Читать книгу Desert Sheikhs: Monarch of the Sands / To Tame a Sheikh / Sheikh Protector - Dana Marton - Страница 14

‘SO WHERE exactly are we going?’ Frankie injected what she thought was just the right amount of polite interest into her voice as she sat back in the passenger seat of the enormous four-wheel drive.

To hell and back, thought Zahid grimly. Sharply, he turned the key in the ignition and eased away into the shining brightness of the desert morning. ‘To the new horse-racing stadium, so that you can see it for yourself before you start work on the diaries. I want you to give me your opinion on how well you think the women’s facilities are being catered for—as honestly as only you can, Frankie.’

Great, thought Frankie, blinking her eyes furiously behind the welcome covering of her shades, not knowing if she was trying to hold off tears or tiredness. You get rejected by yet another man and spend a long sleepless night thinking about him—and then he tells you that your day will be spent inspecting the ‘women’s facilities’ at Khayarzah’s new racing track. It really didn’t get much worse than that, did it?

‘Fine with me.’ Forcing a neutral smile, she risked a glance at the hawklike profile and hard, unsmiling lips. ‘Why are you driving—and not one of your chauffeurs?’

Zahid’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Why did she think he was driving? Wasn’t it obvious? To give him something to do other than give into the temptation of finishing off what they’d started last night. Something to look at other than the soft temptation of her lips and thinking about where on his body he would like them to be placed. He glanced in his mirror to see the dark shape of the security car behind, which was shadowing them.

‘I like to drive. Especially in the desert. The roads are flat and straight and you can put your foot right down in a way you can’t do anywhere else in the world.’

‘Right.’ Frankie settled back in her seat. Think positive, she told herself. Don’t let him realise that you’re hurting, or that you can’t stop thinking about the hot brush of his lips and the way he made you feel when he held you in his arms last night. She forced herself to concentrate on the road ahead. ‘Well, I quite like driving myself—so maybe later on, I can have a go.’

There was the split second of a pause. ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible,’ he said pleasantly.

‘Really? I’m sure that as Sheikh you can get me emergency cover on your car insurance, Zahid.’

He bit back a reluctant smile. ‘It’s nothing to do with the insurance. It’s a very powerful machine.’

If she hadn’t been feeling so pent-up and rejected she might have just let that go. But now Frankie was pleased to have something to concentrate on other than the fact that for the first time in her life she was experiencing an intense kind of frustration.

‘Fortunately I passed my driving test on the first attempt,’ she said sweetly. ‘And not just the section for “delicate little women who shouldn’t be allowed behind the wheel of a big car”.’ A new sense of determination filled her. ‘So I’d like to have a go at driving, if that’s all right with you.’

‘Actually, it is not,’ he said, flexing his fingers as he anticipated her reaction to his next statement. ‘I’m afraid women aren’t allowed to drive in my country.’

This time the pause was longer. ‘You are kidding?’

He shot her a glance. Today she was wearing a tunic and trousers in ice-blue—a cool and untouchable contrast to the hot question which burst from her lips. ‘No, I’m not.’

‘Women aren’t allowed to drive?’ she verified, and when he gave a terse nod she raked her fingers back through her hair in agitation. ‘Why not?’

Zahid’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. He had brought her here to type his father’s diaries—not to challenge him or the laws of his land!

‘Don’t ask me, the laws have been in place for decades.’ Frankie’s lips fell open as she turned her head to look at him.

‘I keep thinking that you’re going to come out with some sort of punchline and tell me that it’s some kind of joke.’

‘I know it seems outdated to you—and to me in fact. But the previous sheikh was not a moderniser. His view—which is still shared by many—was that men and women should not mix freely. At the moment it’s just the way things are.’

‘I realise that now—and I assume that’s the same reason you won’t let women go to university.’ She saw him nod his head before turning on him angrily. ‘But why would you stop women from mixing freely with men?’

‘Because it is felt that women need to be protected.’

‘From who—or what, exactly?’

‘From men, of course—and from themselves!’

‘And you call that protection?’ Frankie shook her head. ‘Some people might reasonably describe it as a kind of prison.’

‘It depends on your point of view.’ Zahid put his foot down on the accelerator. ‘Proximity equals sex—and sex before marriage isn’t always a good thing. You should know that better than anyone, Francesca—since the man to whom you gave yourself is no longer a part of your future. What a waste of time that was.’

