by Abby Green
He gritted out words through that unbidden and unwelcome wave of desire. ‘You will be coming to Al-Omar, and then on to Merkazad. There will be no further discussion on this.’
As if his words had finally broken through her shock at his announcement, Iseult stood up jerkily from the chair and spun away into the room. She put out a hand, as if that could encompass everything.
‘But I can’t just leave here. This is my home. I’ve been working here for ever.’ She could feel hysteria rising as it all hit her at once—the magnitude of what he was saying. ‘My father—how will he cope without me? And the kids? I’m all they have. I can’t just leave them behind—’
The Sheikh had stood too, his whole body taut with obvious anger that she persisted in defying him. ‘Who,’ he barked out, frowning fiercely, ‘are the kids? Don’t tell me you have a brood of children up your sleeve that your father omitted to mention?’
Nadim didn’t know why that sudden thought made his vision blur with incandescence—so much so that he barely saw Iseult shaking her head forcibly. ‘No—no, of course I have no children. I’m talking about my brothers and sister. Since Mum died I’m all they’ve had.’
Nadim’s vision cleared. He was surprised to find that he was so angry, and so relieved. He moved around the desk to the other side, further enraged at seeing how Iseult backed away. Her hair had all but unravelled from her ponytail, and long tendrils curled like dark flames around her slim shoulders.
He forced himself to keep his eyes on her face and ignore the banking desire within him, still astounded that she was having this effect on him. It had to be some arbitrary reaction because he’d not taken a new mistress in months. Sheer sexual frustration, that was all. A physical response to an attractive woman.
‘You said they were all in college.’
‘They are…’ Iseult desperately tried to appeal to this man. ‘But the twins are just eighteen years old. They’ve never lived away from home before.’
‘Their home isn’t going anywhere,’ Sheikh Nadim pointed out curtly. ‘I’ve been more than generous in allowing your family to remain here.’
‘No,’ said Iseult, feeling guilty again, knowing how different things would be if they’d been facing a takeover by the bank, ‘but if I’m not here…they…’
Even as she said the words she could recognise how pathetic they sounded. She knew very well that Paddy Junior was fine and most likely not coming home until Christmas time, and the twins were in the same college, happily set up in on-campus accommodation with other schoolfriends who were doing the same course. Iseult had settled them in herself, just last week.
‘When I was eighteen I’d already travelled the world on my own—twice.’
Iseult took in the arrogant look on the Sheikh’s face. Her blood boiled ominously again. ‘You come from a very different part of the world—’
‘Not so different. I was educated in England.’ His voice was dry as toast. ‘Not around a campfire in the desert, as you might imagine. And yet I took off as soon as I tasted my chance of independence. Your siblings are grown-ups and you are not their mother.’
Iseult flushed at having her prejudice pointed out to her and choked back the need to say, But I have been their mother. Ridiculously, she felt tears threaten. Her responsibility to her family was so ingrained she felt as though she truly was a mother being asked to turn her back on her children.
Before she could say anything, though, Sheikh Nadim continued bitingly, ‘I know very well what it’s like. I lost both my parents at a young age and had to take responsibility for not only my own younger brother but also for my country. It will do your siblings good to know that you won’t always be here for them, and it will do your father good to step into his role more fully. He will be here if they need him.’
Somehow Iseult managed to swallow back her emotion, recognising on some level the merit in what Sheikh Nadim said, while also being intrigued at the glimpse into his own personal history, of which there had been very little on the internet. The unexpected empathy she felt blindsided her momentarily.
‘But…what would I do in…in Merkazad?’
‘You will become part of my staff. Initially you will work at the stables, and in time I may allow you to stay involved in Devil’s Kiss’s training—once I’m confident of your ability. My ambition is to race him as a three-year-old in the Prix de l’Arc next year, with a view to the Dubai World Cup the year after, so my main concern now is that he’s not peaking too early.’
