Breaking the Sheikh's Rules

by Abby Green

  That melancholy rose again now, as she stood at the wall of the garden outside their rooms and looked out over the stunning city of B’harani in the distance, just beyond the huge walls of the palace.

  But all she could see ahead of her was inevitable self-destruction if she continued on this path with Nadim.

  She was also very afraid that the longer she indulged herself in this fairytale world of beautiful clothes and a personal maid and being made over on a daily basis, the more deluded she would become in thinking she was that kind of person.

  Iseult knew herself well enough to believe that while she was sensible enough not to get sucked into that world immediately, it would be headier and more seductive than even she might be able to resist if it went on for much longer. And the mere thought of seeing Nadim take another mistress, or even a wife, nearly made her double over with pain.

  A sound came from behind her, and she had a split second of composing herself before she felt a naked body at her back and strong, familiar arms snake around her waist. Iseult closed her eyes and leant back into Nadim, a sudden lump tightening her throat despite her best efforts.

  Luckily he couldn’t see her face, and when he started to kiss the sensitive back of her neck and said huskily, ‘Come back to bed…’ Iseult let him take her by the hand and lead her inside. Weakly she told herself that she would give herself this weekend here in B’harani to indulge every aspect of this fairytale moment in time, but that as soon as they were back in Merkazad she had to end this affair.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘WE NEED to talk.’

  The four words guaranteed to strike fear into the hearts of men everywhere and make them feel weak at the knees—for all the wrong reasons.

  Iseult was looking at herself in her bathroom mirror. She tried again. ‘Look, Nadim, we need to talk…about us.’

  She winced and made a face at her reflection. No matter how she said it, it still sounded like dialogue from a bad daytime soap opera.

  Just then Lina appeared behind her, and Iseult started.

  ‘Sheikh Nadim is waiting for you.’

  Iseult ignored Lina’s expressive look at her clothes, and took a deep breath and turned around. She made her way from her room up to Nadim’s palatial suite. He was expecting her for dinner. They’d returned from B’harani the day before yesterday, and this was the first moment she would have alone with him since their return.

  The second night of Sultan Sadiq’s festivities had been as lavish and decadent as Nadim had said it would be. Lina had dressed Iseult in another full-length couture gown, this time in a deep red. And Nadim had presented her with a stunning set of ruby necklace and earrings to wear with it, not listening to her protests for a second. Weakly, Iseult had given herself up to the headiness of it all, guiltily relishing her finite time.

  There had been close to a thousand guests, and a world-famous iconic rock band who, despite being in their twilight years, had strutted their stuff like men half their ages. Women on stilts in dresses made entirely of fresh flowers had moved among the guests. Enormous and intricate ice fountains had melted as the evening wore on into pools full of rare multi-coloured fish. Trays of vintage champagne had abounded, and belly dancers had flitted through the guests like exotic birds of prey, reminding Iseult hotly of her own brief foray into that world, and what had happened…

  There had also been a charity auction in aid of hundreds of different charities, which had precipitated a spending frenzy that had escalated into the millions. Nadim had contributed some of the most exorbitant sums, clearly in league with Sadiq to up the ante by encouraging competition among the wealthy who hadn’t seemed to know when to stop.

  He had confided dryly to Iseult at one stage, ‘Sadiq likes to lull his monied guests into a false sense of security by putting on a lavish show and then doing his darnedest to extract as much out of them as possible. When they leave after the weekend they’re invariably stumped as to how he managed to get them to part with so much money again.’

  Iseult had tried to sound upbeat, even though with each passing moment she’d grown more melancholic. ‘A regular modern-day Robin Hood, with you as his wing man…’

  Nadim had shrugged negligently. ‘It’s not many people in this world who can command a crowd full of some of the most powerful titans of industry, and Sadiq makes the most of it.’ He’d winked at Iseult. ‘With a little help from me.’

  Iseult was nearing Nadim’s door now, and her mind emptied. As much as she knew it would be easy enough to indulge in another night of the dream…perhaps even another couple of weeks…she knew she couldn’t. She had to take responsibility for her actions.

