Читать книгу Modern Romance July 2018 Books 5-8 Collection - Дженнифер Хейворд, Annie West - Страница 14
ОглавлениеIF LINA HAD expected a warm welcome from her self-styled guardian, she’d have been disappointed.
The tight curve of his mouth could be classed as a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Those gleamed as cool and impenetrable as black onyx. Yet something about the quality of that look sent a tremor of yearning through her insides.
Severely she told herself she hadn’t expected warmth.
It was just that he’d been kind.
He’d treated her, not as an encumbrance or an embarrassment, but as a person who mattered.
When she looked at him she felt something like the prickle of delight she’d known years before in her home on the edge of the desert. She’d looked at the night sky and lost herself in the beauty of the diamond-bright wash of stars. Then she’d felt small and vulnerable but at the same time exultant, as if the vast night sky had touched her with a tiny spark of its magic.
Lina was too old for girlish fantasies about a handsome sheikh. Even though he’d swept in and rescued her. Even though such fantasies had been her solace and her rock as she grappled with life beyond Halarq and everything she knew.
Yet, to her dismay, she discovered fantasies weren’t so easy to banish. She looked into those midnight eyes, heard the warm burr of his voice, and felt it again, that swirl of starlight and wonder. That ripple of hyper-consciousness. Even the contrast of his spare, burnished flesh against pristine white robes caught and held her gaze. And the honed, arrogant but beautiful angles and planes of his face.
He’d altered in four and a half years. His shoulders seemed even wider than before, his chest deeper. There were new lines around his eyes and mouth too, but they only accentuated the masculine charisma of that strong face.
For one mad instant, when she saw a pulse pound at his temple and those broad shoulders stiffen, she’d thought he, too, was affected. But that was her imagination running riot. A second look confirmed she was wrong.
He led her to a pair of opulent antique chairs positioned on the far side of the room. They were a formal few metres apart, slightly turned to make the best of the view from the citadel, down over the ancient sprawling city.
‘Is it good to be home?’
Lina turned in her seat to find him watching her closely. A shiver skated through her at the intensity of his regard. She sat straighter.
‘I...it feels strange.’ Though what felt most strange was hearing him speak of home. As if she truly belonged though she was an outsider here. ‘I don’t really know the city. I was only here a short time.’
His sleek black eyebrows lifted. ‘You would rather return to your old town? Your old home?’
‘No. No!’ The shiver that tracked her spine this time had nothing to do with the man sitting across from her. Her fingers curled tight in her lap as she leaned closer. ‘Please don’t send me back. There’s no place for me there.’
She paused, pushing down the rising fear that she’d be made to return to the family who despised her. For years she hadn’t entertained the possibility. Surely the Emir had saved her from that?
‘I’m sure I’ll adjust quickly to life in the capital.’
She’d adapted to moving from a provincial town to an international school in Switzerland. To make matters worse, it wasn’t just any school, but one patronised by the wealthy and privileged. It taught not only the usual academic subjects, but all the other things deemed necessary for a young woman about to take her privileged place in society. Presumably some officious secretary, on receiving the orders to enrol her in a school at royal expense, had automatically searched for the best, because only the best was ever provided for the Emir.
The other girls, all from wealthy families, had initially treated her as a freak. A freak who barely spoke their languages. Who couldn’t even read or write.
She’d been a figure of fun, the butt of malicious jokes and cruelty. It had only been in her last two years, as the oldest pupil there, that she’d found her place and become a mentor for the younger girls. She’d worked hard and shown true flair in her passion for languages and history, even if her writing was still laborious.
‘You’re certain you don’t want to return?’ She looked up to see his eyes narrowed on her, his hard, handsome face close to a frown. ‘There hasn’t been a softening in your relationship with your aunt and uncle?’
Lina snorted at the absurdity of the idea, then ducked her head, apologising. People did not snort in front of national leaders.
‘I take it that’s a no.’
She looked up in time to catch a glimmer in his eyes that she couldn’t identify. It made him seem more approachable. More like the man she’d met years ago who’d been stern yet gentle. Instantly Lina sank back in her chair, relief buzzing in her veins.
‘I’ve had no contact with them since the day my uncle left me at the servants’ entrance to the palace.’ For all they knew she could have spent the intervening years warming the Emir’s bed as his concubine.
Heat swept Lina’s breasts and throat and she moistened her lips as her throat dried.
Not in embarrassment at the idea, but because the thought of sharing Sayid Badawi’s bed appealed too much.
She’d once glimpsed behind the serious visage and imposing title to the virile, fascinating, kind man beyond. And she couldn’t seem to cure herself of the yearning to know more of him. Experience more.