Despite the fact that her world was being upended around her, Iseult felt a quiver of excitement deep in her belly at knowing that she was being offered the chance to stay near Devil’s Kiss. This man, after all, was the man who had thrown the racing fraternity into disarray just last year, and he had a growing reputation as a thoroughbred owner, breeder and trainer to be matched with the best in the world. But even so what he was saying was too huge to process. Still she resisted. ‘What if I refuse to go?’
Sheikh Nadim strolled towards her then, and she had to fight every impulse to run. She stayed standing in front of him. He stopped just mere feet away and she looked up, her throat drying again in acknowledgement of his sheer height and powerful build. That too-beautiful face with its harsh lines. It made her think of the desert and wonder how he’d look in that environment.
Nadim reacted forcibly to something deep within him not to give Iseult any way out other than his way. ‘It’s quite simple, Iseult. If you refuse to go then you will be escorted off this property for good. If you refuse then I won’t have you working for me in any capacity.’
‘You can’t do that,’ she blustered, desperately scared that he could. ‘My father would still be here.’
‘I could arrange for that to be otherwise. Like I’ve said before, I’m still not convinced he will be an asset to this stud.’
Iseult had a horrible vision of her brothers and sister being told that they’d lost their home. She rushed to a quick defence. ‘My father is a brilliant trainer. He’s just been through a difficult time, that’s all. He just couldn’t—’
She stopped. She’d already said too much. Sheikh Nadim filled in the gap when he said with deceptive softness, ‘Cope? Is that the word you’re looking for?’
Iseult’s eyes felt gritty, but she refused to be too intimidated to look this man in the eye. Her voice quivered with passion. ‘My father is a good man and he knows his business inside out. He taught me everything I know, and he will turn this stud around…with help. All he needs is a chance.’
Sheikh Nadim seemed to ignore her last words. ‘Was he the one who taught you to be so wilful?’
Iseult bristled. ‘Where I’m from women are encouraged to be independent and to have an opinion and not be scared of sharing it. I’m sorry if you’re not used to that.’
Nadim smiled mockingly. ‘I don’t think you’re sorry at all. I think you’ll find that women in my country are encouraged to do exactly the same thing—’ here his eyes ran her up and down and clearly found her lacking ‘—but they go about it in a rather more genteel way.’
Iseult’s fists clenched, emotion surging easily again. What was it about this man? He seemed to have taken control of some inner emotional barometer she’d never been aware of before. She’d never felt so conscious of her tomboyish state as she did now, and deep down in the very centre of her anger was a secretly treacherous desire to be as genteel as those women Sheikh Nadim spoke of with such respect in his voice. She hated him even more for making her feel like that.
Every righteous bone in her body quivered. ‘So my only option is to go and work for you, or face being thrown off this land that has been in my family for generations?’
Nadim’s jaw hardened. He had to consciously not give in to the compelling need to force this woman to bend to his will. ‘I think you’ll find that you’re being offered an opportunity that many would give their right arm to experience.’ This was said with not a little arrogance. ‘And you do have a choic
e, Iseult. There’s a whole world out there. I’m not stopping you from leaving to seek employment elsewhere. I’m sure with your experience and crude training ability you’ll find a job soon enough—and who knows? You might even become a trainer of some recognition some day.’
Iseult opened her mouth with a hot response, but Sheikh Nadim put up a hand to stop her. Her mouth closed ineffectually.
‘But if you come to my stables you’ll have the chance to be taught by the best in the business. And if and when you do return here to work, it would be beneficial for you to know how I run my stables and stud. You would also have the chance to see Devil’s Kiss mature into the greatness we both believe he has within him. Can you walk away from that?’
A sense of inevitability washed through Iseult. Of course she couldn’t walk away from that. Devil’s Kiss was the last in a long line of horses they had owned and bred themselves—the last of her grandfather’s legacy. They’d had to sell all the others off just to survive.
