Читать книгу The Sheikh Who Married Her: One Desert Night / Strangers in the Desert / Desert Doctor, Secret Sheikh - Lynn Raye Harris, Maggie Cox - Страница 12

‘I WISH to speak with you.’

‘I’m sorry, but I can’t spare the time right now. I have too much work to do.’

Gina barely knew where she found the temerity to speak to him like that, but she supposed hurt and anger instigated it. The fiercely warning glance Zahir gave her in return was enough to quell the courage of Ghengis Khan himself, and she couldn’t deny that her legs weren’t shaking.

‘How dare you address me in such a manner? Such disrespect would be enough to have you incarcerated. In future I would advise you to think twice before succumbing to it. Come into my study … now.’

Closing the door behind them, Zahir gestured to Gina to take a seat. She was glad of it. Laying down her papers on a lavish brocade-covered couch, she folded her hands in her lap, took a deep breath, then made herself meet his glowering gaze.

‘I apologise sincerely if I was rude, Your Highness. It won’t happen again. What is it you want to talk to me about?’

Hands behind his back, he paced the marble floor, his handsome profile ominously formidable as his boot heels rang out against the stone. When he came to a stop, but still didn’t speak, a jolt of fear zigzagged through her.

‘What’s wrong? Are you in pain?’ she asked.

A curse violently left his lips. Striding up to her, he hauled her to her feet. Suddenly finding herself on the most personal and intimate terms with his flashing eyes, warm breath and steely strength as he gripped her arms, Gina was shocked by how faint with longing for him she was.

‘Yes, I am in pain! I am in pain not because of a gunshot wound but because I have had to endure not having the taste of your mouth whenever I desire it, not having your body naked beneath mine! Can you even imagine what I am going through because you deny me these things? Or are you so heartless that you don’t even care?’

‘Zahir, I do care. I—’

Any words she had been about to say were cut off by the hot pressure of his mouth on hers. Groaning, Gina wound her arms round his neck, and he was like a rock or the trunk of a tree she could hang on to for dear life were she in danger of being swept away by a hurricane.

In turn, Zahir held her fast as his tongue tangled hotly with hers, moving his hands up and down her back as he tried to position her closer, even closer, until there was no space between them and they were but one passionate beating heart. Reaching up, he freed her hair, and it spilled curling and golden round her shoulders.

He had said that he had had to endure surviving without the taste of her lips, the intimacy of her body against his … Gina didn’t even know how to start telling him she felt the same. All she could do was demonstrate her wildly hungry feelings by matching him kiss for ravenous kiss, her hands as greedy for the touch of his skin as his for hers. His body was hard as iron beneath his flowing robes, his mouth a passionate burning brand that left her heart no choice but to be enslaved by him for ever.

Breathing hard, he broke off the kiss to cup her face between his hands. ‘I must have you in my bed tonight. After this, can you still deny me?’

Thinking was hardly possible right then, while Gina’s body still throbbed from the delicious intimacy of Zahir’s passionate embrace, and her senses were frustrated at not having her craving for him completely fulfilled. But, like a serpent in paradise, an unhappily wounding thought reared its dangerous head and wouldn’t be ignored.

‘Release me.’

‘What?’ Confusion and not a little frustration filled his eyes.

‘You have to let me go. I—I need to sit down for a minute.’

As soon as Zahir set her free Gina sank down onto the brocade couch, her mouth drying uncomfortably at the question that had reared commandingly inside her head—a question she desperately needed an answer to.

‘Your sister told me today that you are soon to be married. She said it is to be an arranged marriage to an Emir’s daughter. Is that true, Zahir?’

His glittering gaze considered her bleakly for a moment, then he spun away to pace the floor again. A couple of feet away from her he stilled. A shaft of sunlight beaming in through a narrow window alighted on the mane of long hair that spilled across his shoulders, and the copper lights deep within the fiercely glossy ebony strands glinted like dark fire. In her wildest dreams Gina couldn’t have dreamed up a man more magnificent—or more unattainable.

