The Widow And The Sheikh (Hot Arabian Nights, Book 1)

by Marguerite Kaye

  He was the perfect lover. If only she had been able to confine him to that role, but love was an insidious thing, like a desert flower lurking below the surface for years, waiting for the rains to give it life and make it bloom. How long had she been in love with Azhar without knowing it? She had known him less than a month. Was it possible to fall in love in such a short time? Apparently it was. She had known Daniel most of her life, her love for him had grown steadily and surely, but had she ever been passionately in love with him?

  ‘No,’ Julia said, ‘definitely not. Nothing compares to this.’

  And nothing could ever come of it. She knew that, as surely as she knew that she was in love with Azhar. Her freedom meant everything to her, and freedom most certainly did not encompass tying herself to a man again. She had no idea what she wanted to do with her life, but she wanted the freedom to decide for herself. To make and learn from her own mistakes as Azhar had done during the last ten years, and to celebrate her own successes as he had done. Perhaps she would travel. Perhaps she would find a way to earn her living with her landscapes. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was free to choose, while Azhar...

  Her heart contracted as it did every time she thought of his predicament. She longed to comfort him, but he had already locked her out of his life, already denied himself any solace. Daniel’s first love was his book. Azhar had made it clear that his one and only love must be Qaryma. Not even his wife, when he took one, would take precedence over his kingdom. Even were Julia considered suitable to be the wife of a king—which she most clearly was not—she would never want such a role.

  Not even if it meant being by Azhar’s side?

  ‘No,’ she said aloud, this time even more firmly than the last, ‘because I would not be by his side. Qaryma would be his, and I would be his, but neither Azhar nor Qaryma would ever be mine.’

  But dear heavens, how she loved him.

  * * *

  Azhar listened with one ear as his Council debated the exact route of the coronation procession, his mind racing ahead to consider the other equally tedious details to be discussed at the meeting, none of which he gave a camel’s hump about. He was resigned to going through the formality of a coronation, but the minutiae of the ceremony simply didn’t interest him.

  The two most pressing matters which did occupy his thoughts were for the moment in abeyance, awaiting the response of the two men concerned. He was a man of action, he’d told Julia once. Certainly, in the three days that had passed since he saw her he had made countless decisions, but he had also spent an inordinate amount of time trying not to act, not to do the one thing he wanted above all, which was to go to Julia and lose himself in her arms.

  He missed her. It would be easier when she was no longer resident in the palace, easier still when she had crossed Qaryma’s border en route to England, but for now, knowing that there were only a few walls separating them was making it ridiculously difficult to resist temptation.

  He missed the sound of her laughter, and the tone of her voice. He missed the almost guilty expression she wore when she was about to tell him something she thought he didn’t want to hear. He missed the frown of concentration that wrinkled her brow when she sketched and the way she pressed her lips together when she painted—to prevent herself nibbling on the end of her paintbrush, she had once confessed to him. He missed the silkiness of her hair strewn across his chest after lovemaking, and the way her mouth curved then too, into an unashamedly satisfied smile that made him unaccountably proud to have been the cause of it.

  This morning she would most likely be in the Fourth Court painting what she called the secret garden, since he had sent word that he would not be there. He would like to see how her work was progressing. Would she give him one of the paintings if he asked? He’d like to have something tangible to remember her by.

  The Council had moved on to the menus for the various feasts, which they were debating with some gusto. The coronation was to take place in three days’ time, almost four weeks exactly since he and Julia had made their agreement. The desire to see her was painful. He had known from the moment that he had decided to stay, how vital it was that Julia left, how deeply improper it would be for him to consort with her after his coronation.

  But would it really be such a sin for him to see her again before he was crowned? He had not informed her of the arrangements he was making on her behalf for her journey, and he ought to. In fact, his time would be far better spent doing that, than worrying about what people would eat on the day he handed his life over to his kingdom.

  He was not fooling himself. Azhar sighed in irritation. He did not need an excuse to spend time with Julia. He had not handed his life over just yet. He had the right to claim one more day of freedom, and to spend it with the woman who was about to leave him for ever, to claim freedom for herself!

  Azhar jumped to his feet, startling his Council into silence. ‘I have decided to entrust the final details of the ceremony to you,’ he said ‘In three days’ time I will dedicate my life to Qaryma. I require some time to prepare myself for this solemn undertaking, time to close the door on my old life, to ensure that when I begin this new life as your King, I come to you unburdened.’

  This last remark drew some murmurs of approval and knowing looks that reminded Azhar of Kadar’s warning. No one would dare question Julia’s presence here, but everyone would be speculating. Until he was formally crowned, Julia’s position in Azhar’s life was none of their business but after—surveying his Council, he could see the relief in some of the older faces.

  They wanted their King unburdened of the Englishwoman. Despite the fact that it merely confirmed what he already knew, it sickened him to be faced with this evidence of the silent pressure, the unspoken rules and traditions he would be forced to conform to in the future. It also fixed his resolve and decided him to grasp not one but every day he had left. ‘Until the eve of the coronation, my time will be exclusively my own. Any decisions to be made on anything other than the ceremony must be deferred.’