  Her stomach churning, she knocked lightly and then went in, having a flash of déjà vu to when she’d gone into the study at home to have her first discussion with Nadim.

  He looked up, smiling, when she walked in, but his smile quickly faded when he saw that she hadn’t changed out of her jeans and shirt—the clothes she’d been working in. She closed the door behind her, but didn’t move into the room.

  He frowned. ‘Why haven’t you changed?’

  Iseult welcomed his censorial tone, allowing her hackles to rise. ‘So as your mistress I have to dress to a code? I can’t just come up here and be comfortable in jeans?’

  Iseult saw how Nadim’s body tensed. His eyes narrowed on her. ‘What’s going on, Iseult?’

  Iseult bit her lip and then dived in. ‘What’s going on is that this affair is over.’ She finished in a rush, ‘I don’t want to be your mistress any more.’

  For a long moment Nadim said nothing, and Iseult wondered if she’d imagined saying the words. But then she saw that dangerous look come into Nadim’s eyes, and how he literally seemed to shut himself away. Her heart broke. It was starting already.

  He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. ‘What’s this about, Iseult? You want more? You want to extract some kind of commitment? You saw something at the weekend and you want a slice of that world permanently? I thought you were different, but perhaps I was naïve to think you wouldn’t be swayed by what you’ve seen.’

  Iseult felt sick at his obvious cynicism, and raised a hand in a slashing movement. ‘No. How can you think that?’

  Nadim said almost musingly, ‘I don’t know, Iseult, it’s a very seductive world. Are you telling me that out of all the women there last weekend you’re the only one who could walk away from it all and not want it?’

  His voice turned slightly sneering now. ‘Or perhaps I’ve got it wrong. Perhaps you fancy your chances with Sultan Sadiq? I can assure you that we’re quite matched when it comes to our fortunes…’

  Before Iseult could answer the door opened abruptly, jostling her forward. It was staff arriving with dinner. One look from Nadim made them all melt away instantly.

  He looked at her again, dark eyes spearing right through her. ‘So is that it? You want more?’

  I want you! Iseult wanted to shout, but didn’t. Instead she said, ‘I want to go home, Nadim. I don’t want to see you any more.’ For a split second Iseult thought she might bluff her way out of this—confirm his cynicism and protect herself in the process. Her mouth twisted. ‘You see, you are partly right. I’m afraid that I’m going to get too used to all of this.’ She looked around the room and gestured with a hand. ‘And then one day, when you’ve grown weary of me, I’ll be sent back to the stables.’

  But then she looked back at him, and knew she couldn’t bluff her way out of this by pretending to have grown spoilt. The look of haughty cynicism on Nadim’s face was too much to bear.

  Defeat laced her voice as she said, ‘But it’s not the trappings that concern me, Nadim. I’ve enjoyed every minute of it, but none of it matters really. I’m afraid that it’s you I want, and you I know I can’t have.’

  Nadim frowned and tried to understand. He wanted to command Iseult to come closer. She stood near the door in those dusty jeans and shirt, looking as if she was about to bolt l
ike a skittish horse. But he couldn’t. Something held him back—some instinct.

  ‘You’re my mistress. You have my undivided attention.’ He couldn’t stop his voice sounding harsh, curt.

  Iseult’s body flinched slightly, and she hugged her arms around her belly in a classic unconscious gesture of defence. ‘For now. But what happens when you lose interest? Obviously you’ve thought this through, and you’ll be able to deal with seeing me every day while you take a new mistress. But I won’t be able to deal with that.’

  Nadim was growing impatient now. He put out a hand, silently instructing Iseult to come to him, even though an ominous sense of foreboding warned him to be careful. ‘You’re thinking about something in the future, Iseult. I’ve no plans to end this any time soon. Come here.’

  She shook her head, her bright hair glinting deep russet in the lights. ‘No. This is as far as I can go.’

