Master of the Desert

by Susan Stephens

  He looked at her with suspicion, wondering what this new, conciliatory tone heralded.

  ‘But since the pirate attack,’ she continued earnestly, ‘my priorities have changed.’

  His suspicions, already roused, grew. ‘That’s old news, Antonia. What’s really on your mind?’ He knew the answer to that question the moment Antonia’s hands flashed across her stomach to protect it. Antonia was pregnant? ‘Are you pregnant?’ he asked her quietly.

  ‘And what if I am?’ she said defensively.

  ‘Are you pregnant with my baby?’

  ‘Do you really think there’s any doubt?’

  ‘How do I know?’ Antonia’s continued defiance in the face of such momentous news drove him to explode. ‘For all I know, you’re like your mother in that respect too.’

  If he’d thought the girl on his yacht a virago, this girl was a demon possessed. She launched herself at him. He captured her, holding her firmly in front of him. ‘Think of the baby—if you can!’ He was instantly aware of how it felt to hold Antonia, and was immediately remorseful for taking out his shock on the mother of his child. He let her go and stood back as she cried, ‘There have been no other men, Ra’id—how could there be?’

  This impassioned outburst revealed more than she wanted to say. ‘Enough,’ he told her softly. ‘Do you want to upset yourself and the baby?’

  ‘Upset?’ Hugging herself, she turned away. ‘Do you care about me now?’ she demanded with disbelief.

  If only she knew. He’d always known that one day he would face this dilemma: love or duty. But to him, with his father’s history to draw on, there was no choice to be made. ‘Of course I care about the child you carry. I have seen more grief than I care to think about brought down on a child thanks to the selfishness of its parents.’

  ‘Don’t tar me with that brush, Ra’id,’ she warned him.

  But as she confronted Ra’id Antonia knew that this was not one of her wild, romantic fantasies but a very dangerous situation. She had brought her unborn child into a desert kingdom where that child’s father reigned supreme, and where its mother had no voice, no rights. She doubted Ra’id would let her go now he knew she was carrying his royal baby. What irony, Antonia thought as she stared up at the citadel’s forbidding walls. She really was following in her mother’s footsteps now. Would Ra’id make her a prisoner here like her mother before her? The loss of her freedom was a nightmare beyond imagining, and the very last thing she wanted for her child—but would Ra’id, a man driven so relentlessly by duty, respect that?

  Ra’id would always do what was right, she concluded, but it didn’t reassure her to know that he had accomplished many good things in Sinnebar without once involving his feelings. Plus, he had lashed out verbally at both their parents, whom Ra’id considered had failed his stringent test. With all his wealth and privilege, would Ra’id be so very different when it came to bringing up a child? For him, duty always came first. The only certainty, Antonia decided, was that she would never agree to be parted from her child, and neither duty nor self-interest would change that.

  ‘You’re going to live here?’ The effects of pregnancy were more telling than he had realised, Ra’id concluded as Antonia stated her intention. ‘Firstly, the place isn’t habitable, and secondly, you would need my permission.’

  ‘I can’t do this without your help, Ra’id.’

  ‘I’m well aware of that. But first I would have to agree to you remaining in the country.’

  ‘Don’t you want to keep your child in Sinnebar?’ It was a passionate outburst in a last-ditch attempt to touch him. It was also the biggest risk she had ever taken in her life.

  ‘I have a country to consider.’ And now a pregnant mistress, Ra’id acknowledged tensely.

  ‘And I would be superfluous to your plans?’ Antonia suggested with biting accuracy. ‘If you think for one moment you’re going to part me from my child…’

  He only had to picture Antonia staying in Sinnebar to know he still wanted her. And only had to think of his child to know he wouldn’t let her go. But she represented everything he had pledged to avoid. The irony wasn’t lost on him. Having shunned his late father’s self-indulgent lifestyle, it now appeared that he was following his father’s lead to the letter. Was he to lose everything he had fought for? Was the country he loved to be plunged back into chaos? Could he hide Antonia away as his father had hidden her mother? Just the thought of it disgusted him.

