Книга - Desert Affair

Desert Affair
Kate Walker


Three days and nights in the arms of a sheikh!Stranded with a devastatingly handsome stranger, Lydia Ashton decides to throw caution to the wind and spend a luxurious and passionate three days and nights in his arms. Soon she discovers that her charming stranger is the proud son of a sheikh, heir to the throne of Kuimar, and used to getting exactly what he wants. And he wants Lydia. Amir fulfills her every desire, and their passion seems to know no bounds. Lydia knows she has broken the rules by falling in love. Too late, she discovers why….









“Lydia, listen to me.


“When I’m with you, I’m just a man—as you are a woman. I don’t think differently because I am the son of a sheikh. I don’t act differently. I am just like any other man. When I do this…”

He bent his proud head and took her lips in a long, deep kiss that made her senses reel.

“I am a man kissing a woman—my woman. The woman who has stolen my soul from me—my mind—leaving me incapable of thinking of anything beyond her.” This Amir was no longer the civilized, controlled man she had met just hours before, but a fierce, arrogant Bedouin warrior, with the heat of the desert in his veins, the burn of the sun in his eyes.

“Let me tempt you, sweetheart,” he murmured against her ear. “Let me persuade you to stay, and I promise you’ll never forget it. You can have anything you want. Everything you want…”




Desert Affair

Kate Walker










www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For Noelle, with love.




Contents


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN




CHAPTER ONE


‘EXCUSE me, but is this seat taken?’

Lydia didn’t even have to look up to know who had spoken. There was only one person in the whole of the airport lounge who could have a voice like that. The sort of voice that wrapped itself around her senses like a slither of warmed silk, its low, lyrically accented tones making her skin shiver in reaction to the sheer sensuality of their sound.

She had spotted him as soon as she had walked into the room. It had been impossible not to notice him. He was tall, dark and devastatingly imposing; it seemed as if he were the only person in the place. The sort of man who would draw any woman’s gaze with the automatic ease of a powerful magnet and then lazily hold onto it without any sort of effort on his part.

And he had made no effort at all. Though he could not have been unaware of her attention, the overwhelming interest she hadn’t even had the strength to hide, he had done nothing at all to sustain it or show that it mattered in the slightest to him. No trace of reaction had touched the carved male beauty of his tanned face, no flicker of a smile either of welcome or even disdain. But he had not been unaware of her.

‘I said…’

‘I know what you said!’

The faint rasp of an edge to the beautiful voice, the hint of angry reproof, had her lifting her head sharply, tossing back the soft brown curls that framed her heart-shaped face. Wide-set blue eyes fringed by long, curling lashes clashed abruptly with harder, glittering black, and for a second she felt as if her heart had actually stopped in stunned disbelief.

Dear God, but he was even more spectacular close up! The true beauty of that golden skin, the sculpted cheekbones and wide, hard, sensual slash of a mouth was like a blow in the pit of her stomach. His nose was long and straight, his hair unredeemed black, cut in an uncompromisingly severe crop that emphasised the total perfection of the superb, clean-cut lines of his features.

And if he had seemed tall from a distance then standing over her like this, with those amazing eyes fixed searchingly on her face, his impact was positively earth-shattering.

‘I know what you said…’

Hastily Lydia adjusted her tone a degree or two downwards, from the pitch to which shock and apprehension had pushed it, wishing she could erase the flaring wash of colour from her cheeks as easily.

‘But I would have thought that it was obvious that no one was sitting there.’

And that no one had occupied the chair beside her for all of the—what? Almost three quarters of an hour since she had taken up her position here. After all, he had been watching her for almost all of that time.

She had tried to bury her face in the copy of the magazine she had bought to while away the time waiting for her flight to be called, but she had felt the burn of his brazen gaze fixed on her. And she had met its cold scrutiny head-on if she’d so much as glanced upwards from the page.

‘I wondered if you might be waiting for someone.’

‘Well, no, I’m not! I’m here on my own!’

‘Then may I join you?’

‘Why?’

She knew she sounded suspicious, as stiff as a cat being threatened by the approach of a stranger into its territory, but she couldn’t help it. It was how she felt, wary and unsure of herself. If anything, she felt like the intruder into the luxurious, opulent surroundings of the VIP lounge. It was not the sort of place she normally frequented, not the sort of place she could ever have afforded to be in if it hadn’t been for her new job, the generosity of her employers.

He, on the other hand, looked totally, supremely at home here. His long, lean body might be clothed in the same casual jeans and a jumper that she had chosen for practicality during a long flight, but there could be no doubt that his clothing was very definitely not from the chain store where she had bought hers. No, the lines of his clothing murmured of designer labels and expensive tailoring, and she was sure that the smoky grey sweater that hugged the firm lines of his chest and skimmed the narrow waist and hips could only be of the finest, softest cashmere available. Everything about him said Money, with a capital M.

And in spite of the supremely civilised nature of his appearance, something about him seemed to whisper of a wilder spirit, an untamed, elemental part of his character that didn’t fit with the ultra-modern surroundings.

‘Why?’

He shrugged indolent shoulders, unconsciously drawing attention to their width and strength.

‘To while away a little time. To ease the boredom of waiting with some conversation.’

A tiny hint of a smile curled that devastating mouth up at one corner and the onyx eyes gleamed for a second with a hint of mocking amusement.

‘Is that such a terrible idea?’

‘N-no…’

This was even worse! Her tongue seemed to be tangling up on itself, refusing to get the words out in any coherent form, and she was stumbling over the simplest of answers. And it was not a sensation she was used to.

She didn’t normally have this sort of trouble in talking to strangers. She was trained to talk to them, after all! Trained to handle almost any sort of eventuality or problem. So why did this one man affect her like this?

‘I’m expecting my flight to be called at any minute.’

‘I doubt it.’

His glance towards the huge plate-glass windows was wry, his mouth taking on an expressive twist as he surveyed the scene outside.

‘The snow is definitely getting worse and the wind’s picking up. It’s blowing a blizzard out there. No pilot worth his salt is going to even think of taking off in conditions like this. You’ll be lucky if you’re only delayed by a couple of hours.’

‘Only delayed,’ Lydia echoed bleakly. ‘As opposed to what?’

‘To your flight being cancelled completely and the airport being shut down for today. I think you’d better consider that possibility…’ he added, seeing the way her face fell. ‘From what I can see, it can only get worse, not better.’

And what would she do then? Lydia was forced to wonder. If the airport closed, she had nowhere to go; nothing to go back to. Today was to have been the start of her new life, a whole new beginning.

‘Would having a drink with me be such a bad thing?’ The thread of irony was definitely darker now, making her shiver faintly just to hear it.

‘No…’

But still she couldn’t make herself say yes, please sit down, introduce herself. All the normal politeness and pleasantries seemed to have fled from her mind, leaving it shockingly blank as a wiped blackboard.

‘Just what is it that you’re afraid of?’

Silkily spoken though they were, she knew the words were meant to sting and they did. Sharply.

‘Do you really think that I’m about to pounce on you in front of all these other passengers—not to mention the airport staff? Perhaps you fear that, driven mad by your stunning beauty, I will ravish you without mercy.’

‘Oh, now you’re just being ridiculous.’

She struggled to ignore the sudden twist of her heart, the judder in her pulse as the impact of that ‘stunning beauty’ hit home. His tone had been ironical but something deep in those spectacular eyes had told her that the words had been more seriously meant.

