Page 5 of Seduced By the Sheikh

He looked around as if noticing it for the first time. “The important thing is that it’s more informal, and private. Please, take a seat.” He turned and raised a hand to an attendant who loitered discreetly.

“Not so very private, I think,” she couldn’t help commenting.

He shrugged as if unaware of the attendants who were waiting for a raised eyebrow or hand before they came running to grant his every wish.

They sat in silence as a crescent-beaked dallah was brought over to the table upon which small cups and a plate of dates had also been laid. Only after the cardamom pods were added to the brew were they left alone again.

“May I?” she asked, as it didn’t look as if anyone else was going to emerge to pour the coffee.

He nodded. “Please.”

She poured them both a cup of gahwa, and settled back on her seat again.She watched as he sipped the hot coffee, and allowed his gaze to linger there, as if his thoughts were far away.

He’d been so close before that she’d been struck more by his presence than his appearance. But now she saw that his eyes were an odd copper color — not brown and not gray—but utterly compelling. And that his natural good looks were marred by his habitual frown and the straight line formed by those otherwise sensuous lips. If anyone had any doubts as to his self-control, the well-defined lines and sharp planes of his face would have banished them. This wasn’t a man given to excess. Except perhaps in one area… Her mind drifted to the women she’d heard so much about. He obviously loosened up with them and, when he did, she couldn’t help wonder what lurked beneath that layer of control.

He turned to her suddenly, too abruptly for her to pretend she hadn’t been looking at him. His lips quirked again.

“You are staring, Sheikha.”

“I apologize. But surely it is natural to be curious about a man I have only just met and with whom I will spend the rest of my life?”

His face relaxed but there was no quirk of his lips this time. “You are, of course, correct. So, do you like what you see?”

She sipped her coffee, letting the silence stretch as she slid the cup back onto the table. She refused to allow herself to be dominated. She placed her hands in her lap, aware of how her sapphire rings glittered in the light, reminding him of the wealth of her nation and, by extension, her own value. She shrugged and allowed a slight smile to play on her lips. Two could play at his game.

“It’s irrelevant,” she said.

The silence held all the tension of an arm-wrestle.

“You’re different to how I imagined,” he said at last, relenting a little.

She didn’t answer, and didn’t avert her gaze.

“Aren’t you interested in how I imagined you?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “As I say, it’s irrelevant. We are to be married and we should talk about the future.”

He raised an eyebrow and inclined his head. “So be it. No small talk. Suits me. So, Soraiya — may I call you that?”

“You may,” she said archly.

“We are marrying to merge our two blood lines — your father, the King of Ra’nan and myself, the King of Sirun, and all that that entails.”

Again she inclined her head. “Exactly. And only in that way can we ensure our countries’ future co-operation, strength and wealth—economically, politically and strategically.”

He looked surprised. “You talk like a statesman.”

“Because I am. I am a stateswoman.”

His eyes narrowed and he turned his head slightly, as if he hadn’t liked her answer. She knew she was challenging him, but there seemed little point in pretending she was someone more interested in dresses than economics, or in the state of her nails than in the state of the nation.

“You will be my wife, Sheikha,” said Zak firmly. “And mother to my children. That is enough of a role for a woman.”

“I can be all three — wife, mother and stateswoman.” She suddenly thought of a winning answer. “Just as your mother has been.”

The mood changed instantly. His brow lowered and he glared at her. She’d crossed a line she hadn’t known existed.

He rose abruptly, causing his cup to tumble over and the black liquid to flood the highly polished table. “If you mean what you say when you declare you wish to do your duty, then you will take on the role prescribed for you. You will never have the freedom my mother had as a Queen of Sirun. Never!”

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