  Nadim dropped his hand, and his sense of foreboding increased just before Iseult hitched up her chin and said with quiet dignity, ‘I’m afraid that I’ve done the exact thing you were so intent that I shouldn’t do, Nadim: I’ve fallen in love with you.’

  For a second her words didn’t register. Everything was muffled, as if coming from far away, and Nadim actually had the very disturbing sensation for the first time in his life that he might faint. With a supreme act of will he stayed standing and felt anger rise. Anger at himself, for not trusting his instincts all along, and irrational anger at Iseult, for letting her emotions get involved. Anger that she was ruining this. And anger that she’d allowed him the power to hurt her. He’d learnt nothing.

  ‘I don’t believe you. You just want something from me. What is it? Commitment? An allowance? The promise of security for your family at home?’

  She shook her head sadly. ‘The only thing I want from you, Nadim, is the one thing I know you can’t give me. Your love.’

  An intense unnamed emotion rising up within him made Nadim lash out. He was barely aware of what he was saying any more—only aware that he had to push Iseult and her words back…far, far away. Everything he’d constructed around himself since Sara had died was being comprehensively threatened.

  His voice was faintly scathing. ‘What would you know about love?’

  Iseult went very still before him, and immediately after he’d said the words he wished them unsaid. She paled in the dim light and turned away, her back looking too delicate. Nadim even reached out a hand, but dropped it when she turned back. Instead of the fire he’d expected, wanted, to see in her eyes, they looked dead now. And that was far worse.

  Something within him was intensely moved by her innate dignity, compounded when she hitched her chin and looked him straight in the eye, unflinchingly. ‘More than you, it would appear. I lost the two people I loved most in the world before I was thirteen and my world fell apart. I know about feeling so responsible for the people you love most that you can’t sleep at night. I know about struggling so hard to make ends meet that it consumes you to the point where you forget you have choices in your life—but you don’t care because you’re doing it for someone you love.’

  Nadim opened his mouth, but Iseult unwrapped her arms from her middle and cut him off with a slashing gesture of her hand. She moved a bit closer. Fire was returning to her eyes, faint colour to her cheeks. But Nadim didn’t feel comforted. He felt as if he was watching something very precious break in front of his eyes.

  The fierce look on her face forbade Nadim from speaking.

  ‘I’ve fallen in love with you and I wish to God that I hadn’t—believe me.’ She smiled, but it was tight. ‘Don’t worry, you were perfectly clear all along the way, so I have no one to blame but myself. But I know it’ll destroy me to continue to indulge in this dream world only to have it ripped away when you’ve had enough of this affair… I’ve lost too much already, Nadim. I can’t wait passively by just to lose you too…’

  The words died away into a heavy tense silence. Iseult felt numb. She couldn’t believe she’d just said all she had, but his obvious horror at her declaration and the shameful surge of hope he’d dampened had sent a white-hot surge of anger through her: anger at herself for being so stupid. At no point had she intended this outpouring of her innermost feelings, and yet she knew now, facing him across this room, that she couldn’t have contained it.

  ‘That’s why I want to go home, Nadim,’ she said. ‘To keep me here would be the worst form of cruelty, and I know you won’t do that.’

  She challenged him across the room with her eyes. Nadim looked as if a lorry had just run into him. His face had leached of colour, his eyes were like two stark pools of black in his face.

  In a harsh voice she’d never heard before he said, ‘I don’t want you to leave, Iseult. I want you to stay and be my mistress. I can’t promise how long our liaison will last, but I can promise that you will be looked after—no matter what.’ He continued, ‘But if you insist that you cannot divorce your feelings from our physical relationship, then I will have to let you go.’

  Iseult wasn’t sure how she was still standing. She couldn’t feel her legs any more, and her heart felt as if it was tearing in two. Somehow she managed to find her voice. ‘Then I have to go.’

  She turned to leave. As she put her hand on the door handle she heard from behind her, ‘You won’t even stay for Devil’s Kiss?’