‘Please don’t be silly. It’s just that…that I really don’t see exactly why you should want to. What would you get from talking to a complete stranger who is due to head out of here on a plane at any minute? I mean…why me?’ she ended on an uncharacteristically plaintive note.

The wordless sound he made with his tongue was sharp, impatient, speaking eloquently of the irritation and temper he was struggling to rein back. It was also totally un-English making her wonder just what his nationality might be. That accent certainly wasn’t Italian or Spanish. It was far more exotic than that, in spite of impeccable pronunciation and a natural ease of grammar. There was an arrogance and pride in both his profile and his bearing that made her think fleetingly of long-ago kings or Bedouin warriors, but such fanciful thoughts flew from her head when he spoke again.

‘You are clearly not a fool,’ he declared with a sudden harshness that brought a gasp of shock to her lips. ‘So why do you behave as if you were? You know very well what is between us—what has been there from the moment I first laid eyes on you and you on me.’

‘No, I don’t!’

Sitting down kept her too far beneath him, making her position too vulnerable for her liking. In a rush she started to her feet, only to find that instead of making things easier she had in fact made them much, much worse.

Face to face like this, on the same level at last, she was supremely conscious of the difference in their builds. At five feet ten inches, she had always considered herself overly tall for a woman, but this man had the rare ability to make her feel small.

His head and shoulders topped hers by several inches, and she found that unless she looked upwards at an awkward angle she was forced to focus on the dangerous sensuality of his mouth. His beautiful mouth and the smooth olive skin that surrounded it, faintly shadowed by several hours’ growth of beard. Immediately her thoughts jumped to imagine just what it would feel like to have that mouth on hers, to press her own lips against the satin warmth of his face.

She was now so close to him that the clean, faintly musky scent of his body tantalised her senses. It was impossible not to inhale secretly, sparking a reaction like the internal prickle of pins and needles.

‘I don’t!’ she repeated, less certainly this time. ‘What do you mean what there is between us? I don’t know what you are talking about.’

Black eyes flashed as he turned a look of pure scorn on her flushed face.

‘You know only too well what I’m talking about,’ he tossed back at her in a low, dangerous voice. ‘We both know what is happening between us, even if you are too craven to admit to it and give it a name.’

Unexpectedly he leaned forwards, reaching out with one long, tanned hand. The tip of his finger touched her cheek very lightly and then moved slowly and caressingly downwards, etching a trail of fire along her skin.

‘And it is a very simple word,’ he murmured beguilingly. ‘Short, to the point, and so easy to say if you only have the courage to trust in yourself.’

His eyes held her, keeping her transfixed, unable to move, unable to blink. And what she read in that steady, ebony gaze, the fierce flames that burned in the darkness of his pupils, gave her the answer she both wanted and dreaded.

Sex.

The word flared in Lydia’s mind, etched in letters of white-hot flame, so that she was sure that this disturbing stranger must be able to look deep into her eyes and read it clearly there.

Sex.

Pure and undiluted. Primal. Powerful. Totally primitive. The sort of instinctive, unthinking response that couldn’t be understood or explained. Human interaction at its most basic. It couldn’t be denied and it couldn’t be resisted.

That was what blazed between them. What had sparked in her senses in the first moment she had set eyes on this man when she had walked into the room.

And it was clear that he too had felt that same shock of carnal recognition, the body-blow to the soul that said, I want this person. I want them so much that I feel I will die if I never have them. It dried her throat and made her heart pound. Her clenched hands were damp with sweat, her lips parched, but she didn’t dare do anything to ease either physical sensation. To do so would be to reveal to those watchful, hunting hawk’s eyes that she was light years away from being as calm as she wanted to pretend.

‘I…’

She opened her mouth to deny the accusation of cowardice, but the knowledge of the truth dried the protest on her tongue and turned it into a raw, embarrassing croak.

‘You…?’ he encouraged softly, the single, husky word a seduction in itself. And the spot where his fingertip still rested on her cheek was a burning focus, a concentration of all the sensations he aroused in her.

It seemed obscene to be at the mercy of such primitive feelings in such public, impersonal surroundings. All around her was the hushed murmur of voices in desultory conversation. Other passengers lounged in the comfortable chairs, turning the pages of newspapers and magazines, or frowned into laptop computers, occasionally leaning forward to touch a key. No one even spared them as much as a curious glance.

And yet Lydia had the feeling that the awareness that pulsed between her and this man—a man whose name she didn’t even know—must have enclosed them in a glowing, burning haze that swirled in the air and coiled round them like smoke. Her heart was beating a frantic tattoo, and she was sure that the hard, strong finger must feel the race of the blood in her veins and know what had caused it.

‘You…?’ he prompted again, but her tongue seemed too thick, too frozen to speak, and she could only shake her head in numb confusion.

His reaction was brusque and startling, making her flinch in a moment of shocked panic. The long forefinger was snatched away with a swiftly muttered imprecation in some language she didn’t know, the words too harsh and swift to catch. Then his hand came down in a violent, slashing movement between their two bodies as if he were cutting off all communication between them.

‘Enough!’ he declared in a voice that rang with cold anger. ‘I do not have time for this…’

And before she could register exactly what he had in mind he had spun on his heel and was clearly about to march away from her, dismissing her totally from his mind.

‘I…’

Lydia struggled with the tangle of feelings that had knotted high up in her throat, choking off speech.

‘I…’ she tried again, her voice croaking rawly. ‘I… Oh, please! Wait!’

In her mind, the last word was a wild, desperate cry, one that would have brought confused, irritated, and just plain curious looks her way from every other waiting passenger. But what actually came out was a weak, uncertain whisper, one that broke in the middle.

And one that she was sure he couldn’t have heard. It seemed that way at first because for the space of several jolting heartbeats he didn’t seem to react. He certainly didn’t pause, and the impetus of his anger was such that the force of his movement took him well away from her, almost into the middle of the room, before he came to an abrupt halt and slowly, very, very slowly, turned back to face her again.

‘What did you say?’

‘I said…’

Lydia swallowed hard because she wanted this to sound so very different from that first, frantic call.

‘I said, please wait. Please don’t go.’

One jet-black brow lifted in sardonic interrogation and his handsome head inclined slightly to one side in apparent thoughtful consideration of the situation.

‘You’ve changed your mind?’

‘I—changed my mind.’

Better to let him think that. Better to let him believe that she had had second thoughts than to let him know what she had known all along. That there was no way she could have let him just walk out of her life as suddenly as he had walked into it.

But it had been only when he had actually moved away from her and her heart had cried out in distress at being abandoned like this that she had realised how much she had wanted him to stay.

‘You changed your mind—and you want—what?’

‘I’d like you to stay. And talk…’

Still he didn’t move.

‘And perhaps have that drink you suggested. After all…’

She tried for an airy tone, waved a hand in the direction of the windows against which the snow now swirled in wild, blustering eddies, the view of the runways, the waiting planes totally obliterated from sight.

‘Clearly neither of us is going anywhere soon. We might as well spend the time here together as apart. The hours always drag so much when you’re waiting.’

Her voice faltered, going up and down embarrassingly as she stared into his stony, set face and met no response.

Was the man waiting for her to beg? She wouldn’t! She had more pride! And yet if he turned away again…

‘Please won’t you join me?’

Still he waited one more nicely calculated minute. Just long enough to stretch out her screaming nerves even more, to twist them into hard, painful knots of tension. Then as suddenly as he had turned away he swung back, covering the short distance between them in a few swift, confident strides.

It was like seeing a sleek black panther coming towards her, Lydia thought, struggling to push away uneasy visions of herself as the prey and this man very definitely in the role of predator.

