The Sheikh Who Loved Her

Was she really doing this?

‘Relax, Lucy. Let me do all the work. I’m going to show you what living in the fast lane is like.’

‘Please don’t,’ she said, suddenly anxious on a number of fronts. She’d broken so many of her own rules over the past few days—skiing fast might seem the least of them, but once again she was entirely in Mac’s hands.

And that was something new?

Maybe she had invested so much in her feelings for him already she was frightened to invest more …

‘I promise you—it’s exciting.’

She was tempted. She stared round at him. Exciting? Had Mac got the slightest idea how exciting her life had become since they’d met? She guessed not.

He nuzzled his face close so now they were sharing the same sparkling champagne air. ‘Don’t be frightened,’ he whispered.

She heard the smile in his voice and tried to relax.

‘I’m going to take you places you’ve never been before, and show you what travelling at speed through the mountains should feel like.’ With that he tipped her over the edge of the slope and they were off. She shrieked as her stomach flipped. ‘Relax,’ Mac yelled, tightening his grip on her. ‘I won’t let you fall.’

They started to build up speed and it gave him a buzz to know Lucy was gaining in confidence with every yard they travelled. Had Ra’id felt like this? That it wasn’t so much an inconvenience taking someone he cared for down the slope, but a sacred trust? ‘Feeling safer now?’ he demanded as they cruised some flatter ground.

‘Thanks to you.’

He tried to remember when he’d had so much fun outside the bedroom. Fun was in short supply when women had one eye on his throne and the other on his fortune, and anyway, he had no time to invest in relationships. He felt a hit of anger and frustration at the thought that this trip to the Alps would soon be over. He’d enjoyed keeping Lucy safe—perhaps more than he should have done.

Mac had asked her if she felt safe. She was safe. He kept her safe. With Mac’s arms around her and his body moulded tightly to hers, she wasn’t skiing, she was flying.

Mac’s arms were firm around her waist and his warm breath was on her neck as he steered her down the slope. She’d only felt closer to him when they’d been making love. As Mac took her into a wide, sweeping turn she even wondered if this was the most erotic experience of her life—out in daylight where everyone could see them moving as one, breathing as one—her body welded to his—feeling his muscles working and hers respond.

The steep descent to the village was over all too soon, and as Mac skied to a halt Lucy realised people were staring at them. Women were smiling; some of them enviously, but all of them a little dreamy-eyed at the most romantic sight they’d seen that day. She was sorry it had ended and wished they could start over when Mac nudged her off his skis.

‘So—did I convince you?’ he demanded, lifting off his helmet and ruffling his thick, wavy black hair. ‘That skiing fast is great?’ he prompted, dipping his head to stare at her.

Had it only been an adrenalin rush for Mac? With the sudden blinding force of understanding she knew the warm, pulsing effects of what had been a night of love for her had been sex for him. Mac was everything she wanted and more—and could never have. He was enjoying a brief affair—she had fallen in love.

‘I’ll take you back,’ he said, shouldering his skis.

‘Don’t you want to meet up with your friends?’ She wanted to give him an out and herself space and time to think.

Mac looked at her and frowned, his lips pressing down in his habitual amused expression. ‘We’re big boys now,’ he said, catching hold of her with his free arm. ‘Come on,’ he insisted, linking arms with her. ‘It’s time for an early bath.’

And the rest …?

Lucy’s heart bounced with joy as Mac put his arms around her and drew her close. She put her arm around him too, like any other couple in the resort, telling herself she worried too much. Maybe.

The rush of being in the mountains, the sheer glory of the scenery and the indescribable joy of being with Mac had left Lucy on the highest peak of the highest high.

‘You feel the charge too—don’t you?’ Mac challenged, nuzzling her cheek as they strode along.

‘Maybe,’ she admitted playfully, trying and failing to keep the smile off her face.

‘You do,’ he said confidently.

