Читать книгу The Sheikh Who Married Her - Lynn Raye Harris - Страница 9

IF THEY had been with anyone but the Sheikh of Kabuyadir, Gina would have elbowed Jake in the ribs hard for his inappropriate teasing. He was developing into quite a brilliant historian, but he scored very few points for tact. Still, it really wasn’t Jake at all who interested her in this discussion.

How could it be? It was the astounding discovery that it was Zahir who was ‘His Highness’—handsome Sheikh of a historically once powerful Arabian kingdom and owner of the ancient and beautiful Heart of Courage. Never in her wildest dreams had she envisaged that that title belonged to him.

Why had he not told her the truth about who he was that night they’d spent together? And afterwards, when she’d returned home, he’d had ample opportunity to tell her when he phoned—but he hadn’t. Had he feared that her decision to return would be swayed only by his exalted position and not the incredible man that he was?

‘Dr Rivers and I are a team, Your Highness.’ She blushed when she said his title, because it felt so surreal, yet her eyes hungrily cleaved to his strong tanned face and the long ebony hair that swung round his shoulders when he moved. He was dressed in traditional male clothing, and it was easy to see that the materials were much finer than anybody less privileged could afford. With his broad shoulders and natural air of command Zahir was every inch the esteemed ruler of his people, and seeing him again was like receiving a fresh supply of oxygen—as if for so long her ability to breathe freely had been compromised and Gina hadn’t even known it.

‘And we hope that our individual fields of expertise complement each other when it comes to undertaking our research,’ she finished with a strained smile.

Making no immediate comment, Zahir continued to steadily hold her gaze. Gina prayed that he couldn’t see the longing, regret and dashed hopes reflected there. Thankfully she heard the doors open behind her and guessed that Jamal had returned with their refreshments.

As he placed the large handmade brass tray down on the coffee table, the air was suddenly filled with the tantalising aroma of cardamom-spiced coffee. It was a delicacy that Gina had enjoyed when she was previously in Kabuyadir. Beside the small gold-rimmed cups, next to the coffee pot known as a dallah, on an ornate brass dish was an array of appetising-looking sweetmeats. One by one, Jamal served them their coffee. When he would have gone to Zahir first, his esteemed boss redirected him to Gina.

‘We have lots to tell you about the Heart of Courage, Your Highness,’ Jake piped up as Jamal bowed to Zahir, then discreetly left them to talk.

‘Positive things, I presume?’

‘Without a doubt … Its history is incredible. It’s not every day that a historian is privileged enough to research an artefact that has its roots in the ancient Persian Empire.’

‘So your own enquiry into its history has corroborated what I already know to be true about its origins? Then I am gratified that you welcomed the opportunity to research it. Were you similarly pleased, Dr Collins?’

‘Of course … It’s the chance of a lifetime for someone in my profession. The kind of thing we all dream of. To finally see the jewel for myself will be something I’ll never forget, I’m sure.’

‘Well, that will not be for a few days yet. You have both come a long way, and I would like you to relax and enjoy the hospitality of my palace first. The journey here was not too arduous for you?’

‘Thanks to your kindness and generosity we travelled first class, Your Highness. I’ve never travelled in such luxury before. The trouble is, given the opportunity I’m afraid I could get used to it!’ Jake answered, smiling.

‘You have spent many weeks researching the jewel’s history and provenance on my behalf, and you have travelled far to tell me what you have found. To make sure that you journeyed in comfort was the least I could do.’

‘Once again, we thank you,’ Gina said quietly.

A wave of heat submerged her when Zahir didn’t seem to want to break his gaze from hers. How was she supposed to bear this? she wondered. How was she supposed to endure being so close to him when his high rank prohibited any possibility that they could enjoy a relationship again, even if they both desired it?

‘Drink your coffee and take some refreshment, both of you. We will have plenty of time for our first discussion on the matter of the jewel tomorrow, after breakfast.’

When he turned his glance towards Gina again, Zahir’s expression was hard to read. A wall had definitely descended, she intuited—a wall that had clearly been erected to prevent her from seeing too much.

‘However, I am afraid I will not be able to join you for dinner tonight. There is a personal matter that takes me away from the palace for a while. I will direct Jamal to show you to the dining room when it’s time, and also show you where to go for breakfast in the morning.’

She soaked in the deep Arabian bath, and scented herself with the exotic oils supplied. A long, lazy bath was a pleasure Gina didn’t allow herself very often. Where had she learned the idea that she must earn the right to personal pleasure? That work must come first? Thinking of her parents, she didn’t need to search hard for an answer. But blaming them wasn’t to be considered—not when the way she wanted to live was in her own hands now.

