The Sheikh Who Married Her: One Desert Night / Strangers in the Desert / Desert Doctor, Secret Sheikh

‘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 to rise from their seats he gestured for them to stay where they were.

‘I was beginning to fear I would never see you smile or hear you laugh again, my sister.’

‘It is all Gina’s doing. See how good she is for me? Not only is she clever and kind, but she has a wicked sense of humour, too.’

‘Is that so?’ Immediately Zahir’s interested glance moved from his sister to the fair-skinned woman seated by her side. Her lovely blue eyes had been brimming with humour just a few moments ago, but now, beneath his scrutiny, her expression turned serious. He didn’t know why, but it grieved him.

‘Good afternoon, Your Highness,’ she murmured.

‘You are looking very well, Dr Collins.’ He smiled. ‘Like a rose plucked from an English country garden and planted out here in the desert.’

‘Such a rose probably wouldn’t survive in this heat.’

‘If it was tended and looked after by an expert gardener, I have no doubt it would blossom.’

Helplessly, he fell into a trance, his skin prickling hotly with languorous need. He ignored the fact that his sister was staring at him speculatively. Then Gina reached out to gather up some papers that were strewn across the table, and Zahir snapped out of the hypnotised spell that had overcome him.

‘I will let you get back to your conversation. I apologise for disturbing you both,’ he muttered, then turned abruptly and strode away.

As his dark robes flew out behind him, his booted footsteps ringing out across the paved courtyard, Farida frowned. ‘My brother does not seem at all like his usual self this morning. It could be that he has suffered a sleepless night because of his wounds. You know he was wounded in a skirmish with some rebels the other day?’

‘Yes … I heard what happened. It was a shock.’ Lowering her lashes, Gina tried to scan some of the notes she had made with regard to the inventory that was underway, but all she saw on the screen of her mind was the disturbing heat in Zahir’s riveting dark eyes. It made her press her thighs together beneath her dress, because suddenly she ached to the very core of her being for his ardent lovemaking.

Inevitably, she remembered the night she had surrendered her virginity. The erotic electricity their bodies had generated had been so powerful, so magnetising, that when he had penetrated her she hadn’t experienced the slightest pain or discomfort. Their bonding had been so perfect, so natural, that she had no doubt it had been written in the stars.

Realising that Farida was waiting for her opinion, Gina strove for a reassuring smile. ‘Your brother … His Highness … is clearly a very strong, fit man, and I’ve no doubt that he’ll make a full and speedy recovery.’

The other woman shrugged. ‘That is what I tell myself, too. But no matter how strong he is, he is not infallible. No one is. This house has known too much death of late. It needs new blood to revitalise it and give us hope. Perhaps it is a good thing that Zahir intends to marry soon. Even if I cannot agree with his bride of choice.’

Feeling as if her breath had been seared inside her lungs, Gina stared in shock. ‘The Sheikh is getting married?’

Farida sighed and nodded. ‘His intended is an Emir’s daughter. She is plump and plain, and I’m sorry to say not very clever. Thank Allah he is not looking for scintillating company, because he won’t enjoy such a thing with her. No … He has only seen the girl once or twice, but her family rule a great kingdom, too. It is a marriage of convenience my brother has planned, and I see nothing but pain and unhappiness ahead for him should he go through with it.’

It was hard for Gina to speak because of the dryness in her throat. ‘But what about the Heart of Courage’s prophecy that all your family will marry for love, not dynastic advantage?’

‘You know about the jewel?’

She’d forgotten she wasn’t supposed to mention it to Farida. Her heart raced as she quickly sought to explain. ‘Knowing I was going to undertake an inventory of the palace artefacts, I did some research before I came and discovered the existence of the jewel. It’s got quite a history.’

Leaning forward, Farida grabbed Gina’s hand. ‘I totally believe in the prophecy! One cannot and should not argue with fate. As soon as I set eyes on Azhar I knew it was meant that we should meet and fall in love. In fact I loved him from the very first moment, and I will not stop loving him for the rest of my life—even though he is gone from me. My heart keeps him alive. Do you understand?’