‘It is true … But what has that to do with us? I am not marrying her for her beautiful body, or her wit and charm, so there is nothing to be jealous about if jealousy is what you feel—not when you possess all those attributes in abundance. It is, as you say, merely an arranged union for dynastic purposes only. The arranged marriage is common enough amongst titled landowners in these parts.’

‘The last time you explained about that you hadn’t found anyone suitable. Obviously things have moved on quickly since then?’

‘Look … whether I marry this woman or not has nothing to do with what we share. Absolutely nothing! Why can you not see that?’

Capturing a strand of the bright hair that drifted round her shoulders, Gina coiled it round her finger, then let it spring free. ‘Why can’t I see that?’ A soft, wounded sigh escaped her. ‘Perhaps because I firmly believe that marriage should be one man for one woman, and that the relationship should have love as its foundation … not convenience or—or sex!’ Gathering up her scattered papers from the cushion beside her, she pushed to her feet. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I must get on. I’ve promised to meet up with your sister again, and I need to pop up to my room for a book first.’

Zahir was back in front of her in an instant. A myriad of passionate emotions swirled and flickered in the silken depths of his long-lashed eyes. ‘Know this … I do not ask you to become my mistress because I do not care for you. Even though you hurt me with your false promise to return, there is no other woman I desire or want to be close to but you, Gina.’

Biting down on her lip, she resisted the strongest urge to touch her hand lovingly to his high-contoured cheekbone. She hadn’t forgotten that he’d recently been shot at and might have lost his life. ‘I believe you, Zahir.’

‘Then why shut me out as you clearly are doing?’

‘Because even though you say you care for me, it’s not enough to persuade me to either share your bed again or become your mistress. I don’t want to play second fiddle to another woman, even though you might not hold her in high regard and your marriage would be just a formality … a convenience. I would be betraying my own integrity and hers if I do that, and that’s important to me. I’m sorry, Zahir, but that’s just how I feel.’

Leaving him standing there, his expression stunned and sombre, she moved across to the door and went out.

After Gina had so shockingly deserted him, Zahir bellowed for Jamal and gave him orders to get his Arabian stallion saddled up, ready for his immediate use. Less than half an hour later, ignoring his concerned manservant’s plea to not ride too far lest he tear open his wounds, he mounted the magnificent ebony steed and rode off into the hills.

What else could he do with all the restless and unsatisfied desire that thrummed through his veins? He had to burn some of that raging fire in him away or else he would certainly go mad. And he couldn’t abide staying at the palace and twiddling his thumbs for the afternoon just because his doctor had advised him to rest … not after Gina’s unbelievable rebuff.

Why was the woman being so stubborn? It seriously perplexed him. There was an old saying: patience is beautiful … Right now he was far too frustrated and furious to contemplate the wisdom it was no doubt meant to impart. What would entice her to become his mistress, to realise it would give her far greater access to his body and his time than any plain, unimaginative eighteen-year-old wife, who would rather giggle with her girlfriends and feed her face than learn how to pleasure a man?

When Zahir glanced round to see a palace bodyguard following him on another steed, he let loose an oath. Giving the horse his head, he stirred him into a brisk canter. Then, when they were out in more open country, into a full heart-pounding gallop.

‘Turn around.’ Farida’s look of quiet concentration was endearing as she watched Gina model the black hijab and dress that she’d loaned her, so that she could accompany herself and a male servant to the market.

After that emotional scene with Zahir in his study earlier, the unexpected trip Farida had suggested was the perfect antidote to the melancholic feelings that kept washing over her. It hurt deeply that she was apparently good enough to be Zahir’s mistress but not his wife. Yet, underlying the sensation of despondency, she held on to the fact that he had at least declared he cared for her. Maybe that knowledge would give Gina something to work with? Thinking of the personal search she had started in the library, she yearned to get back there soon.

‘From behind you will look just like any other young woman visiting the marketplace. It is only when people see your fair skin and sapphire-blue eyes they will know you are not a native from Kabuyadir.’

