than that. As though the weight of the world had come back to rest on his shoulders.

  ‘When will you speak to Prince Hanif again?’

  ‘This evening.’ Rashid brought the helicopter down on the hotel’s helipad. Within seconds her door was opened and hotel staff were helping her down.

  Polly flicked the scarf from her head and shook out her hair as Graham ambled over. ‘Where have you been?’

  She felt a ridiculous reluctance to tell him. It was as though the sound man was trying to force his way into something intensely precious. Private. ‘We’ve flown over the Atiq Desert,’ she evaded, turning back to watch Rashid step down from the helicopter.

  He came over. ‘I will leave you.’

  There was nothing Polly could say. Not with Graham overhearing every word. And that was probably just as well, because what was there to say? She wanted to reach out and touch him. Hold him. Take the pain of whatever he was experiencing away, make it hers.

  Rashid held himself stiffly, completely inaccessible. The man she’d kissed so passionately had vanished.

  ‘Graham.’ He nodded at the other man. ‘I will see you both later this evening, perhaps?’

  By the time Steve had decided they’d filmed enough for the day Polly was exhausted. She’d walked up and down one section of the souk more times than she could remember, each time exclaiming at the same stalls of silverware. She’d loved the canopied roof of palm fronds, the feeling of walking in the footsteps of her great-great-grandmother, but her mind had been
elsewhere.

  It was with Rashid, wondering whether he’d any news about his father. Whether he’d spoken to Bahiyaa.

  ‘Drink?’ John asked as they walked into the foyer. ‘Or shall we get something to eat first?’

  ‘What about the prince? Might be a good idea to ring up? See if he wants to join us?’ Baz looked over at the reception area and then back at them. ‘What d’ you reckon?’

  ‘Do it,’ John said. ‘We’ll wait in the bar. Come find us.’

  Polly let herself be guided towards the largest of the hotel’s bars, edged with small seating booths. She missed the quiet of the desert. She wanted to be with Rashid. There was a slight possibility he might decide to join them, but she doubted it.

  She sat cradling her chilled pineapple juice, one eye on the entrance watching for Baz to return. The tall Yorkshireman walked over shaking his head. ‘Nope. Didn’t actually get to speak to Sheikh Rashid. Spoke to his aide. The one from Samaah. He flew in an hour or so ago,’ he said, pulling a face. ‘I think the Crown Prince might be a goner.’

  Polly put her pineapple juice down on the table. ‘Did he say that?’

  ‘No. Didn’t say anything at all which is why I think there’s been some bad news. Wasn’t supposed to be here, was he?’

  Pete pushed a beer across in Baz’s direction. ‘What’ll that mean to us?’

  ‘We’ll be out of here, won’t we? No way Minty is going to keep us here if it looks like the country is going to be unstable for a bit.’

  There were a few disgruntled murmurs.

  Baz added, ‘She didn’t like the changes to the itinerary. Think she’d have had us home then if she hadn’t wanted not to offend Sheikh Rashid. I reckon we’ll be out.’

  Polly quietly slipped away, leaving her juice scarcely touched on the table. Baz was almost certainly right in thinking Karim Al Rahhbi’s arrival at the hotel couldn’t be a good sign. She wasn’t quite sure what she actually intended to do now. She simply knew she couldn’t sit there making small talk when Rashid might need her.

  She’d no particular reason for thinking it, but she suspected he’d told her things about his family he’d not discussed with anyone else. Other people might know that when Prince Khalid died Rashid would lose the father he loved and any hope of reconciliation with him, but she knew how he truly felt about that. He hadn’t had a chance to say ‘goodbye’. Nothing that would make the loss of his father easier to bear.

  Polly hesitated at the main reception desk and then turned towards the glass lifts. Vaguely she remembered the guys talking about Rashid being booked into the penthouse suite. That seemed likely and it was quite possible they wouldn’t give that information out at the desk even if she asked them. Better to go and see.

  It wasn’t until the lift doors opened on the seventh floor she wondered what she was going to actually do. She’d been acting on pure instinct, but now she realised it might be a little more complicated than to burst into his suite and demand to see him.

  She was such an idiot. Karim Al Rahhbi would be there. Security staff. He wouldn’t be alone.

  But he still might need her.

  Polly wrenched her bag open and pulled out the piece of paper on which she’d written the numbers she’d needed when she called her mother. It was the best idea she had. Better anyway than being turned away at the door.

  She rang the hotel’s number and waited while the receptionist answered. ‘Hello, I’m Ms Pollyanna Anderson from Room 7 on the fifth floor. Can you put me through to His Highness, Prince Rashid bin Khalid bin Abdullah Al Baha’s suite please?’ She even managed to sound confident.

  Even so, she was slightly surprised when the line crackled and a voice spoke. ‘Miss Anderson, this is Karim Al Rahhbi. The prince is resting—’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ She cut across him. ‘Ask him if he wants to speak to me.’

  There was a significant pause while Karim decided to do just that. ‘I will do so,’ he said in his perfectly correct English. ‘One moment, Miss Anderson.’

  The line crackled again and it seemed to Polly it stayed that way for the longest time. More than enough time to realise what a huge assumption she’d made. The last thing she wanted to do was to make things more difficult for Rashid—and she didn’t want to embarrass herself either.

