by Trish Morey
His gut screwed tighter all over again. God, what was he even doing here? He was a petroleum engineer by day with a reputation as a playboy by night. Apart from his DNA, what qualifications did he have to equip him to run a country?
He looked around. There was that sound again. The child, he realised. But this time there was more.
She was singing that song again.
Both drawn and repelled in the same instant, he watched as Tora emerged from her suite, the baby clutched in her arms as she sang the soft, soothing words of a lullaby he never knew and yet that somehow tugged at some deep part of him. He melted into the shadows as she swayed in the night air, singing words of comfort and peace, her hair down out of that damned bun, just the way he liked it, while the blue light from the pool below turned her long white nightdress translucent so that it floated like a cloud around her slim legs and tickled the tops of her bare feet.
He swallowed back on a surge of lust as he watched, transfixed.
The breeze toyed with the hem of her nightdress, shifting shadows and whispering promises as she sang of apricots and pigeons and waterfalls, and some of her words were wrong or mispronounced, but it didn’t matter because the overall effect was still beautiful.
She was beautiful.
He stood in the shadows with his heart beating too fast at a mystery he didn’t understand.
He stood there utterly bewitched.
Bewitched and rock hard.
She finished the song, the last of the sweet notes trailing away on the night air, the baby in her arms asleep. She turned to go back inside the same moment as he emerged from the shadows. She gasped.
‘Tora.’
And she took a deep breath and then another. ‘You frightened me. What are you doing on my terrace?’
He looked back the way he had come. ‘It appears we have adjoining terraces, as well as adjoining suites.’
Her eyes blinked her disappointment before shuttering down. ‘Well, goodnight.’
‘Tora, wait.’
‘Why? Atiyah needs to go back to bed.’
He looked at the child, her face at peace in Tora’s arms, oblivious to the electricity charging the air between them. ‘She’s asleep.’
‘Which is where I want to be.’
‘Tora.’
‘Why are you here?’
‘I couldn’t sleep.’
‘No,’ she said, her soft voice tremulous in the velvet night, ‘why are you here? What do you want?’
A heartbeat later he answered. ‘You.’ And in that moment, Tora lost all perception of time, all cognizance of space. Because Rashid was standing there in nothing more than thin white sleep pants slung low over his hips that made no secret of his arousal. And his chest was bare and in his eyes she could see torment and right now he looked as if he’d been sculpted in shadow.
And then he drew closer and she could see there was more than torment in his dark eyes—something far more carnal.
She shuddered from the top of her head all the way to the tips of toes that curled on the cool paving stone, seeking to get a grip on a world where she was a stranger.
‘Rashid...’ But he was already stepping closer, stepping into her space even as she drew back, her arms protecting the baby, leaving her defenceless as his fingers laced through her hair.
‘Rashid...’
And then his lips brushed hers and she breathed him in and he tasted warm and musky and male and his taste and scent sent her spinning back to the place she’d been that first night. So good. So very good that her body hummed into life as readily as if his lips had flicked a switch.
Oh, God.
She wasn’t about to turn it off.
His lips were as soft as the night sky, the sweep of his tongue like a shooting star to her senses, and there was magic in the air all around them.
Instinctively she opened to him—she knew him—and his kiss deepened. Hardened. As he angled his head and pulled her closer.
There was a squawk. A protest from between them. And Tora’s attention snapped back to the child in her arms—to where it should have been before she’d been seduced by the shadows. She turned her face away, freeing a hand to push at the hard wall of his naked chest.
‘Rashid, stop.’
He blinked, feeling sideswiped all over again. This woman did things to him. She made him forget himself and his determination to lock down his emotions when he was around her. She made him forget everything. He’d been so blindsided by lust that he’d forgotten completely about the child in her arms—his own tiny sister. And he’d known all along that he would be rubbish caring for an infant, and still he felt ashamed.
‘Is...is she all right?’
‘She’s fine,’ Tora said, rocking her in her arms. ‘No harm done.’ Although the quake in her voice told him otherwise. ‘Maybe you should go back to your suite.’
He reached out for her. He didn’t want to go. ‘Tora—’ but she spun away.
‘Stop it! Don’t you care about this baby at all?’
‘I adopted her, didn’t I?’
‘Lucky Atiyah.’
‘Look,’ he said, shaking his head as he turned it towards the heavens, ‘I didn’t ask to take on the care of an infant. I don’t know the first thing about babies.’
‘Well, maybe you should start learning because frankly, Atiyah deserves better. You have a ten-week-old child who has lost her parents and you treat her like something you wished you could shove away in a filing cabinet somewhere and forget about.
‘Don’t you understand? She’s not a thing, Rashid, she’s a child. A baby. She needs to be nurtured, not merely tolerated. She needs love and smiles and someone who truly cares about her. Instead, she got stuck with you—sullen, resentful, miserable you—and I can’t work out why you have to be that way. Have you forgotten what it’s like to be a child?’
