by Abby Green
There were also a couple of Western staff. To her relief she could see Jamilah in the distance, waving to her from the stable where Devil’s Kiss had been installed last night. Iseult walked over, smiling shyly at the people she passed, noticing one very friendly-looking blond man, who grinned at her appreciatively as he got out of a Jeep.
When she reached Jamilah the woman was sending a mock-censorious look to the young blond man. ‘Stevie, shouldn’t you be down at the equine pool this morning, to cover for Abbas?’
He saluted cheekily and sauntered off. Jamilah said, with a touch of weariness in her tone, ‘Stevie Bourne is an incorrigible flirt, and already has a string of broken hearts all over Merkazad. If he wasn’t such a good groom I’d have let him go a thousand times.’
After checking on Devil’s Kiss, and seeing that he appeared to be getting over the journey well, Jamilah took Iseult off on a tour in a golf buggy. She explained that it was the quickest way to get around the vast stables.
After just five minutes Iseult’s mouth seemed to be welded open.
She’d seen some of the biggest stables and studs at home in Ireland, and they were impressive, but this—this was on another level altogether. At her own rough count she reckoned that she’d seen close to one hundred horses in training. Yearlings, colts, fillies and older. She’d spotted the magnificent Desert Rose, who had won at Longchamp the previous year, and who clearly, despite fevered media speculation, wasn’t being retired to stud yet.
She was introduced to the head trainer, a quietly spoken Frenchman called Pierre, who had a select team underneath him. They had sand-based gallops, and also an extravagantly watered grass-based gallops too. Plus they had an impressive length of all-weather racetrack.
By the time Jamilah was heading back towards the main stables Iseult was feeling seriously overwhelmed, and felt even more so when she was led to a Jeep and told she was being taken to the stud, which was about two miles away. In the Jeep, Jamilah ascertained that Iseult didn’t really have appropriate clothing for the heat, so they stopped off in Merkazad to get some clothes.
In the bright vibrancy of daylight Iseult could see that it was a bustling, heaving city. All the buildings were close together, and modern architecture nestled alongside ancient buildings teeming with history in a glorious mix. Women covered from head to toe, with beautiful flashing kohled eyes, passed her in the street, and dark men in dishadashas, with turbans on their heads.
Bedu nomads had set up in groups alongside the main road, erecting their tents into makeshift villages with beautiful dark-eyed children running back and forth.
Despite Iseult’s protestations, Jamilah insisted that she would pay for the clothes, telling her she could put it against her first month’s wages. Iseult had no choice but to accept.
The stud was as impressive as the stables, set in liberally watered and surprisingly lush grounds, with gorgeous stables to house all the stallions, mares and foals.
It was late afternoon by the time they got back to the main stables, and Iseult could see that Jamilah was anxious to get to her own work. She assured her she’d be fine now that she had an idea of where everything was, but had to quell the dart of loneliness when Jamilah disappeared.
After she’d checked on Devil’s Kiss, and made herself something to eat, she found the communal common room that Jamilah had shown her earlier, where she could make a phone call to her father. To her intense relief he sounded fine, and even confided to Iseult, ‘To be honest, love, this is the best solution. We could have lost everything. I know it’s not ours any more, but our name is still on the gate and the new manager is a good man. I’m glad the stress of keeping the place going has been taken out of my hands…I’m looking forward to concentrating on training again.’
Iseult finally put the phone down after reminding her father that the twins were due home for a visit that weekend, to make sure that Murphy got his heart medication in his food, and that it was Mrs O’Brien’s birthday tomorrow.
She nearly jumped three feet high when she heard a deep, drawling voice say from behind her, ‘Still running operations from here?’
Her whole body exploded in a wave of heat as she turned slowly to face Sheikh Nadim. He was leaning nonchalantly against the wall near the door, dressed in a pristine dark suit and white shirt and tie. He looked so incongruously gorgeous against the plain background that she felt stunned, as if she might be imagining him. But when she blinked he didn’t disappear.