‘I do … I believe everything you say, Farida. But your brother …? He doesn’t believe in the prophecy?’

‘He does not. I have tried to talk to Zahir many times about it, but he will not listen. Because my parents married for love, and my father pined for my mother so much when she died that he himself passed away shortly after, and then I sadly lost Azhar, he is scared to experience a love so profound in case he will be a broken man if he should lose it. There is no convincing him otherwise. He can be very stubborn at times—especially when he thinks he is right!’

‘So he would rather marry someone he barely knows or cares about instead?’

The other girl sadly dipped her head. ‘It would seem so.’

Walking in a semi-daze down the corridor later, her notes clutched to her chest, Gina didn’t even register a door opening until a deep male voice uttered her name.

‘Gina.’ Holding the study door wide, Zahir commanded her with his piercing dark gaze.

‘Don’t you mean Dr Collins, Your Highness?’ It was almost impossible to keep the hurt from her voice when all she could think was that he was marrying a woman he hardly knew, purely for dynastic alliance. Of all the things she had ever suffered, surely this was the hardest to bear of all?

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘I WISH to speak with you.’

‘I’m sorry, but I can’t spare the time right now. I have too much work to do.’

Gina barely knew where she found the temerity to speak to him like that, but she supposed hurt and anger instigated it. The fiercely warning glance Zahir gave her in return was enough to quell the courage of Ghengis Khan himself, and she couldn’t deny that her legs weren’t shaking.

‘How dare you address me in such a manner? Such disrespect would be enough to have you incarcerated. In future I would advise you to think twice before succumbing to it. Come into my study … now.’

Closing the door behind them, Zahir gestured to Gina to take a seat. She was glad of it. Laying down her papers on a lavish brocade-covered couch, she folded her hands in her lap, took a deep breath, then made herself meet his glowering gaze.

‘I apologise sincerely if I was rude, Your Highness. It won’t happen again. What is it you want to talk to me about?’

Hands behind his back, he paced the marble floor, his handsome profile ominously formidable as his boot heels rang out against the stone. When he came to a stop, but still didn’t speak, a jolt of fear zigzagged through her.

‘What’s wrong? Are you in pain?’ she asked.

A curse violently left his lips. Striding up to her, he hauled her to her feet. Suddenly finding herself on the most personal and intimate terms with his flashing eyes, warm breath and steely strength as he gripped her arms, Gina was shocked by how faint with longing for him she was.

‘Yes, I am in pain! I am in pain not because of a gunshot wound but because I have had to endure not having the taste of your mouth whenever I desire it, not having your body naked beneath mine! Can you even imagine what I am going through because you deny me these things? Or are you so heartless that you don’t even care?’

‘Zahir, I do care. I—’

Any words she had been about to say were cut off by the hot pressure of his mouth on hers. Groaning, Gina wound her arms round his neck, and he was like a rock or the trunk of a tree she could hang on to for dear life were she in danger of being swept away by a hurricane.

In turn, Zahir held her fast as his tongue tangled hotly with hers, moving his hands up and down her back as he tried to position her closer, even closer, until there was no space between them and they were but one passionate beating heart. Reaching up, he freed her hair, and it spilled curling and golden round her shoulders.

He had said that he had had to endure surviving without the taste of her lips, the intimacy of her body against his … Gina didn’t even know how to start telling him she felt the same. All she could do was demonstrate her wildly hungry feelings by matching him kiss for ravenous kiss, her hands as greedy for the touch of his skin as his for hers. His body was hard as iron beneath his flowing robes, his mouth a passionate burning brand that left her heart no choice but to be enslaved by him for ever.

Breathing hard, he broke off the kiss to cup her face between his hands. ‘I must have you in my bed tonight. After this, can you still deny me?’