  He waited, but not a single man seemed inclined to suggest the most logical alternative, which was to hand matters over to Kamal. None had questioned his brother’s sudden absence from council meetings either, nor that of the Chief Overseer, though they must know that Kamal was under informal house arrest, that the Chief Overseer was confined to the Cage. They would no doubt speculate as to the reasons for this.

  He sighed. For the time being it would have to remain just that, idle speculation, until he was in a position to implement his planned solution. But that, and everything else, would have to wait. In three days’ time he would be King of Qaryma. Until then he would be simply Azhar.

  * * *

  It was dusk by the time they reached the oasis. ‘It is known as Little Zazim, not because it is close to the Zazim Oasis, but because it is...’

  ‘Almost a perfect replica, in miniature,’ Julia exclaimed, surveying the spot from her vantage point on the seat of her camel.

  The lagoon was small, elliptical in shape, the water had the same silver-green sheen she remembered from the oasis where they had first met. A belt of lush vegetation encircled the waters almost entirely, leaving only one end of the lagoon exposed where the soft desert sands met the waters in what looked like a small crescent-shaped bay. Julia stared around her in wonder. ‘There is no one else here. Did you...?’

  ‘I wanted to ensure our privacy. There are some advantages to being a member of the royal family,’ Azhar said drily.

  ‘But people will know that you are here with me. They will be talking, Azhar, and—and they will be wishing me gone. I had no idea until Aisha said...’

  ‘I wish that Aisha had kept her mouth closed.’ Azhar leaned across to press her hand. ‘We discussed this before we left. I do not deny that your remaining here in Qaryma after the coronation would be unacceptable to my people, Julia, but I am not theirs to command just yet. I am sacrificing everything in three days’ time, I will no
t sacrifice this final opportunity to spend time with you, unless you have changed your mind. Do I ask too much of you? Would it have been easier for you if I had done as I said I would, and left you alone?’

  ‘No.’ She clutched his hand tightly. ‘If you can brazen out the scandal of my presence, then I can bear the shame of being the subject of palace gossip.’

  ‘I will not have you bear any shame,’ Azhar said fiercely.

  Julia laughed. ‘You are not my King, Azhar. My feelings are my own to command.’

  He smiled, twining his fingers in hers. ‘Your feelings and your life will be yours to command entirely very soon. You should be proud of yourself, Julia. I am proud of you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ The words were bittersweet, reminding her of all that she would be leaving behind, reminding her of all that Azhar would be giving up. She had wrestled with her conscience when he had come to her rooms this afternoon, having escaped his Council meeting, but her conscience had been no match for her heart. He did not love her, he would soon enough be duty-bound to love another woman, but for these next few precious days he would be hers alone.

  Carefully holding on to the pommel, Julia leaned closer to Azhar and kissed him fully on the mouth. ‘There,’ she teased, ‘that is to prove that you were wrong when you said it was not possible to make love on a camel.’

  ‘I will accept that it is possible to begin to make love on a camel,’ Azhar replied, ‘but as to whether or not we can continue...’ He moved so swiftly that he left her breathless, commanding both beasts to their knees before sweeping Julia from the saddle, holding her high against his chest. ‘I prefer not to have to worry about controlling a camel, when I have sufficient to worry about, in controlling my appetite for you, Julia.’

  She laced her arms around his neck. ‘Are you hungry, Azhar?’

  His smile made her blood fizz. ‘Ravenous, Julia.’

  ‘Then please, abandon any attempt at controlling your appetite for me,’ she whispered into his ear, ‘because I too am starving.’

  Her words made his eyes darken. Grabbing a blanket, leaving the mules and camels which formed their little caravan still tethered together in the care of his Saluki hound and his hawk, Azhar carried her swiftly across the sand, to the point where the trees and shrubs screened them from the rippling sands of the desert. Lying down on the blanket beside her, he kissed her softly, but Julia desired kisses as fierce and as wild as her love. She rolled on top of him, trapping his body underneath hers, and claimed his mouth, kissing him urgently, until his mouth and his hands became urgent too, pulling her tightly against the pulsing length of his erection.

  Julia moaned. She wriggled, struggling to free herself of her pantaloons and relishing the way the movement made Azhar shudder, made her shiver. She kicked herself free of the garment as Azhar tore himself free of his trousers. She was struggling to pull her tunic over her head when he pulled her back on top of him, fastening his mouth around one of her nipples, and she could feel her climax building, already peaking.

  ‘Wait,’ Azhar said, trying to claim her mouth again, but Julia couldn’t wait. One more swift kiss, and then she slid him inside her, not slowly as she had done before, but urgently, drawing him in swiftly and deeply, making them both gasp with delight. The rhythm she set was fast, but he matched her, arching underneath her, pulling her tight against him with each thrust, with each thrust pushing hard, high, so that the illusion of control she harboured was quite lost as her climax ripped through her, and it was only his own last vestige of control that allowed him to lift her clear as he came too, crying out her name into the desert sky.

