Australia: In Bed with a Sheikh!: The Sheikh's Seduction / The Sheikh's Revenge / Traded to the Sheikh. Emma Darcy
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capable of managing herself, there was no real reason to stay. The best she could do for them was to give them the chance Tareq was offering.
His hand slid from her hair and travelled around her jawline to cup her chin. “Tit for tat, Sarah. I risk my horses. You risk yourself. Is it a deal?”
A two-way gamble. Put like that, his proposition was understandable. Reasonable. But it was difficult to hang on to reason, swamped as she was by the sexual current coursing from the touch of his hand, sensitising her skin and making a mash of her insides. She didn’t feel safe with him.
Yet without him, Jessie and the twins wouldn’t be safe. Innocent victims. As she had been. Sarah couldn’t let that happen. She stared into the diamond-hard blue eyes of Tareq al-Khaima and willed him to be honourable.
“All right. I’ll do it,” she said decisively.
The flash of satisfaction she saw curled her stomach.
Could she trust him to keep his word?
There was no guarantee.
Only risk.
TAREQ WAS NOT slow in acting on Sarah’s decision. There was no time given for second thoughts. He moved straight to the telephone, leaving Sarah to listen as he set up his side of the bargain.
“Peter, call Drew Hillyard. Tell him his daughter, Sarah, is here with me. Due to her special pleading, I am inclined to change my decision and leave my horses with him.”
This apparently evoked some expostulation from his trouble-shooter. Whatever was said made no difference to Tareq. He calmly resumed speaking.
“I’m sure you’ll think of a way to put an effective stop to that. Just get Hillyard here, Peter. As soon as possible. We’ll hear him out first, then move to break the link. From both sides.”
Another pause. Sarah wondered what link they were talking about.
“Sarah has agreed to act as surety. She’ll be coming with me when I fly out tonight. You’ll have to stay behind and wrap this up, Peter.”
Tonight! Sarah moved shakily to an armchair and sat down, dizzied by the speed at which her life was about to change. She stared out the window at the view of the city. Where would she be this time tomorrow?
“Tell Hillyard to bring his wife with him. Best to get everything settled in one hit.”
The receiver clicked down.
“Sarah, have you eaten anything this morning?”
She turned blankly to the man who would direct everything she did from now on. He frowned at her, picked up the telephone again and proceeded to order a selection of croissants, muffins, and a platter of cheese and fruit. Having finished with room service, he considered her thoughtfully.
“You’re not going faint on me, are you, Sarah?” he asked. “You’ve stood up bravely so far.”
Brave words, Miss Hillyard… She wondered what Peter Larsen thought of her now. Trouble. Definitely trouble. For some reason the thought gave her satisfaction.
A spark of pride made her answer, “I’m not getting cold feet if that’s what’s worrying you.”
“Good!” He moved purposefully to the kitchenette beyond the dining suite. “Coffee or tea?”
Surprised at his intention to serve her, she asked, “Shouldn’t I be doing that?”
He laughed, a soft ripple of private amusement. “I’m being kind. Which do you prefer?”
No point in arguing. “Coffee, thank you. With milk.”
She watched him make it and bring it to her, noting he seemed more relaxed. Her own tension had eased, whether from the release of having carried through her purpose, or from the weird sense of having her fate taken out of her hands, she didn’t know. Maybe she was suffering some aftermath from the shock of hard decision-making. Whatever the reason, she felt oddly detached, even when Tareq came close, placing her coffee on the low table in front of her and settling on the sofa nearby.
“You said we’d be flying out tonight. Where are we going?” she asked, trying to get some bearings on what would be her new life.
“The U.S.”
She’d never been there. It might have been an exciting prospect under normal circumstances, but she seemed to be anaesthetised to all feeling at the moment. Shock, she decided. She’d been bombarded by the unexpected and driven to accept it. Recovery time was obviously needed.
She sipped her coffee. Tareq watched her, not with the highpowered intensity she had found so disturbing. It was more a clinical observation. It didn’t touch her inner self. Since he appeared disposed to answer questions, she tried to think of what she needed to ask.
“Will I get to say goodbye to the children?” Already they seemed distant to her. It was as though she had stepped from one world into another.
“Yes,” he assured her. “All going well at the meeting with your father, you and I will proceed to Werribee.”
“I drove here in a jeep,” she remembered.
“Your stepmother can drive it home. You will come with me in my car. There’ll be time for you to pack your belongings and take your leave of Jessie and the twins.”
“While you wait for me.”
“Yes.”
A hostage isn’t allowed to roam free, she thought. I’m tied to him. So why aren’t I feeling a sense of bondage?
Because it doesn’t feel real. Not even this conversation seems real. Sooner or later reality will kick in again and then I’ll feel it. In the meantime, talking filled the emptiness.
“Jessie wants to meet you,” she prattled on. Strange irony. Was Tareq a benefactor or a curse? “She watched for you yesterday, hoping to see you featured on television, but you weren’t. She was very disappointed.”
“Then I’ll make up for the disappointment by meeting her this afternoon,” he said smoothly.
“You’ve got the wrong clothes on,” she told him. “A sheikh is supposed to wear sheikh clothes.”
He smiled. “I’m afraid I don’t have them with me. Will the person do?”
The smile made him even more magnetically handsome. “I’m sure Jessie will be impressed.” As she herself had been at twelve…impressed and flattered to be given his attention. Perhaps he was always kind to children. They made it easy. They didn’t question so much.
Her mind flitted forward, away from the past and on to the future. “I guess I’m to have Peter Larsen’s ticket on the plane tonight.”
He shook his head. “There are no tickets, Sarah. I have my own plane.”
Of course. A private luxury jet, no doubt. She was moving up in the world. Like her mother. Only to a higher strata again. That should amuse her but it didn’t. “Will we be accompanied by many people?”
“I prefer to travel lightly. Only Peter came with me on this trip.”
Which meant she would be alone on the plane with Tareq. Though not quite alone. There would have to be a pilot, a steward, perhaps a co-pilot for such a long flight. Whatever… there would be no getting lost in a crowd. Was she to be his closest associate?
“Peter Larsen implied he’d known you a long time.”
“Since school days at Eton.”
So Mr. Larsen was very upper-class English. Sarah wondered if he knew her second stepfather. “I presume you trust him,” she said a little cynically.
“Yes.