‘I rather like the anonymity these clothes give you,’ Gina remarked thoughtfully, running her hand down over the smooth black silk. ‘Back at home women are bombarded daily by the media with what we should look like, what size we should be and what clothes we should wear—usually revealing ones. It’s a refreshing change not to worry about that for once.’

‘Well, I am glad they make you feel more at ease. We will have a good visit … You will enjoy it and so will I. This will be my first outing for a long time. Now, if there is anything you want at the marketplace—for instance souvenirs or a length of silk or brocade to make a dress—let my servant barter for you. That is how it is done here, and it will ensure you get a good price.’

The marketplace was a sensation overload. Turning her head this way and that, Gina endeavoured to absorb as much of the sights and sounds as possible. When she was back in the UK, doing her weekly shop at the supermarket or visiting some soulless shopping mall for some so-called ‘retail therapy,’ buying clothes she didn’t really want that would disappear amongst similar impulse buys in her wardrobe, she would certainly long for Kabuyadir and all the fascinating goods that made the market so much more exotic and appealing—so much more authentic, somehow.

Staying close by her side, Farida was the best guide she could have had. As well as pointing out various stalls that might be of interest—whether their vendors were selling colourful silks, yarns and brocades, handmade rugs or the beautifully crafted ceramics that so many visitors made a beeline for—she often added humorous little anecdotes that made Gina smile.

After about an hour of negotiating their way through the melee of people, with their colourful clothes and many languages littering the sultry air, Farida thankfully suggested they take a break for some refreshments. Coming upon a group of chairs and tables beneath a tall date palm tree, she despatched her servant Hafiz to the stallholder who was serving drinks and sweetmeats.

‘Is there anything you have seen that you like enough to take home?’ her companion asked as they sat together with their backs to the refreshment stall.

‘I noticed a vendor selling essential oils … I’d definitely be interested in taking some agarwood oil home—the scent is divine. It will always remind me of Kabuyadir.’ And Zahir, she thought with a bittersweet tug.

‘We will visit his stall after our refreshments—but I will only allow you to purchase the oil if I know it is of the highest grade.’

‘Thanks. You’ve been very good to me, Farida … I just want you to know how much I appreciate it.’

‘‘Nonsense! You have been like a breath of fresh air to me, Gina, and I thank you for agreeing to spend time with a dull and sombre woman like me.’

‘You are not dull or sombre … you mustn’t put yourself down like that. I wish I had as good and bright and engaging a friend as you at home. When I eventually return there you’ll always be welcome to visit and stay with me at any time.’

‘That pleases me very much—but do not talk about leaving Kabuyadir yet, I beg you!’

‘I’m not in a hurry to leave at all, as I’m sure you—’ Gina didn’t finish the sentence. An arm that felt like iron had grabbed her round the neck from behind, and the smell of stale masculine sweat enveloped her.

A strangled yelp left her throat as she was dragged violently from her chair, even as Farida screamed for Hafiz. Her hands fastened on the coffee-coloured forearm of the man she now realised with sickening shock was trying to abduct her, and pure adrenaline-fuelled reaction—and not a little indignant fury—made her sink her teeth into the smooth hard flesh and bite him hard. Immediately he let her go, cursing loudly. By then Hafiz was on the scene, along with a crowd of shrieking, excitable onlookers, and the well-built servant and another man grappled the assailant to the ground and held him fast.

‘Gina! Are you all right?’

Farida was as stunned and shaken as she was. Even though her answer was an affirmative nod, Gina sensed the violent aftershocks of her assault roll through her, and she couldn’t stop shaking. It was hard to believe that such an out-of-the-blue frightening occurrence had happened here in broad daylight, in a busy marketplace.

‘I’m okay … I think. But I—I do need to sit down.’

A chair was quickly positioned behind her, and someone pushed through the crowd to put a bottle of water into her hand with the halting instruction. ‘Please do drink.’

Instantly Farida took the bottle, opened it, and sniffed the contents. ‘It’s okay. You can drink it—it will help.’ She returned it to Gina.

