The Sheikh's Last Mistress. Rachael Thomas
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He stepped back. What was he thinking? He was a desert ruler, a man of power with a duty to uphold. Kissing this woman, however much he wanted to, was not something he could ever do, especially when she was here in his palace as his guest.
‘Then I look forward to it.’
‘As will I.’ It was the truth; he wanted to spend the evening in her company. ‘We have much to discuss about your intended work with Majeed.’
He walked back to his large and ornate desk, where he turned and faced her once more. Distance was most definitely needed between him and this beautiful Western woman who had stirred the emotions and wild desires of the man he used to be.
‘I appreciate it will be painful for you, but I will need to know all about what happened that night and how the stallion was before the accident.’
‘And you shall.’ But only what he absolutely had to say. He could never confess to anyone that he’d been guilty of neglecting his young sister so terribly. That the marriage he’d insisted she make had forced her to take such drastic steps. No, he could never allow anyone to know that. For the last year he’d been in the grip of that guilt and the way this woman was making him feel intensified it. He had no right to desire any woman when he was about to make an arranged marriage, not after insisting Tabinah did the same.
* * *
Destiny’s nerves fluttered as she followed her escort through the cool interior of the palace to join the man she now had to keep reminding herself was the Sheikh of Kezoban. A man who had concealed his true identity, but she couldn’t yet understand what he had to gain from that—apart from control.
She should have been able to relax in the luxury of her suite, with its views over the stunning palace gardens, but the thought of spending the evening with a man who intrigued and excited her as much as he irritated her with his need for control meant she was far from relaxed.
Darkness was falling and the palace was lit with lanterns at each of the ornate archways she passed through, giving everything a dreamlike quality. Then her escort stepped aside and gestured her through an arched doorway and along a vast walkway to another part of the palace gardens. She could see what resembled tents, draped almost completely in pale gold chiffon; lanterns glowed inside. It looked far too intimate for a formal dinner with the man who was effectively her boss for the next two months.
Then she saw him, his headdress discarded, giving him a more relaxed look, and her pulse leapt. Since when did the sight of a man do that to her?
‘Good evening. I trust you are rested from your journey.’ His deep sensual voice matched the mood created by his chosen venue for their meal and a brief skitter of panic raced over her before she dismissed it. As if this powerful Sheikh would be remotely interested in her. He probably had a harem of beautiful women.
‘With such a gorgeous suite, how could I not be?’ She couldn’t look directly at him as heat infused her cheeks.
When she did glance his way, it was to see his lips lifting upwards in a smile, one that sent a spark of amusement to his dark eyes. It was the first time she’d seen anything other than a severe or commanding expression on his face. It was also a smile that would melt hearts, hers included if the heady beat of her pulse was anything to go by.
‘I appreciate the effort you made today.’ She frowned at him, not sure what he was referring to. ‘You dressed to fit in with my culture and so this evening I wanted to show you a sample of life in the desert.’
‘Thank you.’ She forced the words out, totally taken aback by his thoughtfulness. Not at all what she would have expected from the man who had all but demanded she come to his country or the man who’d stood in his office just hours ago, an aura of power surrounding him.
‘I only regret I could not have shown you the real desert.’
‘This is lovely,’ she said as she walked into the tent. The warm night air played with the pale gold curtains and candles glowed within ornate lanterns, lending a romantic ambience to the setting.
Should she be worried by this gesture? She glanced anxiously at the man she knew very little about—she had placed herself at his mercy, thousands of miles from home. Who was she trying to fool? This was a desert king. A man whose life was so different from hers he would never think inappropriately of someone like her and the sooner she got that idea fixed in her head the better.
‘Does it not please you?’ A hint of a feral growl sounded in his voice and she realised her silence had cast doubt on her appreciation of all he’d done.
‘It’s perfect. Utterly beautiful.’
* * *
Zafir watched as Destiny, wearing loose-fitting white trousers and a long top, looked around. The pale pink scarf she wore on her head made her appear as delicate as a bloom in his prized gardens. She took in every detail and he found himself wishing they were in the middle of the desert, far away from anyone and, even more importantly, his duty. Not that family duty and honour were a trait she understood if the tension between her and her stepmother were anything to go by. She was here under duress and she’d clearly stated her terms, but that didn’t stop the sizzle of desire which flowed through him like the river his city was built around.
He wanted to tell her she was more beautiful than anything around them, but he hadn’t brought her here to seduce her. This was his palace, his home and he’d never entertained any woman here, even throughout his wild playboy days. He also needed to remind himself of the marriage he had to make. This was a woman he couldn’t afford to be distracted by for so many reasons.
‘I’m pleased you approve.’ He kept his voice as neutral as possible in an attempt to hide the effect she was having on him.
‘I’m also looking forward to seeing your stallion tomorrow.’ She glanced at him and he saw the apprehension on her face before she spoke again. ‘I do need to know more of the incident.’
‘By “incident” you mean the night my sister rode him out into the desert and met with her untimely death?’ This was the last thing he wanted to talk about. All the guilt from that night rushed back at him. He would have to share a certain amount of information with Destiny, but he wasn’t ready yet to reveal everything.
‘If I am to help the horse then I am afraid I need to know.’
The sympathy on her face only made his guilt worse. She must think he was so heartbroken after the loss of his sister that he couldn’t talk about it. Nothing could be further from the truth and nothing would make him admit the guilt he harboured.
‘First we eat,’ he said as his servants arrived with their meal. He gestured to the table, set with his colours, the same bright purple and gold that would adorn his private tent when he spent time in the desert, something he did several times a year.
She smiled at him and he could see his brusque tone had unsettled her, but it was necessary. Duty meant he could never let his emotions influence any decision he made. Duty also meant he could never have needs himself. It was always at the forefront of everything he did, just as it had been when he’d arranged Tabinah’s marriage, resisting her pleas for him to reconsider.
‘This