As if he’d be interested in someone like her!
His stare didn’t waver, nor did he feel the need to fill the silence. She wondered frantically what he read in her face.
Lina had devoured every story she could find about him. They painted a portrait of a strong, determined leader, a man with a vision for his country. And a man who, discreetly but definitely, had an eye for beautiful women.
Could he see how she felt about him? Did he sense that tickle of heated awareness? She’d never felt it with any other man. Only him.
As she watched, his hands gripped the arms of his chair. His ring of authority, a wide band of gold inset with a glowing cabochon ruby, caught the light.
Lina’s pulse throbbed but curiously, as she met that midnight gaze, her heartbeat seemed to slow, grow ponderous and heavy. The air thickened, making her lungs chug hard to draw in oxygen.
Though they didn’t sit close, Lina could swear she inhaled that spicy, sensual aroma she’d smelled only once before. Citrus and cedar wood with a darker note of something she registered as warm male skin.
Her skin tingled, as if from a phantom caress, and she swayed forward, drawn by the expression in his eyes.
Abruptly he moved. His gaze jerked from hers towards the door. Instantly Lina felt the current of energy holding her grow taut, snap and disintegrate as surely as if he’d flicked off a switch.
‘Very well. You’ll stay here at the palace for now. Later we’ll talk about your future and make some decisions.’
Still reeling from the impact of his stare, Lina was slow to speak. She should have said she’d already decided what she wanted to do with her future. She wanted to train as an interpreter. But he glanced at his watch and she kept her mouth shut. There’d be time enough later.
‘I’m informed you were a conscientious pupil.’ Was that a twitch at one corner of his mouth? A half smile? ‘I congratulate you, Lina. You did well when many would have found the transition too hard.’
‘It was hard.’ In the beginning it had been awful. Only the kindness of her teachers, and the knowledge that this was her one chance to pursue her dream, had kept her there. ‘But it was worth it. I can’t thank you enough.’ She moved forward in her seat. ‘Truly, it was a wonderful thing you did for me. I—’
‘Excellent. I’m pleased you found it valuable and that you made the most of it.’ He dismissed her thanks as if his generosity didn’t matter. But he’d opened a whole new world to her. She’d never forget that.
The Emir rose and so did Lina, stifling disappointment that their interview was so cursory.
‘See my secretary and he’ll brief you. You’ll begin by meeting staff from the Department of Education. I want you involved in their work with local communities. But we’ll see how it goes.’
‘That sounds wonderful. I’m looking forward to it.’ Lina smiled wide and saw him blink. Was he surprised at her enthusiasm? ‘I’m ready to help and I’m enthusiastic about the benefits of education. I’m sure it will work out well. I enjoy meeting people and talking with them.’
Under her uncle’s roof that had got her into trouble, but recently Lina had been delighted to discover others valued her ability to connect with people. At school they’d called her a people person, as if it were a positive thing instead of a flaw.
‘Good.’ The Emir inclined his head. ‘I look forward to hearing about your progress.’
* * *
But Lina learned he didn’t want personal updates. In the ten days that followed, as she found her way more confidently around the palace, and began to attend some of the school and community visits, she rarely saw the Emir.
Occasionally she’d see him stride down the corridor with that distinctive loose-hipped, shoulders back walk, full of confidence and athletic grace. Every time her heart would skip and her mouth would dry.
Occasionally he’d spot her and nod or raise a hand in greeting. But every time he’d be on his way somewhere, accompanied by his secretary or some official.
On the positive side, she slowly found her feet in this new world. She realised quickly that her role promoting education was a manufactured position. There were professionals who already did that. Clearly the Emir had created this job to give her something useful to do.
She hated being treated as a charity case, even if that was what she was. But she was grateful for the chance to salve her pride by contributing even a little to his schemes for the country. Gradually she began to feel as if she was helping.
When the Emir’s secretary, Makram, told her she was invited to attend a dinner in the grand dining hall, she thought at first it was a mistake. But Makram didn’t make mistakes. And unlike his predecessor, he didn’t look down on her, so this wasn’t a joke at her expense. Instead he advised on the dress code and referred to an allowance the Emir had set up for her at a local bank.
Lina’s chin lifted at that news. She’d accepted enough of the Emir’s generosity. She’d saved most of the spending money she’d been sent while overseas. She couldn’t accept more. Already she was housed in unimaginable luxury.