But then he turned on her a smile of such supercharged charm that it would have melted an iceberg. One that left her feeling as if the weak, ineffectual barriers she had been trying to build up against him had shattered into splinters, falling hopelessly at her feet.

‘I’m glad you changed your mind,’ he said, the unexpected warmth of his tone so unlike the icy harshness of moments before that it rocked her sense of reality, making her wonder for a second if she was even talking to the same man. ‘I hate waiting. I have no patience at all.’

‘Me too,’ Lydia admitted. ‘I was bored out of my head already. And it looks as if we’re in for a long delay. Do you think any of those planes are going anywhere today?’

The glance he turned in the direction she indicated was brief to the point of indifference and her heart jumped on a thrill of delighted confusion as his ebony gaze came back to her face and fastened on it fixedly.

‘I doubt it.’

His shrug dismissed the matter from his thoughts, his obvious lack of concern intensely gratifying to her uncertain self-esteem. After long, lonely months of feeling unwanted and rejected, the glow of appreciation that burned like fiery coals deep in the darkness of his eyes was a balm to her wounded pride.

‘But it is no matter. We won’t care how long we have to wait. We won’t notice the time.’

‘No…’

It was all she could manage because it was happening again. The warm sensuality of his tone had dried her throat, leaving her lips parched so that she had to slide her tongue over them to ease the discomfort. And as she saw that intent, black gaze drop to follow the small betraying movement she felt its force as if it were an actual touch on her skin, and shivered secretly in response.

The need for that touch to be a reality sent a wave of hunger through her that drained the strength from her legs so that she had to sink down suddenly onto the nearest chair. It was either that or give herself away completely by falling in a ridiculously weak heap right at his beautifully shod feet.

‘Won’t you sit down too?’ she managed.

And it was as he came down beside her that a new feeling hit. A disturbing, scary sensation that made her feel as if something wet and icy had slowly slithered down the sensitive length of her spine.

She was suddenly totally and inexplicably convinced that her life would never be the same again. That the whole of her future was bound up with this man and there was no way she could break free at all.




CHAPTER TWO


‘SO, WHAT shall we talk about?’

Lydia had to force herself to drag her thoughts back from the disturbing paths they were determined to follow. She had already let this man rattle her far too easily. It was time she got back in control of the situation! Seeing him as the ruler of her fate, indeed! He was just a new acquaintance. A stunning, fascinating, lethally good-looking one, admittedly, but just a man for all that.

But then her eyes met the dark, deep set ones of the man beside her and the description ‘just a man’ once more became totally inadequate.

‘Where should we begin?’

‘Names would be a good place to start.’

She aimed for crisp matter-of-factness and was pleased to note that she actually managed to come close.

‘We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet. I’m Lydia Ashton.’

She held out her hand as she spoke, feeling better now that things were back on a more regular footing.

‘And you are?’

A worrying glint of something that looked like amusement gleamed in his eyes but he followed her lead impeccably.

‘Amir Zaman,’ he said in that beautiful voice, the slight accent deepening on the words.

‘Amir…’

This was the normal path of things—meetings, introductions, getting to know someone… Then, and only then, did you start to harbour the sort of unexpurgated, X-rated thoughts that had been running wild in her head from the moment she had first set eyes on this man.

But then he took her hand in his and immediately she lost her grip on herself, all her careful control shattering in the space of a second.

His hand was warm and firm, his grip strong, controlled, she suspected, to ensure that the full force of it didn’t crush her slighter fingers. But it was the feel of his flesh against hers, the sensual caress of skin against skin that sent a sensation like a fierce electrical charge shooting through her body. She had the crazy feeling that this was the one touch she had been waiting for all her life, and her head swam with the impact of its effect on her.

‘Amir…’ she tried again, struggling to conceal from him the way she was feeling. ‘Unusual—and very definitely not English.’

‘It’s Arabic.’ There was a surprising edge to his voice. ‘It means Prince.’

It suited him too. Suited the proud carriage, the beautifully carved features, the way that dark head was held so arrogantly high. She could just imagine him in the wild, flowing robes of the Bedouin warriors. He would look stunning, exotic and magnificent.

‘At least it means something. I once looked up Lydia in a dictionary of names. All it means, apparently, is “a woman from Lydia” which is somewhere in Greece.’

He was still holding her hand, she realised, not having released it after that first greeting. For the life of her she couldn’t think of a way of freeing herself without communicating the wrong message with her actions.

So she simply let it lie where it was. Which was, after all, what she really wanted to do.

‘Arabic.’ Backtracking hastily, she tried to keep the conversation going. ‘Is that where you’re going?’

‘To the Gulf?’ The dark head inclined in agreement. ‘That’s where I was supposed to be flying to today.’

‘You have friends there?’

‘Family.’

Something had changed. Without knowing how, she had blundered in on a subject he didn’t want to talk about, innocently crashing through barriers that she hadn’t realised were there. There was a new hardness in the brilliant eyes, tightness around his mouth and jaw that made her shiver faintly in unease.

Perhaps it was the fact of being in a VIP lounge for the first—and probably the only—time in her life. Or perhaps it had something to do with being in transit, so to speak, not actually belonging anywhere at all at the moment, but being partway between her old life and the new. That and the whirling snow outside, obliterating the safe, familiar world she knew, had given her a strange sense of unreality. It was as if this room, this space where she and Amir Zaman sat, had become a separate little enclosed universe, a bubble suspended out of time, where none of the rules by which she normally ran her life actually worked, or even mattered.

Suddenly his hold on her hand no longer seemed so comfortable or so welcome. With a slight tug she managed to loosen his grasp, ease herself free.

‘I think I’d like something to drink,’ she managed unevenly.

‘Of course.’

In an instant the disturbingly distant mood had vanished and he was all attention, all concern, the jet eyes turning immediately in search of an attendant.

One look was all it took. He didn’t even raise his hand, made no gesture at all that she could detect, and yet the girl in the airport uniform immediately headed in their direction, summoned by the silent command.

‘Yes, sir? What can I get for you?’

‘Lydia? What would you like? Coffee? Or perhaps some wine?’

‘Just coffee, please,’ Lydia responded hastily. She didn’t dare risk anything alcoholic. She was intoxicated enough as it was.

‘Coffee for two, then.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Lydia would not have been surprised to see her actually bob a respectful curtsey. The tone of his voice was pitched just right. It was perfectly polite, even courteous, but there was a note in it that demanded instant and total obedience, and warned of the risk of possible repercussions if that compliance was not forthcoming.

Obviously this Amir Zaman was someone who was used to giving orders—and having those orders carried out, she thought, studying the handsome face even more closely. And Amir meant Prince…

‘Lydia…?’

‘I—I’m sorry… What was it you said?’

Did he suspect that her thoughts had been of him? Of course he did! He did more than suspect. He knew. And it pleased him. Because it was what he wanted.

‘I asked where you were travelling to. Where did you plan on flying to today if the weather had not intervened?’

‘Oh—I was going to America. To California.’

And America was in the opposite direction to the way he was going. Fate had brought them together like this, but only for the briefest moment. And before very long fate would take them even further apart than ever.

She was going to America. Amir was stunned to find how much that fact affected him. It seemed to have the kick of a mule right in his stomach.

And why? Because this woman was heading in the opposite direction to him? Because she was going to California while he had to be in Kuimar?

‘What’s in California? A man?’

He tried to keep the question light, to reveal nothing of the knot that formed in his stomach and pulled tight at just the thought of her with someone else.