  Iseult’s torn heart clenched hard, and she closed her eyes for a moment. Her deluded brain could almost believe for a second that she’d heard something desperate in Nadim’s voice, but it had to be her imagination. She couldn’t bear to turn around and see the coldly arrogant look that would be on his face.

  Realisation struck home hard: Nadim had somehow managed to eclipse even Devil’s Kiss. And, no, she couldn’t even stay for him.

  Not able to say another word, Iseult just let her silence speak her answer and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

  Nadim stood looking at the door, speechless and motionless for a long moment. In a blinding flash he realised that no matter what he’d just said Iseult had got to him on an emotional level he’d never experienced before. He turned around and, seeing something, went over to the small table where the photo of his wife sat in a frame. Her sweetly smiling face cut him straight to the quick and mocked him for the revelation—almost as if she was saying, Now you know what it feels like.

  In a quick flash of anger so intense that it made his vision blur Nadim took the picture and threw it violently against a wall, where it shattered and fell to the ground.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ISEULT’S alarm went off and she stretched out a hand to turn it off, snuggling back under her warm duvet for another minute. The contrast between where she was now and where she’d been up until just a few days ago couldn’t be more pronounced. It was winter in Ireland and it was dark outside—and freezing. With sickening inevitability she couldn’t help her thoughts gravitating to the tall, dark, hard man who had turned her life around and upside down.

  Missing Nadim was a physical ache—especially at night in bed. After their last conversation things had happened with scary swiftness; Nadim had obviously been eager to see the back of her and get on with his life. Jamilah had come to Iseult, and the two women had shared a look that spoke volumes. It had been Jamilah who had escorted Iseult to the plane in Al-Omar, driving her herself, after Iseult had said an emotional farewell to Devil’s Kiss. Both women had been tearful saying goodbye, and Iseult had extracted a promise from Jamilah that she’d visit Ireland soon.

  Iseult had left a note for Nadim in her room with a simple message:

  Nadim, thank you for making me feel beautiful. It means more than you could ever know… With my love, always, Iseult.

  Chagrin burned her now to think of it. Even then she hadn’t been able to drum up the necessary self-defence to protect herself. She’d gushed again. She might as well have ripped her own heart out and handed it to him on a platter along with a knife and fork.
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br />   And then, guiltily, she’d seen the exquisite small golden bottle of perfume that Nadim had gifted her, and hadn’t been able to leave it behind, so now she tortured herself every day with the scent that reminded her of him indelibly.

  Resolutely she threw back the warm cover and sat up to put her feet on the cold wooden floor. It was over. The fairytale had come to an end. She’d been greeted at home by Mrs O’Brien’s joyful tears, her father’s bone-crushing hug, Murphy’s slobbering tongue, and a farm and stud that had been comprehensively turned around in the short time she’d been gone. But they still needed her here. She was being kept busy from six a.m. until ten p.m., and that was the way she would get through this dark tunnel.

  That evening, with darkness falling rapidly under a threatening sky, Iseult stood looking at the gallops, wrapped up against the cold in jeans and a polo neck and a thick parka jacket, with her favourite flat cap on her head. The last colt had just been returned to the stables for the evening by one of the new stablehands.

  She was just realising that she was standing in exactly the same spot where Nadim had stood when she’d first laid eyes on him when she heard the low rumble of a powerful engine behind her.

  Not expecting any visitors that evening, Iseult turned to see who it was—and her blood stopped in her veins when she saw a silver Jeep with tinted windows. And then the door opened and a familiar tall, dark figure got out. It was only the sound of the door shutting that made Iseult move jerkily away from the fence.

  She thought she might be hallucinating, and spoke as much to convince herself that she wasn’t as to acknowledge him. ‘Nadim.’

  He was dressed in dark jeans and a jumper, a worn black leather jacket. And he looked so exotic against the grey leaden skies that Iseult couldn’t take another step in case she fell down.

  For a wild and exhilarating second she thought that he might have actually come for her—and then stomach-churning realisation hit her like a punch in the gut when she remembered how cold he’d been, how quickly he’d got her out of Merkazad. How he hadn’t even said goodbye.