by Mary Lyons
‘Oh, yes, you have, and I am quite confident that you will perform the services I require, to perfection.’ He gave a low husky laugh as he closed their bedroom door. ‘Just as certain as I am that you will perfectly perform the . . . er . . . service I require—tonight!’
And that had been that! Leonie thought with a wry smile as a clock chimed in the distance, reminding her that she must get changed if she was to be ready on time for tonight’s official banquet.
Walking through into the bedroom, she noted the shimmering white silk chiffon dress which Hussa had placed out ready for her to wear, its dramatic simplicity a perfect foil for the diamond tiara and matching necklace, glowing brilliantly in the velvet-lined casket set on an adjacent table. Leonie had long ceased to wonder why Badyr had bought up half of Bond Street
, after she had set eyes on the fantastic clothes worn by most of the Arab women in Dhoman. Maryam and Badyr’s half-sisters, Nadia and Sara, for instance, seemed to think nothing of having couture dresses flown over from Paris for special occasions, such as a wedding or a reception and banquet like that planned for tonight.
Slowly undressing, she frowned as she tried to think what to do about her relationship with Maryam, who had changed out of all recognition from the amusing child who had brightened Leonie’s days in the grim old fortress. Now nineteen, Maryam had been oddly constrained on meeting her old friend again, and nothing Leonie could do seemed to be able to bridge the apparent gulf between them. It was obvious that Sheikh Samir was very attracted to Maryam--a feeling that was clearly reciprocated by the tall, slender girl--but that was surely no reason for her to be so awkward and nervous with her brother’s wife?
Aside from wishing to resume her old companionship with Maryam, Leonie had been reluctant to have anything to do with Sultana Zenobia. However, she had eventually agreed to Badyr’s request that she should pay a courtesy call on his mother. It hadn’t, in fact, been quite as bad as she had feared, the older woman greeting her with far more cordiality than she had ever shown in the past, and clearly very taken with Jade.
‘I do not blame you for hiding your pregnancy from me,’ she had said with a bleak, wintry smile. ‘We must all do what we think best for our children, something that you must realise by now, I think?’ she added, the only time she had referred to the reason behind Leonie’s forced return to Dhoman. ‘I do hope, however, that you will permit your little daughter to visit me from time to time?’
Leonie had agreed, and Jade always seemed to have enjoyed herself when she returned from having tea with her formidable grandmother.
Sultana Fatima, on the other hand, was a complete contrast. Fatter than ever, she was clearly every bit as warm and jolly as she had always been. She would need all her good humour to put up with her daughter, Nadia, Leonie thought grimly. Now aged twenty-one, Nadia was a spoilt, selfish and discontented girl who was violently jealous of her younger sister, Sara.
It wasn’t surprising that no one wanted to marry the shrewish Nadia, whereas Sara, a sweet girl with a soft, gentle personality, had been married for three years to Sheikh Hassan, the older of Badyr’s two uncles. The elderly man, imprisoned by the old Sultan for protesting at Badyr’s captivity, had been a widower with a young daughter at the time he had married Sara. They appeared to be very happy together with their young son, Ali, who was aged two and the present heir to Badyr’s throne.
Leaving aside Hassan’s daughter by his first wife, about whom Leonie knew nothing, the only other member of the family was Badyr’s younger uncle, Feisal, whose whole life revolved around his precious Arab horses. He and Jade had taken to each other from the start—so much so that the little girl now practically lived in the stables!
Still thinking about Jade, Leonie went through into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Her daughter’s — obvious happiness in her new life, with a father she adored and her present love affair with her pony and her uncle Feisal, was ample proof that whatever her own problems, Leonie had chosen the right course of action. Not that Badyr had given her any real choice, of course, but she was glad--if only for Jade’s sake--that she hadn’t been tempted to run away from what she now saw to be her inevitable return to Dhoman.
The cool sting of the water was invigorating after the heat of the day, which had been spent wrestling with problems at one of the new textile mills. It was obviously going to take her a long time to put all Badyr’s ideas into action, but already considerable progress had been made, especially with the Iranian exiles. They had been overjoyed to learn that their trade and ancient skills were valued in Dhoman, and several village workshops were in the course of construction.
Stepping out of the shower and towelling herself dry, she caught occasional glimpses of her pale body in the mirrored walls of the bathroom. Even her self-critical eyes couldn’t help but notice the rich, silky sheen of her soft flesh, and the sparkling brilliance in her sapphire-blue eyes. There was no doubt that she had never looked better or more radiant in her life.
lf she had initially hoped that Badyr’s raging desire for her body would fade as the days went by, she soon found that she was doomed to disappointment. No matter how hard she had tried, no amount of firm resolution or downright refusal had any effect. Night after night there had been no reprieve, no respite from his passionate lovemaking.
