The Sheikh's Bride. Sophie Weston
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hurt. He was a good and conscientious father. But he had no truck with sentimentality; especially not if it showed signs of interfering with business.
It was silly to think that she would have liked him to be a bit more indignant on her behalf, Leo thought. When Deborah had ranted about Roy Ormerod, Leo had calmed her down. Yet when her father didn’t, she felt unloved.
‘The trouble with me is, I don’t know what I want,’ Leo told herself. ‘Forget it.’
But she could not help remembering how the dark-eyed stranger had stood up to Ormerod for her. It had made her feel—what? Protected? Cared for? She grimaced at the thought.
‘No regression to frills,’ she warned herself. ‘You’re a Groom executive. You can’t afford to turn to mush.’
Anyway she would not see the mysterious stranger again. Just as well if he had this sort of effect on her usual robust independence.
She made a dinner reservation for herself and her mother. Then she stripped off the day’s dusty clothes and ran a bath. The hotel provided everything you needed, she saw wryly, even a toothbrush and a luxurious monogrammed bathrobe.
She sank into scented foam and let her mind go into free fall. When the phone rang on the bathroom wall, she ignored it, lifting a long foot to turn on the tap and top up the warm water. For the first time in months, it seemed, she did not have to worry about a tour or a function or timetable inconsistencies. She tipped her head back and gave herself up to the pleasures of irresponsibility.
There was a knock at the door.
Mother come to make sure I’ve plucked my eyebrows, diagnosed Leo. She won’t go away. Oh well, time to get going, I suppose.
She raised the plug and got out of the bath. She knotted the bathrobe round her and opened the door, trying to assume a welcoming expression. When she saw who it was, she stopped trying in pure astonishment.
‘You! What do you want?’
‘Very welcoming,’ said the mysterious stranger, amused. ‘How about a date?’
‘A date?’
‘Dinner,’ he explained fluently. ‘Music, dancing, cultural conversation. Whatever you feel like.’
Leo shook her head to clear it.
‘But—a date? With me?’
A faint hint of annoyance crossed the handsome face. ‘Why not?’
Because men don’t ask me on dates. Not out of the blue. Not without an introduction and several low-key meetings at the houses of mutual friends. Not without knowing who my father is.
Leo crushed the unworthy thought.
‘When?’ she said, playing for time while she got her head round this new experience.
‘Tonight or never,’ he said firmly.
‘Oh well, that settles it.’ Leo was not sure whether she was disappointed or relieved. But at least the decision was taken for her. ‘I’m already going out to dinner tonight.’
She made to close the door. It did not work.
He did not exactly put his foot in the door, but he leaned against the doorjamb as if he was prepared to stay there all night.
‘Cancel.’ His tone said it was a suggestion rather than an order. His eyes said it was a challenge.
Leo found herself reknotting the sash of her borrowed robe in an agitated manner and saying, ‘No,’ in a voice like the primmest teacher she had ever had at her polite girls’ school.
He bit back a smile. ‘I dare you.’
She looked at him with dislike. ‘I suppose you think that makes it irresistible?’
‘Well, interesting, anyway.’
If Leo was honest, his smile was more than intriguing. She felt her heart give an odd little jump, as if it had been pushed out of a nice, safe burrow and wanted to climb back in again. She knew that feeling. She hated taking chances and always had.
She looked at the man and thought: I don’t know where going out with this man would take me. Thank God I’m spending the evening with Mother.
And then, as if some particularly mischievous gods were listening, along the corridor came Deborah Groom. Leo groaned.
‘Is that a yes, no or maybe?’ said Amer, entertained.
‘None of the above. Hello, Mother.’
He turned quickly. Deborah did not hesitate. Assuming that the man at Leo’s door was Roy Ormerod, she stormed straight into battle.
‘How dare you come here and harass my daughter? Haven’t you done enough? I shall make sure your employer knows all about this.’
Amer blinked. A look of unholy appreciation came into his eyes.
‘I didn’t mean to harass her,’ he said meekly.
Leo writhed inwardly. ‘Mother, please. This is Mr—’ thankfully she remembered his name just in time ‘—Mr Amer. He was the one who persuaded the hotel to find me a room.’
‘Oh.’
Deborah took a moment to assimilate the information. Then another to assess Amer. The quality of his tailoring was not lost on her, any more than it had been on her daughter.
‘Oh,’ she said again in quite a different voice. She held out a gracious hand. ‘How kind of you, Mr Amer. I’m Deborah, er, Roberts, Leo’s mother.’
‘Leo?’ he murmured, bowing over her hand.
‘Ridiculous, isn’t it? Especially with a pretty name like Leonora. After my grandmother, you know. But her father always called her Leo. And it just stuck.’
‘Mother,’ protested Leo.
Neither of them paid any attention to her.
‘Leonora,’ he said as if he were savouring it.
Deborah beamed at him. ‘And how kind of you to check on Leo.’
He was rueful. ‘I was hoping to persuade her to have dinner with me. But she is already engaged.’ He sighed but the dark grey eyes were sharp.
Deborah put her pretty head on one side.
‘Well, now, isn’t that odd? I was just coming to tell Leo that I really didn’t feel like going out this evening.’ She allowed her shoulders to droop theatrically. ‘This heat is so tiring.’
Leo could not believe this treachery.
‘What heat, Mother? Every single place you’ve been today is air conditioned within an inch of its life.’
Deborah looked annoyed. Amer’s lips twitched. But, strategist that he was, he did not say anything.
Deborah recovered fast. ‘Well, that’s exactly the problem.’ She turned to Amer appealingly. ‘We English aren’t used to real air-conditioning. I think I must have caught a chill.’ She managed a ladylike cough.
Leo felt murderous. She was almost sure the beastly man was laughing at both of them.
‘Then you’d better stay in your room,’ she said firmly. ‘We’ll order room service.’
Deborah gave her a faint, brave smile. ‘Oh no, darling. I’ll be better on my own. You go and enjoy yourself with Mr Amer.’
Amer took charge before Leo could scream with fury or announce that the last thing in the world she would enjoy was an evening with him.
‘If you are sure, Mrs Roberts?’ he said smoothly, as if that was all it took to decide the matter. He nodded to Leo, careful not to let his satisfaction show. ‘Then I shall look forward to our excursion, Miss Roberts. Shall we say, half an hour?’
He