Sighing, she realised that she’d lingered in the warm scented water a little too long. The water had started to chill and goosebumps dotted her slim upper arms. She stepped out onto the marble-tiled surround to dry herself with a luxurious bathtowel that could have gone round her slim frame twice. Dinner earlier had been impossible. All she’d been able to do was watch Jake tuck into the feast that had been prepared for them with gusto. How could she eat when her stomach kept on roiling and lurching whenever she thought of Zahir?

He’d left them in the salon alone to enjoy their coffee, departing from the room without so much as a backward glance. At dinner, sensing Jamal’s hawk-eyed gaze on her at every turn as she sat at the beechwood dining table inlaid with exquisite mother-of-pearl, Gina had wrestled with double misery at the idea her lack of appetite would cause offence to the household in any way. She’d been utterly relieved to finally escape to her room.

Wrapping herself in the generous white bathrobe she’d found hanging behind the door, she moved back into the bedroom, freeing her hair from its tidy French pleat to let it tumble in buttery blonde waves down to her shoulders as she went.

The knock on the door made her gasp. It was after midnight, and she could only surmise that it was perhaps a maidservant, wanting to find out what time she would be down for breakfast.

Drawing the edges of the voluminous robe together more securely, and tightening the belt, she drew back the door—only to be confronted by the tall, imposing figure of Zahir. In the corridor behind him all the lamps were turned down low, and the soft lighting created an even stronger warrior-like cast to his handsome features—particularly his eyes. They seemed to burn with the intensity of stoked flame as he stared down at her.

‘My apologies for calling on you so late … As I told you earlier, something took me away from the palace for a while and I have only just returned.’

Clutching the sides of her robe tightly to her chest, Gina hardly knew what to think, never mind say. It didn’t help that she was trembling from head to foot.

‘May I step inside for a moment?’

Silently, she held the door wide, then closed it behind him. Glancing round the beautifully appointed room, Zahir sniffed the air and smiled. The gesture reminded her of the first time they had met in the Husseins’ garden. The kindness she’d seen in his eyes then had prevented her from being afraid of him. But right now it wasn’t kindness she saw reflected. There was an edge about him tonight that made her wary.

‘You have been taking a bath?’

‘I had no idea that you were Sheikh Kazeem Khan. It was such a shock to learn that it was you.’ Her voice had a distinct quiver in it. ‘I know it was three years ago, but I take it you haven’t forgotten me?’

‘Of course I haven’t forgotten!’ His glance was pained, his deep, resonant voice clearly irritated. ‘Did you think I could ever forget that night? But to discover that the antiquities expert I hired in London is you is not exactly a delight to me. No, it is not. How could it be when you deceived me so callously?’

Twisting her hands in front of her robe, Gina felt like crying. ‘Deceived you … how?’

‘I fell in love with you that night … I thought you felt the same. I counted the days until you would return. You promised you would. When you told me on the phone that you had changed your mind, that returning was not realistic and you preferred to focus on your career, how do you think that made me feel? It was like a bomb exploding in my face!’

‘It wasn’t just because I wanted to focus on my career. My mother died unexpectedly just a couple of days after she was taken into hospital … I told you, remember? My father needed me to stay at home after that … to give him some support. We were both grieving … I hardly knew what I was doing. Kabuyadir seemed like a dream …’

Observing the harshness of Zahir’s expression, Gina decided right then wasn’t the time to tell him that her father had pleaded with her to stay in the UK and focus on her career in memory of her mother … told her that she shouldn’t trust that life in Kabuyadir, living in a strange culture with a man she barely knew, could yield something better. Gina had buckled under the pressure of guilt and responsibility and agreed to stay, even when it had meant denying her desire to return to Zahir and the extraordinary passion they’d shared.

Now she was reeling at his confession that he’d fallen in love with her. There was a big part of her that could hardly believe such a handsome, charismatic man could truly have cared for her like that. To hear him say the words after all this time, compounding what a colossal mistake she’d made in not coming back to him, was like having her insides scraped raw with a sharpened blade.

‘Whatever happened, clearly you thought my regard for you wasn’t important enough to make you come back to Kabuyadir. Knowing that, I wonder that you have decided to return now three years later? If I had known that you were the antiquities expert I’d hired to research the jewel I would have taken steps to prevent your coming and hired someone else. My secretary Masoud would normally have acquainted me with such details, but he was suddenly taken ill and had to return to his family, otherwise I would have realised.’

‘So … how are we to proceed from here on? Do you want me to act as though I never met you before?’