Immediately Iseult felt self-conscious and stiff. ‘I was just checking in—letting my father know that I’m safe and well.’
‘And are you? Well?’
Iseult nodded, suspicious of Nadim’s concern. ‘Yes… Jamilah has been very kind, showing me around today.’
‘You rested well last night?’
Iseult nodded again, her mouth twisted. ‘The rooms are more than comfortable. I thought I’d be lucky to get the corner of a stable beside Devil’s Kiss.’
Sheikh Nadim tutted and stood away from the wall. Immediately Iseult felt threatened. ‘Such an imagination. All my staff are taken care of, Iseult. I don’t believe in the outdated view that stablehands are little better than skivvies.’
His obvious implication that that was all she was made Iseult’s back straighten with innate pride. It was a long time since anyone had considered her just a stablehand. Her chin came up. ‘You don’t have to remind me of my place, Sheikh. I’m not exactly in a position to demand the right to keep training Devil’s Kiss.’
When Iseult answered back, with that defiant little chin-tilt, Nadim had a split second of realising how inappropriate it had been to come here like this, on the pretext of seeing how she had settled in. He should have been content with the call he’d put in to Jamilah earlier, when he’d found that she was doing the grand tour with Iseult, even if at that moment Iseult had been in a changing room in a shop in town, trying on clothes. But when he’d driven through the main gate just a short while before he’d found himself instinctively turning towards the stables, unable to ignore the impulse to see her.
His jaw tightened and the self-recrimination running through him made his voice harsh. ‘No, you don’t have that right. We’ve yet to see you work. There are staff who’ve been here for a year and haven’t earned the right to work under Pierre. And I won’t have you dragging Jamilah off on shopping errands again. She’s far too busy and valuable to the running of this place.’
The unfairness of his accusation made Iseult gasp. ‘I didn’t even want to go shopping. Jamilah saw that my clothes weren’t suitable and kindly insisted on taking me, and I’m glad she did. Who knows when I might have got out? I’m well aware I’m just here on sufferance, because you have some idea that I’d do more damage than good back at home.’
Nadim fought the intense urge he had to stride over and haul Iseult against his too hot body, and quell her words in a very carnal way. He couldn’t believe she was so effortlessly making his blood pressure zoom sky wards within just minutes of seeing her again. He’d followed some rebel impulse to see her for himself and now this. There were plenty of foreign staff at his stables, and he’d never concerned himself about how they were settling in.
Sexual tension was so immediate and taut between them it could have been cut with a knife, and any hope Nadim might have had that bringing Iseult O’Sullivan here would diminish her effect on him was laughable. Despite being busy all day today, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind.
In two quick strides he stood right in front of her, and saw how her eyes widened and a dark flush stained those alabaster cheeks. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides to stop himself from reaching out to loosen her hair and see it spread across her shoulders.
Wanting Iseult was completely inappropriate and unwelcome. He didn’t sleep with staff, and she was a world away from the type of woman he would normally go for…
He gritted out, ‘It’s Nadim. No one here calls me Sheikh. And you are as free as anyone el
se to explore Merkazad on your days off. Jamilah has all the information you’ll need on getting around.’
So abruptly that Iseult swayed on her feet Nadim turned and was gone again, taking his intense forcefield of energy with him and leaving a vacuum behind. Iseult sank down into a chair behind her. For a second there she’d had the overwhelming feeling that he was going to kiss her. Even now her mouth tingled in anticipation. She touched it lightly with her fingers and it felt sensitive to the touch. Her skin prickled all over, and down lower between her legs a pulse throbbed disconcertingly.
As abruptly as Nadim had left, Iseult stood and fled back to her rooms, shutting herself inside. Remembering the intensity of Nadim’s eyes just now, she prayed that he wouldn’t feel he had to check up on her again. Because evidently when he came within three feet of her she turned into someone else. Someone who couldn’t control her tongue and who was reduced to a mass of heated desires.
