by Maggie Cox
She swallowed hard. 'Doesn't it mean anything to you?'
'The jewel is a curse! For generations our family has fallen under the spell of that damned legend, which is why I want to finally be rid of it.'
Gina stared. 'That's why you're selling it? Because you believe it's a curse?'
'The last people it cursed to a doomed marriage that ended in early death were my parents and my sister's husband Azhar. He was killed in a car accident just a few months ago. The toll of unhappiness and disaster just gets worse and worse, doesn't it? Now Farida goes about the palace like a wraith, hardly eating or sleeping, not engaging with anyone but me and the servants. Do you honestly think I would want to keep the jewel after that?'
'I'm really sorry that you and your sister have had to endure such terrible tragedy, Zahir.' Without realising it she used the name she knew him by, instead of his far grander title. 'But I'm sure you know that the jewel is priceless…beyond value. The whole world will be bidding for a chance to purchase it if you put it up for sale, and what about your own descendents? Your children and your sister's children, should she marry again? Won't you be depriving them of an important family heirloom, not to mention an artefact of peerless history and beauty?'
'Forgive me…but I thought I had merely hired you for your expertise in assessing the jewel's provenance? Not to give me your opinion about what I should and should not be doing with it!'
He strode to the door, his whole body bristling with formidable rage. If that rage could have been transmuted into matter, Gina would have seen dazzling sparks of flame shooting into the room, she was sure.
'I'm sorry…' Moving towards him, she felt distress deluge her. She could see he was in pain—both at the loss of his parents and at the disturbing way his beloved sister had withdrawn from the world—not to mention in shock upon seeing Gina again after she had rejected him. It made her yearn to be able to reach him, to comfort him in some way. 'If I've caused you offence…if I've hurt you by word or deed…I honestly regret it. Can you forgive me?'
With his palm curved round the gilt handle of the door, he stilled. The dark eyes grew even darker, but within their mesmerising reflection Gina saw a spark of haunting gold light.
'Forgiveness where you are concerned is not an easy matter. But I would ask that when you meet Farida, my sister, you do not mention the jewel under any circumstances. It would only distress her if she learns that I plan to be rid of it.'
'But what will I say if she asks me why I'm here?'
Zahir sighed. 'The palace is full of beautiful artefacts. You may tell her that you and your colleague are doing an inventory of the most valuable ones for me…as you did for Mrs Hussein's books.'
'I will do it because you ask me to, but I want you to know that I'm not comfortable with lying.'
To Gina's alarm, Zahir came closer. Her space was suddenly disturbingly invaded by the subtle but intoxicating scent of a cologne with hints of sandalwood and agarwood. She know that particular essential oil was highly prized in the region.
Reaching out, he lightly curled his fingers round the tops of her arms. 'When I first saw you peeping out from behind the leaves of that jasmine I believed that you were a trusting innocent, incapable of deceit or subterfuge. To my bitter cost I have since learned that is not true. Apart from your undoubted beauty, Gina, there is nothing about you that could elicit my attention or regard again. You may as well tell me if there has been any other man in your life since we last met, seeing as it hardly matters to me now.'
'I told you the truth—there's been nobody else.' Her answer was as direct as the challenging look she gave him. 'And neither am I interested in another man. A relationship isn't my focus. I prefer to devote my time and attention to my work. Sometimes the paths it leads me down don't deliver exactly what I expect, but…unlike most men…it never disappoints me.'
Suddenly the grip on her arm grew tighter, and Gina bit back a gasp. 'When did I disappoint you? When I took you to bed? I have a photographic memory, rohi. I easily recall how incredibly responsive and eager you were in my arms that night. Yes, eager…even though you were untouched. Did you not think I'd realised that? Tell me, has there ever been another man in your life who has pleasured you longer or more ardently?'
Even though shock and embarrassment flooded her, she took heart at the distinct jealousy in Zahir's tone. He'd said she would never elicit his attention or regard again, but something in his possessive and furious manner told her that that might not be entirely true. Her senses clamoured and her pulses raced at the idea there might be a chance—even if that chance hung by the slimmest thread—that she could make things right between them.
Holding his hot and angry gaze, she breathed out slowly. 'You just told me you knew I was untouched when we went to bed…so the answer is no, Zahir. There has never been another man who has made me feel like you did that night.'
He abruptly released her. Dark eyes glittering, he silently surveyed her. 'For now, even though it is a hard thing for me to do, I will have to take your word on that. Tomorrow I will hear your presentation on the jewel, so please be well prepared. Goodnight, Dr Collins. I will see you in the morning.'
She stood frozen as he spun on his heel and exited the room, fervently wishing she had a magic spell to make him look at her fondly again instead of disparagingly…
Zahir's eyes burned from lack of sleep. When he had managed to doze a little, in his vast bed with its black silk sheets, he'd been tormented by only too real images of an alluring blonde angel with eyes bluer than a clear desert sky. He couldn't seem to get the scent of her out of his blood, either…
Frustrated beyond endurance, he dressed and went outside. In the sultry stillness of the perfumed night his footsteps led him to his own private garden—a sanctuary where the only other person allowed to enter was his gardener. Arriving at the Bedouin tent that was always kept ready for his use, Zahir took off his boots and unwound his broad leather belt. He laid a match to the dry tinder of the cooking fire and, sitting cross-legged before the flickering frames, placed the waiting coffee pot in the centre. As the tempting, comforting aroma of delicious Arabian coffee filled the night, Zahir rubbed the back of his hand across his tired eyes and stared out into the distance.