Thinking was hardly possible right then, while Gina’s body still throbbed from the delicious intimacy of Zahir’s passionate embrace, and her senses were frustrated at not having her craving for him completely fulfilled. But, like a serpent in paradise, an unhappily wounding thought reared its dangerous head and wouldn’t be ignored.

‘Release me.’

‘What?’ Confusion and not a little frustration filled his eyes.

‘You have to let me go. I—I need to sit down for a minute.’

As soon as Zahir set her free Gina sank down onto the brocade couch, her mouth drying uncomfortably at the question that had reared commandingly inside her head—a question she desperately needed an answer to.

‘Your sister told me today that you are soon to be married. She said it is to be an arranged marriage to an Emir’s daughter. Is that true, Zahir?’

His glittering gaze considered her bleakly for a moment, then he spun away to pace the floor again. A couple of feet away from her he stilled. A shaft of sunlight beaming in through a narrow window alighted on the mane of long hair that spilled across his shoulders, and the copper lights deep within the fiercely glossy ebony strands glinted like dark fire. In her wildest dreams Gina couldn’t have dreamed up a man more magnificent—or more unattainable.

‘It is true … But what has that to do with us? I am not marrying her for her beautiful body, or her wit and charm, so there is nothing to be jealous about if jealousy is what you feel—not when you possess all those attributes in abundance. It is, as you say, merely an arranged union for dynastic purposes only. The arranged marriage is common enough amongst titled landowners in these parts.’

‘The last time you explained about that you hadn’t found anyone suitable. Obviously things have moved on quickly since then?’

‘Look … whether I marry this woman or not has nothing to do with what we share. Absolutely nothing! Why can you not see that?’

Capturing a strand of the bright hair that drifted round her shoulders, Gina coiled it round her finger, then let it spring free. ‘Why can’t I see that?’ A soft, wounded sigh escaped her. ‘Perhaps because I firmly believe that marriage should be one man for one woman, and that the relationship should have love as its foundation … not convenience or—or sex!’ Gathering up her scattered papers from the cushion beside her, she pushed to her feet. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I must get on. I’ve promised to meet up with your sister again, and I need to pop up to my room for a book first.’

Zahir was back in front of her in an instant. A myriad of passionate emotions swirled and flickered in the silken depths of his long-lashed eyes. ‘Know this … I do not ask you to become my mistress because I do not care for you. Even though you hurt me with your false promise to return, there is no other woman I desire or want to be close to but you, Gina.’

Biting down on her lip, she resisted the strongest urge to touch her hand lovingly to his high-contoured cheekbone. She hadn’t forgotten that he’d recently been shot at and might have lost his life. ‘I believe you, Zahir.’

‘Then why shut me out as you clearly are doing?’

‘Because even though you say you care for me, it’s not enough to persuade me to either share your bed again or become your mistress. I don’t want to play second fiddle to another woman, even though you might not hold her in high regard and your marriage would be just a formality … a convenience. I would be betraying my own integrity and hers if I do that, and that’s important to me. I’m sorry, Zahir, but that’s just how I feel.’

Leaving him standing there, his expression stunned and sombre, she moved across to the door and went out.

After Gina had so shockingly deserted him, Zahir bellowed for Jamal and gave him orders to get his Arabian stallion saddled up, ready for his immediate use. Less than half an hour later, ignoring his concerned manservant’s plea to not ride too far lest he tear open his wounds, he mounted the magnificent ebony steed and rode off into the hills.

What else could he do with all the restless and unsatisfied desire that thrummed through his veins? He had to burn some of that raging fire in him away or else he would certainly go mad. And he couldn’t abide staying at the palace and twiddling his thumbs for the afternoon just because his doctor had advised him to rest … not after Gina’s unbelievable rebuff.

Why was the woman being so stubborn? It seriously perplexed him. There was an old saying: patience is beautiful … Right now he was far too frustrated and furious to contemplate the wisdom it was no doubt meant to impart. What would entice her to become his mistress, to realise it would give her far greater access to his body and his time than any plain, unimaginative eighteen-year-old wife, who would rather giggle with her girlfriends and feed her face than learn how to pleasure a man?

