‘You are needed in Jamalbad.’
‘As Nobilah’s companion?’
He looked down at her. He would have to remember to thank his mother—she had made his job so much easier. ‘Fatima will be at least six weeks regaining her strength following her surgery.’
‘So you’ll be extending my contract?’
‘In a matter of speaking. I promise you it will be worth your while.’
Something about the way he said that managed to pierce the bubble of enthusiasm she’d been feeling at the news.
Jamalbad—she’d loved the very thought of the place since Nobilah had first mentioned it. The earth buildings looking as if they’d emerged fully formed from the surrounding sands, the white shell-encrusted palace walls glistening in the midday sun, the jewel colours of the women’s robes. The thought of seeing it for herself had been nothing short of a dream, and now she was being offered a chance to make that dream come true. And yet something about the offer seemed almost too good to be true.
Something didn’t feel right.
‘Surely there are plenty of women in Jamalbad who could perform the role of Nobilah’s companion?’
‘I have no doubt of that. Would that stop you from going?’
‘Well, no, but—’
‘Then perhaps you have had a better offer?’
‘No, it’s not that.’
‘Then it is settled.’ He smiled. ‘Come,’ he said, directing her back to the table, where the tea sat waiting, ‘have tea with me.’
Morgan wavered. She wasn’t sure she wanted to have tea with him. Especially now she felt she was being railroaded into going to Jamalbad—which was crazy when visiting Jamalbad was something she wanted to do. But tomorrow?
She almost never acted on impulse. That was her twin sister Tegan’s department. Gutsy Tegan, who’d come home from her aid work in Somalia and agreed to swap places with Morgan for a week while she attended a wedding in Fiji. Gutsy Tegan, who’d had no choice but to stay on for two months after Morgan’s broken leg and surgery. Gutsy Tegan, who’d fallen in love with Morgan’s boss from hell and turned him into the perfect husband.
Tegan would jump at such an opportunity, she knew. But Morgan had always been the quiet one. The sensible one. She hauled in a breath, only to find it tinged with the rich scent of the man beside her—sandalwood, exotic spices, musk—an alluring mix that seemed to latch into her senses and beckon to her.
But tomorrow?
‘It’s just not as simple as that,’ she said at last.
‘It’s not?’ he asked ingenuously, with a shrug. ‘It is only tea.’
Exasperated, she slipped into a chair when it was clear he was not going to take no for an answer. Without asking he picked up the delicate teapot and, with an unexpected sensuality of movement, tilted the pot to pour tea into her cup. It was there in the curve of his fingers around the teapot. It was there in the steady pour of tea into her cup, in the heady scent of spices in the heated steam. It was there in the unwavering way he met her gaze with those golden eyes that seemed to see right inside her.
She cleared her throat, hoping it might go some way to clearing her mind. ‘I didn’t actually mean the tea. I’m talking about going to Jamalbad with you…I mean with Nobilah.’
‘I know what you meant. But you’ve already said that you don’t have a better offer. You yourself said you love what Nobilah has already told you about Jamalbad. I am offering you the chance to go there and see it for yourself. Why should you have any reason to turn down this opportunity?’ He paused, his cup almost to that sensuous slash of mouth. ‘Unless there is a man?’ He shrugged. ‘A boyfriend, perhaps?’
Maybe it was the earnest way he said it, but Morgan wanted to laugh out loud. Except one look at his eyes warned her not to. He was serious.
‘Does Jamalbad have a problem with women who have boyfriends?’
‘Would it be an issue for you if it did?’
She tried to hold his gaze, but she knew the rising heat she could feel colouring her skin would give her away anyway. ‘No,’ she acknowledged with a shake of her head.
He nodded. ‘That is for the best.’
She blinked. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Jamalbad is in a lot of ways a modern Arab emirate. However, we come from a very traditional society where women are still prized for their…shall we say, “purity”? While you are in our country, we would expect you to behave with a certain modesty.’
‘You mean as opposed to jumping into bed with every man I meet?’
His cool golden gaze collided dispassionately with her own. ‘I wouldn’t have put it quite so coarsely myself.’
‘Yet you have no problem thinking it.’ She replaced her cup on her saucer. ‘Well, it may just surprise you to know that there are some women in Australia who don’t jump into bed with every guy they meet.’
‘That is encouraging news. And would you count yourself in their number?’
She stood up quickly, the metal legs of her chair scraping across the sandstone tiles of the pool surrounds.
‘What is this? Next you’ll asking for some kind of medical certificate or something.’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ he said, rising alongside her. ‘I think you’ve made your point. You see, the women of the palace are easily influenced by the lure of the western life, and, while I encourage their education in most respects, there are some practices I would prefer them not to adopt.’
‘Well, you have no fear on that count. They’re hardly likely to learn anything from me.’
His golden eyes glimmered in a way that sent vibrations dancing along her nerve-endings. Why did he look that way at her? Like a jungle cat sizing her up for the kill rather than someone who had to decide if she was morally upright enough to be invited to his country?
‘I expected you to be totally docile, but you surprise me with your anger. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are when you are angry?’
His words blindsided her. Nobody had called her beautiful—not since Evan—and she couldn’t believe what he’d said anyway. But the man opposite her was right about one thing—she was certainly angry. Morgan Fielding—who prided herself on staying cool under pressure—was cracking up. Something she’d never done even with Maverick, the boss with the worst reputation in the Gold Coast.
‘Well, then,’ she said, uncomfortable in the loud silence that followed, ‘given that I have such a fiery temper, I wonder if I have given you yet another reason not to be considered morally upright enough to accompany Nobilah to Jamalbad?’
She tried to toss the question off lightly, to head off