He abruptly turned away for a moment, as if to gather his thoughts. The sudden motion made the midnight-blue jalabiya he wore swirl round his leather-booted calves. ‘What I want … what I wish … is that you had vanished off the face of the earth, if you want to know the truth! Then I wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that you live and the possibility that you have chosen some other man to spend your life with rather than me.’

Gina gasped at the bitterness and passion she heard in his voice. ‘There is no other man, Zahir … there never was. That’s the truth.’

When he turned his gaze on her again his eyes regarded her with such disdain that she curled up inside. Somehow, no matter how hard she tried, she seemed to have great difficulty in inspiring love in the people closest to her.

‘It is of no account to me any more. It is all too late now.’

Distressed and dry-mouthed at the bleakness in his tone, she darted out her tongue to moisten her lips. She wrapped her arms tightly round herself to subdue the pain that vibrated inside. ‘Why didn’t you tell me who you were?’ she asked quietly. ‘Have you any idea how hard it is for me to see you again and discover that you’re practically a—a king?’

‘I was not the ruler of Kabuyadir when we met. I knew I would inherit the mantle of Sheikh when my father died—I was trained to do so from a boy—but I was still just Zahir when we were together. I had thought to share some carefree time with you before that happened. When we met that night at the Husseins I, too, was grieving. My mother had died just a month before. To meet you and feel the way I did so instantly … it gave me hope—hope that life would get better despite my losing my beloved mother. However, you declined to come back to me. Just days after I spoke to you on the phone my father’s health started to rapidly deteriorate, and he too died. Any prospect of carefree time had gone. I was now Sheikh of the kingdom and my life would never be the same again.’

Gina’s heart contracted with sorrow at what Zahir had suffered. No wonder her decision not to return had hit him like a hammer-blow. ‘So you’ve ruled this kingdom for three years? Did you marry?’

The taste of the question was bitter on her tongue, but Gina desperately needed to know the answer. She had kept her promise to her father and for the past three years had totally dedicated herself to work. There had been no other man in her life since that night with Zahir—she’d even acquired a reputation as ‘uptight and frigid’ with some of her less than gracious male colleagues. To think that Zahir might have married and relegated their precious time together to the far corners of his mind, rarely to be recalled or examined except maybe to remind himself of how deceitful she’d been in turning him down, stung worse than a thousand cuts.

‘No. I did not.’

Her heart missed a beat. ‘Why not?’

He folded his arms, immediately drawing Gina’s hungry gaze to the impressive width of his chest. ‘When it comes to marriage, a man in my position has a duty to marry for the utmost strategic and dynastic benefit. Believe it or not the neighbouring kingdoms are not exactly overflowing with available and eligible women. That is why I have not married yet.’

Falling silent for a moment, Gina couldn’t help dwelling on one disturbing flaw in Zahir’s reasoning. Lifting her troubled blue glance to his, she breathed in deeply. ‘What about the Heart of Courage’s prophecy? That the descendants of your family are destined to marry only for love?’

‘What about it?’ His tanned brow furrowed warningly.

When she’d discovered the story Gina had been utterly transfixed by it. It was so unbelievably romantic that she hadn’t been able to help hoping that the jewel’s current owner had also fulfilled the prophecy and fallen in love with a woman of his choice, instead of having to marry for convenience. Now she had learned that Zahir was the jewel’s owner and custodian she felt as though she was caught in the eye of a fierce storm that would batter her to the ground, leaving her unable to rise to her feet ever again.

She swallowed hard. ‘Doesn’t it mean anything to you?’

‘The jewel is a curse! For generations our family has fallen under the spell of that damned legend, which is why I want to finally be rid of it.’

Gina stared. ‘That’s why you’re selling it? Because you believe it’s a curse?’

‘The last people it cursed to a doomed marriage that ended in early death were my parents and my sister’s husband Azhar. He was killed in a car accident just a few months ago. The toll of unhappiness and disaster just gets worse and worse, doesn’t it? Now Farida goes about the palace like a wraith, hardly eating or sleeping, not engaging with anyone but me and the servants. Do you honestly think I would want to keep the jewel after that?’

‘I’m really sorry that you and your sister have had to endure such terrible tragedy, Zahir.’ Without realising it she used the name she knew him by, instead of his far grander title. ‘But I’m sure you know that the jewel is priceless … beyond value. The whole world will be bidding for a chance to purchase it if you put it up for sale, and what about your own descendants? Your children and your sister’s children, should she marry again? Won’t you be depriving them of an important family heirloom, not to mention an artefact of peerless history and beauty?’