There was a sense of urgency to their stride—they weren’t running exactly, but it was purposeful and heading one place fast. The urge to be together, to be even closer than they’d been on the mountain, had infused both of them with unusual energy. Lucy felt like the most alive person on the planet—sight keener, hearing so acute her own heartbeat was hammering in her ears like a kettledrum, while the scent of Mac, deliciously spicy, clean and warm, filled every part of her with happy anticipation. It was as if every sense she possessed was keenly tuned to Mac’s extraordinary energy levels. Surely everyone knew … They were attracting glances, as if the sexual bond that joined them was a palpable thing. She glanced up at Mac and saw the set of his jaw, the faint tug of his lips, and the look of absolute focus in his eyes. When Mac wanted something he radiated determination. No wonder people were staring at them. Knowing what he wanted—suspecting other people knew about it too—aroused her shamelessly. She wanted to feel like a sexual being, to be desired, to be … necessary. ‘We’re here,’ she said a little self-consciously when they reached the chalet.

‘What do you know,’ Mac teased, opening the door. His eyes were wicked as he stood back to let her inside.

He shut the door behind them and suddenly all the energy that had spread in all directions was cooped up in one small space. The air crackled with electricity, though both of them suddenly took to acting as if it were a normal day. Tension simmered as they shed their boots, took off their jackets and hung them up. They walked upstairs almost at a leisurely pace, as if their feelings towards each other had been mastered. But it was an illusion, and without needing to say a word they both knew it. The sexual cord between them had never been stretched so far or so thin—the explosion had to come. Even the air they breathed seemed saturated with particles of lust that only added to Lucy’s arousal.

‘We’re alone,’ Mac murmured when they reached the landing.

‘So we are,’ she said, wondering if they had time to reach the bedroom.

Mac acted decisively. ‘Kitchen,’ he husked, backing her down the hall.

‘What if someone comes?’

He grinned. ‘Someone will.’

By the time he’d shut the door behind them her top was on the floor. One stroke of his hands and her briefs were round her ankles. He freed himself and lifted her, practically in the same moment.

‘Oh, yes,’ she gasped, clinging to him as he plunged deep.

Mac stretched her beyond anything she once would have thought possible. The feeling was so far beyond pleasure that to begin with she could only let him take her with firm, deep strokes, while she did nothing but enjoy, but then the urgent need for release overcame her, made her fierce, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders, shouting his name and rocking furiously while Mac pressed back against the door to support her weight. He was hers to please and enjoy. No one could get into the room while she had her legs locked around his waist, and she was beyond caring what anyone heard. They were both brutally aroused, and from here it was a short, fast ride to pleasure and oblivion.

CHAPTER EIGHT

HE LEFT Lucy to take her shower. He kissed her outside her room, brushing silky strands of hair away from her flushed face. For a moment when he released her her eyes were bright with hope, but then she understood. Pressing her lips together, she quietly left him.

He’d stood outside her closed door without moving before taking the stairs two at a time to his own apartment on the top floor. There was no point in wishing things could be different when he was chained to destiny.

Lucy had set the tradition for canapés and an aperitif before dinner. He settled for a coffee and a croissant in town. He chose an anonymous café none of his friends frequented. He needed space. He needed time to think, but whichever way he played it one thing was non-negotiable. He had to make a clean break from everything in his past in order to give his future to Isla de Sinnebar. He shouldn’t be thinking about Lucy at all, let alone thinking about her in terms of taking her with him—

Forget it!

He pushed his chair back so violently the other customers turned to stare. He paid the bill and clattered outside in his ski boots to harness himself first to his skis and then to the challenge of the mountains where no troubling personal thoughts could intrude.

But they would.

Lucy already meant more to him than he, in fairness to her, could tell her. She always would. She had won his heart in no time flat, and when it came to things he had to give up to be the type of leader he intended to be, she was turning out to be the biggest sacrifice of all.

She was back in uniform, having showered, dressed and cooked dinner. Tom had asked her to hold everything for an hour as Mac had gone out again to ski. That news only added to everything Mac hadn’t said to her outside her room. Fast sex was all part of his race to the finish. She could sense the fact that Mac would be leaving soon, though he was chatting to his friends now he was back as if an aperitif of hot, heavenly sex was an everyday occurrence for him.

Perhaps it was, Lucy reflected, handing round the canapés. Perhaps she was the one who needed a reality check to see those looks he kept flashing her way were just that—concerned looks. He didn’t want her burning dinner, after all.

