by Mary Lyons
‘We’re not here to discuss my figure,’ she snapped nervously. ‘And and why are we meeting in this building, anyway?’
'It would, of course, have been more convenient for us to have met in my suite at Claridges. However, since I wished to minimise the chances of your discovering my intentions,’ he added with a mocking grin, ‘I think that this place has served its purpose admirably.’
Had he flown over from Dhoman especially to see her? It seemed as though he was going to let her have a divorce, but if so, why had he gone to such trouble, when all he had to do was to send a letter of agreement to her solicitor? Stiff with tension, she glanced warily at him through her eyelashes as he stood up and looked slowly around the enormous room.
‘A charming building, is it not?’ he murmured blandly. ‘I have appointed one of my sheikhs to be the new Dhomani Ambassador, and he presents his credentials to the Court of St James next week. I think he will be very comfortable here, don’t you?’
Leonie gritted her teeth, shaking with suppressed anger and frustration at the underlying note of laughter in his voice. It was clear that Badyr was amusing himself at her expense, undoubtedly taking his revenge for her adamant refusal to meet him. As the ruling Sultan of Dhoman, and probably every bit as autocratic a dictator as his old father before him, the comfort of his Ambassador was likely to be a long way down his list of priorities!
Suddenly, Leonie decided that she had had enough of this confrontation. If he wanted to discuss their divorce, he could do it with her lawyer. The shock of seeing him again, especially the dramatic change in his appearance effected by the black eye-patch and the deep scar
running down his cheek, had initially unnerved her. However, she was beginning to recover her equilibrium. There was no reason on earth why she should have to stand here while Badyr played whatever cat-and-mouse game he had in mind.
‘I don’t wish to see you again, and I suggest that any further communications between us are dealt with by our respective solicitors,’ she said as firmly as she could, turning to walk over to the door.
‘Not so fast, my dear Leonie!’ He moved swiftly to catch hold of her arm. ‘J ust where do you think you are going, hmm?’
She glared up at the harsh, indomitable expression on Badyr’s face, conscious of her erratic heartbeat at his close proximity.
‘Take your hands off me!’ she snapped, trying to break free of his grip.
‘There was a time when you hungered for my touch,’ he murmured softly. ‘Or have you forgotten?’
‘I . . . I’ve forgotten everything,' she retorted quickly, inwardly cursing the husky, breathless note in her voice.
‘Really’?’ His lips curved into a sardonic smile. ‘Let us see, hmm?’
'No. . .!' She found herself jerked swiftly into his arms, her exclamation of horrified denial stilled as his mouth possessed hers in a hard, determined fashion. Struggling against the arms which tightened about her like bands of steel, frantically trying to push him away, she was aware of a treacherous warmth invading her limbs beneath the kiss that burned and demanded her submission.
Gradually and imperceptibly the cruel, ruthless pressure eased, his lips becoming warm and persuasive as they softly coaxed and teased away all resistance. Her pulse seemed to be racing out of control, her slim figure shaking with long-suppressed emotions and lost beneath a sudden tidal wave of desire; totally unable to prevent herself from passionately responding to the sensual, erotic mastery of his tongue as he savoured the inner sweetness of her mouth. With a low, husky moan, Leonie’s arms tightened about his neck, her fingers burying themselves convulsively in his thick black hair. The evocative, musky scent of his cologne filled her nostrils, a raging excitement seizing her body at the fierce possession of Badyr’s embrace and the evidence, in the hard muscled thighs pressed so closely to hers, of his own arousal.
Drowning in a pool of dark passion, she shivered as his mouth trailed slowly down the long column of her neck, to seek the scented hollows at the base of her throat. lt was some moments before her eyelids fluttered open, the light from the chandelier almost dazzling her. Through that blinding brilliance she saw Badyr looking down at her, his mouth twisted in a slight, ironic smile.
‘It would appear that you have not entirely forgotten everything, my dear Leonie, hmm?’
Leonie felt sick with self-disgust, a flush of deep crimson covering her face as she realised just how easily she had succumbed to Badyr’s embrace. He had always been able to arouse her, even when she had been a miserably unhappy prisoner of the harem in Dhoman. The physical attraction between them had been the strongest, most potent part of their relationship; a bond, it would seem, as yet unbroken by the separate lives they had led during the last five years.
She fought against acknowledging the fact. Furious with herself, and him, she quickly broke away from the loose grip of his encircling arms.
‘If you think that that kiss solved anything, or meant a thing to me, you are sadly mistaken!’ she ground out savagely.
Turning away from Badyr’s piercing gaze, she attempted to control her nervously shaking hands as she tucked her white silk blouse back inside the waistband of her navy blue skirt. God knows what her hair looked like, she thought helplessly, and she didn’t suppose she had a shred of make-up left on her face. But this was hardly the time or the place to worry about such unimportant details. She must . . . she simply must leave this house as quickly as she possibly could.
Ignoring her words, Badyr walked over to pull an embroidered bell-rope hanging down the side of a wall. ‘I suggest that we now leave. I have ordered dinner to be served in my suite at the hotel, where we can continue our--er--discussion in more comfortable surroundings.’