With Farida’s encouragement she downed the water in one, and the dryness in her mouth, as well as her shock, eased a little.

Someone had yelled for the security forces, and as if by magic officers peeled out of nowhere into the crowded market, swarming round the man who had dragged Gina from her chair. The assailant was young, but she blanched when she saw the seriously lethal-looking sharp-bladed knife that was retrieved from beneath his long robes.

‘Who is he?’ Her voice was decidedly shaky as she met Farida’s concerned brown eyes. ‘Why would he do this?’

‘I don’t know, my friend. But you can be sure of one thing … my brother will find out who he is and who put him up to this before you can blink an eyelid!’

Hafiz returned. Bowing courteously to both women, he turned his worried gaze specifically on Gina. Clearly frustrated at not being able to converse with her in English, he turned back to Farida, addressing the Sheikh’s sister rapidly and urgently in their own language.

She sighed and said, ‘Hafiz is distraught that he did not protect you better, Gina. I have told him it was not his fault. None of us was remotely aware of any danger as we made our way through the market.’

‘You’re not to blame, Hafiz. There’s no need for an apology, really.’

‘It is I who is to blame,’ Farida insisted. ‘My brother will go crazy when he learns that I took you to the market without taking a bodyguard with us. I can’t have been thinking clearly. In the light of what happened to Zahir I should have realised that it might not be completely safe. But, Gina, you were so brave—biting the attacker like that. If you had not, I shudder to think what might have happened.’

‘You’re not to blame, either, Farida. And I prefer to deal with what is than speculate on what might have been. I’m okay, aren’t I? I’m still here—alive and kicking.’ Injecting some firmness into her tone, Gina even made herself smile—the last thing she wanted was the other woman berating herself for the incident, even if the truth was that her nerves were as scrambled as if she’d leapt from a fast-moving train.

‘You remind me of Zahir when you say that. He had a similar reaction when I told him that he could have been killed by that gunman. “But I wasn’t,” he said …’ Eyeing Gina with a definitely speculative glance, Farida stood in front of her and held out a hand to help her to her feet. ‘I will talk to the public security forces and then we will go directly home.’

The hard ride on his stallion had partially torn open the wound on Zahir’s side. Biting back a soft curse as his disapproving physician put in fresh stitches, he was nonetheless unrepentant. The ride had not only helped divert some of his frustration and restless energy, but had also helped clear his head.

As much as his proud, fiercely masculine nature and privileged position made him want to demand that Gina share his bed, he sensed that that was definitely not the way to go about achieving his goal. After all, he didn’t want to alienate her or make her hate him. No … instead he would employ a charm offensive that she couldn’t resist.

To start with he would give her a private showing of the Heart of Courage—even before he let her colleague Dr Rivers see the artefact. Then he would organise a special dinner for two in the palace’s grandest dining room, where she would marvel at the opulence and grandeur of the furnishings and—

‘A thousand pardons, Your Highness.’ The double doors flew wide and Jamal strode purposefully into the room. His urgent tone and agitated expression immediately applied the emergency brake to Zahir’s distracted train of thought. He’d been lying back against the luxurious satin pillows on his bed whilst his doctor snipped the thread from the last stitch he’d applied, but now he sat up abruptly. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

In a heated rush, Jamal told him. It was as though he’d been punched in the stomach by an iron fist. Gina … For a disturbing few seconds his thoughts were so distressed by the idea she might be hurt that Zahir was paralysed. Then, as Jamal continued to regale him with the story of how Dr Collins had almost been abducted in the marketplace, where she’d gone with Farida and his sister’s servant Hafiz, he swung his muscular legs to the floor and grabbed the long black robes he’d been wearing from the end of the bed—deliberately ignoring his physician’s plea to wait until his wounds were rebandaged as he hastily dressed.