  * * *

  Their simple camp had none of the glamour of their previous trip to the desert, for they carried everything with them on the pack mules, but Julia knew that it would be this night she would remember most fondly. The Bedouin tent was Azhar’s own, a simple wooden frame covered with animal skins. As he set it up, Julia laid the fire. Dinner consisted of hare and vegetable stew, the meat more succulent than that first one they had shared, and Julia had to admit, far tastier, thanks to the palace cook who had prepared it for them. Afterwards, they sat together by the dying embers of the fire, looking up at the stars, watching the moon’s ghostly reflection dance on the gently rippling waters of the lagoon.

  Julia was reluctant to disturb the perfect peace, but at the same time, she wanted to make the most of the opportunity to discover as much as possible about Azhar’s future. She would never know it, but she would like to try to imagine it. ‘Have you decided what to do with your brother?’

  ‘I think I have come up with a fitting solution,’ he said with a wry smile, ‘that is if I can persuade my friend Kadar to co-operate.’

  ‘The Prince who brought Daniel’s watch? What has he to do with it? Are you going to send Kamal into exile in his kingdom—what was it called?’

  ‘Murimon. No, I am not sending my brother into exile there, though he will certainly be spending some time in that kingdom—that is, as I said, if Kadar is agreeable.’

  Julia must have looked as confused as she felt, for Azhar laughed. ‘Border controls,’ he said. ‘You know from personal experience that the black-market trade unfortunately flourishes. It is a much bigger problem for Kadar, whose kingdom has a very large coastline. As a trader myself, I thought that I had a good understanding of the shadier side of the business, but when I questioned Kamal as to how he had disposed of the diamonds he stole, I was quite taken aback at the extent of his knowledge. It made me realise how vulnerable we are, and how much work has to be done to put an end to it.’ Azhar grinned. ‘It also made me realise that I had the ideal man for the job.’

  Julia burst into astonished laughter. ‘You plan to make your brother responsible for stamping out illegal trade?’

  ‘Unfortunately, no one knows better where to root out that illegal trade than Kamal.’

  ‘He surely won’t agree?’

  Azhar’s expression hardened. ‘Offered the choice of that position or permanent house arrest, he had little option.’

  ‘You are right, it is a peculiarly apt solution, and one that avoids shaming your family name, as exile would. In England, we would say you had forced the poacher to become the gamekeeper. I think you have been very clever.’

  ‘Thank you. I wish my little brother was more grateful, but I fear I have earned his eternal enmity.’

  ‘Oh, I think you simply have to accept that you will endure Kamal’s enmity no matter what you do. Even if you had abdicated in his favour, he would have found a way to blame you for the chaos his rule would most certainly have brought to Qaryma,’ Julia said.

  Azhar put his arm around her, pulling her head on to his shoulder. ‘I wish I could disagree with you.’

  ‘And what of his partner-in-crime, the Chief Overseer?’

  ‘Once I had settled on Kamal’s fate, I applied the same principle to his accomplice,’ Azhar said. ‘What you call poacher cum gamekeeper again. He has been stripped of his position on the Council, obviously, and has returned to the diamond mine in the rather less exalted position of guard, searching the miners at the end of every shift for any purloined gems.’

  ‘You do not fear that he will reveal your brother’s role in the crime?’

  ‘I made it crystal clear that I would have no compunction in exiling him if I heard so much as a rumour to that effect. I think his silence is ensured.’ Azhar sighed. ‘I thought long and hard about whether I was treating Kamal more leniently because he was my brother, but I honestly believe that he will suffer far more from the loss of prestige and the loss of his luxurious lifestyle than the Chief Overseer.’

  ‘I think you have been more than fair,’ Julia said. ‘I think you have been creatively just.’

  She felt the rumble of his laughter against his cheek. ‘Have I told you that you have a unique perspective on life?’

  She sat up, pulling his face towards her. ‘I like this perspective very much.’

  Azhar ran his thumb a
long her lower lip. ‘Truly,’ he said, ‘it is a view I don’t think I could ever tire of either,’ he said, and kissed her.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘But this is the rare moss Johara told me about,’ Julia exclaimed animatedly, ‘I am sure of it, the one which she says has special healing qualities. How on earth did you know about it, far less where to find it?’

  They had ridden out early from their encampment at the Little Zazim to this place which even Azhar had had some difficultly in locating. He smiled as Julia gazed at the thick reddish-brown slime which grew on the stones in the shallow pool with the delight that other women would reserve for jewellery. ‘You seemed excited about it after your last conversation with Johara, so I dispatched someone to find out more from her.’

  ‘I did not expect—you should not have gone to such trouble on my behalf, especially when you have so many more weighty matters to deal with.’

  ‘Julia, everyone else causes me nothing but trouble, you are the one person in my life who gives me nothing but pleasure,’ Azhar replied. ‘When you said this rather revolting slime was unique, I knew that it must be very special, and I wanted you to be able to include it in your book.’

  ‘Daniel’s book.’

  He considered this for a moment. There had been a time, not so very long ago, when he had resented Daniel Trevelyan’s ghostly presence, when he could not have cared less about the content of the man’s botanical treatise. Not now. ‘For me, it will always be your book,’ Azhar said, ‘and as such, I want you to make it the best you can possibly make it.’