Midnight Under The Stars: Woman in a Sheikh's World

‘Like a summer camp?’

‘That sort of thing.’ Avery found her passport and dropped it into her bag. ‘It’s a find-yourself, Zen type of place.’

‘Camp with scorpions. Thank goodness my parents didn’t send me to that one.’ Jenny shuddered but Avery didn’t smile because she knew her problem wasn’t going to be the desert wildlife or even the inhospitable terrain.

It was Mal. Or, more specifically, her feelings about Mal.

‘The scorpions aren’t a problem as long as you remember to shake your boots out in the morning before you put them on and you’re careful about moving rocks and things.’

Jenny curled her legs under her. ‘You are the woman who knows everything there is to know about throwing a good party. When did you learn about scorpions?’

‘I spent time in the desert with Mal.’ And she didn’t want to think about that now. Didn’t dare think about it, but of course having heard that comment Jenny wasn’t about to let it go.

‘He’s the Crown Prince. I assumed that when he went into the desert he had jewel-encrusted tents and hundreds of people to wait on him. Surely scorpions aren’t allowed in the royal presence?’

‘His father sent him to spend a year with a desert tribe to understand how they lived. And he spent a couple of years in the Zubrani military after Cambridge. He knows the desert, although this is different because we’re travelling into Arhmor, which is where his princess comes from. Which hat?’ Avery held two of them up and when Jenny pointed she dropped it into her bag. ‘Apparently we’re pretending to be tourists.’

‘Won’t he be recognised? For that matter, won’t you be recognised? With your blonde hair and your blue eyes, you’re going to stand out like a pair of red shoes at a white wedding.’

‘That’s why I’m packing the hat.’ Avery added a silk wrap to her packing. ‘And anyway, no one will expect to see the Crown Prince of Zubran slumming it in a four-by-four, and because they don’t expect to see him, they won’t see him. But you make a good point. I don’t think travelling in disguise is his thing. Can you grab me a baseball hat with “I love London” on it or something?’

Jenny shuddered. ‘If I have to. But are you absolutely sure you’re fine with travelling alone through the desert with a man you were once in love with?’

‘I wasn’t in love with him. I’ve told you that a thousand times.’

‘Maybe after another thousand times I might actually believe you.’ Jenny slid off the bed. ‘I’m just worried this is going to be so hard for you.’

‘It’s not. It’s going to cure me.’ Avery snapped her case shut. ‘Five minutes alone with Mal in the desert and he’ll be driving me mad. I’ll be doing everything I can to make sure he marries someone else. In fact I’ll probably push her up the aisle myself.’

She was driving him mad.

Five minutes alone in her company and already Mal was asking himself how they’d ever survived a year together. No other woman had this effect on him. Certainly not the woman he was supposed to be marrying. His mouth tightened as he contemplated Kalila’s obvious change of heart. Could he really blame her for running? They had no relationship and never had. He hadn’t lied when he’d told Avery they’d barely spoken. What had been a lie was the implication that their lack of communication had been driven by Kalila’s strict upbringing. In fact even when the opportunity had arisen, they’d had nothing to say to each other.

The marriage was about duty, nothing more. The deal was clearly as distasteful to Kalila as it was to him, but he’d made his choice and he’d thought she had too. And if there had been a moment in his life when he’d thought that duty and desire just might coincide, then that was in the past.

Except that the ‘past’ was hoisting a bag off her shoulder and glaring at him as if he were personally responsible for global warming and the economic crisis.

He was a fool to have allowed her to come. To have put himself in this position.

‘I’ll drive.’ She slung her bag into the back of the four-by-four, slim and elegant in linen trousers and a long-sleeved shirt that shielded her slender arms from the sun. That shiny blond fall of hair was restrained in a tight plait that fell between her narrow shoulder blades.

Mal dragged his eyes from the lean lines of her body and focused on her face. As always, her skin was flawless and her make-up perfect. There were no signs that she was finding the situation stressful. And why would she? She’d ended their relationship, hadn’t she? And since that day—that day now forged in his memory—she’d shown no regrets about that decision.

‘I’m driving.’ He wanted to give himself something to focus on other than her. ‘It will attract less attention.’