If he hadn’t made her so angry then she might have told him that he was leaping to false conclusions. As it was, his arrogant statement so irked her that she turned the accusation on him.

‘So you go away on your foreign trips and have as much sex as you want, on the clear understanding that you will one day return home to marry a Khayarzahian virgin?’ she demanded as a hot little spear of jealousy lanced through her like a sabre.

He shrugged. ‘I am now the king,’ he said quietly. ‘And that is what is expected of me.’

And despite knowing that he was a victim of his own circumstances, Frankie could not bite back her burning sense of injustice. ‘Meaning that it’s one rule for men and another for women?’

He looked in his rear mirror. ‘I’m afraid so,’ he answered, softly. ‘And it has always been that way, no matter how much the feminists might protest.’

Frankie stared out of the window as the car shot along the long and straight desert road and tried to quell her rising tide of indignation. What century did he think he was he living in?

‘Well, if men and women should not be mixing freely in Khayarzah—then why on earth did you bring me here?’

Behind his shades, Zahid’s eyes narrowed as the roads became fringed with towering date trees, and he slowed down to pass a horse-drawn cart which contained sacks of rice. He felt the familiar flicker of lust licking at his groin. ‘You think I haven’t already asked myself that very question and realised that I was mistaken in doing so?’

‘In what way mistaken?’ she flashed back.

For a moment, he didn’t answer. But was there any point in pretending, after what had happened last night? One stupid little kiss which had dominated his thoughts ever since, no matter how hard he tried to push it aside. One kiss which had made him wonder whether there was any point in holding back any more. One kiss which had kept him hard and aching all night long and which was making him hard right now …‘Thinking that I could resist you. That resisting you would be a useful test in self-control.’

‘But you did resist me,’ she pointed out. ‘So you’ve passed your stupid test.’

He gave a short laugh. ‘I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you.’

‘Neither can I.’ But even as she said it Frankie realised that it wasn’t quite true. Because despite the fundamental disagreements which lay at the heart of their heated discussion, she was aware of an intimacy which existed between her and Zahid, which had never been there with Simon. Was that because she’d known the sheikh for so many years that she felt she could be herself with him, no matter how huge the differences in their circumstances? Because she’d known him as a person before this inconvenient sexual attraction had reared its seductive head?

‘Look over there,’ he said suddenly. ‘We are skirting the outskirts of Calathara, which is our second biggest city—famous for its diamonds and carpets and the sweetest oranges on the planet. And if you look carefully you’ll see the stadium in the distance.’

She was relieved to be able to change the subject and as they approached the stadium it was difficult not to be impressed by the amount of money and work which had clearly been poured into the new building. A gleam of chrome and glass rose up to greet them and Frankie studied the sleek design as she stepped from the car to greet the now-familiar deputation which awaited them.

Walking just behind Zahid, she marvelled at the state-of-the-art racetrack, whose lush grass track curved like an emerald snake—made all the more startling by its stark desert location. She’d once gone to a Boxing Day race meeting in England with her father—but the racecourse had been nothing like this.

Here, no expense had been spared. Not anywhere. Everything was brand-new and the very best that money could buy. There were dining rooms and function rooms—as well as fabulous facilities for the horses and their jockeys. The women’s section was separate and lavish, filled with beautiful containers of showy orchids, and there was a dazzling array of French perfumes and soaps in the washrooms.

In one of the executive dining rooms, they drank strong, sweet coffee from dinky little cups and ate cake which had been flavoured with honey and cardamom. And Frankie thought how animated and proud Zahid seemed as they sipped at their coffee.

‘I want to make this track part of the international circuit,’ he said. ‘And for the Khayarzah Cup to be one of the most treasured trophies of the twenty-first century—on a par with the prizes offered at Ascot and Cheltenham and Melbourne.’ He put down his cup and looked at her. ‘So what do you think of it?

‘I think it’s superb.’

Zahid gave a satisfied smile. ‘It is, isn’t it?’

‘I also think it’s a contradiction.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘I’m sorry?’

Frankie wondered whether she would have been saying all this if he’d come into her room last night and made love to her. Would she have been quite so keen to find fault if that had been the case? But it wasn’t fault, she told herself fiercely. It was a legitimate opinion—and one which he had asked for.

She clasped her hands together. ‘You’re hoping to attract an international clientele?’

‘Of course. It won’t work without one.’

‘Well, I can tell you right now, Zahid, that independent women will not tolerate being forbidden to drive. How are you proposing they get around?’

