One Night with the Sheikh. PENNY JORDAN
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an extended tour of the Caribbean and the Gulf of Mexico.
‘Ella, how’s Fleur?’ Tanya demanded immediately.
‘Fast asleep,’ Mariella told her. ‘She was fine on the flight and got thoroughly spoiled. How are you?’
‘Oh…fine…Very busy…we’re doing two shows each evening, with no time off, but as I said the money is excellent. Ella, I must go…Give Fleur a big kiss for me.’
A little guiltily, Mariella looked at the now-silent mobile. She hadn’t said anything to Tanya about her determination to confront her sister’s faithless ex-lover and tell him just what she thought about him! Tanya might have gone willingly to his bed, but Mariella knew she hadn’t been lying to her when she had told her that she had believed that he loved her, and that they had a future together.
Mariella struggled to wake up from a confused and disjointed dream in which she was being dragged by her guards to lie trembling at the feet of the man who was now her master. How she hated him. Hated him for the way he stood there towering over her, looking down at her, looking over her so thoroughly that she felt as though his gaze burned her flesh.
He was looking deep into her eyes. His were the colour of the storm-tossed skies and seas of her homeland, a cold, pure grey that chilled her through and through.
‘You dare to challenge me?’ he was demanding softly as he moved closer to her. Behind her Mariella was conscious of the threatening presence of the guards.
She hated him with every sinew of her body, every pulse of blood from her heart. He left the divan where he had been sitting and came towards her, bending down, extending his hand to her face, but as his fingers gripped her chin Mariella turned her head and bit sharply into the soft pad of flesh below his thumb.
She felt the movement of the air as the guards leapt into action, heard them draw their swords, and her body waited for the welcome kiss of death, but instead the guards were dismissed whilst her tormentor stepped back from her. One bright spot of blood glistened on the intricately inlaid tiled floor.
‘You are like a wildcat and as such need to be tamed,’ she heard him telling her softly.
She could feel the cleanliness of her hair on her bare skin and froze as he slowly circled her, standing behind her and sliding his hand through her hair and then wrapping it tightly around his fingers, arching her back against his body so that her semi-naked breasts were thrown into taut profile. His free hand reached for the clasp securing her top and her whole body shook with outrage. And then abruptly he released her, turning to face her so that she could see the contempt in his eyes.
Swimming up through the layers of her dream Mariella recognised that his face was one she knew; that his cynical contempt was something she had experienced before…
In the half heartbeat of time between sleeping and waking she realised why. The man in her dream had been the arrogant, hawk-eyed man she had seen earlier at the airport!
Getting out of bed, she went into the bathroom, shaking her head to clear her thoughts, and then, when that tactic did nothing to subdue their dangerous, clinging tentacles of remembered sensuality, she turned on the shower, deliberately setting it at a punishing ‘cool,’ before stepping into it.
The minute the cool spray hit her overheated skin she shuddered, gritting her teeth as she washed the slick film from her body, and then stepping out of the shower, to wrap herself in a luxuriously thick, soft white towel. In the mirror in front of her she could see the pale, pearlescent gleam of her own skin, and dangerously she knew that if she were merely to close her eyes, behind her closed eyelids she would immediately see her tormentor, tall, cynically watchful, as he mocked her before reaching out to take the towel from her body and claim her.
Infuriated with herself, Mariella rubbed her damp skin roughly with the towel, and then re-set the air-conditioning. In her cot Fleur slept peacefully. Going to the fridge, Mariella removed a bottle of water and opened it. Her hand was shaking so much some of it slopped from the bottle onto the worktop.
Mariella and Fleur had just finished eating a leisurely breakfast on their private patio when a message came chattering through the fax machine. Frowning, Mariella read it. The prince had been called away on some unexpected business and would not now be able to see her for several days. He apologised to Mariella for having to change their arrangements, but asked her to enjoy the facilities of the Beach Club at his expense until his return.
Carefully smoothing sun-protection lotion onto Fleur’s happy, wriggling little body, Mariella bent her head to kiss her tummy, acknowledging that this would be an ideal time to seek out Fleur’s father. She had his address, after all! So all she needed to do was summon a taxi to take her there!
Kate had been quite correct when she had described Zuran’s February weather as perfect, Mariella admitted half an hour later as she carried Fleur out into the warm sunshine. Since she was here on business and not holiday she had packed accordingly, and was wearing a pair of soft white linen trousers and a protective long-sleeved top. When she showed the taxi driver the sheikh’s address he smiled and nodded. ‘It will take maybe three quarters of an hour,’ he told her. ‘You have business with the sheikh?’ he asked her conversationally.
Having learned already just how friendly people were, Mariella didn’t take offence, replying simply tongue in cheek, ‘You could say that.’
‘He is a famous man. Revered by his tribe. They admire him for the way he has supported their right to live their lives in the traditional way. Although he is an extremely successful businessman it is said that he still prefers to live simply in the desert the way his people always have. He is a very good man.’
Mariella reflected inwardly that the picture the driver had just drawn for her was considerably at odds with the one she had gained from her half-sister.
Tanya had met the man in a nightclub, after all. Mariella had never liked the fact that Tanya worked there—although she had been employed as a singer, it openly advertised the sexual charms of its dancers, and Tanya had freely admitted that the majority of the customers were male.
And, certainly, during the twelve months they had been together, Mariella had never heard Tanya mention any predilection on her sexy sheikh’s part to spend quality time in the middle of the desert! In fact, if she was honest, she had gained the impression that he was something of a ‘playboy,’ to use a perhaps now outdated word.
It took just under forty minutes for them to reach the impressive white mansion, which the taxi driver assured her was the correct address.
A huge pair of locked wrought-iron gates prevented them from going any farther, but as if by magic an official stepped out of one of the pair of gatehouses that flanked the gates, and approached the car.
As firmly as she could Mariella explained that she wished to see the sheikh.
‘I am sorry but he is not available,’ the official informed her. ‘He is away at the oasis at the moment and not expected back for some time.’
This was a complication Mariella had not been expecting. Fleur had woken up and was starting to grizzle a little.
‘If you would care to leave a message?’ the official was offering courteously.
Ruefully Mariella acknowledged inwardly that the nature of the message she wanted to give to the sheikh was better delivered in person!
Thanking him, she asked the taxi driver to take her back to the hotel.
‘If you want, I can find someone to drive you to this oasis?’ he suggested.
‘You know where it is?’ she questioned him.
He gave a small shrug. ‘Sure! But you will need a four-wheel drive vehicle, as the track can be covered with sand.’
‘Could I drive there myself?’ Mariella asked him.
‘It is possible, yes. It would take you two, maybe three hours. You wish me to give you the directions?’