‘The driver attracts more attention than the passenger. I will drive.’

‘Are we going to argue every point?’

‘That’s up to you.’ Her blue eyes were cool. ‘If you’re a tourist then you need to look like a tourist. Good job I brought you a gift from London.’ She tossed a baseball hat at him and he caught it and read the words on the front.

‘“I love London”?’

‘I tried to get a matching T-shirt but no luck. They only had small or medium. At least you look slightly closer to “tourist” than you did five minutes ago.’ Her eyes skimmed his shoulders. It was such a brief look that to an outsider it wouldn’t have seemed significant but he was looking for other signs and this time he found them. The slight change in her breathing. The way she was careful to step away from him. ‘Now all you have to do is stop ordering me around.’

‘I have never ordered you around. You have always done exactly as you wanted to do.’ Because he was still watching, he saw her expression flicker.

For a moment he thought she was going to say something personal. Possibly even admit that travelling alone together like this was far more difficult than she’d imagined it would be. But then she gave a careless smile.

‘Good. So in that case you won’t mind if I drive.’ Breaking the connection, she opened the driver’s door and was about to jump inside when he caught her arm and pulled her back to him. The contact was minimal but that was all it took, the attraction so deep, so fierce that he released her instantly. But it was too late because his body had already recognised her. This close, her perfume seeped into his senses and the scent of it was so evocative it acted like a brake to his thinking. He couldn’t remember what he’d been about to say. He couldn’t think about anything except how much he wanted her.

Her mouth was so close to his that he could feel the tiny shallow breaths that were her attempts to draw air into her lungs. He knew that mouth. He wanted that mouth.

Her eyes lifted to his and for one unguarded moment he saw something there he’d never seen before. Not pain. It was so much more than pain. Misery? Heartbreak? Fear? Even as he was struggling to name what he saw, it was gone—as if someone had closed a blind on a window, leaving him wondering if he’d imagined that brief glimpse into someone’s strictly guarded privacy.

She was the one who looked away first. ‘Fine, you drive if it bothers you so much.’ There were many shades of emotion in her voice, but not the one he was looking for. He heard bored. He heard amused. He didn’t hear heartbreak or pain and he assumed he’d conjured that from his own brain.

‘Avery—’

Ignoring him, she strode round to the passenger side and dragged open the door. ‘If you need to reinforce your masculinity behind the wheel, you go right ahead. Maybe you can spear us an antelope for lunch, or strangle us a rattlesnake with your bare hands. Whisk us up a tasty scorpion soup?’ She sprang inside, lithe and athletic, the plait of her hair swinging across her back like a shiny golden rope. ‘But drive at a decent pace, will you? Nothing makes me madder than tentative male drivers and you don’t want to be trapped with me when I’m mad.’

Mal ground his teeth.

He didn’t want to be trapped with her at all. It was already driving him mad.

Only the knowledge that she’d be useful once they found Kalila prevented him from making the decision to leave her behind.

He slid into the driver’s seat. ‘We will check the desert camp first. We should arrive there tomorrow morning.’

If she was unsettled at the thought of a night in the desert with him then she didn’t let it show. ‘You could just fly there in your helicopter.’

‘Which would alert everyone to the fact that my bride has run away.’ He snapped on his seat belt and eased the vehicle onto the dusty road. ‘For obvious reasons I’m trying to avoid that. I’m trying to protect Kalila. If possible, I don’t want her father to find out. Since my helicopter is emblazoned with the colours of the Royal Flight, using it would hardly help me stay under the radar.’

‘Yes, it’s not great publicity, I can see that. The Prince and his Runaway Bride isn’t the best headline. Your PR team are going to have fun spinning that one.’ As the vehicle hit a bump she gripped her seat. ‘Any time you want me to drive, just let me know.’

‘We have barely been moving for five minutes. You are a terrible passenger.’

‘I like to be the one in control. If I’m going to die, I want to choose when and where. And generally, who with, but beggars can’t be choosers.’

His mouth twitched. ‘I’m an exceptionally good driver.’

‘To be exceptionally good at something requires practice and you were virtually born in a chauffeur-driven armoured limousine.’

