Page 14 of At the Sheikh's Bidding
“Amare! Why do you persist in misinterpreting what I’m saying? You know I’m here to examine the harem as a place where the diamond might be. That’sallI’m here for.”
He stopped abruptly. She continued on a few paces away from him before looking back.
“I don’t believe you,” he said, fingering the shell. Her eyes couldn’t seem to move away from his fingers as they smoothed over the silky shell. “Not a word,” he said, breaking the spell.
“You can believe what you like, but it’s the truth. I’m here to further my career by finding the diamond and completing my harem research. That’s all I want.”
Much to her annoyance, he merely smiled, ignoring what she’d just said. He waved his hand dismissively. “You can do all of that after we return to the palace. We are here now and I do not intend to waste any further time on this subject.”
Exasperated, she didn’t move. It was time for some straight-talking. “Tell me what is it you want, Amare.”
“At last. A real question. What do I want? I want to get to know you better. Becausethatis my price for giving you whatyouwant.” He reached over and took her hand in his, looking at it as if his life depended on it. Then he looked up at her with an expression in his eyes, which made her forget all about work. “I want toknowyou”—he squeezed her hand gently—“Can you give me that,habibti?”
She gave a brief nod before she could engage her brain. Even after she’d engaged her brain, she didn’t seem able to back down. The thought of him knowing her in any way whatsoever was completely enticing.
“Then come, tell me about yourself as we walk.”
“I’m really not interesting.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Okay, what do you want to know?”
“Who you are, and where you come from.”
She gave an unsure laugh. “How long have you got?”
“As long as it takes.”
The laughter disappeared. She never talked about her past. To anyone. And yet she’d agreed to tell this man who wanted more from her than she’d ever given before. She knew why. Because there was a part of her which was lonely—a part of her which was tired of being separated from everyone else. It was of her own doing—a defense against the emotional cruelty her father had inflicted, and its legacy. But she hadn’t realized until now exactly how much it was wearing her down.
“My name is Janey Montgomery and I’m from Australia.” It was a start.
“So far, so already known. Why don’t you tell me something I don’t know? Like whereabouts in Australia your family is from and what’s your real name? Because it certainly isn’t Montgomerie.”
She swallowed nervously. “Sydney. My family is from Sydney and you’re right. My family name isn’t Montgomerie, it’s Fitzallen.”
He stopped walking abruptly and looked at her in surprise. “The media Fitzallens?”
She nodded. “My great-grandfather started the company with the Sydney Express, and then it grew to what it is today. My family has lived off it ever since.”
“The Fitzallen family is well known. Why all the secrecy? Why the change in name?”
She didn’t want to tell him. She never wanted to tell anyone, and she’d successfully hidden it for years.
“We are…” She hesitated as she groped for the right word. “Estranged.”
“Estranged? That’s a very formal word. You mean you fell out?”
“I mean we are…strangersto one another. I have nothing to do with my family. With my father especially.”
“Why? What happened?”
“It’s private. It’s personal.”
“And you won’t tell me?”
“No. It has nothing to do with what we’re doing here. Nothing to do with my work.”