To Iseult’s intense disappointment her prayers were answered, and for the next two weeks she saw no sign of Nadim. She settled into a routine at the stables, and heard Jamilah say in conversation with others that Nadim was in Europe.
As much as that should have comforted her, it didn’t. Despite everything, Iseult couldn’t stop thinking about Nadim, and that hot intensity she’d felt between them the last time she’d seen him. Every minute of every day people referred to him in hushed, awed and reverent tones. But not one person had a bad word to say about him. And his knowledge and impeccable instinct when it came to horses was apparent all around her.
She wondered why it was that he was only just beginning to make a name for himself, when the stables and the stud had been in operation since his father’s time. Jamilah had been uncharacteristically tight-lipped when Iseult had asked, and Iseult hadn’t pursued it.
When Iseult had finished at the stables one day, after Nadim had been gone a fortnight, she walked over to the training grounds, where one of Pierre’s assistants was supervising the exercising of Devil’s Kiss. The assistant explained that Pierre had also gone to Europe for a few days.
One of the other trainers, a man called Alain, came over, looking seriously disgruntled. In the course of the conversation between the two men, it transpired that a yearling was proving difficult to break in.
Feeling curious, Iseult asked Alain, ‘Can I have a look at him?’
The trainer shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Be my guest. I was hoping to have good news for Pierre when he returned, and at least have the bit between his teeth, but it looks like only Nadim or Pierre will be able to tame this one.’
Iseult wandered over to a fenced-in area and saw the yearling. Her well-practised eye assessed him in an instant, and she felt a deep sense of satisfaction run through her. Also a deeply ingrained instinct. She could work with this yearling. She knew she could.
She took the bridle and bit off the fence, where Alain had left them after his fruitless attempt. She was barely aware of the small crowd gathering as she climbed up and sat on the fence, just watching the horse for a long time. When she felt the time was right she slid down and into the enclosure, slowly starting to walk around, going in ever-decreasing circles closer and closer to the horse. She was unaware of the alarmed look passing between Alain and the other trainer.
She was unaware of anything but the horse. She always got like this when she was breaking in a horse. It was a silent communication that hummed between them, and she had no idea where it came from. She gently crooned words that her grandfather had used to use—old Gaelic words.
She was close enough to the horse now to touch him, and he stood still. Recognising her. With infinite gentleness and patience Iseult put the bridle over his head and the bit into his mouth. It was only when she realised the whispers had ceased that she looked up and became aware that everyone had scattered.
There was just one person standing there now: Nadim, with his face as dark as thunder, hands on lean hips.
Iseult’s heart went out of control, as if she’d received a shot of adrenalin. She gulped guiltily, taking in the fact that he looked gorgeous after an absence of over two weeks. He was wearing jeans, and a T-shirt that moulded across his chest and showed off his taut musculature and broad shoulders.
Iseult took the bridle off the yearling again and patted him down, then walked back to the fence on shaky legs. The minute she had slipped out through the gate and closed it Nadim strode over and took her arm in a tight grip.
‘Wait a second,’ she protested. ‘You’re not even giving me a chance to—’
He silenced her with a thunderous look. ‘Not a word. Jamilah’s office now.’ Nadim all but threw Iseult into his Jeep and drove the short distance to the main stables, tension crackling between them. Iseult was tight-lipped, with arms crossed.
When he drew to a halt Iseult jumped out and preceded him into Jamilah’s office, aware of eyes everywhere taking this in. She knew very well that Nadim had a right to be angry with her for overstepping her mark—but this angry?
Jamilah was there too, but Nadim dismissed her with a curt instruction in guttural Arabic. She sent Iseult a questioning look as she walked out and quietly shut the door behind her.
Nadim raked a hand through his short hair and turned to face Iseult. She refused to be intimidated and waited for the explosion. But it didn’t come. Nadim just said easily, ‘Was it too much to expect that I might leave here for a couple of weeks and hope that you wouldn’t get into trouble?’