‘I frequently drive myself unless I have work to do. I fly myself, too. And you know it.’ He gave her a sideways glance and met her glare.

‘Keep your eyes on the road. You need to be in one piece when you meet up with your little virgin princess.’

‘As a matter of interest, is your objection to the fact she is a virgin or a princess?’

‘I don’t have any objections. It was just a descriptive phrase.’

‘Interesting choice of words. You don’t like Kalila?’

‘I like her very much.’ She leaned forward and fished in her bag for a pair of sunglasses. She slid them on, protecting her eyes from the harsh glare of the desert sun. ‘I happen to think she’s perfect for you.’

‘Meaning?’

‘She won’t ever disagree with you. Whatever you do or say, you’ll always be the one in charge and sweet Kalila will admire you and never question whether you’re right or not because it wouldn’t enter her head that you wouldn’t be.’

‘That could be because I am right.’ He saw the smile curve her soft lips and felt a rush of irritation. ‘Kalila is a sweet-natured, compliant young woman.’

‘As I said—’ she adjusted her glasses with a perfectly manicured finger ‘—perfect for you. Oh look! Are those gazelle?’

Dragging his eyes from those slim fingers, he followed the direction of her gaze and watched as a small herd of slender gazelle sprinted away. From this distance they appeared to be floating on the sand. ‘Yes. You think I am afraid to be challenged?’

‘You hate to be challenged, Mal. And it happens so rarely you’re unlikely to have the opportunity to get used to it. Which is why you always assume you’re right. Isn’t it unusual to see herds of gazelle here? What type are they?’ She reached into her bag for her phone so that she could take a photograph. ‘They’re gorgeous. So graceful.’

‘They are sand gazelle—the word gazelle comes from the Arabic ?az?l. We support numerous conservation projects. Protecting wildlife and preserving their natural habitat is important to us. Killing and capture of all wildlife is illegal in Zubran. And you should stop changing the subject.’

‘I love the colour of their coats. So pale.’

‘Typical of you to comment on their appearance.’ His gaze flickered briefly to the plait of blonde hair that gleamed like gold in the sunlight. ‘The sand gazelle has adapted for life in the desert. The coat reflects the sun’s rays instead of absorbing them and of course it provides camouflage. And, by the way, I have no objection at all to being challenged.’ He knew she was trying to rile him and wondered why she would feel the need when the atmosphere in the car was already heavy with tension. ‘My wife will be my equal.’

Her laughter was spontaneous and genuine and she was still laughing as she slipped her phone back into her bag. ‘Sorry, but you have to admit that’s funny.’

‘What is funny?’

‘You thinking that your wife will be your equal. In which universe, Mal?’

It was a struggle to hang onto his temper. ‘She will be my equal.’

‘As long as she agrees with you.’ Laughter gone, she was cool and suddenly he wanted to shake that cool.

‘So the thought of me marrying her doesn’t upset you?’

‘Why would I be upset?’ The sunglasses were back on her nose, obscuring her expression. ‘You are free to marry whomever you choose. It’s none of my business, although I’m wishing now I’d made it my business. I should have called Kalila and given her the chance for girl talk. Poor thing.’

‘Poor thing? You and I were together for over a year.’

‘It felt much, much longer, don’t you think? And now we’re not together, which is a big relief for both of us. If you’re asking me if news of your wedding was a shock, then the answer is no. I always knew you’d get married. You’re the marrying kind, Mal.’ Her answer was just a little too swift. A little too glib.

‘And what is “the marrying kind”?’

‘Someone who wants to get married, obviously. People get married for different reasons. Sometimes it’s because they need financial security. Sometimes it’s because they’re too maladjusted to live by themselves—’ she suppressed a yawn ‘—increasingly it’s because they see divorce as a lucrative option. In your case it’s because you have a sense of responsibility towards your father and your country. You feel a duty to produce children and for that you need a wife because you wouldn’t contemplate any other alternative.’

Mal had forgotten just how cynical she was about marriage.

He assumed her extreme reaction was somehow linked with her own background but, apart from telling him her mother had raised her alone, she’d given him no details. They’d spent their time in the present, never revisiting the past.