  The truth was she had a need to be here because she loved him. She couldn’t bear knowing he was hurting and not be with him. That didn’t mean he felt the same way.

  And then came the realisation Rashid’s aide might have flown to Al-Jalini on entirely different business. Rashid might have declined joining them because he preferred other company. He might…

  ‘Polly?’

  The pressure in her heart on hearing his voice was painful. ‘Is there news? We thought—’

  ‘My father has died.’

  ‘Oh, Rashid. I’m so…so sorry.’

  It was the end, then. Of so many things.

  Polly stood clutching her mobile phone, so many thoughts passing through her mind. She thought of Bahiyaa. Of Rashid. Of what it would mean to Amrah. And she thought of Minty and knew she’d be flying back to the UK first thing in the morning.

  It was possible they’d return to Amrah to finish making their programme, but that would only be if there was political stability. There would be no need for her to see Rashid after today. Their lives would separate, just as she had always known they would.

  She might see him again at a distance. At Shelton, perhaps, surrounded by beautiful women vying for his attention. As they’d been that first time. Or perhaps she’d never be any closer to him than seeing a picture in a magazine.

  ‘Where are you?’

  It was tempting to lie. ‘I’m outside.’

  ‘Outside?’

  ‘Your suite,’ she clarified. ‘Seventh floor. Just by the lifts.’ Nothing quite like committing emotional suicide, Polly thought. If he hadn’t realised she’d fallen in love with him he’d surely know it now. Her heart was beating so hard it actually hurt.

  And then she saw him, standing at the far end of the corridor, phone to his ear.

  ‘Polly.’

  ‘Hello.’ She pulled the phone from her ear and ended the call. ‘I wanted to know what had happened. Was it peaceful? The end?’

  Rashid held his phone loosely in his left hand. ‘I believe so. I scarcely know, I…’

  He brushed his free hand across his eyes. ‘Come in.’

  She paused only long enough to stow her phone away in her bag, then walked slowly up the length of the corridor. What she wanted to do was run at him, wrap her arms around him and hold him so tight.

  Reality wasn’t quite like that, though. There was this enormous fear of being rejected, of having not quite understood what had been going on between them. And then there was Rashid’s expression. The skin on his face appeared so pale it was almost translucent and his eyes were bleak. Unseeing.

  He drew her in, past the bodyguards standing at the doorway. Karim stood up and moved to greet her. ‘As-salaam alaykum.’

  ‘Wa alaykum as-salaam,’ she murmured.

  The one thing she didn’t feel was ‘peace’. Karim looked past her.

  ‘Please leave us for a few minutes,’ Rashid said. ‘I will send for you the moment Miss Anderson leaves.’

  What was left of hope shrivelled. She would be leaving. Soon. And Rashid had things he needed to be doing. Things that didn’t involve her.

  The door clicked shut. So quiet and yet it sounded loud to Polly. ‘Have I broken some rule by coming here?’ she asked, meeting his eyes properly for the first time.

  Rashid shook his head. ‘Karim is aware I have something to tell you. It must be done before you leave.’

  ‘Am I leaving?’

  Something flared in his eyes. For a moment Polly was glad to see an expression of something and then fear kicked in. She was leaving. He had said so.

  ‘Within the next couple of hours,’ Rashid concurred. ‘Karim has already made all the necessary arran
gements.’

  Polly found herself a chair and sat down. That probably broke some Amrahi etiquette, but she wasn’t so sure her legs were going to hold out much longer if she kept on standing. Everything was going wrong. It was happening and she was powerless to stop it.

  ‘I have spoken to your friend, Miss Woodville-Brown, and she sees no reason to delay your departure.’

  ‘Is there danger?’ Polly asked in a small voice.

  ‘There is a significant risk of terrorist incident.’

  ‘I—’

  ‘The choice isn’t yours to make,’ Rashid cut across her.

  ‘No.’

  ‘My grandfather is in shock and has yet to name his successor. He has three days.’ Rashid paced across to the window and drew back the curtains.

  From where she was sitting Polly could see the garden illuminations, Rashid’s reflection in the window.

  ‘We have a grieving and very elderly King. Men opposed to Hanif becoming King will need to act quickly. And they will.’

  Rashid’s voice was like flint. ‘All embassies will council caution during this interim period, remove what personnel isn’t considered essential. God willing, it will be of short duration.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ She could think of nothing else to say. ‘What will you do?’

  ‘As soon as I know you are safe I will return to Samaah.’

  ‘To Bahiyaa?’

  ‘I need to be seen in the city. By being there I can instil confidence, minimise the consequences of the next few days.’

  Dangerous things. He might even be killed. ‘Ra—’

  ‘Polly,’ he interrupted her, ‘there is something I need to tell you. Something you will discover as soon as you return home.’

  His words seemed torn from him. Polly lost all desire to speak at all. There seemed a recklessness about Rashid now. A steely determination to do what had to be done and she had the strangest presentiment that what needed to be done was going to hurt.

  ‘When I came to Shelton…’

  Polly nodded because he paused.

  ‘I did so because I wished to see your brother. Stepbrother,’ he corrected.