Apart from the crescent moon and its accompanying tapestry of bright stars the night was deep as an ocean and blacker than the wing of a raven… But he never at any time found it threatening. On many sleepless nights he had come out here to his private sanctuary and found that the enfolding darkness acted as a balm for the sorrow he'd endured daily since the death of his parents and since Farida had lost Azhar. He'd also sought solace from the knifing hurt Gina had caused when she'd told him she wasn't returning.
Stoking the fire a little with a stick, he watched the sparks crackle and spit, erupting into the air like tiny fireworks. Gina… He couldn't even erase her name from his mind, let alone her taunting image. Seeing her standing there in her bathrobe, all flushed skin and tousled golden hair, had been the most colossal temptation. He'd burned to hold her close again—so much so that his body had all but vibrated just because she was in the same vicinity.
For the last three years he had tormented himself almost beyond bearing that she was with another man. Had she thought him a fool for trusting her so implicitly? For believing she would love him and only him for ever? The thought had him gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw. Could anyone blame him for believing a part of her very being would always be his when it was to him that she'd given the gift of her innocence that night? It was true what he had told her—he had known she was a virgin. A fact that had made their instant passionate connection all the more sacred and special. At least that was what he'd thought then.
The Heart of Courage's taunting prophecy had not proven true in his case, Zahir reflected bitterly. The sooner he was rid of that blasted jewel the better… Before he started to believe its prophecy had some hold over his heart, too…
Reaching for the nea
rby folded checked cloth that lay in the sand, he wrapped it round the handle of the coffee pot and poured some of the rich aromatic brew into a waiting cup. Then, turning carefully, he crawled into the entrance of the large cloth tent and sat just inside, staring out at the fire's dancing kaleidoscope of flame as he thoughtfully sipped his drink.
Later—much later—he lay down on the silk cushions and woven rugs and slept a little. But not before seeing the spectacular rays of the dawn seep through the intricate weave of the dwelling's fabric-made walls…
Jake and Gina were having their breakfast on a canopied covered mosaic terrace. In the distance the sound of someone playing the oud—a stringed instrument that produced a haunting sound not unlike a Spanish guitar—floated hypnotically on the air.
The two colleagues were not alone. Jamal appeared at regular intervals, issuing curt instructions to two young housemaids to frequently hand round dishes piled high with fresh chunks of khubuz—the local bread—earthenware bowls of fat glistening black and green olives and dishes of labneh—a strained cream cheese that resembled yoghurt.
At the same time as Gina carefully opened the stopper on a slim bottle of olive oil, to drizzle it on her bread, she sensed a warm bead of perspiration sluggishly meander down her back. The sun was already high and hot in the azure sky, and the thin full-length yellow and gold kaftan she was wearing felt more like a winter coat beneath such unforgiving heat. She hadn't been able to resist sitting outside—not after enduring one of the longest and bitterest winters back home—but she was far from at ease. How could she be at ease after the way Zahir had left her last night?
He'd been so accusing and angry…a million miles away from the tender, beguiling man who had so easily swept her off her feet at first sight. Again, her heart ached to make things right between them, but how?
Adjusting her sunglasses, she watched Jake lift a generous chunk of bread that he'd liberally covered in slices of cucumber and wedges of dazzling red tomato to his lips and take a large bite. When he'd chewed and swallowed the food, Gina smiled. 'You've certainly got a healthy appetite.'
'That's true. But then I need to eat a lot to keep the old grey cells replenished!' he joked, grinning back at her.
This morning he was dressed in a wildly patterned Hawaiian-style loose shirt, which probably wouldn't have looked out of place on the beaches of Majorca or Corfu but it definitely made him look eccentric. All he needed to top the outfit off was a knotted folded handkerchief on his head.
'Are you ready to present your notes on the jewel to His Highness?' he asked her.
'Ready as I'll ever be.'
Gina's mouth tightened. Just the thought of sitting in front of Zahir to discuss that amazing jewel with its heartrending prophecy was akin to the prospect of walking across a bed of hot coals. She'd never been so nervous or so mentally under siege. Perhaps she shouldn't take its so personally that he now scorned the legend of marrying for love, but God help her she did.
After absenting himself for a while, Jamal reappeared on the terrace. 'After breakfast you are both summoned to see His Highness. I will wait here to escort you.'
Nervously scanning the food that yet again she'd barely touched, Gina met the far-seeing gaze of Zahir's personal servant and forced a scant smile as her insides churned and apprehension dried her mouth. 'Thank you.'