‘No, not a man—a job! The job. The sort of position I’ve been looking for for years. A dream job. Have you heard of the Halgrave Group of hotels.’

‘I know of them.’

Of course he knew of them, Lydia reflected. Anyone with the sort of money he obviously had would know of the worldwide chain of exclusive, sinfully expensive hotels that had its base in California and a branch in almost every capital of the world.

‘Well, they actually head-hunted me. I was working as Hospitality Manager in a Leicester hotel and they—they heard of me! They rang me up and asked me to come to a specially arranged interview. They offered me a position right there and then.’

‘In California?’

‘In California to start with. I have to do a six-week course to learn more about the company—the way they do things. After that I could be sent anywhere—anywhere at all. The world’s my oyster.’

And the offer of a job couldn’t have come at a better time. With her relationship with Jonathon floundering on the rocks, her dreams of becoming Mrs Lydia Carey totally shattered, she had been in desperate need of something to put in their place. When Halgrave had asked if she was prepared to travel, she had practically bitten their hand off in her eagerness.

And she wouldn’t be human if she hadn’t found herself wishing that Jon had known about her new venture. He had always accused her of being too conservative, too cautious.

‘You’re so careful about everything it’s downright boring, Lydia,’ he had scorned. ‘No one would believe you’re not even twenty-five yet, you’re such an old stick-in-the-mud!’

And clearly Jon hadn’t wanted to be married to a stick-in-the-mud, she reflected bitterly.

The return of the waitress with their drinks provided a much-needed diversion, a chance for her to recollect her thoughts and bring them back into the present, pushing away the discomfort of her memories of the past.

‘How do you like your coffee?’ Amir asked, taking control of even this small matter.

‘Lots of milk, no sugar.’

He took his exactly the opposite way, she noticed, totally black and sweet. But it was the swift, efficient movements of his hands that fascinated her, the stunning effect of dark, luxuriant eyelashes lying in sooty arcs above the slashing cheekbones as he looked down to focus on the simple task.

He couldn’t be more opposite to Jonathon either, she couldn’t help reflecting. The other man had such a very English complexion, combined with smooth blond hair and blue eyes. The sort of colouring that she would have said was much more her type. Which was why it was so surprising that Amir had had this shockingly powerful effect on her.

‘So there’s no one you’re leaving behind?’ Amir continued the conversation where they had left off at the waitress’ arrival. ‘No one you’ll miss?’

‘No. Not even my parents. My parents decided to take a redundancy package that Dad was offered and went out to live in Portugal—opening a bar there. So, as I’m an only child, there was nothing to keep me here. No one to stay for.’

‘And what if I were to ask you to stay?’

‘What?’

Hastily swallowing down the sip of coffee that now threatened to choke her, Lydia set her cup and saucer on the table with a distinct crash. Looking into his darkly handsome face, she searched for the look of irony, the hint of amusement that would tell her he had only been joking.

She found none. Instead, her disbelieving look was met with one of total composure. And every evidence of total sincerity.

‘W-what did you say?’

That black-eyed gaze didn’t falter but held her wide-eyed look with an intent force that dried her mouth and set her heart fluttering high up in her throat.

‘You know only too well what I said. And, what’s more, you know exactly why I said it.’

‘No—I…’

She looked like a startled fawn when she stared at him like that, Amir found himself thinking. Or like one of the newborn foals that were such a delight to him as they stared around, huge, stunned eyes trying to make sense of this new world into which they had arrived.

‘It’s quite simple,’ he told her softly, leaning forward so that the husky whisper would reach her ears—and her ears alone. ‘I have this fantasy that you do not get on that plane to California this afternoon. That you do not fly off to America and this wonderful new job…’

Her head went back sharply, blue eyes widening even more, her lips parting on a faint gasp of shock. He let his smile soothe her as he reached out slowly and gently. He caught her chin, resting one long finger and a thumb on either side, holding her still with only the lightest of pressure.

‘But instead, in my dream, you stay here with me, and we explore what we’ve discovered. See where this takes us.’

‘We…’

Lydia couldn’t force her tongue around another word. Her thoughts were a whirling mass of chaos, incapable of forming a single coherent thread. The only thing she knew or recognised was this man before her. This hard-boned, devastating face, the obsidian glitter of those deep eyes holding hers with hypnotic ease.

And because her gaze was fixed on him so intently she saw the tiny flicker of a change when it came. Saw it, and knew what it meant, but her mind was too numb to react or pull away. Besides, she knew that she didn’t want to react. That she wouldn’t have freed herself even if she could, for all that his hold on her chin was so gentle it could have been broken in a second.

So she stayed where she was. Stayed absolutely still and watched that dark head come closer. Watched the devastating mouth soften, and come down on her own lips with obvious intent.

And that was when she realised that the softness had been deceptive. That his kiss was not the light, enticing caress she had been anticipating. Instead it was firm and strong and forceful, a revelation of feeling and a statement of intent all in one. In the same moment that it seemed to cajole her soul out of her body, it also awoke every stinging sense with the burn of a promise that made her thoughts swim in a heady delirium of longing.

And all the time he hadn’t touched her except with his mouth. That long, strong body was still held well away from her, even the hand under her chin releasing her and falling back to his side, the other still resting on the strong, muscular thigh under the denim jeans.

He didn’t need to hold her, and he knew it. Lydia knew it too. Knew that it was as much the force of her own feelings as anything he did that kept her in her seat, unable to move. That the flickers of white hot flame along every nerve in her body seemed to melt her bones, leaving her unable to support herself if she so much as tried to stand up.

‘Help me, Lydia,’ Amir murmured against her lips. ‘Tell me what I can do to make you stay. To keep you by my side for just a little while longer.’

‘I…’

Could she be hearing right? Had this stunning man actually said that he wanted her to stay? And was it possible that she was actually considering saying yes? She hardly knew any more about him than his name. She had no idea if she could trust him in any way.

Bewildered, she could only shake her head in bemusement at her own reaction.

‘No?’

Amir had mistaken the reason for her reaction.

‘Then let me persuade you…’

This time his kiss was pure enticement. Gently he edged her lips open, let the tip of his tongue play along their sensitised surface, making her sigh aloud in response. And now at last he moved, powerful fingers tangling in the soft fall of her hair, closing over the fine bones of her skull, holding her still so that he could deepen and prolong the caress.

Lydia’s whole being was awash with a golden heat. Her heart was racing, pounding the blood through her veins and making her thoughts swim in sensuous reaction. She was lost, she knew, drowning in sensation, a wild need uncoiling deep inside her, centring hotly at the point between her thighs.

‘Amir…’

‘Ladies and gentlemen…’

A new sound intruded on the delirious yearning that hazed her mind. A man’s voice, crisp and matter-of-fact and hatefully jarring in the way it broke into her sense of isolation, jolting her back to reality with a suddenness that shattered her sensual mood.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please. We regret to inform you…’

The rest of the words passed totally over Lydia’s head. Her brain seemed to have blown a fuse and she was incapable of taking anything in. Even the simplest words failed to make the slightest sense and when the announcement was over she could only stare blankly at Amir, her light brown brows drawing together in dazed confusion.

‘What was all that about? What did they mean all services are cancelled?’

‘I did warn you.’ Amir’s tone was dry. ‘The weather has been getting worse all day. The blizzard’s closed in and no planes can take off or land tonight. There’ll be no flights out of here at least until tomorrow morning—if then.’