But then she saw his flashing dark eyes, and the thin veneer of his civility became apparent. Iseult could sense that he was holding back with supreme control, and it made her quiver inwardly.
Even so, she hitched up her chin and crossed her arms defensively again. It was impossible for her not to react defensively with this man—he shook her right to her foundations. ‘You’re right. I shouldn’t have gone into that enclosure. Why don’t you just say what you’ve got to say and let me go?’
‘Where did you get the nerve to think you could go near such a dangerous yearling and attempt something so foolhardy?’
Iseult saw a pulse throb in Nadim’s temple and had to focus on his words. She frowned. ‘Dangerous? What are you talking about? No one said anything about him being dangerous…’ She was genuinely confused now.
‘The reason that yearling is on his own and apart from the others is that no one has been able to get near him. I’d left explicit instructions that no one was to attempt anything with him until either myself or Pierre got back. Only three weeks ago he kicked one of the trainers, who luckily escaped with just a cracked rib.’
Iseult was stunned at this information—and stunned to recognise how gullible she’d been. Clearly Alain and the other trainer had set the new girl up in spectacular style. ‘I had no intention of doing anything in the first place. I was watching Devil’s Kiss exercising and someone mentioned that they were having trouble with a yearling. I went to look at him, that was all.’
She stopped and looked away, and then back to Nadim. How could she explain this to him? ‘But then, when I saw him, I just…saw that I might be able to handle him…and I did. I can’t explain it. It’s not something rational. If I’d had any idea he was considered so dangerous of course I wouldn’t have gone in there. I’m not a complete idiot.’
Nadim folded his arms too, making Iseult feel hot in her belly when she saw his muscles bunch. Then he frowned suspiciously. ‘No one encouraged you to try your hand at breaking him in?’
As much as Iseult knew that the trainers had been mischievous in deliberately misleading her, she wouldn’t say anything. She’d walked into their trap. She was the newbie, and there under sufferance. She wouldn’t do herself any favours by squealing.
So she shook her head miserably and said quietly, ‘No.’ And then more fiercely, looking directly at Nadim, ‘It was purely my idea.’
Nadim dropped his arms and prowled close to Iseult, making her breath hitch. ‘Apart from your arrogant boldness at thinking you could s
ucceed where no one else had, no one in the training area is allowed to go in without adequate head protection, and that is non-negotiable. I’ve sacked trainers for not wearing proper protection.’
Iseult looked up at Nadim and dropped her arms. ‘I was not being arrogant—I just saw the yearling and thought I might be able to help. And how would I know about wearing protection if no one thought to tell me?’
His blistering tone cut her off. ‘Dammit, woman, do you have to argue with everything I say? You should be in the habit of wearing protective head gear no matter what. Horses are unpredictable. You had everyone mesmerised by your horse whisperer routine, so it’s no wonder no one mentioned the hat. I promised your father I’d take care of you, but I can’t do that if every time I turn my back you turn into a walking liability.’
To disguise the sharp pain which lanced her at the thought that his apparent concern was just born out of a sense of responsibility to her father, Iseult said cuttingly, ‘Oh, so now you’re best friends with my father, who you deemed unfit to run his own stud farm?’
In an instant Nadim had reached out to haul Iseult into his body, his hands tight around her upper arms. Iseult opened her mouth in shock, and had the split-second realisation that Nadim was going to kiss her just a breath before he did. She recognised in that moment that since she’d laid eyes on this man she’d wanted this, with a wild singing in her blood. There was not even a moment of hesitation. Every cell in her body was fizzing and jumping.
Iseult had never been kissed before. And certainly not like this. Not with such intensity that it felt as if she were burning up from the inside out. Somehow she was vaguely aware that Nadim had rested back against something and had pulled her even closer, right into the cradle of his thighs, where she could feel the shockingly hard press of his arousal. It made wet heat explode between her legs.