Page 2 of At the Sheikh's Pleasure
“Brilliant!”said Leonora, filling up their glasses with another generous helping of brandy, despite Rosana’s refusal.“You won’t regret it.”
Prompted by Janey who’d never been to the Middle East, Rosana began to describe Sifra, which she’d visited as a teenager, before shifting to her own country—the Kingdom of Harran, so similar to Sifra and yet a political adversary.As she described the desert, the mountains, the cities, her heart ached and she realized how much she missed it.The place, that was.But not her bullying father who’d forced her into a brief and loveless marriage, before her husband’s death had allowed her to escape.No, she never wanted to see her father again.But her homelands?Yes, she had a deep yearning to visit them.And the diamond?Most definitely, she thought as she sat back and allowed her mind to wander to the formal dinner which would take place here, in this room, in two months’ time.The dinner was timed to coincide with the spring equinox when the light flooded down from the light well in a series of prisms.It would be spectacular.And finding the diamond would be the icing on the cake.
Yes, despite her fears, Rosana almost hoped that both Leonora and Janey would fail because then she’d be able to return to the lands for which her heart ached and which were forever forbidden to her, while her father was alive.The diamond was almost secondary.Almost.
Chapter1
Rosana paced the guest room she’d been allocated, trying to get her nerves under control.Hanging on the hook was her best abaya—the kind she’d worn in her own country—made of stiff, expensive cloth and demure.The matching scarf was voluminous and in her home country of Harran she’d worn it so that not a strand of her hair showed, and sometimes not even her mouth.Talking wasn’t required in her homeland.Her father had told her that often enough, while she was growing up.But she wouldn’t have her family to hide behind, like last time she visited Sifra.Thistime—since her colleagues Leonora and Janey had failed to find the diamond—she definitely had talking to do.Andthistime, eight years after her previous visit, she was a different woman.The last eight years at Oxford had changed her.
She glanced at her computer, which stood open—the screensaver swirling around the clock face.She couldn’t delay any longer.She’d have to face her family’s long-standing enemy.
She shrugged the abaya on over her light dress, through which her generous curves were highly visible.Thereweresome advantages to wearing such a voluminous garment, she thought to herself as she adjusted the abaya in front of the mirror.At least none of the men would be focusing on her breasts.No, she thought ruefully, checking her kohled eyes.They’d be fuming that they even had to entertain her in their palace, intheircountry.She was under no illusions what they thought about her, or her family.She closed her eyes and shuddered at the memory of her last visit, surrounded by her angry father and his senior officials.The mission hadn’t gone well.Her father had gone, believing their brief attempt at co-operation over a tourist resort would lead to a return of the disputed lands back to Harran.It hadn’t.All the Sifran king suggested was marriage between Rosana and one of his sons.It hadn’t gone down well—not with her father, nor, apparently, with the three sons.She knew the present king of Sifra hated her father.And, no doubt, she was tarred with the same brush.
She glanced at herself one last time in the mirror and narrowed her eyes at the reflection she no longer recognized.She’d transformed herself into the woman she didn’t want to be—the woman she’d turned her back on eight years earlier when she’d left her country for the last time.But she could do it—forthispurpose—because her job meant everything to her.
Straightening her spine, she swept out the room and became the woman she’d once been—overlooked and dispensable.Except this time, while she might look that way, she refused to be either.
The palace receptionroom was full, exactly the way King Zaire liked it.He stood with his brothers, ostensibly listening to the latest anecdote from his youngest brother, Amare, but cast sweeping glances around the room from time to time with a frown.Because what hedidn’tlike was what he was looking for.
Darrius nodded toward the door.“If you’re looking for our honored guest, she’s just arrived.”
Zaire gave an annoyed grunt, but didn’t turn around.He knew who Darrius meant.
“You can’t ignore her, you know,” said Darrius thoughtfully, looking at Zaire.“I mean, sheisthe daughter of the King of Harran and, as our neighbor?—”
“Andour greatest problem,” interjected Zaire.
“Indeed.But neighbor or problem — either way, you need to treat her with respect.”
“You have toearnrespect.And all she’s earned is my wariness.I wouldn’t trustheror herfamily.Which is why I’ve made it my business to inform her father of her visit.”
“You’ve done what?”asked Darrius in surprise.
“Made sure her father knew she was coming here.He’ll hate it, of course.It would make his allies believe he’d switched allegiances from them to us, which would definitely be bad for business.”Zaire shrugged.“Anyhow, I couldn’t resist stirring up the old man.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” said Darrius.
Zaire shrugged again.“It can’t hurt.”He stopped short of telling Darrius exactly the rumor he’d set into circulation, ensuring Rosana’s father heard it, because he felt an unusual stab of conscience at the lie.“Anyway, at least it’s making use of the woman’s visit here.I can tell you, I amnotlooking forward to it.”
“She was…” Darrius paused as he groped for a positive word for Rosana.“Fine,when she visited with her family.”
Zaire shot him an incredulous look.“Fine?You call arrogance, silence and rudeness,fine?And then there’s her coldness.My God, when she looks at you, it’s a wonder she doesn’t freeze off your?—”
Darrius looked up suddenly, coughed loudly and placed a hand on Zaire’s arm, stopping him from naming that part of his most intimate anatomy which her gaze would freeze.
“What’s the matter?”said Zaire.
Darrius extended his other hand behind Zaire.“Welcome, Sheikha Rosana.It is a pleasure to meet you again.”
Zaire turned around to see Darrius shaking hands with the object of their conversation, who had no doubt heard everything they’d just said.His distrust of her deepened.Who the hell crept up on people like that?A sweeping glance revealed she was of medium height, and had dark, cold eyes—it was all that could be gleaned from her starchy abaya and scarf.But… her lips—his gaze lingered there.It would have taken a saint not to as they were surprisingly full and luscious.He didn’t remember her lips.Hecertainlydidn’t remember them.No doubt her mouth had been covered last time they’d met, as her ultra strict father would have insisted.
She suddenly straightened, standing a little taller, as if aware of his scrutiny.Her manner was chill and forbidding.Darrius’s wife, Leonora, had described her as dignified.Zaire wouldn’t.She was arrogance personified, and that arrogance was focused on him now.Her lips were forgotten.
“YourHighness,” she said.The words sounding facetious—more like aninsultthan a greeting.“I’m so sorry to interrupt your…” She hesitated, revealing that she knew exactly what he’d been about to say.“Yourconversation.”
He raised an eyebrow, irritated by being on the back foot.“Are you?”
“Oh, yes.Wouldn’t anyone be curious as to know what exactly my ‘coldness’—I think you called it—would freeze off?”