The meal was a triumph, the group of men told her, and now they were going out skiing on the floodlit slopes while she cleared up. ‘Have a good time,’ she called after them. ‘Breakfast at seven?’ she confirmed with Mac, acting bright and businesslike as if she weren’t hoping for some words of reassurance long before then. He’d changed into jeans, boots and a hooded sweater after taking a shower and looked hot beyond belief, making the gulf between them unbridgeable and herself a fantasist for even imagining it could be any different.

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help you clear up?’

She did a double take, while his friends laughed good-naturedly as if this was the most hilarious suggestion Mac had ever made. ‘Thank you, I’m good,’ she said, smiling a casual smile as if there were nothing between them.

She thought Mac’s look was almost one of disappointment, but then he flashed a glance at his watch and his expression firmed up. ‘We’d better get going,’ he announced to his friends. ‘Time’s running out.’

She shivered inwardly as Theo clapped a hand round Mac’s shoulders as if he understood. They all understood—while, for all her intimacy with Mac, she knew nothing about his private life. ‘Have a good night,’ she said on autopilot, keeping her smile in place until Mac led the men out of the room.

But then her smile faded. She felt sick, weak, foolish and the rest. Someone should have warned her how much love hurt—she’d have been more careful to avoid it. But she could hardly blame Mac for wanting to ski with his friends when the slopes were floodlit for the torchlit procession down the mountain to the village. Skiing was what he was here for, after all. He was hardly going to stay behind on one of the best nights of the year to help her clean the chalet. Plucking a clean cloth from the drawer, she set to. However many knocks life threw at her she was going to bounce back and start over. The next stage would be to forget him.

Forget Mac? Impossible. She would never forget him. She wouldn’t even keep him in her heart as a warning; she’d keep him in her heart because that was where he belonged. And if Mac couldn’t see how she felt about him …

He was hardly going to see it now, Lucy reasoned sensibly, giving the table the polish of its life—it was proving harder to bring up a sheen while her tears were falling on it. She didn’t need anyone to tell her that Mac would soon be gone, or that she only had herself to blame for falling in love with him, but it was one thing being a fool and quite another knowing it.

‘Let me pick up the pieces for you,’ Tom offered, ducking his head inside the helicopter.

Pieces? This was a car crash. ‘No need, Tom. I’ve got it covered.’ He’d been right thinking Lucy wasn’t his usual type of woman, and right again, suspecting he was in too deep. So much for holding back on feelings. Lucy had drawn more feeling out of him than he’d realised he had. She’d given more than he’d ever expected anyone to give—and he had expected no more of Lucy than he expected of any woman.

‘Do you want me to pass on any messages?’ Tom shouted above the roar of the rotor blades starting up overhead.

It was better to make a clean break—better for Lucy. He’d known his destiny since Ra’id had explained it to him when he was just thirteen. He was going back to Isla de Sinnebar to put on the robes of duty and devote himself to the service of a country. In doing so he would lose his freedom. He did this gladly, but a pure, free spirit like Lucy Tennant deserved something better than a man who had to be so single-minded for the sake of his country.

‘Razi?’ Tom pressed him as the engine noise increased.

Guilt and longing swept over him. He felt so bad leaving Lucy. The first of many times he would experience such feelings, he suspected as the image of her open, trusting face remained steady in his mind. ‘If she needs anything, anything at all—a job, a reference …’ Tom and he were almost as close as brothers and there was no need for explanation—they both knew he was talking about Lucy.

He felt diminished as he handed Tom his no-frills business card. He’d signed it so it carried his authority. ‘See she gets this, will you, Tom?’ Before Tom had chance to answer or he had chance to change his mind, he gave the signal and the helicopter lifted off.

What was this? She felt sick inside as she sank down on the bed. She had just switched on the bedside light and seen the money someone had left on the nightstand. Before this moment she hadn’t even known there was such a thing as a five-hundred-euro note—and now there was a stack of them within touching distance.

Not that she wanted to touch them, even though they were crisp and new and looked as though they hadn’t been touched, other than to have whatever paper bands had held them together removed.

