to her waist, the colour reminding him of the rich red hues of leaves in the fall. Years ago, when he had been a student at Harvard, he had been entranced by the stunning palette of colours that Mother Nature used to herald autumn in New England. Now he felt an overwhelming urge to untie the ribbon that secured the woman’s hair and run his fingers through the mass of rippling red-gold silk.
His eyes slid lower, skimmed the small, firm breasts outlined beneath her tee shirt, and then moved down to her slender waist, narrow hips and long legs, encased in faded denim. Even at the end of his life Faisal had clearly not lost his discerning eye for gorgeous women if his domestic staff were anything to go by, Zahir thought sardonically. Although he would have expected the household staff to wear some sort of uniform rather than a pair of sexy, tight jeans.
But why had the solicitor asked this woman—whom he assumed from her appearance to be a member of the household staff—to stay while he discussed Faisal’s private affairs? Could she be a beneficiary in Faisal’s will? She was very lovely, and Faisal had been alone… But the idea that his brother had bequeathed her some token payment for favours rendered was curiously unpalatable, and he silently cursed his overactive imagination.
His gaze locked with hers, and for a second something flared between them, some indefinable chemistry that clearly shocked her as it shocked him. But almost instantly the flash of awareness in her eyes dulled and was replaced with confusion. The silence in the room was broken by the solicitor’s discreet cough. The sound reminded Zahir that he was not here to eye up members of the domestic staff. Smothering a curse, he strode over to the desk, seized a chair and sat down, at the same time as the maid subsided into the seat next to him.
Gordon Straker cleared his throat and began to read. ‘I, Faisal bin Kahlid al Muntassir leave my entire estate, including Ingledean House and all its contents, to my wife.’
From the corner of her eye Erin saw the unknown man jerk even more upright in his chair, and his voice was sharp with impatience when he spoke. ‘I understand that my sister-in-law died three years ago. This will is invalid. There must be another updated one,’ he snapped haughtily.
Gordon Straker glanced at him steadily over the wire rims of his spectacles and said, in a wintry tone, ‘I assure you that this is the most recent will. My client asked me to draw it up ten months ago.’ The solicitor hesitated, his gaze moving between the two shocked faces staring at him across the desk. Comprehension slowly dawned, and he shook his head.
‘Forgive me. I did not introduce you because I assumed that the two of you already knew each other…that you had met… at the wedding.’ His confusion and embarrassment deepened. ‘But clearly not,’ he added slowly, when they continued to stare blankly back at him. ‘My apologies…it never occurred to me that you were unaware of each other’s identity… Erin, may I introduce Sheikh Zahir bin Kahlid al Muntassir—Faisal’s brother. Sheikh Zahir, this is Erin—Faisal’s second wife.’
The book-lined walls of the library seemed to tilt alarmingly, and Erin gripped the edge of the desk as she struggled to comprehend Gordon Straker’s words. ‘But Faisal told me he had no family,’ she mumbled, her gaze swinging frantically from the solicitor’s genial face to the man beside her, whose expression was so coldly arrogant that ice slithered down her spine.
‘There must be some mistake.’ Zahir addressed the man seated opposite him, his clipped tones shattering the tense silence. Shock ricocheted through him, and with it a fierce and inexplicable bolt of fury that overrode the grief that had consumed him since he had learned of Faisal’s death.
What bitter irony that once again he had lost out to his brother—just as he had done six years ago, he brooded grimly. This woman, with her slumbrous, woodsmoke-coloured eyes and sensual, pouting mouth, had been Faisal’s wife. Faisal must have released her glorious hair and watched it tumble down her back. He would have stroked his hands over her milky-pale naked flesh…just as he, Zahir, had fantasised about doing from the moment he had laid eyes on her.
And even the knowledge that she had been his brother’s widow for little more than two weeks did not lessen his awareness of her, or diminish the primitive urge he felt to crush her mouth beneath his and then strip the clothes from her body and spread her across the desk, ready for his possession.
His lip curled in self-disgust, and he could not bring himself to look at her while he exerted iron will-power over his rampaging hormones. What did it matter who she was or what her relationship had been with Faisal? he asked himself impatiently. His wealth, combined with the good-looks that he acknowledged were a fortunate accident of birth, meant that he could take his pick from a limitless supply of beautiful women—and he did so, frequently. He did not need his brother’s leftovers. There was only one reason why he was here, only one thing he was interested in.
He stood up and walked back over to the window, needing to put some distance between himself and the woman who was having such a disturbing effect on him.
Erin jumped to her feet and glared at him. ‘It’s no mistake, I assure you,’ she said hotly. ‘I was Faisal’s wife, and I have a marriage certificate to prove it.’
Zahir’s brows lifted. ‘My apologies—I had no idea. Your attire hardly befits your position as the wife of a sheikh. I assumed you were a menial domestic.’
Hot colour flooded Erin’s face as she felt his eyes trail over her in a scathing assessment of her appearance, and she silently cursed the fact that she hadn’t taken the trouble to change into more presentable clothes for her meeting with Gordon Straker. But, to be fair, she had not expected to be confronted by an arrogant, devilishly sexy sheikh who, astoundingly, happened to be Faisal’s brother.
Her temper, which had been simmering ever since he had spoken to her so dismissively when she had brought in the tea tray, flared into life. She recalled how he had looked at her when she had first walked into the library, the way his eyes had slid boldly over her as if he were mentally undressing her. Presumably he thought it acceptable to take a servant to bed, but not for her to marry his brother, she thought furiously.
She lifted her chin and met Zahir bin Kahlid al Muntassir’s gaze, her grey eyes stormy and belligerent. But the undisguised sexual heat in his dark depths sent an answering quiver of awareness down her spine, and it was only when he finally broke eye contact that she realised she had been holding her breath.
‘My brother was estranged from his family for the past six years,’ he explained coolly.
Erin’s insides churned at the word ‘family’. What family? Faisal had insisted that he had no relatives, and yet not only did it seem that he had a brother, but from the sound of it other family members also existed. Why had he lied to her? And if Faisal had been estranged from his family how had his brother known about his death? Her unease intensified, and solidified into fear when Zahir spoke again.
‘I was unaware, until I received the letter Faisal instructed Mr Straker to send after his death, that my sister-in-law died three years ago. Faisal made no mention in that letter that he had remarried,’ he added pointedly, his eyes flicking briefly over Erin. ‘I was also unaware until two weeks ago that my brother had a son—a child who is now an orphan.’
He flicked his gaze to Erin once more, his eyes as black and hard as polished jet. ‘As Faisal’s sole beneficiary, you are now a very wealthy woman,’ he drawled. ‘But I am not interested in the money, and you are certainly welcome to this draughty monstrosity of a house,’ he added disparagingly, casting a brief glance around the library, where the fire burning in the grate did little to raise the temperature of the room.
‘My only interest is in my nephew, Kazim.
