Polly turned her head to look at him and smiled. Her first since getting into the car. She settled back into her seat. âDo you spend much time in the desert?â
âLike most of my countrymen I return at least once a year to reconnect myself with my heritage. A tradition, if you will. Something you English seem to understand.â
He said it as if she were a different species. âYouâre half English.â
âMy mother is English, but I am entirely Arab.â
How did he manage to turn his voice to flint? Polly adjusted her scarf, tucking one end carefully over her shoulder.
âIâm flattered you have so obviously researched me,â he continued, his voice slicing through the silence.
Polly glanced up at his calmly arrogant face. Did he honestly think that? That sheâd consciously sat down and âGoogledâ him?
She had. But sheâd infinitely prefer it if he didnât think it. âMerely read the magazines in the hairdresserâs,â she corrected. âYouâre often featured. Being royalty.â
âThen I should be the one asking the questions, perhaps.â
âThereâs nothing particularly interesting about meââ She broke off as she caught sight of the Majan International Hotel. âIsnât that where weâre staying?â
âThereâs been a change.â
Polly looked at him sharply. âWhat kind of change?â
âI have decided to offer you the hospitality of my home while you are in Samaah. You and your colleagues,â he added as blandly as though he hadnât seen her quick glance through the back window to make sure they were still being followed.
She wasnât particularly reassured. Why was he doing this? He might have given them permission to film here, but even Minty hadnât imagined heâd wanted them here.
âIs that a spontaneous decision?â
âNot at all. How else could I have arranged for cars to be here to meet you?â
Quite. And Polly had the definite feeling very little in Rashidâs life was left to chance.
âMy sister is waiting to receive you. I was to have joined you later.â
His sister?
âIs it far from the airport?â
âNo.â
Through the window to her left Polly could see they were still flanked by motorcycle outriders. It deflected her interest. âAre they necessary?â
âIt is wise.â
âBecause we might be attacked?â
âBecause I might be,â he returned coolly.
Rashid watched the blond Englishwoman process that. He could sense her uncertainty, see the questions she wanted to ask but felt she couldnât. For now that suited him perfectly well.
He stretched. âIt is a minimal threat but a significant one, particularly while there is uncertainty about Amrahâs political future.â
âIâve read about that.â Her blue eyes met his. âI was sorry to hear your fatherâs ill again.â
Just that. No spurious sympathy in her face. Heâd spent much of last week receiving condolences from men he knew would be pleased to hear his father had died and one of his more conservative uncles named as successor. Words meant nothing, but her quiet statement felt genuine.
It was that dichotomy again. The difference between what he knew and what he felt. She seemed genuineâbut there was no one as plausible as someone who was making it her business to appear so.
âHis doctors have been able to buy him a few months, but I think he will shortly be in paradise.â
âIâm so sorry.â
âI think your sympathy should be reserved for the people he is to leave behind.â
Pollyanna clutched at her scarf as it threatened to slide off her head. âThatâs what I meant. Itâs incredibly hard to lose a parent.â Then, âAre you sure this is the right time to have visitors like us? We would be perfectly comfortable at the hotel. And we only mean to stay in Samaah for a couple of nights.â
âIâm aware.â
âWouldnât you rather be with your family?â
âIf Iâm needed I will be called.â
He watched her hesitate and then bite back whatever observation she had been tempted to make. That was just as well. Heâd given more away in that single sentence than heâd intended.
Her perfume, light but exotic, swirled around him like a wisp of smoke. It seemed to drug his mind, pull truths from his lips heâd prefer left unsaid. And the truth was she was probably right. This wasnât the best time to have visitors in his home.
And certainly not this one.
Despite the dossier heâd read on Miss Pollyanna Anderson he remained uncertain of her motives in coming here. And, until he was, heâd every intention of controlling everything about her visit.
âYour family is well?â
Her blue eyes widened slightly. âMy motherâs well enough.â
âAnd your brothers?â
âI donât have any brothers.â
It was very convincing. Yet she presumably chose to live in the home of her motherâs stepson, a man he knew for a liar and a cheat, because she wanted to.
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