With a polite bow, and his hands behind his back, Jamal moved away to stand by the wall and wait.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE Sheikh of Kabuyadir's office was enormous almost like a small ballroom, with its marble floor and exotic octagonal brass lamps with little coloured windows hanging down from the rafters of the high ceiling. A desk was definitely present. How could they ignore the six-foot-long burnished table that stood in the centre, with carved and cushioned antique chairs surrounding it? But Gina's eye was immediately drawn to the circle of colourful patterned cushions round a hand-woven blue, red and gold rug, to the right of the impressive desk, where Zahir sat, chin in his hands, crossed-legged and thoughtful.
He wore another broad leather belt round his long hooded black robe, and this one had an attachment that crossed over his chest and shoulder. It looked as if it might have accommodated a hunting knife or scimitar at some point, but right then the slim holster was empty. The image of Zahir as a brave ancient warrior was never far away, it seemed—at least to Gina. For three long years his striking visage had fuelled her fantasies and stoked her longing for him to an inferno at times—especially when she reflected on what she had lost by letting him go.
As they approached Jake gave a respectful nod, and under Jamal's hawk-like stare Gina did the same.
'You have breakfasted well, I trust?' Zahir's questioning dark gaze encompassed both of them, but definitely lingered longer on her.
'Very well indeed, thank you.' This from an enthusiastic Jake.
'That is a nice shirt, Dr Rivers. Very…shall we say colourful?'
'I'm glad that you like it, Your Highness.'
'Sit down, please. We should make a start on the matter of the jewel.' Sweeping an extravagant hand round the circle of floor cushions, Zahir was suddenly all business.
His lightly mocking comment about Jake's shirt woke Gina to the unsettling fact that he had a sense of humour. Seating herself on the cushion the furthest in distance from their host, she spied a gleam which might have been amusement in the depths of his hypnotically brown eyes. It made her self-conscious and uncomfortable as she opened the slim leather document holder on her lap and carefully withdrew her notes. A couple of feet away from her, Jake did the same.
'I will start with you, Dr Rivers, if I may? Tell me what your historical research says about the jewel.'
Jake's enthusiastic report was followed by some intense discussion between the two men. Gina took the opportunity to observe Zahir at her leisure starting with his voice. It was undoubtedly strong, yet he kept it modulated, varying the tone from time to time as his gaze focused unwaveringly on her colleague, and managing to give not the slightest indication of his private thoughts about what was being discussed at any time.
Now and again Jake shifted a little nervously—as if overwhelmed by where he was and who was quizzing him—but by and large he gave a good account of his painstaking research, and as the discussion ended, the merest smile touched the edges of Zahir's well-cut lips. At least he appeared pleased with what he had heard.
Then it was Gina's turn.
As Zahir directed his glance back to her, she had the panicked idea that his eyes were like the high-power lens of a high-resolution microscope, illuminating a specimen on a slide for detailed examination. Right now she was the specimen.
Fumbling with her papers as she cleared her throat to speak, she saw a few of the A-4 sheets slide off her lap and onto the patterned rug. She was mortified. Not exactly the best start, she thought, as she hurriedly gathered the papers and tidied them.
'Are you ready to proceed with your presentation now, Dr Collins?'
Hearing the sardonic edge to his tone didn't exactly help Gina's case. 'Yes, Your Highness.'
She made herself look him straight in the eye to give herself courage. After all, she was an expert in her field not some nervous schoolgirl making a presentation for a class project.
'I thought I would start by discussing the fascinating legend that has grown up around the Heart of Courage.'
Where had that come from? It wasn't the first thing she'd intended discussing at all! The papers had got mixed up when they'd slid off her lap, and the sheet that had been at the bottom of the pile was now somehow on top. There was a sudden drop in temperature in the sultry air. Gina's glance collided with Zahir's. It was the iciest look she'd ever received. For a couple of excruciating seconds her breath was strangled inside her throat.
'I think not, if you don't mind, Dr Collins? I prefer to stick to verifiable facts right now. Speculation about any kind of mythical legend can only detract from a more important discussion about the authenticity and
provenance of the jewel's origins. So we will stay with what is important and not go off on some insignificant tangent …agreed?'
After such an unprepossessing beginning, Gina felt she made a hash of the rest of her presentation. By the time it came to an end, and Jamal had appeared with a tray of the delicious cardamom-scented coffee for their refreshment, she just wanted to flee back to her quarters and liberally splash her burning face with ice water.
'Dr Collins? May I have a private word with you?' Soundlessly, Zahir had materialised at her side, and was holding out his hand to help her up from the floor cushion. As she automatically slipped her hand into his, he turned briefly to Jake. 'Dr Rivers, you should take your coffee outside on the terrace and relax for a while. Later, Jamal will give you a proper tour of the palace.'
'Thank you, Your Highness. I'll very much look forward to that.'
When the twin doors had closed behind Jamal and Jake, Zahir put his hands behind his formidable back and paced the floor a little before turning back to Gina. There was no mistaking the anger that transformed his breathtakingly handsome features into an intimidating mask.
'What did you think you were doing, trying to make a fool of me like that?'
'What do you mean?'
'Bringing up the legend…that's what I mean!'
'I—I had no intention of trying to make you look a fool. I just got my notes muddled up and—'
His face was suddenly bare inches from hers, and the sensation of her blood roaring in her ears blotted out any others.