‘There is nothing to discuss—nothing that our two lawyers can’t sort out between them. I’m leaving now,’ she added firmly. ‘And there is no reason why we should have to meet ever again.'
‘I’m afraid, my dear Leonie, that it isn’t that simple. I have some personal matters that I wish to discuss with you, and if you adamantly refuse to join me for dinner, then I will simply have to accompany you to your home?
‘No . . .!'
'Why not? I would be interested to see your house.’ He smiled lazily at the girl who was staring at him in consternation. ‘You are living with your mother, I understand.'
‘It...er...it wouldn’t be...er...at all convenient for you to call at my home,’ she muttered quickly. She could feel beads of perspiration breaking out on her forehead at the thought of his finding out about Jade.
‘What a pity. I have many fond memories of your charming mother, and would have enjoyed meeting her again.'
‘No...well, I’m afraid that she...she’s in bad health at the moment,’ Leonie improvised swiftly. ‘She’s. . . er . . . she’s had the flu, and . . . um . . . still hasn’t recovered.'
‘Really’? Then I must surely pray for her swift recovery.’
Leonie’s head jerked up at the deep, sardonic note of amusement in his voice. It might be her imagination, but for a moment it had seemed as if his shoulders had been shaking with inner laughter. The damn man! He might not realise it, but he had somehow managed to completely outmanoeuvre her. If she didn’t go and have dinner with him, he was quite capable of turning up at her home, despite any excuse she might be able to think of.
As she hesitated, desperately trying to think of a way out of her dilemma, there was a knock on the door and Sheikh Samir entered the room.
'The chauffeur awaits your pleasure, Majesty,' he murmured, being careful not to look in her direction as he bowed deeply to Badyr.
‘Well, Leonie,’ Badyr purred dangerously. ‘Which is it to be? Dinner at my hotel, or do I instruct the chauffeur to take us both back to your house, hmm?’
Locking the door of the palatial bathroom firmly behind her, Leonie gave a heavy sigh as she slipped off the jacket of her navy blue suit, and went over to sit down on a stool in front of the marble-topped dressing-table.
and then her daughter, that she couldn’t possibly allow him to discover the truth.
Resting her chin in the palms of her hands, she stared gloomily into the mirror. What a mess! And she looked a mess too, she told herself, glumly taking out the tortoiseshell combs which held her hair in place on top of her head. Shaking the thick mass of curly red-gold hair free, she opened her purse, relieved to see that it held her brush and comb as well as her make-up bag. Leonie’s lips twisted in a wry, ironic smile as she looked around at the pale beige marble walls, the gold taps and what seemed an enormous collection of brilliantly lit mirrors reflecting every inch of the huge, luxurious bathroom. What it was to be the reigning Sultan of an oil-rich, desert state! Not that she wanted any part of it. She had experienced life locked inside a gilded cage, and she knew only too well that wealth, position and privilege meant nothing without freedom. During her incarceration in Dhoman, she had learnt for the first time just what a precious commodity freedom was--something she hadn’t realised until it had been taken away.
Leonie took a deep breath and attempted to pull herself together. There was no point in being so gloomy and introspective about her past life. That was now well behind her, thank goodness, and after she and Badyr had raked over the cold ashes of their marriage tonight, she would be free of Dhoman and all it stood for.
Drawing a brush through the heavy thickness of her curly hair, she noticed for the first time the delicately engraved, jewelled flask placed beneath the dressing-table mirror. Putting out a hand to admire the craftsmanship of the object designed in the shape of a khanjar, the curved ceremonial dagger worn by Dhomani men, her eyes widened as she realised it was made from solid gold. Removing the stopper and inhaling the rich aroma of frankincense, sandalwood, musk and other spices, Leonie instantly recognised the scent of Amouage, the mind-bogglingly expensive cologne used by Badyr.
Suddenly, all the conflicting emotions she had felt in his arms earlier that evening rose up to torment her. There seemed little she could do to banish the throbbing, sick excitement in the pit of her stomach as she remembered the way he had crushed her so tightly against his hard chest. The sensual touch of his lips and . . . With a soft moan, Leonie leapt to her feet and rushed over to splash her face with cold water, roughly towelling it dry as she tried to expunge the visions from her mind.
It had just been an unfortunate accident, that was all, she assured herself hurriedly. It would never, ever, happen again--of course it wouldn’t! Badyr had only been proving to his own satisfaction, if not hers, that he was still an attractive man. A fact which, despite that patch and scar on his face, she was quite prepared to admit. But so what? Her lingers trembled as she swept up her hair and jabbed the combs into her scalp. She couldn’t care less whom he kissed or made love to--just as long as it wasn’t her--right? The word ‘wrong’ seemed to be hovering at the back of her mind, but she ruthlessly crushed such a nonsensical thought and quickly finished making up her face.
Giving herself a swift appraisal in the mirror, she was satisfied that the severe cut of her navy blue suit, and the v-necked white silk blouse, looked businesslike and efficient. The perfect outfit in which to discuss a divorce, she told herself, briskly walking over to unlock the door.