Would things have been different, he wondered, if he’d questioned her more? Would it have helped if he’d gained more insight into the workings of her mind?

‘You think those are the only reasons for marriage?’ He drove fast, speeding along one of the wide roads that crossed the desert, wishing they’d never started this conversation. Truthfully, he didn’t want to talk about his impending marriage. He didn’t want to think about it until the moment came to make his vows. He’d delayed for as long as he could and now it was oppressively close, reality pressing in on him like dark clouds.

It was true that he’d proposed marriage to Kalila within weeks of his relationship with Avery breaking down, but there were reasons for that. Reasons he hadn’t shared with her and didn’t intend to share with her.

What was the point?

Her phone rang and she took the call. Already this morning she’d been on the phone to the office at least four times, addressing problems.

‘Doves?’ Mal failed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice as she ended yet another call. ‘You really do deal with the big issues, don’t you?’

‘If you’re implying that my business has no value then I feel obliged to point out that the success of the launch party I arranged for the opening of the new hotel in Zubran has resulted in such effective publicity that the place is now running at one hundred per cent occupancy, thus offering a considerable boost to your local economy both in terms of employment and increased tourism, which has additional benefits for the surrounding area.’ Without looking up, she scrolled through her emails. ‘But it’s true that as well as the proven commercial benefits of employing my company, there are less tangible ones. I create memories for people. Memories that will last for ever. I am often privileged to be present at the happiest moments of people’s lives. Anniversaries, engagements, weddings—moments that would undoubtedly always be special, but which I can make unforgettable. By recommending those doves that you consider to be of so little importance, I have probably saved his marriage. It’s ironic, don’t you think, that I, a self-confessed cynic about marriage, should be working to preserve one while you, a staunch supporter, mock my efforts.’

‘I wasn’t mocking you.’

‘You mocked my business, Mal. You never took my business seriously.’ There was a snap in her voice and she leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. ‘Sorry. This is history. I don’t know why we’re talking about it except that it passes the time.’

‘I apologise,’ he breathed. ‘No one could fail to admire what you’ve achieved with your company.’

‘Is it the “frivolous” nature of my business that disturbs you most, or the fact that I work like a man?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ But he did know what she was talking about and his hands gripped the wheel just a little bit tighter.

‘Oh come on, Mal! You like to think of yourself as progressive, but you’re not comfortable with a woman who is as passionate about her work as a man would be. You don’t think I should fly around the world, live out of suitcases and occasionally sleep in my office. That’s what men do, isn’t it? You believe that work is what a woman does until she finds a man, marries and has a family. It would be quaint if it weren’t so exasperating.’

‘I have no problems with your work ethic. I admire it.’

‘From a distance. Even now, you can’t admit the truth.’

‘And what is “the truth”? Enlighten me.’ They were snapping at each other, releasing the almost intolerable energy they created together in the only way open to them.

‘You want a woman barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. No opinions. No life of her own. That is why you are marrying Kalila.’

He was marrying Kalila because it was the only option left to him.

‘This is a pointless conversation.’

Her glossy mouth curved into a smile. ‘Men always say that when they’ve lost. Never “you’re right” or “I screwed up”, just “this is a pointless conversation”. Do they give speeding tickets out here? Because if they do then you’re going to get one. You seem angry. Are you angry?’ She was pushing him and he realised just how easy he made that for her. It was doubly frustrating because normally the desert relaxed him.

‘I’m concerned about Kalila. It’s important that we make the edge of the mountains by dusk.’ He slowed the speed fractionally, exasperated with himself for allowing her to wind him up. ‘I know a good place to camp, but I want to set up while there is still some light.’ That observation was greeted by silence.

‘So no chance of reaching your bride tonight then?’

‘If she is where her sister suspects she is, then no. We will have to stop for one night.’ A night alone in the desert with this woman. He was greeting that prospect with almost as much enthusiasm as his impending wedding.

‘So if her sister knew where she was going, why didn’t she stop her?’

