her.
‘You know what—’ he sighed heavily ‘—I could stand here all night, trying to figure out what you are doing here, why you have broken into my bedroom, sneaked into my bed. But frankly—’ he stopped to give Nadia a particularly derisory stare that shrivelled her insides ‘—I don’t even care.’
‘Your Royal Highness, if I could just be allowed to explain—’
‘No, Nadia.’ Raising a firm hand, Zayed stopped her. ‘I refuse to listen to any more of your explanations. I’ve heard more than enough of your half-baked nonsense for one evening. But, as much as I would like to be rid of you, I am not going to be held responsible for whatever fate might befall you walking the city streets at this time of night looking like that.’
The sneering gesture, along with the look of distaste on his face that went with it, clearly spelled out just what he thought of her attire.
‘You will stay tonight in the palace.’
As Nadia opened her mouth to protest he barked, ‘And that’s an order.’
* * *
Moving over to the marble-topped credenza, Zayed took out a bottle of Scotch and a crystal tumbler and poured himself a generous measure. Then, pulling out a chair, he sat down heavily, stretching his long legs out in front of him and flexing his muscled arms behind his head. This evening had to rank as one of the most bizarre of his life—and that was saying something.
When he had found out that he, rather than his brother Azeed, was to be crowned sheikh of Gazbiyaa, he had immediately known that his life would change dramatically and forever. He could never have foreseen the circumstances that had led to his being in this position, but the fact was that the future of the kingdom was now in his hands and duty to his country and his subjects had to come before everything else.
From a practical point of view he could do it, he knew that. He had absolute faith in his abilities. His hugely successful global company was a testament to his business acumen and he was certain he could further the prosperity of the fledgling but rapidly moving expansion of the kingdom’s economy. More than that, his keen intelligence and insightful mind meant he instinctively made astute judgements, knowing just when to take the hard line or to follow a more diplomatic approach. Something that could only stand him in good stead with the role he now found himself in.
But emotionally he was still struggling to come to terms with the idea of being the sheikh of Gazbiyaa. This was not the life he had planned for, not the life he had ever wanted. And the more he saw of it, the less he liked it.
Because beneath the flashy, showy front that Gazbiyaa presented to the world, the front that he had let himself believe when he had been thousands of miles away in New York pursuing his own career, there was a bedrock of injustice and ignorance. Like a cloak of the finest gold brocade thrown over a rotting pit of wolves and snakes. What his father called honour and tradition he would term bigotry and prejudice, and the more closely he examined this place, the more deep-rooted he saw that it was. Something he knew he was going to have to address.
The conversation he had just had with his father had done nothing to lighten the load. It seemed that news had come through that Azeed, who had fled Gazbiyaa in a furious rage on learning he would never be crowned sheikh, was heading for the kingdom of Harith. And far from being a cause for relief that his exiled brother was safe and well, this had simply heightened the threat of war between the two kingdoms.
The conflict between Gazbiyaa and Harith went back centuries, originating over disputed land territory. The animosity and bitterness on both sides was now so ingrained that its roots were all but forgotten. The shifting sands of time had done nothing to smooth over the differences between the two nations; in fact with each generation it seemed the wall of resentment grew ever higher.
Which made this debacle surrounding Azeed all the more dangerous. Zayed knew that his first momentous job as the newly crowned sheikh had to be to negotiate a peace initiative before the absurd threat of war that was rumbling between the two countries was allowed to take hold. Only then could he begin to tackle the other inherent problems.
Taking a deep slug of the burning whisky, he slammed the glass back down on the sideboard and rolled back his shoulders to ease the tension. If my friends could see me now. Zayed let out a low snort of derision. He imagined meeting up with Stefan, Rocco and Christian in some swanky bar somewhere and regaling them with the story of what had happened this evening. The Columbia Four, he and his three trusty comrades were so named because they had met at Columbia University, shared their larger than life experiences whenever they got together, each one more than living up to the youthful motto they had adopted: memento vivere, remember to live. This year was certainly proving to be a momentous year for all of them, all three of his friends having married in quick succession, the last wedding, Stefan’s, having taken place just a month ago.
Now, as the last remaining bachelor, it was up to Zayed to provide the outrageous entertainment. And he could make a good story of tonight. The lilac-eyed beauty huddled in his bed, him leaping on top of her, pinning her down, nothing but a skimpy towel around his waist to protect his modesty. He could imagine them roaring with laughter, slapping him on the back, ordering another round of drinks from one of the elegant hostesses to toast his hilarious escapade.
Except that Zayed didn’t feel like laughing, and he certainly didn’t feel like celebrating. Something about the look in Nadia’s dazzling eyes as she had been escorted from the room by a servant niggled at him, haunted him. He still had no idea what she was doing here. What would make a young woman like that do something so debasing, so extreme, so downright dangerous? Reaching thoughtfully for his glass, Zayed raised it to his lips. Despite her provocative behaviour, the more Zayed thought about her, the more sure he was that she was not at all what she appeared to be. The haughty tilt of her chin, the imperious way she had spoken to him, the delicate, pale-skinned hands that looked as if they had never seen a day’s toil in their life, all added up to a very different creature from the one who had virtually prostituted herself in his bed.
Tomorrow he would find out. And with a jolt of surprise he realised he was already looking forward to it. Infuriating she might be, but this Nadia was also a very beautiful, intriguing, not to mention sexy young woman. Something the very male part of him was refusing to ignore.
NADIA AWOKE THE next morning against the sumptuous pillows of her gilded four-poster bed. But with a flash of realisation she remembered where she was, not in the straitjacketed safety of her bedroom in the palace of Harith, but somewhere deep within the walls of the sworn enemy of her kingdom, the palace of Gazbiyaa.
But not for much longer. Presumably she would shortly be escorted to the gates and told to disappear. She didn’t know where to, or even how, but she had to accept that her mission here had failed. Her attempt to seduce Sheikh Zayed, to persuade him to take her virginity and then marry her out of honour, had failed miserably. Far from building the framework to try to find peace between their two nations, all she had done was antagonise the man she was trying to seduce and humiliate herself into the bargain.
And as for her family... Was there any possibility that she could return home and keep from them what she had done? Come up with some plausible story for her absence?
For that was her only hope now, all she could cling to. Because one thing was for sure: if her father and brother ever found out that she had even visited the kingdom of Gazbiyaa, let alone prostituted herself in the sheikh’s bed, she would be dead to them now. And that was in the literal use of the word.