Unfortunately, it didn’t seem as if Badyr took quite the same view. ‘You look ravishing, as always!’ he murmured, handing her a glass of champagne as she entered the large sitting-room.
‘Aren’t you going to have a drink?’ she asked nervously, ignoring his compliment and warily noting the warm, intimate atmosphere conveyed by the deep piled carpet and the discreet lighting.
‘In my present position, I feel that I must set a good example and follow the precepts laid down by my religion,’ he said with a wry smile.
‘If you are such a good Moslem,’ Leonie said, swiftly tossing the Dutch courage down her throat, ‘why don’t you just say, "I divorce you" three times, and fly home to Dhoman? Our lawyers can deal with any paperwork, and then we’ll both be happy.
‘No, I would not be happy, Leonie. That is not what I want,’ he said.
‘Okay,’ she sighed. ‘What DO you want? What are you doing over here in London? And why, when our marriage is dead and buried, should I have been practically blackmailed into coming to this hotel?’
‘Why do you not sit down and make yourself comfortable?' He waved towards one of the several deep-seated sofas that decorated the room.
‘I prefer to stand,' she retorted mutinously.
Badyr shrugged, walking slowly over to seat himself in a wide leather armchair. ‘You have asked me why I am here, in London,’ he said softly, brushing an invisible speck of dust off his sleeve. ‘It is really very simple, my dear Leonie. Don’t you think that it is time that my daughter and I became acquainted with each other, hmm?’
Leonie gasped in horror, the breath driven from her lungs as if she had received a hard blow to the solar plexus. ‘Your . . . your d-daughter?’ she whispered, the blood draining from her face.
‘Sit down,’ he commanded sharply as she swayed with shock. ‘Did you really think that you could keep it a secret from me?’ he added quietly as her legs gave way and she sank down into a chair. ‘I may have been under house arrest at the time, but I can assure you that I was well aware of what was happening in the rest of the country,’ he said drily. ‘I imagine that I knew of your pregnancy almost as soon as you did.’
‘But . . . but why did you never get in touch with me? I never had a word from you, not from the moment you were arrested and taken away!’ she protested.
‘I couldn’t risk it. You must remember how it was, Leonie. My father was firmly in the grip of senile dementia, and if he had found out about your pregnancy none of us would have been safe.’
‘But surely . . .’
‘I am speaking the truth, believe me,’ Badyr assured her. ‘He would have kept you under close supervision and then, if you had produced a son, my life wouldn’t have been worth a damn! I had no idea what would happen to you, either. Which was why I had to arrange your immediate departure from Dhoman. At least there are proper hospitals in the West,’ he added bitterly. ‘As you know, the only medical care in the country at that time was the small surgery run by some Americans.’
‘I--I had no idea that it was you who arranged my escape,' Leonie lay back in her chair, resting her head against the cushions. Her brain felt as if it had been battered into insensibility, totally stunned by the shocks she had sustained that day. ‘But after the coup--after your father was deposed--why didn’t you get in touch with me then?’
Badyr sighed. ‘One of the main reasons for the coup was to take the reins of the country into my own hands. Ignored by my father, the Marxist rebels had already gained control of the western part of Dhoman, and were being heavily supplied with men and weapons from both Russia and China. My agents told me that you had reverted to your maiden name, and I decided that you and the child would be safest if there was no contact between us. If certain "friends" of the rebels had known of your existence, there was a very real possibility of your both being kidnapped. I had no intention of submitting to that sort of blackmail,’ he added grimly.
‘The plain fact, my dear Leonie, is that for the last four years I have been fully occupied. Every ounce of my time and energy has been spent trying to drag my country away from its medieval condition, and into the twentieth century. Moreover, as Commander in Chief of the forces under my command, I had a nasty, brutal war to fight. I could not, therefore, afford to be distracted by the soft charms of either my wife or my daughter!’
He paused, the seconds slipping by as he regarded the trembling figure of the beautiful girl seated across the room. Her wide, sapphire-blue eyes stared blank
ly back at him from a face which seemed to be drained of all colour
.
Leonie shifted uneasily under the intensity of his gaze, her head throbbing as she tried to grapple with the fact that Badyr had always known about Jade. No matter how hard she tried, Leonie couldn’t seem to think constructively. Her mind seemed to have become numb, her brain an empty void.
Badyr rose and went over to lean against the marble fireplace. ‘Now that I have at last defeated the rebels--thanks mainly to the British troops kindly lent to me by the British Government--Dhoman is now at peace.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Of course, there is still a lifetime of work to be done in the country, building roads, hospitals and schools for instance, but I can at last afford to sit back and relax somewhat.’
‘Is that how you came by the . . . er . . . scar? In the war, I mean,’ she muttered.
He gave a wry laugh. ‘Alas, nothing so heroic! Having decided that my father really must be deposed, for the sake of Dhoman if not for anything else, I and my supporters arranged for a bloodless coup to take place. It was, of course, up to me to tell my father that his days as a ruler were over--not one of the most pleasant duties I have had to perform!’ He came over to pour her another glass of champagne.