She’d nurtured Devil’s Kiss like her own baby, and the thought of not seeing him come to fruition after showing such promise was too painful to contemplate. It hurt to recognise the fact that if not for this man she could very well have been waving goodbye to Devil’s Kiss the following day, only being allowed to follow his progress secondhand in the papers or on the internet. She might also have been facing the prospect of leaving her house and home too—for good.
All she had to do was sacrifice her own desire to remain here, and that would keep her father, the kids and Mrs O’Brien safe and secure. How could she not do that? How could she deny Mrs O’Brien the chance to receive a wage again after months of working for just board and food?
Her fears had stemmed from hearing stories of other rich buyers coming and firing countless lifelong employees, only to instal their own hand-picked staff. That had been one of the reasons for Iseult’s fierce antipathy to this buyout: the fear of the same happening. But it wasn’t. Sheikh Nadim was, as he’d already pointed out, being more than generous, and if Iseult wasn’t careful she would be the one to sabotage everything.
She lifted her gaze from somewhere to the left of Sheikh Nadim’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. Some little stone of resistance within her made her ask, ‘Why are you doing this? I mean, why aren’t you just letting us all go?’
The Sheikh’s dark eyes glittered dangerously, and Iseult had the feeling that not many people questioned anything he did. His jaw clenched, but he answered tightly, ‘Because I know what it’s like to have everything you know jeopardised. I’m aware this is a relatively small community, and I don’t really want to start on the wrong footing by having your neighbours reluctant to do business with me out of loyalty to your father. I also don’t see the merit in letting your father or housekeeper go when they know the lie of this land. As it is, retaining them is worth more to me than the money I’ll be paying them.’
His face hardened then, and Iseult shivered.
‘But, having said that, I’m also aware that it won’t do too much damage in the long run to bring in new staff. So, Iseult, what’s it to be? My patience is wearing very thin.’
Iseult knew she really didn’t have a choice if she didn’t want to risk her family’s security or be cast out of her own home for ever. She was aware on some dim level that yet again it was falling to her to take responsibility, but that was eclipsed by her curiosity to know more about his personal history.
Iseult had been avoiding his eyes, but now looked at him. ‘How long do you expect me to stay in Merkazad?’
His eyes flashed that warning that was already becoming familiar. ‘You will stay for as long as I wish it.’
You will stay for as long as I wish it. His words were so arrogant…so implacable—so ridiculously autocratic in this modern environment. And yet in that moment Iseult felt uncharacteristically powerless to defy him. Mentally she took a deep breath, feeling as if she was stepping into a deep, dark void. ‘Very well. I’ll travel to Al-Omar with you and Devil’s Kiss tomorrow.’
Sheikh Nadim smiled a mocking smile, and an infuriating glint of triumph lit his eyes. ‘Oh, you won’t be travelling with me. I’ll be leaving as soon as the new manager gets here in the morning. You’ll travel with the horse. And I’ll expect him to arrive in as good condition as he is right now.’
With that, as if he hadn’t just whirled through Iseult’s world like an angry tornado, ripping everything apart in its path, he flicked a glance at his expensive-looking watch and said, ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a function to attend in Dublin this evening, and a helicopter waiting to take me back to my hotel. I’ve made arrangements for Devil’s Kiss’s travel, and a plane will be ready and waiting. One of my own vets will meet you in the morning and travel with you. I trust you’ll have everything you need ready to travel tomorrow?’
Iseult cursed the fact that she couldn’t turn around and say that she had no current passport—after all, she’d never been further than England—but all she could do was nod her head and say, ‘I’ll be ready.’
Late the following morning, as Nadim’s plane took off from Dublin Airport, he looked out of the window. But the rolling green fields and the city disappearing underneath couldn’t distract him from the one face and one body that he couldn’t get out of his mind. It was as if her image had been burnt there with a brand.