‘There will be taxis. Chauffeurs.’ He gave a soft laugh. ‘Show me a woman who doesn’t like having a driver—though I doubt you will be able to produce one.’

Impatiently, she shook her head. ‘You’re missing the point. Women may like being chauffeured around but they will see the driving ban as completely unreasonable. They won’t want their liberty being curtailed.’

‘Then let them stay away!’

‘Meaning their powerful husbands might stay away, too—and then where will you be? You won’t have successful horse races if you’re playing to an empty stadium!’

Zahid tensed. Why had he thought that bringing her out here was a good idea? It was supposed to be as a favour to her—to give her a break after the demise of her disastrous relationship. And yes, he had tailor-made a job for her, but for that he expected her unquestioning loyalty. He certainly hadn’t expected to have to endure a tirade of criticism. A nerve flickered at his temple. ‘You are perfectly entitled to your opinion, Francesca. Just don’t expect me to agree with it.’

‘So you only employ people who tell you what you want to hear?’ she suggested softly.

Zahid stilled. Enough was enough! Why, he was according her all kinds of privilege and yet she could not show him even a modicum of common courtesy! He stood up.

‘Let’s go,’ he said abruptly.

She knew he was angry, but she didn’t care; she was angry herself—she just wasn’t sure why. Or maybe she was and she didn’t want to admit it.

She heard him saying something terse in his native tongue to the bodyguards who had followed them and then, having made their farewells to the various dignitaries, the two of them made their way to the car in complete silence.

As the car pulled away Frankie stared out of the window at the startlingly clear line of the distant horizon and deep blue of the desert sky. She saw the sizzle of heat shimmering off the sand and wondered why her heart felt as if it had been plunged into ice-water.

Beside her, Zahid simmered with unspoken rage as he drove and she was aware that she was witnessing a very royal sulk. Well, let him sulk! And did he really have to drive that fast?

‘You’re driving very fast, Zahid.’

‘And?’

She bit back a smile at his unashamed arrogance—and yet that made her even angrier. She didn’t want to smile. She wanted to … Her fingertips strayed to her mouth.

‘Don’t bite your nails, Francesca.’

‘Why, are women forbidden to do that, as well?’

He swallowed. She really was outrageous. Feisty and fearless and not afraid to say what was on her mind. Shifting a little, he tried in vain to dispel some of the dull ache he felt deep in his groin. He was aware of her own body language, which was making her sit so rigidly in the passenger seat, even if he hadn’t been able to detect the steadily escalating sexual tension in the air around them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her cross one slim and silk-clad leg over the other and, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t prevent himself from imagining her naked. What would her nipples be like? he wondered distractedly. Like tiny, puckered rose-buds crowning a soft and creamy breast? Or large pale pink discs which he could slowly encircle with his tongue?

His erotic imaginings proved too much and suddenly the barriers he had erected between them came tumbling down. His fingers gripped the steering wheel as his mind and his body went to war. Who was he trying to protect by not making love to her—when she was clearly a feisty woman who had made it plain that she despised inequality?

She didn’t want protection. She wanted him.

And he wanted her.

He glanced in the driving mirror to see the tail-car behind them and as he pressed down hard on the accelerator he saw it begin to retreat until it was nothing more than a tiny black dot in the distance.

He drove with a new sense of purpose, the powerful vehicle eating up the undemanding miles of the desert road, until at last he turned left, down a small track lined with tall cacti, and Frankie was certain that she could see the distant gleam of water in the distance.

Her forehead creased in a frown and she felt the sudden prickling of her skin. ‘Where … where are we going, Zahid?’

He recognised that it was a loaded question—and he was careful not to be evasive as he slowed the car down. She should have the opportunity to reject him, even if he knew, deep down, that she wasn’t going to.

‘I have my own, private house nearby. It’s where I go to escape sometimes.’ He paused, meaningfully. ‘I thought you might like to see it.’

Something in the silky darkness of his tone washed over her senses and Frankie’s heart began to hammer as she recognised the unmistakable desire which underpinned his question. This wasn’t a guided tour of one of his properties he was offering—his intention was made perfectly clear by the hot sparking of his black eyes.

For a moment she felt intensely vulnerable—but the feeling quickly melted away as she recognised that this opportunity might never come again. That this was the culmination of all her dreams. She bit her lip. She had wanted Zahid for as long as she could remember—and years of wistful fantasy now stood a chance of coming true.

‘I’d love to see it,’ she said steadily.