  Would he pay her off when the child was born…?

  Antonia might shun money now, but didn’t they say everyone had their price? ‘I won’t part you from your child; I’ll help you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Her face softened and hope returned to her eyes.

  ‘If only to ensure you do a proper job at the citadel.’ His tone was brusque and businesslike as he struggled to remain immune to the Antonia effect.

  ‘Oh, I will,’ she assured him, her face transformed by happiness and wreathed in smiles. ‘You have no idea how hard I’ll work.’

  ‘Not at the risk of your pregnancy,’ he commanded.

  ‘Of course not. I’ll be sensible,’ she promised him fervently.

  ‘No more wild adventures.’

  Only with you, flashed briefly across her eyes. ‘None. I promise,’ she said. And then she flung herself at him, hugging his unresponsive body, exclaiming, ‘Thank you, thank you!’

  There was such rapture on her face, and such vulnerability in her expression, while his mind was full of the fact that he was going to become a father—the very best of fathers—and he would be ruthless in achieving that end.

  Thanks to the narrow windows it was surprisingly cool inside the many rooms, and far less threatening than Antonia had originally thought. In fact, now she was inside the citadel, it seemed to welcome her, though there would have to be some fairly major changes. During the renovations she would ask the architects to find a way to bring in more light and make the place seem more welcoming.

  If only Ra’id could welcome her, Antonia thought wistfully as he accompanied her on the tour. But, of course, Ra’id was only doing this because she was expecting his baby. He probably wouldn’t let her out of his sight now—but not for the reasons she had hoped. He might be walking at her side, but she was on her own—as her mother had been before her. Antonia was looking for a very different resolution. Her mother had wanted to escape, while Antonia was determined to stay. She wanted to bloom where she was planted and make a go of things here.

  They had looked inside many rooms, but when Ra’id stopped outside a particular door she got the strangest feeling. ‘This is my mother’s room, isn’t it?’ she said, not really needing Ra’id to confirm that it was.

  He said nothing as he opened the door onto what, at first sight, appeared to be yet another soulless, dusty room.

  Antonia was determined to keep her emotions in check this time, but there wasn’t a part of her that wasn’t aware of Ra’id or a fragment of her heart that didn’t yearn to have him close to her again. She missed the easy camaraderie they’d come to share on the island, when it had been just a girl called Tuesday and a man called Saif. But now there was a king and a girl who was nobody, except for the fact that she was expecting the king’s child. She had value as the incubator of Ra’id’s child, Antonia acknowledged, but equally she was a liability to him.

  So she must plan for the future.

  She stared around walls that seemed to beg her to linger so she could see the possibilities. ‘I’d need some form of transport to get in and out of town,’ she murmured out loud, thinking of all the shopping she would have to do to turn this place into a home.

  He stared at her long and hard, and then he said briskly, ‘A four-wheel drive should suffice. It isn’t far to the city—and, of course, you’ll have a full complement of staff. You can have a driver and a helicopter at your disposal, if you think that’s necessary. I’m sure we can come to an accommodation that suits both of us equally.’

  ‘
An accommodation?’ That sounded like a cold, soulless thing. And, as for suiting them both equally, she doubted Ra’id knew much about equality, and cared to learn about it even less. ‘Will I be free to use the resources on my land?’ She was thinking local wildlife, the flora and fauna, when Ra’id’s expression darkened.

  ‘Do you imagine you’re going to find oil here?’ he demanded.

  ‘No, of course not, but I was hoping you might allow a number of specialists to advise me on the best way to showcase local wildlife and crafts.’

  ‘I could make some enquiries when I return to the capital,’ he conceded.

  ‘When you return?’ Antonia’s courage dwindled to nothing, but then she firmed her resolve. Ra’id had never pretended they would be living anything other than separate lives; it was up to her to get used to it.

  ‘I’ll leave you to take a look around in private,’ he said.

  ‘No. Please stay.’

