In The Sheikh's Service. Susan Stephens
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guessed she had spoken without thinking, as her cheeks were now burning red. But would he be in the desert? Would he retrace that reckless youth’s footsteps to the site of the tragedy?
‘Prove to me that you are the most willing and able of all my recruits, and you can stay on in Q’Aqabi and work with my other willing recruits,’ he said, moving past the question.
As she gulped convulsively, he guessed that Isla’s hidden fiery depths encouraged her to picture harems stuffed to the brim with his willing recruits. ‘You are the most promising of all the students here,’ he said, to put a balm on her vivid imagination, ‘or you wouldn’t be getting this chance. If your theoretical studies are matched by your practical application of them—’
‘Oh!’ she said before he even had chance to finish. ‘Thank you—thank you!’
It was as if all her tension had released at once, and as she took a step forward she looked for an instant as if she was going to fling her arms around him and hug him tight. Fortunately for them both, she curbed the impulse, and remained instead vibrating with excitement in front of him. Physical contact that wasn’t initiated by him was alien in the world he inhabited. He had never known affection as a child, having been brought up in a nursery of royal offspring from several wives. His brother had tried to make up for the lack of parental love by being more like a father to him, but his brother had been dead for many years.
He found himself relaxing, even smiling at Isla. Her unselfconscious show of gratitude had touched him more than he’d realised. It had also aroused him.
‘Please forgive me, Your Majesty—’
They both turned as the vice chancellor spoke. Shazim couldn’t be sure how long the party of academics had been back, but he guessed long enough to see Isla move as if to hug him, as his elderly host was staring at him with concern, no doubt wondering if she had breached royal protocol, and possibly damaged the excellent relationship between Q’Aqabi and the university.
‘I hesitate to remind you about our busy schedule,’ the vice chancellor ventured, anxiety ringing in his voice.
He quickly reassured the older man. ‘You’re quite right, Vice Chancellor, and I apologise for taking up so much of Ms Sinclair’s valuable time, but she has been a font of information, and a fascinating companion with a novel take on so many things.’
‘On that we are agreed,’ the vice chancellor told him warmly, his relief clearly visible.
Isla carefully avoided looking at him when the vice chancellor said this.
‘She has the highest marks ever recorded,’ the vice chancellor added in a conspiratorial stage whisper. ‘You couldn’t have anyone better on the team.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ he said mildly, raising his brow a fraction as he turned to look at Isla—who clearly wasn’t sure whether she should smile or remain expressionless beneath the barrage of praise, but at least she didn’t simper.
‘I won’t let you or the university down,’ she told them both with feeling.
‘I know you won’t, my dear. Your Majesty...’ Standing back to allow him to go first, the vice chancellor indicated that it was time for them to join the rest of the official party.
‘I’ll see you in Q’Aqabi, Ms Sinclair,’ he murmured.
His senses stirred as Isla lowered her gaze. When she bit her lip, he wondered if she was reflecting on what exactly she had just talked herself into.
* * *
She was in trouble and sinking fast, Isla reflected later, swirling a sweetener into the coffee on her desk. Not that she had changed her mind about going to Q’Aqabi. She’d worked her socks off to even get a sniff at the prize. Shazim’s offer of a possible job after her visit to his country was like all her best dreams coming true at once. And she would prove herself, whatever it took. Her only question was, could she work with him? Could she see Shazim every day, and not be distracted by thoughts that had no connection with the project that meant so much to both of them?
Look at it this way—you’re a newly qualified vet with grime beneath your fingernails, while Shazim is an all-powerful sheikh with more sex appeal than there are grains of sand in his desert.
They weren’t just incompatible, they were quite literally worlds apart. Shazim hadn’t answered her question about whether he would be in the desert at the same time she was, but she doubted it somehow. He’d have many other things to do. Of course she wished he would be the one to show her the hidden secrets of the desert. She couldn’t ask for anything more than to see the dangerous wilderness through his eyes. But that sensual world of billowing Bedouin tents, and endless passion beneath the stars on the shores of some tranquil oasis with only the sound of the night hawk to disturb them, was just a fantasy, as he had reminded her, and had no bearing on what she was likely to see.
But if she did see anything like that...and if she did spend some time alone in the desert with Shazim...
That wasn’t going to happen, but if it did, and if by some incredible chance she learned to trust again and they had an affair, heartache in exchange for all of that didn’t seem too bad a deal—at least, not from this safe distance.
* * *
Isla’s arrival at Q’Aqabi International Airport on a commercial jet was a disappointment. Not because the airport was short of anything, but because it had too much of everything. It was the slickest, most efficient, most opulent and impressive airport terminal Isla had ever been through, when she had hoped for a little romance, and perhaps some mystery and magic.
And there was no sign of Shazim.
Of course there was no sign of Shazim. His Majesty had left London long before her, on his private jet the size of a super-airliner, according to the brief news feature she’d watched, detailing the Sheikh of Q’Aqabi’s benevolence towards the university. Did she expect the ruler of the country to roll out the red carpet for one newly qualified vet and her mound of unattractive-looking baggage?
No, but maybe she had expected to detect the hint of sandalwood on the air, and perhaps a few grains of sand on the pristine white marble floor—
And camels instead of cabs?
Get real. This was twenty-first-century oil money, polished to the highest sheen. There was a lake of black gold beneath her feet, and a nature reserve somewhere deep in the desert, waiting for her to start work.
‘Welcome to Q’Aqabi, Ms Sinclair—’
She whirled around to see a young woman around her own age with the friendliest dark, almond-shaped eyes.
‘His Majesty has asked me to meet you and show you to the palace...’
The palace?
‘My name is Miriam, but my friends call me Millie,’ the girl explained.
‘Pleased to meet you, Millie.’ The two girls smiled as they shook hands. ‘I thought I would be staying in a hotel?’
‘His Majesty thought that you, as the prize winner, should have the honour of staying at the royal palace.’
Near Shazim? Her heart sank at the reality of being close to him. Dreams were one thing, but this was all too real.
‘That’s very kind of His Majesty,’ she made herself say.
‘He is very kind. Our King is the best of men,’ Millie assured her, stirring Isla’s curiosity as to how Shazim’s countrymen saw him. ‘And you’ll soon be in the desert,’ Miriam added, sensing something of Isla’s disappointment that she wouldn’t be going straight to the reserve. ‘Though I expect you’re looking forward to the award ceremony tonight.’
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