eyes. The realisation humbled him, and he silently gave thanks.
Then the incandescent moment passed and the ache in his side brought him back to more earthly matters—back to the frustration he felt at the thought of being confined by his discomfort for even the shortest time.
Right now he longed for the freedom and vast open spaces of the desert … longed to be pounding along the sand on his beautiful Arabian stallion with the warm wind in his hair and the sun on his back … to forget he was ruler of Kabuyadir for a while. Into his daydream came another tempting facet. On the stallion’s back in front of him—his arms keeping her safe—was a woman: the woman who for the past three years had nightly haunted his dreams, the woman who by an incredible quirk of fate was now staying in his palace.
He hadn’t written off the idea of making Gina his mistress, despite the fact that he’d said he wouldn’t allow his desire to transgress her sense of safety or honour. Tomorrow he would continue his campaign to persuade her—to help her see that it was a natural solution to the inflammatory attraction that gathered force whenever they were together. If she were to become his mistress he wouldn’t have to risk his heart as he had done before, he told himself. In a way he could hold her at arm’s length except for when they were in bed together. Fear of her letting him down again would always ensure he would not wholly trust her.
Even so, his tension lessened a little at the idea she wasn’t far away, and that soon—very soon—they would share a night together. Zahir released a long slow breath.
‘Jamal!’
‘Yes, Your Highness.’ The loyal servant appeared almost instantly from one of the connecting rooms where he waited on Zahir’s instructions—even all through the night.
‘I’m going downstairs to the hamam. After my bath I will have my usual massage, then I’ll need the physician to attend me to rebandage my wounds. Arrange it for me, will you?’
‘Straight away, Your Highness.’
Rising shortly after dawn broke, when a full sun had burned away the night and heralded a new day, Gina washed and dressed, then made her way straight to the library. She’d promised to meet Farida after breakfast to make a start on the inventory of palace artefacts, but for now her time was her own.
Browsing the stacked shelves with an intuitive as well as professional nose, she retrieved four heavy volumes of history of the area and carried them to the long varnished table beneath a row of narrow windows. The air echoed with the spine-tingling sound of the Muezzin, calling the faithful to prayer, and Gina shut her eyes for a moment to absorb the ancient chant more fully. Then she opened the first great book in the pile she’d laid on the table.
Moroccan-style brass lamps on the walls were still glowing softly from the night before, and even though the sun was already blazing, the extra light definitely helped illuminate the hushed cathedral dimness of the area. There were several interesting references to Zahir’s dynastic family, and what she read kept Gina enthralled for at least a couple of hours. Finally realising the time, she quickly returned the books to the correct shelves and all but fled back down the maze of lofty gilded corridors to the terrace, where she’d breakfast with Jake.
‘Morning, Gina … I heard you were hobnobbing with the Sheikh’s widowed sister yesterday. What’s she like? Is she as striking in appearance as her imposing brother, or did she get the short straw in the looks department?’
‘For goodness’ sake, Jake, where are your manners? What if Jamal heard you?’ Gina looked daggers at her tactless colleague, then anxiously swept her gaze round the terrace to see if Zahir’s faithful man was nearby. Thankfully, he wasn’t. Only the two girls who served the food stood silently by the sandstone wall, waiting to be of assistance.
Already helping himself to the colourful generous repast that was arranged on the table, Jake returned an unrepentant glance. ‘It’s only natural that I should be curious. I gather the general consensus in these parts is that she’ll never marry again. Something to do with that prophecy that so fascinates you—she was head over heels in love with her husband and won’t give her heart to anyone else. Not in this lifetime anyway.’
At this reminder of the prophecy, Gina’s own heart seemed to turn over in her chest. It wasn’t hard for her to understand Farida’s vow, should it be true. If she couldn’t be with Zahir then she, too, would probably live out the rest of her days alone.
‘Seems a terrible waste, though, doesn’t it?’
‘What does?’
‘I think this place is hypnotising you! You’ve increasingly got that faraway look in your eyes. It’s going to be hard when you return to good old Blighty, isn’t it? Back home to the real world.’
Falling silent, Gina helped herself to some bread and a few olives. Soon she would have to tell Jake about the extra job Zahir had asked her to do—but not yet. She wanted the chance to complete her presentation on the Heart of Courage first. When Jake’s work was also completed, and he was thinking about travelling home, then she would tell him. The man was so ambitious that for all she knew he might be funny with her because she’d been asked to undertake the inventory and he hadn’t. It definitely wasn’t above him to be jealous and petty about her perceived good fortune.
‘It is another world here, isn’t it?’ She forced herself to be sociable and friendly.
‘By the way, there’s the most bizarre rumour going round that the Sheikh was shot by some rebels the other day when he went to try and make peace with them. He wasn’t killed, obviously, just wounded. This place is like some kind of paradise lost, but I still get the feeling that anything could go off at any time, don’t you? I didn’t see him at all yesterday. Do you think the rumours are true?’
Schooling her expression to stay calm, Gina swallowed some food, then delicately touched her napkin to her lips. ‘I don’t think we should speculate about it. If it is true then I only hope the poor man is resting and recuperating as he needs to, so that he can heal.’
‘I don’t like to think we won’t be able to finish our presentations if he really is laid up with a gunshot wound. We’ve both worked hard these past two months. I don’t want it all to be for nothing.’
Finally Gina lost patience. Pushing to her feet, she glared at the man, who was dressed in another inappropriately garish shirt this morning. ‘Don’t you ever think about anybody but yourself? The palace has paid for you to travel first class, and we’ve been waited on hand and foot, as well as receiving a generous advance for our research on the Heart of Courage. I’d hardly call that “nothing”, would you?’
Throwing her napkin on top of her plate, she marched away, leaving the two sweet girls who had been assigned to serve them staring at her as if she was a species from another planet.
In his study on one of the upper floors, the sound of girlish laughter reached his ears. Frowning in puzzlement, Zahir moved across to the sandstone and mosaic embrasure and glanced out. There were two women seated at the marble inlaid table in the intimate courtyard below, where a silk canopy protected them from the fierce midday sun. One wore the traditional black garb of a widow, and the other a long coral silk dress with a loose white overshirt and an incongruous straw hat that made him smile.
Seeing them together, clearly enjoying each other’s company, was a revelation. Rarely had a sight and sound given him more pleasure. Without knowing he’d intended it, he found himself outside, approaching the table where they sat. When the women started