At first, of course, she had fought him wildly, pummelling his broad shoulders with her clenched fists and kicking any part of his body that she could manage to reach. None of which had done her any good at all! The only response to her defiance had been his low growls of sardonic amusement and a contemptuous disregard of her violent, struggling figure as his hands and mouth had worked their devilish magic. How swiftly, how easily he had been able to turn the protesting body in his arms into that of a pliant, willing slave, moaning helplessly beneath his erotic, sensual touch and eagerly crying out for his possession. Again and again he had demonstrated his power over her, and after the first few nights, Leonie had been forced to ask herself who she was fighting . . . Badyr or her own emotions? That question now, of course, seemed merely an academic exercise. There was no point in continually asking herself how she could respond so ardently to Badyr--a man who had not only treated her shamefully, but had also blackmailed her into returning to Dhoman. The shocking truth was . . . she no longer cared!
It had taken her a long time, but she could now acknowledge the fact that, despite all that had happened, she had never stopped loving the man she had first met when she was only eighteen. She still didn’t understand how Badyr could have virtually deserted her for so many years. Perhaps she never would. However, everything in the past now seemed somehow irrelevant, when set beside the deep feelings she had for the only man she had ever loved. It wasn’t just the physical side of their relationship, the driving need to possess each other which seemed to increase in intensity with each passing day. Working together for the good of the country, she and Badyr had forged new bonds of warmth and friendship. She admired his selfless devotion to his people, his care and concern that they should have a better life. She was also irresistibly drawn to the inner kindness beneath the hard, forceful and ruthless personality with which he faced the world. She loved him with all her heart--for his faults as well as his virtues--and that was the beginning and end of it as far as her own emotions were concerned.
But what about Badyr? He was more than frank about his physical need for her, a fact clearly demonstrated by the nights they spent locked in each other’s arms. But he had been ominously silent about his deeper feelings. When Badyr had assured her mother that he had always loved her . . . had he could he have been speaking the truth? Leonie sighed. She must be realistic. As much as she wanted to, it would be folly to forget the long years of silence after she had left Dhoman, foolish to ignore the fact that she was only here because she had refused to leave her daughter. And yet . . .
Her heart heavy with longing for what could never be, Leonie leant weakly against the cool mirrored surface
of the wall for a moment, before slipping into a silk dressing-gown and trailing slowly back into the bedroom. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that it was a few seconds before she realised she wasn’t alone. Badyr, who had been standing by the windows, turned at her entry, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement as he removed his black patch and tossed it aside.
‘I have just been having a long talk with Jade. I have told her that she must be a good girl while we are away for a few days.’
Leonie looked at him with startled eyes. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’
‘I have decided to visit my summer palace in the south of the country. We won’t be away for very long, and Jade will be perfectly happy with Miss Jackson and my uncle Feisal.’
‘But I can’t possibly leave at the moment. The new textile mill is having real difficulties, and . . .’
‘While I am full of admiration for all you have done over the past month, it is useless for you to argue with me. We are going to have a break for a few days--and that is the end of the matter,' he said bluntly.
Leonie sighed heavily. It was futile to try and oppose him once he had made up his mind, but she could hardly bear to think about the problems she would have to face when they returned. Despite all the help given to her by Badyr and his Minister of Development, the new manager of the mill--like every other Arab man with whom she dealt--did not take kindly to being given orders by a woman.
‘Jade didn’t take the news of our departure very well, either,’ Badyr laughed. ‘I now know the meaning of perpetual energy--it is undoubtedly her tongue!’
‘I did warn you,’ she muttered, going over to her chest of drawers to select some frothy silk underwear.
‘So you did,’ he agreed, swiftly undoing his wide gold belt and stepping out of the loose robes he habitually wore when in Dhoman. Crossing the marble floor towards Leonie, who was standing with her back to him, he slowly ran a finger down her spine. ‘I can also remember you saying that you would never--ever--willingly submit to me, hmm?’
It was as if she was paralysed, unable to move or speak as he gently brushed aside the long length of her curly hair, softly pressing his lips to her neck. An icy shiver feathered down her backbone and she was powerless to resist the hands that moved to untie her belt, slowly edging the silk gown from off her shoulders to let it fall in a pool at her feet as he turned and drew her trembling, naked figure to rest against his hard body.
‘Well, Leonie?’ he murmured thickly, not waiting for an answer as he lowered his dark head to lightly brush her lips with his mouth, the kiss filling her senses with such an aching sweetness that her lips quivered and parted, a soft moan breaking from her throat as her arms crept slowly up to encircle his neck.
He slowly withdrew his mouth, gazing down into the blue eyes cloudy with desire, before giving a low laugh and sweeping her up into his arms to carry her with effortless ease towards the bed.
‘No, Badyr, we can’t . . .!’ she gasped as he intimately caressed her trembling body.
‘Oh, yes we can, my beloved,' he breathed huskily, his mouth causing havoc with her senses as it captured first one rosy peak of her breasts and then another.
‘But the reception and banquet, and the guests?’
‘Without my presence there can be no reception or banquet. So, our guests will just have to await my pleasure, hmm? And since, darling one, my pleasure is to be found here with you at this moment--in the possession of your delicious, quite irresistible body--there is no more to be said!’