‘No flights!’ Lydia echoed, horror etched into her face. ‘But why—how? Did you…?’

For a second she actually believed he might have been able to arrange it.

Amir’s laughter should have reassured her, but somehow it had exactly the opposite result.

‘My sweet Lydia, do you really think that I am capable of that? To organise such a thing I would have had to enter into a pact with the Almighty—or perhaps the Devil.’

Now that she could believe, Lydia admitted to herself. The wicked curl to his lips, the look of triumph in those eyes could only be described as fiendish. He might not have been able to arrange this situation, but it was quite clear that he fully intended to benefit from it. And his next words confirmed as much.

‘But, no matter who created this, they have my undying gratitude. Now you’ll have to stay.’

‘But I can’t stay here!’

Lydia’s brain was working overtime, struggling to assess the situation, sort it out in her thoughts and come up with a solution.

‘Where can I go? Where will I sleep?’

Oh, if only she hadn’t given up her hotel room this morning! But she had left Leicester yesterday full of hope and excitement, looking forward to a totally fresh start. She had only booked for an overnight stay because she had always thought that by now she would be in her seat on board the plane, heading away from England and towards the new life she had dreamed of.

‘What do I do now?’

‘Don’t panic,’ Amir soothed. ‘You can…’

Abruptly he caught himself up. What in hell’s name was he doing? Had he really been intending to offer her the chance to stay in the apartment? Was he out of his mind?

It seemed he was. That was the only conclusion he could draw from the way he had behaved ever since he had first set eyes on this Lydia Ashton when she had walked into the room barely a couple of hours ago. His brain had to have been completely scrambled for him to have behaved as he had!

‘…in my dream, you stay here with me, and we explore what we’ve discovered. See where this takes us.’

Had he really said that? Had he really been such a total, complete fool?

What was wrong with him?

Oh, he fancied this woman; there was no denying that. He most definitely had the hots for her—and how! But was he such a fool as to be led by his hormones into making what could possibly be the most dreadful mistake? Very likely the worst possible mistake of his life?

So this Lydia appealed to his most basic instincts. He had only to look at her to want her in his bed, that soft mouth opening under his, the fine curves of her body crushed close to his own frame, the bronze silk of her hair tangling around his fingers. Even now, just to think of it made him ache in such intensity that he wanted to groan out loud.

But how much was he prepared to pay for one night of passion—for the quick, urgent appeasement of his most masculine needs, the scratching of an itch, which was really all that this one-night stand would amount to?

Would this woman—any woman—be worth the sacrifice of all that he had worked towards for so long? Was any sexual gratification, however intense—and every instinct told him that with her it would be the most intense pleasure of his life—worth the loss of his lifetime’s ambition? Could he really just abandon the goal towards which he had worked for the last twenty years, ever since the day of his eleventh birthday, when his mother had told him the truth about his father and his heritage?

No!

With an abruptness that jarred Lydia right to her soul, he suddenly released her and pushed himself sharply to his feet. ‘You can find a hotel room to stay in overnight. The airline will have provided accommodation for everyone. If you come with me…’

He had already turned on his heel and marched off before Lydia had the time to collect her thoughts and gather up her magazine and her hand luggage. She could only stare bemusedly after him as she struggled to her feet, the sharp sting of distress adding to her mental confusion.

What had she done or said to make him react like this? Why had his mood changed so abruptly? Only moments before she had been sure that he had been about to offer her somewhere to stay the night with him.

And that if he had, she had been about to accept it.

But she had to have been deluding herself. She didn’t even know if he lived in London, let alone close enough to get to tonight.

Face it, Lydia, she told herself in fierce reproof as she headed after Amir, you don’t know enough about him to agree to anything. Coffee was okay. Letting him kiss you, bad enough. And as for ‘in my dream, you stay here with me, and we explore what we’ve discovered’—you weren’t really going to go along with that—were you?

‘It’s all sorted.’

Amir was heading back to her, making his way through the buzzing crowd with elegant ease.

‘They’re ringing round all the airport hotels now. You just have to wait and they’ll let you know which one they’re putting you in.’

‘Great!’

She tried to make it enthusiastic and hoped it sounded better in his ears than it did in her own. She should be feeling relieved. Very possibly she had just had an extremely narrow escape.

But relieved didn’t describe her mood at all. Instead she felt as limp as a pricked balloon.

‘What about you?’

‘Oh, I’ll head back to my apartment. The snow may be bad but I should get there okay.’

One tanned hand lifted, revealing a slim, silver mobile phone.

‘I just called my driver. He’s bringing the car round right away.’

Was he really as keen to leave her as that? ‘He’s bringing the car round right away.’ So much for ‘you stay here with me’. He hadn’t even waited to see her into a taxi, heading for her hotel. And as he spoke he was moving, drifting over to the huge windows, obviously intent on looking out to see if his car had arrived yet.

‘So this is goodbye?’ The words sounded bleak, desperately final.

‘I guess it is.’

Another couple of minutes, Amir told himself. Just sixty—a hundred or so—seconds, and she would be gone. On her way to the hotel and out of his life. He could put her out of his mind, and maybe tomorrow when he woke up he’d be thankful that he hadn’t given into the carnal temptation that had distorted his thinking so badly.

Just another sixty seconds…but they seemed to be ticking away far too slowly. And instead of feeling thankful, the only thoughts in his head were of just how lovely she looked standing there, with the soft bronze hair tumbled around her shoulders, her blue eyes wide and clear. The cream-coloured wool of her sweater clung in all the right places, the tight denim of her jeans hugging the curving hips and neat bottom with sensual provocation.

Seeing how the fullness of her mouth had been kissed free of lipstick, he found it impossible not to recall that he had done that and he had enjoyed every second of the experience. He still had the taste of her on his lips and his tongue. If he was honest he wanted her mouth again, wanted the…

No! Furiously he drew himself up, ruthlessly reining in the hunger that threatened to escape even his determined control. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the sleek dark shape of the Jaguar on the road below, edging its way through the whirling snowflakes, towards the entrance. Nabil had wasted no time.

‘It’s been a pleasure meeting you.’

‘And you,’ Lydia managed, matching his stiff withdrawal tone for tone.

To her total consternation hot tears were burning in her eyes and she blinked them back desperately, refusing to let them fall. He had already left her, mentally at least. There was no point in hanging around, dragging this out painfully. Far better to get it over and done with. Short and sharp, like ripping a sticking plaster off a wound in the hope that that way it would hurt much less.

‘Goodbye, then.’

‘Goodbye, Lydia.’

Why was she still hanging about? Over on the other side of the room someone was making an announcement about the rooms that were being provided, reading out names from a long list. When the idea of listening and learning where she would be tonight slid into Amir’s mind he crushed it down immediately, refusing to let it take root.

Lydia Ashton was a complication he could do without. He didn’t have room for her—or for any other woman in his life right now. Dammit, he was as good as married, at least in his father’s eyes, if not in his own.

Unfortunately his body was refusing to obey his mind. Just being near to this woman was enough to make his heart beat in double-quick time, his blood throb in his veins. Rationally he might accept that she was trouble, but the more basic instinctive response that tightened every nerve, fanned the embers of hunger into a blazing, roaring flame, declared that it was a trouble he would welcome into his life. Every second that she hesitated was wearing down his resistance, reducing his will to fight.

‘See you…’

At last she was turning away. Just as he thought he was home and free, just as he foolishly let his guard down a second too early, she suddenly swung back. He saw what was coming and was powerless to prevent it.