‘Forgive me … but I thought I had merely hired you for your expertise in assessing the jewel’s provenance? Not to give me your opinion about what I should and should not be doing with it!’

He strode to the door, his whole body bristling with formidable rage. If that rage could have been transmuted into matter, Gina would have seen dazzling sparks of flame shooting into the room, she was sure.

‘I’m sorry …’ Moving towards him, she felt distress deluge her. She could see he was in pain—both at the loss of his parents and at the disturbing way his beloved sister had withdrawn from the world—not to mention in shock upon seeing Gina again after she had rejected him. It made her yearn to be able to reach him, to comfort him in some way. ‘If I’ve caused you offence … if I’ve hurt you by word or deed … I honestly regret it. Can you forgive me?’

With his palm curved round the gilt handle of the door, he stilled. The dark eyes grew even darker, but within their mesmerising reflection Gina saw a spark of haunting gold light.

‘Forgiveness where you are concerned is not an easy matter. But I would ask that when you meet Farida, my sister, you do not mention the jewel under any circumstances. It would only distress her if she learns that I plan to be rid of it.’

‘But what will I say if she asks me why I’m here?’

Zahir sighed. ‘The palace is full of beautiful artefacts. You may tell her that you and your colleague are doing an inventory of the most valuable ones for me … as you did for Mrs Hussein’s books.’

‘I will do it because you ask me to, but I want you to know that I’m not comfortable with lying.’

To Gina’s alarm, Zahir came closer. Her space was suddenly disturbingly invaded by the subtle but intoxicating scent of a cologne with hints of sandalwood and agarwood. She knew that particular essential oil was highly prized in the region.

Reaching out, he lightly curled his fingers round the tops of her arms. ‘When I first saw you peeping out from behind the leaves of that jasmine I believed that you were a trusting innocent, incapable of deceit or subterfuge. To my bitter cost I have since learned that is not true. Apart from your undoubted beauty, Gina, there is nothing about you that could elicit my attention or regard again. You may as well tell me if there has been any other man in your life since we last met, seeing as it hardly matters to me now.’

‘I told you the truth—there’s been nobody else.’ Her answer was as direct as the challenging look she gave him. ‘And neither am I interested in another man. A relationship isn’t my focus. I prefer to devote my time and attention to my work. Sometimes the paths it leads me down don’t deliver exactly what I expect, but … unlike most men … it never disappoints me.’

Suddenly the grip on her arms grew tighter, and Gina bit back a gasp. ‘When did I disappoint you? When I took you to bed? I have a photographic memory, rohi. I easily recall how incredibly responsive and eager you were in my arms that night. Yes, eager … even though you were untouched. Did you not think I’d realised that? Tell me, has there ever been another man in your life who has pleasured you longer or more ardently?’

Even though shock and embarrassment flooded her, she took heart at the distinct jealousy in Zahir’s tone. He’d said she would never elicit his attention or regard again, but something in his possessive and furious manner told her that that might not be entirely true. Her senses clamoured and her pulses raced at the idea there might be a chance—even if that chance hung by the slimmest thread—that she could make things right between them.

Holding his hot and angry gaze, she breathed out slowly. ‘You just told me you knew I was untouched when we went to bed … so the answer is no, Zahir. There has never been another man who has made me feel like you did that night.’

He abruptly released her. Dark eyes glittering, he silently surveyed her. ‘For now, even though it is a hard thing for me to do, I will have to take your word on that. Tomorrow I will hear your presentation on the jewel, so please be well prepared. Goodnight, Dr Collins. I will see you in the morning.’

She stood frozen as he spun on his heel and exited the room, fervently wishing she had a magic spell to make him look at her fondly again instead of disparagingly …

Zahir’s eyes burned from lack of sleep. When he had managed to doze a little, in his vast bed with its black silk sheets, he’d been tormented by only too real images of an alluring blonde angel with eyes bluer than a clear desert sky. He couldn’t seem to get the scent of her out of his blood, either.

Frustrated beyond endurance, he dressed and went outside. In the sultry stillness of the perfumed night his footsteps led him to his own private garden—a sanctuary where the only other person allowed to enter was his gardener. Arriving at the Bedouin tent that was always kept ready for his use, Zahir took off his boots and unwound his broad leather belt. He laid a match to the dry tinder of the cooking fire and, sitting cross-legged before the flickering flames, placed the waiting coffee pot in the centre. As the tempting, comforting aroma of delicious Arabian coffee filled the night, Zahir rubbed the back of his hand across his tired eyes and stared out into the distance.