They were indeed late, arriving at the reception a good half-hour after all the guests had assembled. Badyr blandly proffered his apologies without bothering to give an adequate excuse, but Leonie suspected that anyone looking at her flushed face and heightened colouring would be in no doubt as to exactly what had delayed them. And after receiving a beaming smile from the charming French Ambassador, she was certain of the fact!
She was still feeling embarrassed about the episode, and unhappy about leaving Jade, when she returned later with Badyr to their palace.
‘Save your breath!’ he said, with an infuriating, mocking smile as he stood aside to allow her to stalk ahead into their bedroom. ‘I have not forgotten that it took me two whole weeks to persuade you to leave London! That was a quite exhausting experience which I certainly have no intention of repeating. Now, let us hear no more of the matter. It is time we were in bed and asleep.’
‘The day you get into bed and go straight off to sleep, will be the day I drop dead with shock!’ she snapped.
‘Ah, my poor darling, I cannot face the responsibility of causing you such a sad end,’ he laughed, walking over to take her into his arms. ‘I can see that I must make the ultimate sacrifice, and save you from that terrible fate, hmm?’ he added, removing her tiara and casually tossing the priceless diamonds into a nearby chair.
'Oh, you're impossible!'’She glared at him, her heart beginning to thud as she glimpsed the naked desire in the dark eyes gleaming down at her. ‘ "The ultimate sacrifice"--indeed! You’ve got a nerve!’ she muttered huskily as he plucked out the combs from her hair, trying not to respond to his warm, sensual smile. ‘You know what you are, don’t you? You’re . . . you’re absolutely and utterly . . . incorrigible!’ she gasped, weakly surrendering to the demanding arousal of the mouth that descended to possess her trembling lips.
Leonie sat out on the wide terrace of the Summer Palace, gazing out over the rolling waves of the greeny-blue sea to the wide, empty horizon where the Arabian Sea mingled with the waters of the Indian Ocean. The sun was just setting, the fiery glow turning the long sandy beach into a ribbon of deep, rich amber as it wound its way through the palm trees in the coconut groves along the shore-line.
She had been astounded to find that instead of the vast, sandy desert of her imagination, the province of Mazun was an entrancing surprise. Covering an area about the size of Wales, high mountain ranges formed a half-circle to enclose a green crescent-shaped, fertile plain bordered by long miles of sandy beaches that would make most Caribbean islanders weep with envy. Badyr had explained that by some strange quirk of’ climate, monsoons just touched this comer of Arabia, lasting from June to September every year.
‘The bad news is that during the monsoon, the coast is covered in cloud and fog. It never seems to stop raining, and much of the province becomes a muddy, cold, insect-ridden land of dark, murky gloom!’
His lips curved into a broad smile. ‘However, the good news, my dear Leonie,’ he continued, ‘is that for the rest of the year, Mazun is warm, green and overflowing with semi-tropical vegetation. Rivers flow through fields of wheat, sugar cane and cotton; mountain streams gurgle their way past groves of coconut palms; the sea is blue, the beaches are golden and it is for me--and I hope for you, also--a land of milk and honey!’
From what she had seen of the province during the drive from the airport yesterday, Leonie could easily understand why Badyr had spoken so poetically about this particular area of Dhoman. The green fields had seemed to be full of abundant crops and the meadows filled with flowers and herds of fat browsing cattle.
Standing amidst lush gardens and directly on the seashore, the Summer Palace was a long turreted building, surrounded by and hidden behind high walls. Inside the building, which had been built by Badyr’s great-grandfather, Sultan Karim, in the late eighteen-seventies, a maze of inter-connecting courtyards and alley-ways led to rooms of differing architectural styles.
‘This really is a lovely place,’ she said, smiling up at Badyr as he joined her on the terrace, followed by servants bringing coffee and flickering lamps that glowed in the gathering dusk. ‘Has it been in your family for a long time?’
‘Every Sultan since Karim’s time has fallen in love with the province and this palace,’ Badyr said. ‘And every one of them has added a room here, or a complete wing there. I was born here, and one way and another I seem to have spent a considerable amount of time in this building.’ His lips twisted into a g
rim smile.
‘Was this where . . .’?’
‘Yes,’ he answered her hesitant enquiry. ‘This is where my father had me confined after my arrest. It seems very pleasant, doesn’t it? But I can assure you that after experiencing two monsoons during my incarceration here, if I hadn’t managed to escape, I would have undoubtedly shot myself from sheer gloom and depression!’
Although he had spoken the words lightly, the bleak underlying tone in his voice was unmistakable. There was a long pause as he leaned back in his chair staring blindly out into space.
‘I have very ambivalent feelings about this lovely place,’ he said at last. ‘Maybe that is natural, since no one would willingly choose to return to their old jail. Redecorating and refurbishing the rooms has helped, of course, but nevertheless . . .’ He sighed deeply and fell silent, only the sounds of the sea lapping against the sand disturbing the still night air.
Leonie sat quietly, hardly daring to move in case she disturbed his train of thought. For so long she had wondered what had happened to Badyr after his arrest, and now, at last, it seemed that he might be going to fill in some of the missing pieces of the jigsaw puzzle.