Now Lina stroked her hands down the silky dress she’d never before worn, watching the way it hugged her figure in the mirror. She swallowed hard. Did it cling too much? It hadn’t seemed to when she’d made it in Switzerland. She twirled, the knee-length skirt flaring a little, making her wish she could go dancing. No, the dress was feminine but not revealing. The scooped neck merely hinted at her cleavage, and she’d even covered her bare arms with a pretty shawl she’d found in the markets.
Excitement vied with trepidation and Lina grinned at the woman in the mirror. She was going to a royal dinner party, as a guest, not a servant!
Would he notice her?
Would he speak to her?
Her heart danced a jig of anticipation.
She spun on her heel and swept through the door, ignoring the inner voice that warned her to be careful.
She’d been careful and conscientious for years. Tonight she intended to enjoy herself.
* * *
‘I’m pleased you’re enjoying your stay.’ Sayid smiled at the foreign professor, one of a team visiting to advise on setting up state-of-the-art research laboratories at the new university. ‘When your meetings are over you must visit the desert. I’ll have my staff arrange it.’
The man nodded and began to talk enthusiastically about the new plant recently identified in Halarq’s barren heartland. Of how a substance extracted from it might provide a breakthrough for medical research.
Sayid nodded, drawing another guest into the conversation. It would be fascinating if he hadn’t already been briefed on the details.
And if his attention wasn’t constantly diverted by the sound of laughter from the other side of the royal reception room where guests mingled before dinner.
He was pleased the guests enjoyed themselves, especially as they were such a disparate group. But it wasn’t pleasure he felt whenever the sound of good cheer reached him. It was something unsettling.
For amidst the deeper notes of male amusement came the sound of Lina’s voice, pure and true as a songbird’s, a silvery trill of delight that undid something inside him.
He hadn’t heard her laugh before. Had rarely seen her smile. Tonight, experiencing both, he found himself constantly distracted. Not because she was over-loud. But because he wanted to be there, beside her, basking in the joy that bubbled from her.
Another laugh, this time in response to a murmured male comment and Sayid felt jealousy slice his belly.
Jealousy! Of his own secretary, Makram? And, he darted a quick glance across the room, a junior member of the American Embassy staff, and a foreign businessman.
‘They’re having a good time.’ Sayid turned to see his friend, the Minister for Education, nodding towards the laughter. ‘Your Lina is a breath of fresh air.’
His Lina?
For a second Sayid’s brain stuck on the pronoun. His.
‘You know my ward?’
‘We met yesterday at a community centre near the main souk. Where the new school is being built.’
Sayid nodded. The area was in the heart of the oldest part of the city, its population a mix of highly paid professionals and urban poor. ‘I know it.’
‘I thought it clever of you to send her along with my staff. The local women related to her more than to officials. Perhaps it was the way she rolled up her sleeves and joined them in baking bread at the communal oven.’
Sayid’s gaze slewed across the room. Lina had her head back, laughing. When was the last time he’d heard uninhibited laughter at one of these events?
Her throat looked slender and sublimely elegant. The shawl of rich blue and gold had slipped down her bare arms. His gaze traced the outline of her breasts in a dress that gleamed richly, the colour of lapis lazuli. It reminded him of the gems in the royal treasury.
Lina looked as if she was born to wear silks and velvet, rubies and pearls.
She looked as if she belonged here.
He’d wondered if she’d hold her own tonight, but he needn’t have worried. She seemed completely at ease. How far she’d come from the anxious, half-defiant teenager he’d first met.
‘I didn’t know she could cook.’ But that wasn’t true. She’d offered, hadn’t she, to work in the kitchens or the laundry, rather than return to her uncle’s house?
‘I suspect she’s a woman of many talents.’
Sayid’s gaze narrowed, but he saw no salacious expression. If anything his friend looked paternally approving.
Slowly Sayid nodded. He could only agree. He’d been impressed by the reports he’d received from her school. Lina was hard-working and determined. She also had a reputation for honesty, sociability and kindness, especially valued by the staff and the younger homesick girls. There’d even been a suggestion of a position for her at the academy, should she ever want it.
‘She has a way with people that’s more effective than anything we’ve tried before.’
‘Really?’ Pride rose. He’d thought from the first Lina was far from ordinary. That she had potential it would be criminal not to encourage.
‘You didn’t realise?’
‘I barely know her,’ Sayid admitted, just as if he hadn’t received regular reports over the years. ‘She’s spent a lot of time away.’ At his friend’s stare he added, ‘But I agree, she can be quite...winning.’
‘Definitely winning. She’s charming. In the beginning I thought she’d be just a decorative addition to our team. But she proved me wrong. She listened to everyone’s concerns and when she spoke it wasn’t about what they ought or must do. It was about how school would help them and their children right now, not just in the distant future.’ He nodded. ‘We might all talk the same language but she speaks it in a way they can relate to.’