There must have been tens of thousands of euros in the neat pile, Lucy realised, staring at them. And there was ice in the pit of her stomach, because she knew. She didn’t need it spelling out to her—she didn’t need to think about it. Mac hadn’t come home with the other men and his bodyguards had gone too. Whoever he was—and she had shut the possibilities out of her mind just to live the fantasy—fabulously wealthy Mac had returned to whatever world he belonged to, leaving her with a small fortune in pinkish, purplish notes, as if sufficient money could paper over the cracks in her heart.

He thought money could do that?

She turned her face to the wall, biting down on the back of her hand so she wouldn’t cry out and the other men wouldn’t hear her. Drawing a deep shuddering breath, she told herself she’d got what she’d deserved—a lot more than she’d deserved, in fact; there was enough money here to open her own restaurant …

And even that didn’t begin to ward off the chill creeping through her veins. Her legs felt like lead as she dragged them up onto the bed. Tugging up the duvet to her chin, she lay unsleeping, fully clothed and shivering as she contemplated a world that was not just empty now, but irrevocably changed—by Mac’s opinion of her, and by his pay-off.

Change was inevitable at the end of the ski season. Change was all-encompassing when a pregnancy test turned out to be positive.

Lucy rested against the wall of her bathroom with her eyes shut. When she opened them again the betraying blue line was still there. She’d been feeling sick every morning recently, and all-over funny—different—changed—as if she weren’t alone in her body any longer. There was a very good reason for that, as she now knew for sure …

Stroking her hands down her still-flat stomach, she felt an incredible sense of wonder—instant love—instant fight-to-the-death protective instincts towards the little bud of life sheltering and growing inside her—someone to love—someone she hoped would love her—a family all of her own …

And Mac?

Why did he have to know?

Remembering the pile of money he’d left her and the way he’d left her—leaving Tom to pass on his business card of all things—he didn’t deserve to know.

Grit her teeth against the pain as she might, she still loved him. She would always love Mac. Though she hated what he’d done, she couldn’t fight the flood of memories—so many good memories and so few bad—until that last bitter blow, when he’d left the resort without saying goodbye—without leaving a proper message, nothing but that wretched business card that Tom had put in an envelope and sealed. ‘You never know when you might need something,’ Tom had said in his kindly way, after explaining what the envelope contained.

‘I’ll never need anything from Mac,’ she had assured him tightly, planting the unopened envelope deep in her apron pocket.

‘A job, maybe?’ Tom had said with a shrug as if he sensed her hurt and wanted to ease it.

‘No, nothing,’ she had insisted, shaking her head. When she’d returned to her room she had stuffed the envelope to the back of a drawer where it still lay to this day, untouched.

Well, it gave her a use for the stack of untouched banknotes currently residing in a large padded envelope with her name on it in the company safe, Lucy reflected, throwing away the third pregnancy test she’d done that morning. There was so much to consider. She could hardly arrive at her parents’ house with a baby. She would need a home for one—a home with a proper garden where a little girl could play. She was so sure it was a little girl. There was a business to think about. She’d get a job to start with to help with the fund and then she’d strike out on her own.

She was going to be a mother …

The thought had not only filled her with joy, but with renewed ambition. She had someone to fight for now—someone who would need a college fund and a prom dress and every advantage she could give her.

And Mac?

Unfortunately, she had to tell him. She had to relent. She didn’t want anything from him, but he should know. Mac should be given the opportunity to know he was going to be a father. She had to give him that chance. She had no choice. Telling him was the right thing to do.

R. Maktabi. CEO Maktabi Communications. Having dived into her sock drawer in a frenzy of ‘let’s-get-this-over-with’, she found that was all that was printed on the card. She almost laughed out loud to think Mac was in the wrong business—communicating was hardly his forte. But there were three telephone numbers: London, New York and somewhere in the Arabian Gulf called Isla de Sinnebar. So that explained Mac’s exotic looks, Lucy mused, staring blindly out of the window. Mac had contacts in both east and west and now he had returned to … She shrugged and dialled the London number. Mac wasn’t there, a frosty secretary told her. She could practically see the woman flinching over the phone when she’d asked for Mac. She realised now that Mac was an abbreviation of his surname, and guessed not many women used it—or, at least, not to the old battleaxe on the other end of the phone. ‘Sorry to have troubled you—’

She drew a blank with New York too—but she’d saved the best ‘til last. Closing her eyes, she allowed the vision of a desert encampment complete with billowing ivory silk tents to flow through her mind—and had to stop that thought dead when she discovered how many gorgeous women dressed in rainbow hues like so many lovely butterflies were queuing up to serve canapés to a recumbent Mac, who was reclining on silken cushions as they fed him dainty morsels. That wasn’t such a great image.