When Zahir glanced round to see a palace bodyguard following him on another steed, he let loose an oath. Giving the horse his head, he stirred him into a brisk canter. Then, when they were out in more open country, into a full heart-pounding gallop.

‘Turn around.’ Farida’s look of quiet concentration was endearing as she watched Gina model the black hijab and dress that she’d loaned her, so that she could accompany herself and a male servant to the market.

After that emotional scene with Zahir in his study earlier, the unexpected trip Farida had suggested was the perfect antidote to the melancholic feelings that kept washing over her. It hurt deeply that she was apparently good enough to be Zahir’s mistress but not his wife. Yet, underlying the sensation of despondency, she held on to the fact that he had at least declared he cared for her. Maybe that knowledge would give Gina something to work with? Thinking of the personal search she had started in the library, she yearned to get back there soon.

‘From behind you will look just like any other young woman visiting the marketplace. It is only when people see your fair skin and sapphire-blue eyes they will know you are not a native from Kabuyadir.’

‘I rather like the anonymity these clothes give you,’ Gina remarked thoughtfully, running her hand down over the smooth black silk. ‘Back at home women are bombarded daily by the media with what we should look like, what size we should be and what clothes we should wear—usually revealing ones. It’s a refreshing change not to worry about that for once.’

‘Well, I am glad they make you feel more at ease. We will have a good visit … You will enjoy it and so will I. This will be my first outing for a long time. Now, if there is anything you want at the marketplace—for instance souvenirs or a length of silk or brocade to make a dress—let my servant barter for you. That is how it is done here, and it will ensure you get a good price.’

The marketplace was a sensation overload. Turning her head this way and that, Gina endeavoured to absorb as much of the sights and sounds as possible. When she was back in the UK, doing her weekly shop at the supermarket or visiting some soulless shopping mall for some so-called ‘retail therapy,’ buying clothes she didn’t really want that would disappear amongst similar impulse buys in her wardrobe, she would certainly long for Kabuyadir and all the fascinating goods that made the market so much more exotic and appealing—so much more authentic, somehow.

Staying close by her side, Farida was the best guide she could have had. As well as pointing out various stalls that might be of interest—whether their vendors were selling colourful silks, yarns and brocades, handmade rugs or the beautifully crafted ceramics that so many visitors made a beeline for—she often added humorous little anecdotes that made Gina smile.

After about an hour of negotiating their way through the melee of people, with their colourful clothes and many languages littering the sultry air, Farida thankfully suggested they take a break for some refreshments. Coming upon a group of chairs and tables beneath a tall date palm tree, she despatched her servant Hafiz to the stallholder who was serving drinks and sweetmeats.

‘Is there anything you have seen that you like enough to take home?’ her companion asked as they sat together with their backs to the refreshment stall.

‘I noticed a vendor selling essential oils … I’d definitely be interested in taking some agarwood oil home—the scent is divine. It will always remind me of Kabuyadir.’ And Zahir, she thought with a bittersweet tug.

‘We will visit his stall after our refreshments—but I will only allow you to purchase the oil if I know it is of the highest grade.’

‘Thanks. You’ve been very good to me, Farida … I just want you to know how much I appreciate it.’

‘‘Nonsense! You have been like a breath of fresh air to me, Gina, and I thank you for agreeing to spend time with a dull and sombre woman like me.’

‘You are not dull or sombre … you mustn’t put yourself down like that. I wish I had as good and bright and engaging a friend as you at home. When I eventually return there you’ll always be welcome to visit and stay with me at any time.’

‘That pleases me very much—but do not talk about leaving Kabuyadir yet, I beg you!’

‘I’m not in a hurry to leave at all, as I’m sure you—’ Gina didn’t finish the sentence. An arm that felt like iron had grabbed her round the neck from behind, and the smell of stale masculine sweat enveloped her.