‘She has a passion for education,’ Sayid murmured. Plus she’d grown up, if not in poverty, since her father was Headman of his town, but without luxuries. He remembered her shining eyes when he’d agreed to provide an education. The ripple of delight he’d felt at her excitement.
‘Not just education.’ His friend nodded towards the animated group in conversation across the room. ‘For life. And possibly for tall blond Americans.’
Sayid followed his glance. A handsome diplomat was leaning towards Lina and she gazed up as if enraptured.
An unseen fist rammed into Sayid’s gut. Why had he allowed the American’s name to be included on the guest list? He ignored the fact that it was his policy to invite foreign nationals to such evenings. Establishing better ties with the world beyond his country’s borders was a priority.
Sayid turned back to his friend. ‘If you’ll excuse me. It’s time I mingled with my other guests.’
Nodding acknowledgement on the way, pausing to chat here and there, it took Sayid an age to reach the group clustered nearest the door to the dining hall.
As he approached he heard a woman speaking English in an accent that summoned memories of drumming hoof beats and vast wide open spaces, not unlike Halarq.
Sayid frowned. He saw no other woman in the group, much less one with that distinctive Texan drawl. Only Lina, in a shimmering blue dress that gleamed subtly under the brilliant chandeliers. The spill of gilded light showcased each delectable curve and dip of that hourglass figure.
He swallowed, his throat suddenly parched. He preferred tall, leggy blondes, he reminded himself.
But his body wasn’t listening.
‘I’m afraid I’m not very good. My American friend would be rolling on the floor with laughter if she heard me now.’ The accent disintegrated on the words, replaced by Lina’s musical tones.
Sayid halted not far from Lina, stunned.
Lina was a mimic?
What other secrets did she hide?
Hungrily his gaze ate her up. Her hair was in a refined knot, her posture perfect, her manner easy and her clothes elegant and expensive-looking.
She was definitely no schoolgirl any more. The question that clawed at Sayid’s gut now was what sort of woman she’d become.
Had the allowance he’d provided paid for the dress that had obviously been designed specifically for her? Or had some man—?
‘No, no! You’re great. What about me? Can you do my accent?’ It was the American, leaning in, a lock of golden hair flopping over his boyishly handsome face.
Lina shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I have to hear an accent for longer before I can attempt it.’ Yet even as she spoke, Sayid was fascinated to hear her vowels become clipped, her intonation change in an approximation of the foreigner’s.
So much for his concerns Lina might feel nervous. This was by far the most animated group in the room. Because of Lina. Even from here he sensed the charm that so dazzled her audience. She wasn’t brash or pushy, just...vibrant.
‘That’s easily fixed.’ The American’s smile widened. ‘We can spend more time together. I’ll share everything you want to know about Boston and...’
His words died as Sayid stepped into the group.
Beside him Lina stiffened and he heard the soft hitch of her breath. He told himself he’d simply surprised her, yet an unrepentant part of him hoped it was more, something akin to the instant charge of energy that zapped him whenever she was near. It sizzled now from his fingers, a mere hand span from hers, up his arm and through his body in a fiery shower of sparks.
‘Your Highness.’ The men bowed and Lina sank into a graceful curtsey as perfect as any ballerina’s.
‘I’m glad you’re all enjoying the evening. I heard the laughter and was curious.’
‘Ms Rahman was demonstrating her talent for accents.’ It was the American who spoke, his eyes bright with unconcealed approval. ‘She’s very talented.’
‘It’s nothing, really.’ Lina sounded breathless. ‘I’ve got an ear for accents. They intrigue me.’
Sayid turned to find her eyes shadowed as if expecting disapproval. That was when he realised his jaw was locked tight and his hands bunched.
He nodded, curving his mouth into a smile and was pleased to see her tension ease. ‘Part of your ear for languages, no doubt.’ He turned to her coterie of admirers. ‘Ms Rahman is fluent in several, you know.’ Her teachers had been enthusiastic about her linguistic skills.
He stayed with the group, enjoying the lively change of pace from some of his more staid guests. Finally, when the others were deep in discussion, Lina turned to him. He looked down, seeing again that tell-tale twitch of concern on her brow.
‘Lina?’ He kept his voice low, below the level of the conversation surrounding them. ‘What is it?’
‘Have I done something wrong? You looked...angry earlier.’
It struck him that she alone had read his bad humour. Either he was slipping—he was adept at keeping his thoughts private—or she had an uncanny ability to read minds as well as accents. Neither idea appealed.