Her lips were on his cheek, warm and soft and delicately caressing. The soft curves of her body were pressed against his, her breasts against the wall of his chest, his pelvis cradling the finer bones of hers. A delicate perfume of lily and rose seemed to envelop him in a cloud, and underneath it was the clean, subtle scent of her skin, sweet and potent in a way that made his head spin dangerously.

‘Lydia…’ he tried to protest, but his voice failed him.

And then as he turned his head her lips touched his and he knew that he was lost.

With a groan he gave up the fight that he had been losing anyway and hauled her up against him, crushing her hard, imprisoning her in the strength of his arms.

‘Don’t go, Lydia,’ he muttered, the words rough and thick and raw. ‘Don’t go to the hotel. Come back with me to my apartment. Stay with me tonight.’

She should never have kissed him.

Lydia recognised her mistake in the second that she made it, but she was powerless to stop herself, incapable of resisting the impulse. She had meant it to be just a quick peck on his cheek, the briefest touch, there and gone again in a moment, but it didn’t quite work out like that.

The second she felt the warmth of his skin, tasted it against her mouth, she knew she was lost. Heat flooded her body, turning her brain to molten liquid and leaving her incapable of thought. Her breasts were crushed against the hardness of his chest, her hips clamped tight against his so that she could feel the hard, heated force of his desire for her before she heard the echo of it in his voice.

And when he turned his head and his lips took hers in hungry demand she knew she didn’t have a prayer.

‘Don’t go, Lydia…’ he said, but really they both knew she wasn’t going anywhere at all.

There was no way she could stay in a hotel room tonight. No way she could endure the soulless emptiness of even the best five-star accommodation. Not without him.

‘Stay with me tonight,’ Amir muttered rawly against her mouth and on a deep, aching sigh of surrender she gave him the only answer she could think of.

‘Yes,’ she muttered, her voice every bit as rough and uneven as his had been. ‘Yes, yes, yes! Of course I’ll stay with you.’




CHAPTER THREE


‘OH, WOW!’

Lydia didn’t even try to hide her amazement as she turned in a slow, stunned circle, staring unreservedly at everything around her.

‘This is just amazing! Is it really all yours?’

When Amir had spoken of his apartment, she had known from his clothes and the fact that he had been in the VIP lounge that he wouldn’t live in a small, shabby couple of rooms like those she had just left behind in Leicester. And the sight of his car and the waiting uniformed driver who had leapt from his seat to open the door for them had increased that certainty one hundredfold. But she had never anticipated anything like this.

The huge penthouse apartment would have swallowed up her small flat twenty times or more and still had room to spare. The high ceilings and huge windows gave an impression of air and space, and beyond the plate glass the brilliant night skyline of London glittered even through the raging snowstorm. Rich furnishings, heavy silk brocaded curtains and thick, thick carpets in all the tones of gold from the palest clotted cream to a deep dark bronze meant that the room appeared warm and welcoming in spite of the unpleasantness of the night. And to add to the sense of comfort, a bright fire burned in the wide hearth.

‘Actually it’s my father’s. His taste is rather more ornate than mine.’

The sweep of his hand indicated the enormous, brilliantly sparkling chandeliers, the marble fireplace.

‘But I have the use of it when I’m in London.’

‘And who is your father?’ Lydia was intrigued.

The sudden change in his face told her that once more she’d overstepped those invisible barriers, an unnerving glint in his dark eyes warning her to back off—fast.

Behind them, a small, discreet cough alerted them to the silent, stocky figure of the chauffeur standing just inside the doorway, still holding Lydia’s hand luggage, which he had carried up in the lift with them.

‘Oh, thank you!’ she said impulsively, moving to take it from him, but the man’s attention was fixed on Amir.

‘Will that be all, Highness?’ he asked. ‘Or is there anything more you will want tonight.’

‘Nothing.’ Amir’s tone was dismissive. ‘If the weather clears, I will need you to drive Miss Ashton back to the airport tomorrow, but I’ll let you know about that. You can take the rest of the night off.’

Lydia watched in bemused disbelief as Nabil swept a low bow before backing towards the door. He had almost reached it when she suddenly thought of something.

‘Oh, wait a moment, please…’

Hunting in her handbag, she pulled out her purse. But before she could open it, Amir’s hand, swift and firm, had clamped down hard on hers, stilling her movement.

‘You can leave, Nabil.’

Another bow and the man was gone. As the door swung to behind him, she turned to Amir, annoyance sparking in her sapphire eyes.

‘I wanted to give him a tip!’ she protested. ‘He drove us here safely in the most appalling conditions. And he carried my bag up…’

The impetuous words faded from her lips as she saw Amir’s dark, reproving frown, the obvious disapproval in his face.

‘It is not appropriate,’ he snapped, releasing her at last.

‘Not appropriate…But why? Highness!’ she recalled shakenly. ‘He called you Highness!’

It sounded even more unbelievable spoken aloud in her own voice.

‘And you…just who is your father? Who are you?’

Amir had moved to the opposite side of the room where an opened bottle of wine stood on a tray alongside a pair of the finest crystal wineglasses. Ignoring her questions, he poured a little into one of the goblets and tasted it carefully. Evidently it met with his approval because he swiftly filled both glasses and held one out to her, the ruby-coloured liquid glowing fiercely in the light of the fire.

‘Would you like a drink?’

‘What I’d like is an answer—preferably several!’

His irritated frown told her that her voice had been pitched too high. It had needed to be for her to hear it over the fearful pounding of her own heart. Her pulse was beating far too fast, making the blood sound like thunder inside her head.

‘I want an explanation. For a start, just who is your father?’

His shrug dismissed her question as a minor irritation, much as he might have flicked away an annoyingly buzzing fly.

‘My father’s identity is not relevant to this situation.’

‘Your father’s identity is supremely relevant!’ Lydia countered, her breath hissing in furiously through her teeth. ‘Because, Your Highness…’ she emphasised the word viciously ‘…if you don’t give me an explanation of exactly who you are and what is happening, then I am out of here—fast.’

His smile was slow, mocking, filled with infuriating condescension.

‘And where, exactly, would you go?’ he drawled smoothly.

The truth was that she had no idea. She didn’t even really know where in London they were. She had caught a glimpse of the wide flow of the Thames, the huge arc of the London Eye, the Houses of Parliament on the opposite bank, but apart from that she was lost. But she wasn’t going to let him see that that worried her.

‘I don’t know and I don’t care! But I know one thing—I won’t stay here! Not unless you start telling me the truth.’

‘The truth?’

Amir sipped his wine, savouring it appreciatively before he swallowed.

‘The truth is simple. It’s just you and I—a man and a woman who find each other attractive and want to be together. That is all there is to it. Are you sure you wouldn’t like some of this wine? It really is excellent.’

Warily Lydia eyed the glass he held out to her again, a look of suspicion on her face.

‘What is this, Amir? You wouldn’t be trying to get me drunk, would you?’

The response she expected was that look of reproof once again, so she was thoroughly thrown off balance by the soft, warm sound of his laughter.

‘And why would I do that, my dear Lydia? So that I can have my wicked way with you? I hardly think so. For one thing, my tastes don’t run to a comatose partner, and for another, the way that you responded to me earlier, the fact that you are here with me now, would appear to indicate that I would not have to resort to such underhand methods to seduce you.’

‘You might have other things in mind.’

‘Such as?’

He looked deep into her stubbornly set face and his smile grew, that infuriatingly appealing chuckle sounding deep in his throat again.