Iseult O’Sullivan. A slip of a girl. He could re member the tremor that had run through her body when he’d stood so close behind her in the dining room—how his blood had boiled and he’d wanted to knock the plates out of her arms and snake an arm around her waist and pull her back against him.
His body tightened, and his mouth compressed with anger—at himself. And that anger surged when he recalled how he’d blithely told her things that he’d never discussed even with close aides. The fact that he’d lost his parents as a teenager was common knowledge if you went looking for it, but not something he ever mentioned—or the fact that he knew how it felt to have everything he’d taken for granted ripped asunder… And yet with her the words had tripped off his tongue as if he’d been injected with some kind of truth serum.
He should be leaving her here. It made sense on many levels. But what had he done? Ensured that she would be a constant presence and a thorn in his side by insisting that she come to Merkazad with the horse.
Why had he done it?
Her image, the way she’d sat so imperiously on the horse when he’d first seen her blazed into his imagination in an eloquent answer.
He thought of the way she’d stood before him so defiantly the day before, and how he’d had to struggle to remember his train of thought when his mind had melted in a haze of lust at imagining revealing her breasts, to see if she hid them as he suspected she did. He shook his head now, as if that could dislodge her image from the gnarled heat in his blood.
He reassured himself that he’d been right to insist that she come to Merkazad. He did want to ensure a smooth transition for Devil’s Kiss, and the horse was clearly attached to her. She was also wilful and independent, and had obviously grown far too used to running the business with disastrous consequences. The girl was a liability, and could do with being taught the proper way of things. He could no more leave a loose cannon like her here than he could blithely allow her father to retain complete control.
Nadim felt himself relax. He was merely protecting his new venture by keeping Iseult O’Sullivan where he could see her. He had full confidence that when he touched down on his own familiar soil—home—and saw her in his environment, the spell she’d cast over him would dissipate like the mirage of an oasis in the desert. He ruthlessly ignored the frisson of something that felt awfully like erotic anticipation when he thought of seeing her at his own stables, against the backdrop of his own rocky and austere land.
He was used to being in control of his desire for women, that was all, and she’d taken him by surprise. That was all. He’d learnt the most tragic of lessons not so long ago. Emotions and
women were a fatal mix. Since then his life had been about logic and clear reason.
He refused to believe that his life was deviating in any way from the clear and controlled lines he’d grown used to.
Iseult blinked and breathed in the warm and very foreign air. They’d arrived at a small airfield in Al-Omar just a short time before, and while the vet was checking Devil’s Kiss in the specially modified hold of the private jet Iseult had stepped out onto the tarmac, already too hot in her slim parka jacket.
It was night, so she couldn’t see much, but she felt the residue of a very hot day settle around her shoulders like a warm cloak. The sky was a dark indigo colour, and a crescent moon hung suspended on its back, as if knocked from the sideways perch she’d grown used to seeing it take all her life. Stars glittered so close and clear she felt as if she could reach out and touch one.
Just then she heard a noise, and saw a couple of sleek dark Jeeps driving across the tarmac to greet them—one with a horsebox attached. They stopped, and Iseult’s heart stopped too. Would he be here to meet her? It scared her slightly, how her heart leapt at that thought and her throat dried in anticipation.
But when the Jeeps came to a stop and she didn’t see him emerge she immediately felt silly. Of course he wouldn’t come to meet her. She was just an employee now. Some official-looking men got out of the vehicle without the horsebox and she looked to them.
Nadim hesitated before he got out of his Jeep. Iseult O’Sullivan stood on the tarmac looking unbelievably vulnerable, and even from here he could see the shadows of fatigue under her huge eyes. Her hair was back in that untidy ponytail.
She’d been cool and contained that morning when he’d come to the farm, studiously avoiding his eyes and concentrating on the new manager. Her reluctance to leave her home had been tangible. Something twisted in Nadim’s gut now, and he cursed the impulse which had led him first of all to bring her here, and now to come and collect her himself. The last thing he needed was to be feeling inordinately protective over a new employee.