Inside his chest his heart mimicked the heavy thud of a steel hammer against stone. Had he visited this latest calamity on his family by thinking he could apply reason to his dealings with the rebels? It had already been demonstrated what a deluded belief that was! Would his father have simply sent in the military to sort them out, giving them no chance to state their grievances whatsoever? Had Zahir’s arrogance in believing his way was right diminished his wisdom?

Shutting out the bittersweet memory of his father—a man who had been affectionately admired by officials and the public alike for his wisdom and fairness when dealing with matters of governance—he hurried out through the door at a mile a minute, with no mind to Jamal who, although young and fit, panted a little in his bid to keep pace with him.

The women were in a private downstairs salon, where they were drinking tea. On entering the lavishly decorated room, with its long gold-coloured couches and antique furniture, Zahir let his anxious glance deliberately overshoot his sister to dwell first on the slender, fair-haired woman seated at her side. Her usual tidy French pleat was a little awry, and escaping curling tendrils framed the delicate beauty of her face to give her the same vulnerable look that Zahir remembered from their first meeting in the Husseins’ garden. His breath caught in his throat.

In contrast the plain, traditional long black dress she wore hardly seemed fitting for such incandescent loveliness. He guessed it belonged to his sister. His first desire was to go straight to Gina, but because Farida and her servant Hafiz were both present he didn’t.

‘What is this I have been hearing about an assault on Dr Collins in the marketplace?’ he demanded, not bothering to temper his outrage.

Both Hafiz and his sister flinched. ‘It happened so quickly, Zahir. There was nothing we could—’

‘Nothing you could do?’ he interrupted furiously, uncaring in that moment that Farida looked distraught. ‘Why didn’t you take a bodyguard with you? In fact, why did you not take two—one for each of you? Have you forgotten what happened to me just the other day? For the love of Allah, what possessed you to go to the market in the first place? If you had wanted something specifically you could have sent your servant!’

‘I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I can’t sit here and let your sister take the blame for something that happened totally out of the blue.’

Having risen to her feet—a little shakily, he noticed with alarm—Gina all but pierced Zahir’s soul with the fiercely protective glint of her blue eyes. She continually astonished him. No more than now, as she refused to let him berate Farida for undertaking a trip she hadn’t needed to make in the first place, thereby putting them both at grave risk.

‘As lovely as it is, we both needed to get out of the palace for a while. When Farida suggested a trip to the marketplace I jumped at the chance. So if you’re intent on blaming your sister, then I want you to know that I am equally to blame.’

‘Did the assailant hurt you?’ He couldn’t help the catch in his voice. Right then he didn’t care who noted it, either. It was hell to stand there and pretend his concern was only that of a respectful host for a guest who had suffered some accident or mishap whilst under his roof when all the while he wanted to hold Gina in his arms and ascertain for himself whether she was hurt or not.

‘The man grabbed Gina from behind and dragged her from her chair. I am certain his aim was to abduct her, but fortunately she reacted quickly and bit him. He cursed and let her go,’ Farida explained, colouring slightly.

‘You bit him?’ Was it possible for this woman to amaze him any further? Arms akimbo, Zahir stared.

‘It was purely instinctive. I’m no heroine, I assure you.’

‘The law enforcement officers found a dangerous-looking knife under the man’s robes.’

His sister glanced at Gina with what looked to be an apologetic shrug, but it was too late. Zahir’s mind had already delved into the most horrific scenarios at news of the attack without the information that the assailant had been carrying a knife.

‘And the officers interviewed you for details of the assault on Dr Collins?’ His voice sounded strangely disembodied to his own ears, as shock and mounting fury spilled through his veins.

‘They did. They’ll be here shortly to have a meeting with you, Zahir. Do you think it was anything to do with the rebels?’

‘I do not doubt it.’ Scowling, Zahir dropped his hands to his hips. Helplessly, he returned his concerned hungry glance to Gina. Her skin had turned the sickly pallor of oatmeal, and suddenly, frighteningly, it was clear to him that she was having trouble keeping her balance.

‘Gina!’ Rushing forward, he caught her slim body in his arms just before she hit the marble floor.