‘Oh, please—not the white slave trade as well! Lydia, sweetheart, you really must not let your imagination run away with you! I assure you, I have nothing but your comfort at heart. You have had a long, frustrating day stuck in that airport lounge, waiting for a flight that never came. I brought you here so that you could unwind and get some rest.’

‘Fat chance of that…’ Lydia began, but he ignored her furious interjection and continued imperturbably.

‘I’m sure you must be hungry. Right now, my housekeeper will be preparing our meal. All you have to do is to have a drink and wait for it to be served.’

The mention of a housekeeper was unexpected and a relief. Simply knowing that she wasn’t alone with him in the apartment eased some of the tension that had held Lydia so tight. The stiffness of her spine relaxed, her shoulders dropping slightly, her whole body loosening up.

‘That’s better.’

Amir smiled his approval.

‘You no longer look as if you expect to be executed at any moment. Now, if you’ll just have a drink…’

With an impatient sound in her throat, Lydia snatched at the glass. Perhaps the wine would relax her a little. Even if she wasn’t as stiffly uptight as she had been before, her stomach was still twisting painfully.

‘It is delicious,’ she conceded ungraciously as she let a mouthful of the rich, mellow liquid slide down her disturbingly dry throat. ‘But you needn’t think I’m letting you get away with it. I still want some answers to my questions…’

Amir’s sigh was a masterpiece, a perfect blend of irritation and resignation.

‘And clearly you are not going to give me any peace until I answer them,’ he drawled, lowering himself elegantly into one of the huge, soft armchairs and leaning back against the cushions, his long legs stretched out in front of him. ‘All right, then, ask away—but at least make yourself comfortable first. You make me feel uneasy, hovering over me like an avenging angel.’

When Lydia was tempted to fling at him the comment that she didn’t give a damn how she made him feel, she hastily thought the better of it. For one thing, she seriously doubted that anything she did would make this man uncomfortable. And for another, the brief, worryingly dangerous mood that Amir had displayed just moments ago now seemed to have passed. She didn’t want to risk provoking him into letting it come to the surface again.

‘All right,’ she conceded grudgingly, coming to sit opposite him, on the other side of the fire.

The wine really was wonderful, she admitted to herself, taking another appreciative swallow. She had never tasted anything quite so delicious. It was clearly a million miles away from the sort of supermarket plonk that was all she could ever afford.

‘So,’ Amir prompted when, lulled by the alcohol and the warmth of the leaping flames in the deep hearth, she took her time about continuing the conversation, ‘what exactly is it that you want to know?’

‘You can start with explaining who your father is. He must be someone important. I mean, I’ve never met anyone at all who was given the title of “Highness”.’

His sigh was less good-tempered this time. Clearly his patience was wearing thin again.

‘Since you are so determined not to let the subject drop—my father’s name is Sheikh Khalid bin Hamad Al Zaman, King of Kuimar.’

For once, something had shut her up, he thought wryly, watching the way her soft mouth fell slightly open on a gasp of surprise. She looked totally dumbfounded at the news, which was hardly surprising. He had had much the same response himself when he had first learned the truth. Though, being only eleven at the time, he had expressed his disbelief rather more forcefully.

‘You’re joking!’

‘I’m totally serious, I assure you.’

‘You’re really the son of a sheikh?’

‘Only just,’ Amir returned obscurely.

‘Oh!’

It was about all Lydia could manage. She was remembering how she had imagined him dressed in the dramatic robes of a desert warrior. The thought had her burying her nose in her wineglass and taking a hasty sip.

‘So, should I be curtseying to you—calling you Highness, too?’

‘Lydia!’ Amir groaned reproachfully. ‘That’s not what I want from you.’

‘What do you want?’ The question wouldn’t be held back.

The look he shot her from under hooded eyelids held a distinctly sexual challenge in it, polished ebony eyes gleaming behind luxuriantly curling lashes.

‘You have to ask? I thought it was patently obvious. I thought we both understood where we stand…’

Lydia shifted uncomfortably under that wickedly taunting scrutiny, his gaze seeming to strip away a protective layer of skin, leaving her painfully vulnerable and exposed.

‘I thought so too—at first.’

‘So what has changed?’

Amir sipped at his wine again, his intent stare not moving from her flushed face.

‘You don’t need me to tell you that!’ she protested furiously. ‘You know what’s changed! You’ve changed! Your father is a sheikh. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t that make you one too?’

The way that Amir’s sensual mouth twisted sharply told her she had displeased him. For the space of an uncomfortable couple of heartbeats she was sure that he wasn’t going to answer, but then abruptly he inclined his head in brusque agreement.

‘If you want my full name it’s Amir bin Khalid Al Zaman. Sheikh Amir bin Khalid Al Zaman,’ he reiterated with an impenetrable intonation on the words. ‘My father named me Crown Prince on my thirtieth birthday.’

‘You see!’ Lydia exclaimed. ‘This changes everything. You’re royalty! And I’m just a very ordinary girl who—’

She broke off sharply as, with a muttered curse, Amir suddenly slammed his glass down onto the table with such a distinct crash that she fully expected to see the delicate crystal shatter into a thousand glistening pieces. The next moment he was on his feet, covering the space between their chairs in two long, forceful strides.

‘It doesn’t matter!’ he declared, his tone rough and hard. ‘Can’t you see? It doesn’t matter a damn!’

Before Lydia could quite register what was happening, he had clamped hard fingers around the tops of her arms and hauled her up out of the chair with such force that she fell against him, her own hands going out frantically, desperately seeking support. Beneath her clutching fingers she felt the hard muscles bunch and tense as Amir took her weight.

‘Who I am, or what I am, has no bearing on this situation.’

‘No bearing…’

It was difficult to speak. Almost impossible to think. The strength of his arms was all that held her upright. The heat of his body seemed to reach out and enclose her, enfolding her in sensual warmth. And the clean, spicy scent of his skin coiled around her senses, tantalising her nostrils, reminding her of the burning kisses they had shared until she could almost taste him again on her tongue.

‘But it has to! It has to change so much!’

‘Lydia, listen to me.’

Amir gave her a small shake, not rough but just hard enough to break through the buzzing haze of response inside her head and draw her eyes to his face. The fierce emotions that she saw there transfixed her, holding her unable to look away, every ounce of her concentration centred on him.

‘When I’m with you, there is just you and me. Nothing else matters a damn. When I’m with you I’m just a man—as you are just a woman. We are simply male and female, Amir and Lydia. Money, position, our place in life, all become totally irrelevant. I don’t think differently because I am the son of a sheikh. I don’t act differently. I am just like any other man. When I do this…’

He bent his proud head and took her lips in a long, deep kiss that made her senses reel. The blood burned in her veins, melting away all resistance until she was pliant against him, every muscle weakening, her bones seeming to melt.

‘I am a man kissing a woman—my woman. The woman I want to possess so much that I ache with it! The woman who has stolen my soul from me—my mind, leaving me incapable of thinking of anything beyond her.’

She was crushed even closer, pressed so hard up against him that she felt the burn of the swollen evidence of his desire and shivered in response. This Amir was no longer the civilised, controlled man she had met just hours before but a fierce, arrogant, Bedouin warrior, with the heat of the desert in his veins, the burn of the sun in his eyes.

‘I shouldn’t be here. We shouldn’t be here. I…’

Abruptly he broke off as a light tap came at the door. Amir froze, muttered something roughly, then looked down into Lydia’s stunned face, probing her eyes searchingly.

Apparently what he saw there satisfied whatever question was in his mind because he gave a swift, brusque nod and turned his head towards the door.