His jaw was so tightly clenched, he felt a muscle pop. ‘No, as a matter of fact I haven’t, but rest assured I don’t plan on sending Atiyah to boarding school to be looked after by strangers the first chance I get, so I guess I do know something about bringing up children, even if it’s nowhere near your high standards. But thanks anyway, for pointing out my failings so succinctly.’ He turned to leave and this time it was her that stopped him.
‘Rashid,’ she said, concern swirling in her gentle eyes. ‘Is that what happened to you? How old were you when they sent you away?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said on a sigh, raking a hand through his hair. ‘Other than the fact it makes me the most useless person ever to be appointed guardian of anyone, let alone an infant like Atiyah.’ He looked down at the baby, now settled again. ‘She deserves better.’ He turned his eyes up to Tora’s. ‘I’m sorry I interrupted you. Goodnight,’ he said, and he was gone.
Tora stepped breathlessly back into her suite, meeting a distraught-looking Yousra coming the other way. ‘Is everything all right? I heard voices,’ she said as she caught sight of the child in Tora’s arms. ‘Oh, no. I should have woken. Did she cry? I am so sorry not to let you sleep.’
‘It’s okay,’ Tora soothed her. ‘I would normally be awake at this time and I was only half asleep. You go back to bed.’
And the younger woman bowed. ‘If it pleases you, Sheikha.’
‘Call me Tora,’ she said. ‘I am much more comfortable with that.’
‘But...?’
‘Tora,’ she insisted. ‘As I call you Yousra. We are both looking after Atiyah after all. We should be friends.’
The young girl smiled uncertainly and bowed some more. ‘If you are sure, Sheikha,’ and Tora smiled as the young woman withdrew.
Tora settled Atiyah back into her bed and watched her for a while, marvelling at how placid she was in the wake of having had her world turned upside
down, a world that at ten weeks she’d only just been getting to grips with. Tora ran one fingertip across her downy cheek. She was a little sweetheart, no two ways about it.
A sweetheart with a tortured brother. What had happened that he felt so incapable of loving Atiyah? What kind of childhood had he had? Boarding school, and from an early age by the sounds. But why, when his father had only recently died? Why would he have done that?
She crawled back into her bed, and tucked her knees up under her crossed arms, trying not to think about how in Sydney it would be halfway through the afternoon instead halfway through the night, trying not to think about the meeting with Rashid at breakfast that she had asked for and that now seemed so close as the clock edged closer to a Qajarese morning.
Thinking instead of how she could help him overcome whatever failings he thought he had and bond with his tiny sister.
Thinking that she cared because she wanted Atiyah to be happy.
She stretched her legs out and laid her head back in her deep, welcoming pillows. It was nothing to do with the ache she could feel in Rashid’s eyes. All she wanted was for Atiyah to be happy.
That was all.
CHAPTER NINE
THE SOFT SKY outside her windows was layered in pink and blue like cotton candy when Tora rose. Atiyah was gurgling and examining her hands and fingers when Tora peeked over the side of her cot.
‘Good morning, beautiful,’ she said, only to be rewarded by a big, gummy smile that made her heart sing. ‘Oh, you sweetheart,’ she said, lifting her up as Yousra appeared with a tray of coffee.
‘She’s awake?’ asked the girl.
‘Yes, and she’s smiling. Look,’ and Yousra came closer and tickled her tummy and the baby kicked her little legs and made a sound like a hiccup and both women laughed.
They played with her until it was almost time for Tora’s meeting with Rashid. There were preparations being made outside on the terrace—she could hear someone giving instructions as staff set a table for two. Breakfast on the terrace overlooking the pool? That should be pleasant enough, if only it didn’t remind her of what had happened on that terrace last night.
She closed her eyes as she twisted her hair into a bun and pinned it to her head, trying to keep her mind on how she was going to get Rashid and Atiyah together and not thinking about that kiss. She really would have to keep her distance, especially when the velvet shadows of the night stroked her soul and dimmed her logic. No more night-time wandering for her. No more assuming she was alone.
And definitely no more kissing. She touched a finger to her lips, wondering how a man who could be so hard and cold could feel so gentle and warm...
She shook her head to banish the thought. Oh, no. She wouldn’t go making that mistake again. If she hadn’t been holding Atiyah, she didn’t know how it might have ended.
Liar. She knew exactly how.
On her back.
Or in the shower.
No! She could not afford to think of that night in Sydney. That was in the past, when they had been nothing more than strangers in the night. Things were different now. She had a job to do and she would show him that he could not just click his fingers to get his way. If she achieved nothing else before she left, she would show him that he could love Atiyah.
She gave her hair and make-up a final check before adding a slick of neutral lip gloss. There, cool and professional on the outside at least, just the way she needed to be for this meeting. She wouldn’t let him rattle her today. Besides, she was too happy to be rattled. Because Atiyah had smiled.
* * *
Rashid was already seated at the table reading some papers when she approached. The sun was still low enough not to cause them any grief, but there was the promise of heat in the air. He glanced up disapprovingly. ‘Haven’t you got anything else to wear?’
Tora sighed as she sat down. If she’d thought that his opening up to her a little last night might have made his attitude towards her less adversarial, she was wrong. The walls between them were up again, not that she was about to let him spoil her good mood. ‘Good morning to you, too. I trust you slept well.’