‘An appointment with the CEO of Maktabi Communications?’ a very polite man enquired in the softest, creamiest voice Lucy had ever heard when she got through to Mac’s office in the Arabian Gulf. ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible.’

‘But he is there?’ She was clutching Mac’s card so tightly, she had crumpled it, Lucy realised as she waited for an answer. ‘And if he is, may I speak to him, please?’ she persisted, remembering who had made her brave. ‘It’s of the utmost importance.’

‘May I enquire what your business is?’

Mac was there. She knew it. She clutched the phone to her chest, her heart hammering so hard she was sure the man could hear it beating in Isla de Sinnebar. She put the phone to her ear again. ‘I’m afraid it’s personal. Perhaps I could meet with him?’ She had no intention of telling some stranger her business—but if she could just get into the building, maybe she could find Mac.

‘You cannot possibly make an appointment to see—’

Cannot possibly? She held the phone away from her ear. Was Mac contagious? Had he suddenly become so aloof, so untouchable, he wouldn’t speak to people he knew? ‘But I know him,’ she protested, ‘and I’m sure he’ll want to speak to me.’

There was silence and then a rather offensive laugh. ‘You cannot imagine how many people say the same thing,’ the man derided.

How many women? Lucy wondered.

Her heart shrank to the size of a bitter, joyless nut. Suddenly she saw how it must sound—a young girl that no one had heard of rang up to demand an appointment with the head of a large multinational corporation …

‘And in any case,’ the man rapped dismissively, ‘we have a public holiday coming up so there would be no one here to see you. Should you be so foolish enough to decide to come you’ll find no one here—everywhere will be shut from—’

‘From when?’ Lucy demanded eagerly.

‘From Thursday,’ he said, sounding surprised that she hadn’t folded yet.

In three days’ time. ‘Perfect. Can we arrange our meeting for Wednesday?’

‘Our meeting?’ There was silence as the man absorbed her sleight of hand. ‘I don’t think you heard me. There can be no meeting, Ms—’

‘Miss Tennant—’

‘Goodbye, Miss Tennant.’

Lucy stared at the silent receiver in disbelief. How rude. It was another dead end, but she couldn’t leave it here. She was shaking and not feeling brave at all after such a humiliating put-down, but with the baby to consider nothing would stop her seeing Mac. Dialling the operator, she got ready to book her flight.

CHAPTER NINE

THE purser on board had just announced they would soon be landing in Isla de Sinnebar. Consumed with curiosity, Lucy stared out of her tiny window as the commercial jet swooped in low over an azure sea. Tiny dots of white marked the passage of sailing boats while a patchwork quilt of ivory, green, gold and tan land stretched away towards distant purple mountains. As the plane banked a city came into view. White spires half hidden in a heat haze. No wonder Mac had an office here. If the rest of Isla de Sinnebar was half as magical as it appeared from the air, he was a lucky man.

A lucky man in so many ways. He was about to become a father. If Mac felt only a fraction of the love she already felt for their baby, he would be the luckiest man alive. She fretted as she thought about it, knowing she could only hope he would love their baby, and only hope that he would make time in his busy working life to see something of their child. He would miss so much if he didn’t—and she couldn’t wish that on him.

Resolutely, Lucy cleared her mind. It was early morning, and she planned to travel straight to Mac’s office from the airport and wait for as long as it took to see him. She had to be businesslike and determined. This wasn’t a social call. Her baby’s happiness, and, yes, Mac’s happiness depended on a successful outcome to this visit. And time was tight. Until she got a new job her savings from the ski season had to be eked out, and, much as she would have liked to, she had allowed no time for sightseeing on the Isla de Sinnebar, and just thirty-six hours for discussions with Mac on the way forward. Her homeward flight was booked in two days’ time, just before the public holiday closed everything down.