‘Come!’

It was all command, pure autocrat, giving Lydia a swift insight into the other Amir, Sheikh Amir Al Zaman.

The middle-aged, dark-haired woman who came halfway across the threshold then paused, bobbing a hasty bow, clearly knew that man only too well. She kept her head bent, her eyes on the ground as Amir fired a question at her in a language Lydia could not understand. She answered in the same language, receiving a nod of approval for her pains, and was clearly thankful to be dismissed, almost scuttling away in her haste to be gone.

‘Did you have to speak to her like that?’ Lydia protested indignantly when they were alone again.

‘Like what, precisely?’ Amir enquired, looking down his long, straight nose at her.

‘Ordering her about that way! She clearly couldn’t wait to get out of here.’

‘So you speak Arabic—and the Kuimar dialect?’

His mocking tone set her teeth on edge. He didn’t have to tell her she had got things wrong. It was there in every inflexion, every word. Deciding discretion was the best policy, Lydia refused to let herself be provoked into rash speak and waited instead for him to explain, as she had no doubt that he was going to do.

‘Jamila had come to tell us that the meal she has prepared is ready. Naturally, she was embarrassed at intruding on what she felt was a very private moment. I assured her that she was not to blame if my lady friend did not understand the conventions…’

Did he know how ambiguous he had made that ‘lady friend’ sound? Lydia wondered, irritation stinging sharply. She very much suspected that he did—and that it had been quite deliberate. Her teeth snapped shut as she bit off the angry retort she was tempted to make.

‘I understand the conventions only too well,’ she managed with a stiffly clenched jaw. The irony of the situation only added to her annoyance, Jonathon’s accusation of being a stick-in-the-mud sounding sharply in her head.

‘But not as Jamila sees them. In Kuimar, no respectable woman would be seen alone with a man in his home at night.’

‘No respectable woman!’ He was really intent on compounding the insulting effect of that ‘lady friend.’

‘We are not in Kuimar now.’

‘No, we’re not.’

The hint of a curl at the corners of Amir’s carved mouth seemed to indicate that he was only too aware of the struggle she was having to keep her voice reasonable and that, infuriatingly, he found that distinctly amusing.

‘Which is what I told Jamila before I gave her the rest of the night off. Are you hungry?’

‘Am I…?’

Lydia found the question difficult to consider, and not just because of the speed with which Amir had jumped from one topic to another. The realisation that the housekeeper, whose presence had seemed such a comfort only a few minutes ago, had now been dismissed for the night put her into a distinctly uncomfortable state of mind. She would be alone with Amir after all, and alone with him in a way that ‘no respectable woman’ should ever be.

Shouldn’t that be her cue to say that she’d changed her mind? That she couldn’t stay here after all. That she found she actually preferred the thought of the hotel room so would he please send for Nabil, or a taxi, and she’d head straight back to the airport?

Except that, as she had just said, they weren’t in Kuimar. And the truth was that, even if it was safer, more respectable—more sensible—she didn’t want to go.

Jonathon would never recognise her in the woman who knew she wanted to throw caution to the winds and stay here, ignoring every warning, every scream of self-preservation from the cautious ‘stick-in-the-mud’ part of her.

‘Hungry? Yes, I’m starving!’

To her consternation, Amir met her response with a faint frown. One long finger touched her cheek as his beautiful mouth tightened disturbingly.

‘Not the right answer, my dear Lydia.’

The thought of what the right answer should have been made her toes curl tightly inside her shoes.

‘Not the right one, maybe.’ She tried for laughter only to find that it broke revealingly in the middle. ‘But an honest one!’

Amir’s thoughtful pause made her heart jolt uncomfortably as she waited for his reply.

‘It was not the answer I hoped I’d hear,’ he murmured silkily. ‘But you are lucky that I am in an indulgent mood. Shall we go through to the dining room?’

He held out his hand and Lydia had no choice but to put hers into it.

If this was Amir in an indulgent mood, she couldn’t help thinking, then she really didn’t think she wanted to meet him in a less tolerant frame of mind. Just the thought of it made her nerves twist so much that she had to pray her trembling fingers didn’t give away her feelings to the man at her side.




CHAPTER FOUR


‘HAVE you had enough?’

There was no mistaking the ironical note in Amir’s voice, and frankly Lydia was not at all surprised to hear it there.

‘I’m—not hungry any more.’

The truth was that she hadn’t been hungry from the moment she had sat down at the table. Her appetite had totally deserted her when Amir had slid into the chair directly opposite her, elbows resting on the fine white linen cloth, tanned hands linked, his chin resting on the top of them, deep-set eyes fixed intently on her face.

‘Help yourself,’ he’d told her softly.

He had watched everything she’d done. That dark gaze had followed each movement of her hands, flicking backwards and forwards as she’d taken a little from each serving dish, spooning it onto her plate, until she’d found herself shivering faintly under that eagle-eyed scrutiny.

‘Don’t you want anything?’ she had managed unevenly as a result of the ragged beating of her heart.

Amir had shaken his dark head.

‘Not hungry,’ he’d murmured. ‘At least, not for food.’

She knew exactly what he meant. It was there in the burn of his brilliant eyes, the undisguised sensuality of that searching gaze. Lydia risked a hasty glance into his stunning face and immediately regretted it as her heart lurched high up into her throat and the hand that held the knife shook betrayingly.

‘It—it’s very good. This chicken is delicious.’

‘Jamila is an excellent cook.’

He couldn’t have sounded less interested.

But he didn’t rush her. Instead he seemed content to wait and watch as she picked at the food, trying vainly to make some pretence of enthusiasm, struggling to swallow with a throat that had dried in the heat of her response.

In the end she pushed away her plate, unable to cope any longer.

‘You’ve barely eaten a thing.’

‘I wasn’t as hungry as I thought.’

He must know what he did to her. Must know that that fierce, unblinking gaze was tying her nerves into knots, making her heart race in double-quick time.

‘Not even some fruit?’

She looked like a startled deer, Amir reflected inwardly. Not scared exactly, just wary and uncertain. If he made one false move she could be up and gone. But he wasn’t going to make that mistake. He wasn’t going to rush things. In the airport he had thought that he’d only had minutes to win her over, make his mark on her consciousness; now it seemed that he had all night.

He could wait.

He reckoned she’d be well worth waiting for.

‘What about some of this?’

He reached out slowly, took a perfect peach from the large glass bowl. The contrast between the hard strength of his tanned hands and the velvety skin of the fruit was devastatingly sensual. She couldn’t drag her gaze away from the long, strong fingers as they curved around the ripe fruit, smoothing it softly.

In just that way would he touch her, she found herself thinking on a shiver. She could imagine how the caress would feel, the strong yet delicate tips of his hands trailing over sensitive nerves, awakening a stinging desire.

He didn’t even have to touch her! She could feel that reaction already. Her blood sang in her veins, her flesh so sensitised that even the soft brush of her clothes over it was a delicate agony. She knew what was in his mind. They both knew exactly where his thoughts were heading.

So why didn’t he say something? Why didn’t he act?

‘Try it…’

He had sliced off a thin sliver of the fruit and now he held it out to her, leaning forward to hold it level with her mouth so that all she had to do was open her lips. Like a child she did so and Amir dropped the juicy morsel onto her tongue. It was so ripe that it hardly needed to be chewed but slid down her throat so easily.

‘Like that?’

His smile did dangerous things to her heart, making it clench on a wave of response, her mouth drying instantly.





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