‘She didn’t know. Kalila sent her the same note she sent me. Jasmina was afraid of her father’s reaction, so she contacted me instead. Which was fortunate because at least we have more to go on than we did before. She is covering for her sister. At the moment the Sheikh does not even know his daughter is not in her rooms.’

‘Her father sounds like a real treasure. Better to not have one than have one who induces fear.’

It was the first time he’d ever heard her mention her father.

Mal turned his head and glanced at her, but she was looking forwards, a tiny frown between her eyes as she focused on the sand dunes that rose either side of them. ‘I love how they change colour with the light. And the way the pattern changes—it’s fascinating.’

‘It’s the combination of wind and sun.’ He’d watched her fall in love with the exotic, mysterious dunes the first time round and he could still remember the delight on her face when she’d witnessed her first desert sunset. Another irony, he thought, that this woman who had been raised in a Western city should feel an affinity for the place of his birth while Kalila, with her desert heritage, found the place nothing short of repellent. ‘Your father wasn’t around when you were young?’

‘Are we playing psychotherapy next?’ She met question with question and he sighed, wondering what it took to get her to open up.

‘In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never talked about your father.’

‘That’s because there is nothing to say.’ Her cool tone was like a wind blown straight from the Arctic, her words designed to freeze that line of questioning in mid-flow.

Mal refused to be deflected even though part of him was wondering why he was choosing to ask these questions now, when it was too late for them. ‘Did he leave when you were young?’ It was a personal question, and probably unadvised given his vow to avoid the personal, but nevertheless he asked it. He’d always assumed that her father was somehow responsible for her aversion to marriage but she’d never given him any detail.

‘Why the sudden interest in my father? We were talking about Kalila’s situation, not mine.’

‘I’m just thinking it must have been hard for you growing up without a man in your life.’

‘You’re doing it again—assuming that a woman needs a man to survive.’

Mal breathed deeply, refusing to rise. ‘That is not what I assume. Why are you deliberately misinterpreting my words?’

‘I’m not. I just know you, Mal.’

‘Maybe you don’t.’ He wondered how he could have been so blinkered. She was afraid. Why hadn’t he seen that before?

‘We both know you have very traditional views on the role of women.’

‘Do not assume to know what I am thinking.’

‘It’s not hard to guess. You’re marrying a woman you barely know so that you can have a traditional set-up and breed children.’

‘Is it so wrong to think a child benefits from being raised in a traditional family unit?’

‘I wasn’t raised in a traditional family unit and I’m fine.’

No, he thought. You’re not fine. ‘I’m not saying that a child can’t be fine with one parent. But family offers security.’

‘You’re talking rubbish. Take Kalila’s father—would she be better off with a mother who teaches her to be strong and independent or a father who bullies her?’ She spoke just a little too quickly. Was a little too anxious to move the conversation away from her own situation.

Mal thought of his own father. Strict, yes, and often busy, of course. But never too busy to spend time with his son. ‘Your mother didn’t remarry?’

‘I don’t know why you’re going on about fathers. Kalila’s has frightened her into running away and yours has pressured you to marry a woman you barely know.’

She hadn’t answered his question. ‘He didn’t pressure me.’ This was the point where he should tell her the truth about his union with Kalila but something held him back. ‘We are well suited.’

‘Because you give out the orders and she says yes? That’s not a relationship, Mal. That’s servitude. You’ve barely had a conversation with her. You know nothing about her likes and dislikes and you have no idea why she’s run away or where she could be heading. None of that suggests an unbreakable bond.’

Their conversations had always been lively, but never before today had she been so openly antagonistic. It was as if she were trying to goad him.

‘I have a great deal of respect for Kalila and I value her opinion.’

‘When has she ever expressed an opinion? When has she ever actually voiced a thought that isn’t yours?’

‘Perhaps we think alike.’

Her beautiful mouth twisted into a wry smile. ‘More likely she’s afraid to tell you what she really thinks. Or perhaps she doesn’t even know what she really thinks because she’s never been allowed to find out. You need to do something about that, Your Highness. Not only is it politically incorrect to want a passive wife, it’s going to bore you in five minutes.’ The car bumped into a pothole and she winced. ‘And while you’re ruling the world, you really do need to do something about the state of your roads.’