That was when he noticed her hands. Her posture was composed and she met his stare with her chin up, but her hands were clenched tight together.
To Sayid’s surprise, that mix of pride and vulnerability tore at him. He should be pleased she held her own with this mixed group. Proud of her coping with a royal event. Many would find it intimidating.
‘Not at all. You’ve done nothing wrong, Lina. On the contrary, it’s good seeing you enjoying yourself.’ He smiled down and watched as her expression grew dazzled.
Satisfaction, sweet, sharp and hot, spiked through him. A satisfaction he shouldn’t feel but couldn’t kill.
* * *
An hour after midnight, Lina leaned out over her balcony railing, staring beyond the capital to the vast starry sky. She inhaled the dry, slightly perfumed air of Halarq and felt a glow of excitement and happiness.
Sleep was beyond her. She felt like Cinderella after her ball. She’d attended a royal dinner party and instead of feeling out of place had met kind, interesting people. The conversation as much as the delicious food, the gold plate and crystal and the stunning setting made it a night to remember.
Especially when, before dinner, Sayid Badawi had stood beside her. In his robes, he’d been commanding yet urbane, charming yet with that tangible air of power. When his gleaming eyes rested on her she felt a quake of reaction like an earth tremor. At first she’d thought him angry, that she’d overstepped some rule of royal etiquette. But then he’d smiled...
Did he know how she came alive when he stood close? When he singled her out for conversation? How heat streaked through her, melting her, softening her body as if it ripened ready for his possession?
Perhaps he did for he hadn’t lingered. Instead he’d borne off the friendly American to discuss trade.
Lina turned back into her room, pausing to soak up the atmosphere. Still she wasn’t used to the suite’s luxury. From the massive marble bathroom with its collection of fragrant bath oils beside the sunken tub to the lavishly appointed bedroom and sitting room, everything was exquisite. There were crystal perfume bottles, exquisite hand-woven carpets so thick you sank into them, and vases of fragrant roses, a rare delight in a desert kingdom.
Yet she couldn’t settle. On impulse she marched to the dressing room where her belongings took up a tiny corner of the space. Quickly undressing, she put on her swimsuit and grabbed an oversized towel.
On one side her suite gave out onto a long, leafy courtyard that she hadn’t explored. She’d been too busy with her new role, and too addicted to long soaks in the huge bath, to venture far. But she’d glimpsed a swimming pool at the far end.
Lina stepped barefoot onto warm flagstones. As always, there was no sign of life from the other rooms surrounding this garden. She was the only guest.
The sweet scent of jasmine filled her nostrils. Faint luminescence came from the stars and a myriad of tiny lights twining through the shrubs.
Lina smiled. It was a private fairyland.
She stepped into a patch of darker shade. Just ahead the underwater lights of the pool broke the darkness. The soft aqua glow of the water beckoned enticingly. Lina was pulling pins from her hair, shaking the heavy tresses from her face, when a sound made her stop.
Splashing.
Not a fountain but the rhythmic slap of flesh cleaving through water.
Curious, Lina moved forward, peering between the shrubs. For a second she saw nothing but the ripple of light across the water. Then a dark head came into view, a long arm arcing out of the iridescent aqua and down again. Wide shoulders and a sinuous curve of spine. Another, tighter curve of flexing bare buttocks then long legs with a lazy kick that nevertheless propelled the tall body with enviable speed.
Lina sucked in a hiss of air, her hand belatedly slamming over her mouth to stop the sound. Dismayed, she stepped off the path, stumbling into a bush and snapping twigs.
There was only one person this could be. One person so at home in the palace that they’d swim here naked.
Only one person with those sublimely beautiful masculine proportions.
Somehow she’d blundered into Sayid Badawi’s private garden!
She’d known there’d been a mistake when she was installed in those elegant rooms. More than once she’d thought the corridor leading to her suite was familiar from that night years ago when she’d sat by the Emir’s bed. Till logic told her she imagined it. How could she remember one corridor from all those in this sprawling place?
Her heart hammered against her ribs and a chill skipped down her spine. She couldn’t let him find her here, invading his privacy.
Lina spun on her foot and stifled a gasp as something hard dug into her sole. She wasn’t on the path any more. Worse, her long hair snagged on the bushes. Tiny twigs grabbed, refusing to release her.
She breathed slowly, tamping down panic as she fought to free herself. She couldn’t hear splashing now, probably because her hammering pulse blotted out every other sound.
Finally, free of clinging plants, she got back on the path. She took a single step towards her rooms, then someone grabbed her upper arms and hauled her against a hard, dripping wet body.