  ‘As you wish. I’ll open the shutters for you.’

  As he did so the light streamed in, and she noticed something glinting so softly she almost missed it. Lying forgotten in the dust, a tiny necklace sparkled in the light. She scooped it up and slipped it into her pocket. It was a diamond-studded heart on a broken chain, and carried enough vibrations for her to know that it must have landed on the floor when someone had snatched it from their neck as they ran out of the room.

  Her mother, maybe—tearing off the necklace before she’d left the citadel for good?

  Ra’id remained silent in the background as she walked slowly round the room. It was impossible not to notice the many photographs, poignant reminders of a small boy with dark, curly hair and bronzed skin—a boy who looked a lot like Ra’id. ‘So, this is my brother,’ Antonia murmured, lifting up one of the frames to study the image more closely before carefully putting the frame back in its place.

  ‘This room hasn’t been touched since your mother left—in a hurry, I’m told.’

  And who could blame her? Antonia thought, shivering as she remembered the tiny heart on its broken chain currently residing in her pocket. ‘It seems unfair that anyone would accuse Helena of deserting her little boy.’

  ‘What would you call it?’ Ra’id demanded from his very different perspective. ‘When she was heard crying out that Razi was the worst mistake she had ever made?’

  ‘I would call this imprisonment,’ Antonia said, gazing at the heavy door with its prominent lock and bolt. ‘Maybe my mother was no longer attractive to your father once she’d had a baby—I don’t know the reason. She was frightened and very young. But I do know Helena must have been distraught, losing her child, and she wouldn’t have kept all these photographs around her if she hadn’t loved her son.’ Antonia’s hand flew to her mouth as she stared around what to her seemed little better than a prison cell. ‘I’m not surprised Helena seized the opportunity to escape.’

  ‘And yet you want to live here?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be living here under duress.’

  And she was a very different woman from her mother, Antonia realised, knowing all the fripperies of life she had previously thought so important to her had only left her hungry for real-life experience, like an unrelieved diet of canapés when what she longed for was steak and chips. ‘And any time I want to leave, I’ll just have to jump in the car…’ The words froze on her lips as Ra’id stared at her, and somewhere deep inside her heart she felt a stab of panic.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  HE LEFT her tidying her mother’s room. He couldn’t bring himself to stand over her, and any thought of gloating as Antonia viewed the sad trivia of a life given over to pleasure had vanished. Whether he cared to accept it or not, Antonia had made him see things differently. Helena had been a victim, and a very young victim at that, with no means of helping herself. He could see that now, and his father should have seen it years back, but it was too late to revisit the past and change the mistakes that had been made. Instead, he chose to do something about the present, which in this case meant getting down and dirty with the plumbing to see if it was possible to bring water here.

  It would take major restoration work, he concluded, but it could be done. He found he was pleased about that as he closed the door on the ancient boiler-room and walked up the steps into the light. He was just brushing off his hands when he spotted Antonia heaving a sack out of the building. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he said, racing across the courtyard to lift it out of her hands.

  She squinted her eyes against the sun in order to stare up at him. ‘Collecting things for the thrift shop. You do have them in Sinnebar?’

  ‘Yes, we do.’ He gave himself a moment to rejig his air of command into something more accommodating for the mother of his child—a woman so determined to go ahead with her plan it wouldn’t have surprised him to see Antonia with a spade, digging a trench to change the water course by herself, if she had to.

  ‘You collect and I’ll carry the bag for you,’ he suggested, wishing he could remain immune to the fact that Antonia had obviously been crying. She’d put on a brave face for him while they had been in her mother’s room, but the moment he had left it, she must have broken down. ‘We’ll stack them in here,’ he said briskly, trying to harden his heart to her and failing miserably. ‘I’ll have everything collected and cleaned, and then distributed to the appropriate agencies.’

  ‘So you do have a heart, Ra’id,’ she said.

  ‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ he said dryly, but he was relieved that Antonia was recovering. This visit couldn’t have been easy for her, mentally strong as she was. So much for his determination not to get drawn in! He almost convinced himself that today was different, and that today he had no alternative other than to help her out; having agreed to help Antonia make the place habitable, he would delegate the work to the most appropriate team of experts the moment he returned to the capital, and at that time he would distance himself from her. ‘Now, I think you should rest.’ He was concerned for her, and worried that her enthusiasm for the project would make her forget that she needed to look after herself now.

  ‘Rest? Rest where?’ she said, gazing anxiously around the derelict ruin she had inherited.

  Following her gaze, he felt her uncertainty, and her sense that the enormity of the task she had taken on might just be too much for her in her present condition.

  Feeling nothing when she stared at him trustingly was a battle fought and quickly lost. ‘I’m going to take you somewhere to rest up where you can bathe in fresh, clean water.’

  ‘The water you’ll be bringing here,’ she said quickly, as if he might be allowed to forget.

  ‘That’s right,’ he said, admitting to rueful admiration as he went to fetch her horse. ‘The water you’ll need if you’re still interested in restoring this place?’ He turned to look at her when he’d checked the girth.

  ‘Still interested?’ she demanded. ‘You don’t know me, Ra’id.’

  But he was beginning to. This time she didn’t pull away when he offered her a leg up onto her horse.

  This just wasn’t fair. Of all the things Ra’id had said or done, bringing her here was the cruelest—somewhere so beautiful, so tranquil, so instantly enthralling.

  They rode the short distance in silence. She didn’t know where Ra’id was taking her beyond his promise of rest and fresh water, but as they crested the dune and she saw his tented pavilion on the shore of the oasis she could have cried at the beauty of it—and with despair that this awe-inspiring wilderness she was quickly coming to love could never be hers to enjoy free of Ra’id’s disapproval.

  She felt gritty and grubby as she eased in the saddle to survey the limpid and oh, so tempting waters of an oasis streaked with moonlight.

  ‘What do you think?’ Ra’id asked, reining in his prancing stallion beside her.

  ‘I think it’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen in my life,’ she said honestly, starting the steep descent.

  Leaning towards he
r, Ra’id steadied her horse. ‘If you want to take a dip, I’ll keep watch while you swim…to make sure you’re safe.’

  ‘You’d do that?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, as if it were no big deal.

  They had reached the flat ground, and Ra’id was waiting to help her down. ‘I can manage, thank you,’ she said, freeing her feet from the stirrups, but she was weary as she slid down from the saddle. She pulled herself round before facing him. The days of showing her soft underbelly to the world, and to Ra’id al Maktabi in particular, were well and truly over. ‘Would you like me to light a campfire while you see to the horses?’

  Ra’id unbuckled the saddlebags and threw them over his shoulder. ‘If you’re up to it.’

  ‘I’m up to it.’ She rested one hand on her horse’s warm, steadfast neck for a moment, thankful for the survival course her brother had insisted she must take before involving herself in any more dangerous sports.

  ‘Then let’s set up camp.’

  ‘Do we have food?’

  He patted the saddlebags.

  ‘You’ve thought of everything.’

  Not quite. He had totally underestimated her, Ra’id concluded as Antonia walked ahead of him to the pavilion.

  She wasn’t quite out for the count, and had enough fizz left in her to agree when Ra’id offered to light the fire after she had helped him with the horses. ‘You swim,’ he said. ‘Go on—you’ve earned it.’

  She had nothing to prove, Antonia realised. She didn’t have to stand on her pride, or work herself into the ground. They’d been a good team, and they could both cope with outdoor living, though Ra’id understood this terrain a lot better than she ever would, and he would know just where to look for tinder.

  She couldn’t see Ra’id when she reached the edge of the oasis, so she dropped her clothes and plunged naked into the water. The sudden chill on her overheated skin was like a healing balm, and as she powered into her first stroke she felt her cares float away. Everyone needed time out, Antonia reflected, rolling onto her back so she could stare up at the lantern moon. This precious time in the desert had been a welcome reminder that she could make a difference if she tried.