Apart from the crescent moon and its accompanying tapestry of bright stars the night was deep as an ocean and blacker than the wing of a raven … But he never at any time found it threatening. On many sleepless nights he had come out here to his private sanctuary and found that the enfolding darkness acted as a balm for the sorrow he’d endured daily since the death of his parents and since Farida had lost Azhar. He’d also sought solace from the knifing hurt Gina had caused when she’d told him she wasn’t returning.

Stoking the fire a little with a stick, he watched the sparks crackle and spit, erupting into the air like tiny fireworks. Gina … He couldn’t even erase her name from his mind, let alone her taunting image. Seeing her standing there in her bathrobe, all flushed skin and tousled golden hair, had been the most colossal temptation. He’d burned to hold her close again—so much so that his body had all but vibrated just because she was in the same vicinity.

For the past three years he had tormented himself almost beyond bearing that she was with another man. Had she thought him a fool for trusting her so implicitly? For believing she would love him and only him for ever? The thought had him gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw. Could anyone blame him for believing a part of her very being would always be his when it was to him that she’d given the gift of her innocence that night? It was true what he had told her—he had known she was a virgin. A fact that had made their instant passionate connection all the more sacred and special. At least that was what he’d thought then.

The Heart of Courage’s taunting prophecy had not proved true in his case, Zahir reflected bitterly. The sooner he was rid of that blasted jewel the better … Before he started to believe its prophecy had some hold over his heart, too.

Reaching for the nearby folded checked cloth that lay in the sand, he wrapped it round the handle of the coffee pot and poured some of the rich aromatic brew into a waiting cup. Then, turning carefully, he crawled into the entrance of the large cloth tent and sat just inside, staring out at the fire’s dancing kaleidoscope of flame as he thoughtfully sipped his drink.

Later—much later—he lay down on the silk cushions and woven rugs and slept a little. But not before seeing the spectacular rays of the dawn seep through the intricate weave of the dwelling’s fabric-made walls.

Jake and Gina were having their breakfast on a canopied covered mosaic terrace. In the distance the sound of someone playing the oud—a stringed instrument that produced a haunting sound not unlike a Spanish guitar—floated hypnotically on the air.

The two colleagues were not alone. Jamal appeared at regular intervals, issuing curt instructions to two young housemaids to frequently hand round dishes piled high with fresh chunks of khubuz—the local bread—earthenware bowls of fat glistening black and green olives and dishes of labneh—a strained cream cheese that resembled yoghurt.

At the same time as Gina carefully opened the stopper on a slim bottle of olive oil, to drizzle it on her bread, she sensed a warm bead of perspiration sluggishly meander down her back. The sun was already high and hot in the azure sky, and the thin full-length yellow and gold kaftan she was wearing felt more like a winter coat beneath such unforgiving heat. She hadn’t been able to resist sitting outside—not after enduring one of the longest and bitterest winters back home—but she was far from at ease. How could she be at ease after the way Zahir had left her last night?

He’d been so accusing and angry … a million miles away from the tender, beguiling man who had so easily swept her off her feet at first sight. Again, her heart ached to make things right between them, but how?

Adjusting her sunglasses, she watched Jake lift a generous chunk of bread that he’d liberally covered in slices of cucumber and wedges of dazzling red tomato to his lips and take a large bite. When he’d chewed and swallowed the food, Gina smiled. ‘You’ve certainly got a healthy appetite.’

‘That’s true. But then I need to eat a lot to keep the old grey cells replenished!’ he joked, grinning back at her.

This morning he was dressed in a wildly patterned Hawaiian-style loose shirt, which probably wouldn’t have looked out of place on the beaches of Majorca or Corfu, and it definitely made him look eccentric. All he needed to top the outfit off was a knotted folded handkerchief on his head.

‘Are you ready to present your notes on the jewel to His Highness?’ he asked her.

‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’

Gina’s mouth tightened. Just the thought of sitting in front of Zahir to discuss that amazing jewel with its heartrending prophecy was akin to the prospect of walking across a bed of hot coals. She’d never been so nervous or so mentally under siege. Perhaps she shouldn’t take it so personally that he now scorned the legend of marrying for love, but God help her she did.

After absenting himself for a while, Jamal reappeared on the terrace. ‘After breakfast you are both summoned to see His Highness. I will wait here to escort you.’

Nervously scanning the food that yet again she’d barely touched, Gina met the far-seeing gaze of Zahir’s personal servant and forced a scant smile as her insides churned and apprehension dried her mouth. ‘Thank you.’

With a polite bow, and his hands behind his back, Jamal moved away to stand by the wall and wait.