He grunted as a waiter appeared, laying a napkin across her lap and fetching a dish with yoghurt and fruit before enquiring if she’d like tea or coffee. She smiled and asked for coffee, waiting for it to be poured while all the time she was aware of the man opposite simmering where he sat.
‘It’s a beautiful morning,’ she said, when the waiter had departed.
‘You can’t expect to wear—’ he nodded disdainfully in the direction of her clothes, ignoring what she’d said ‘—that every day.’
Tora looked down at her clothes, at her short-sleeved shirt and skirt, both fresh and, as far as she knew it, baby-spew free. ‘What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?’
‘Nothing, if you’ve got a thing about those boring shirts you probably call a uniform. For the record, I don’t.’
‘You’re wearing a shirt.’ Although, to be fair, it was one hell of a lot sexier than hers, the white cotton so fine she could see his skin tone and the darker circles of his areolae where the fabric skimmed his chest. Damn. She looked away and concentrated on her coffee.
‘Couldn’t you find something more appropriate?’
‘It’s a funny thing,’ she said with a smile, refusing to be pulled into Rashid’s dark cloud of a mood, ‘but, for some strange reason, I seem to have left all my resort wear at home. Go figure.’ She shrugged. ‘Besides I actually like my uniform. It’s comfortable, practical and it scares men away—well, it usually scares men away...present company excepted, of course.’ Her friend Sally had always joked that she’d worn her uniform as a form of self-defence against unwanted attention, and she wasn’t right exactly, but it generally didn’t bring Tora too much interest from the opposite sex. ‘Men aren’t supposed to like bookish-looking women. Come to think of it, did you miss that memo?’
He scowled. ‘What’s got you so cheerful?’
‘You mean aside from seeing you?’ she said, smirking as she sipped her coffee, savouring the heady aroma of the spiced brew, before she continued, ‘Red letter day. Atiyah smiled this morning. Maybe you should try taking a leaf out of her book some time.’
‘She smiled,’ he said, frowning a little. ‘Is that good?’
‘It’s better than good, it’s great. It’s the first smile I’ve seen her give. You want her to be happy, don’t you?’
‘Of course,’ he said, with as much conviction as if the concept had never occurred to him. And then he nodded and his eyes softened. ‘Of course, yes, I want her to be happy.’
‘There you go,’ she said, feeling that he was not the lost cause he made out and that he would overcome whatever was holding him back from embracing his new role. ‘I swear, you won’t be able to resist falling in love with her when she smiles at you. I wish I’d brought her now, so you could see for yourself.’
He looked at a loss for what to say next, as if once again he was in unfamiliar territory. ‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘you’re supposed to be the wife of the Emir. You can’t wear that every day—you’d look ridiculous. Kareem told me last night he’d organised an entire wardrobe of clothes for you.’
‘Oh.’ Is that what that was about? She’d opened the door to the walk-in wardrobe last night wondering where she could stash her suitcase and found it bursting at the seams with garments. Robes of silk and the finest cottons and in all the colours of the rainbow. And she’d shut the door again because they obviously weren’t hers and found another place to leave her case. She picked up her spoon to try her yoghurt.
Rashid glanced at his watch. ‘What did you want to talk to me about?’
Right. She put her spoon down again. Clearly this wasn’t a breakfast meeting where one actually expected to eat breakfast. In spite of her good mood, her heart g
ave a little trip at having to broach the subject again. But there was no point beating about the bush. She pulled a folded paper from her pocket. ‘Here are the bank details for you to transfer the funds.’
He took it, checking the details before his eyes flicked back to hers. ‘Not your account?’
‘It’s a trust account for a firm of solicitors.’ Matt’s solicitors, she thought, biting her lip. Damn. She really wanted nothing to do with Matt or his cronies, but it would just have to do for now.
‘A trust account?’ His eyebrows raised, he cast his eyes over her shirt again. ‘You know, you’re much more interesting that that uniform lets on. But then, we already knew that.’ He put the paper down on his others. ‘So, was there anything else?’
‘You’ll do it?’ she said, hardly believing it would be that simple after the grief he’d given her on the plane. ‘Today?’
His eyes narrowed, as if they were trying to find a way inside her to gain the answers he wanted, but still he said, ‘It will be done today. Was that all?’
‘Not quite,’ she said. ‘There is one more thing. I’d like Internet access. I see it’s password protected.’
‘You wish to Tweet that you’re now sheikha of Qajaran?’
She grimaced. ‘Hardly. I need to contact my work and let them know there’ll be a delay in me getting home so they can start reallocating assignments.’ And tell Sally the funds are on their way. But he didn’t need to know that.
‘I’ll have Kareem arrange it. Just be careful what you send from the palace.’
‘Of course, I will.’
‘Then,’ he said, collecting his papers as he rose to his feet, ‘if there’s nothing more, I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy your breakfast.’
* * *
Rashid had indigestion but it had nothing to do with what he’d eaten. He strode through the palace towards the library he’d chosen last night with Kareem for his office, his stomach complaining the entire way. Cursing Tora the entire way.