by Miranda Lee
‘My goodness, it’s Paul!’ she blurted out.
Bandar’s fingers tightened even further around hers. ‘The man who loves you?’
‘He doesn’t,’ she denied. ‘Not really.’
‘He is coming over.’
She had no option but to say hello, then introduce Paul to Bandar. But how?’
‘This is…er…Sheikh Bandar,’ she told Paul, who was still staring at her in a most embarrassing fashion. ‘He’s a friend of Prince Ali—Prince Ali of Dubar. My boss,’ she added unnecessarily. Because Paul knew where she’d gone to work, Samantha having had to let him know a forwarding address for tax reasons. He’d even written to her there once, warning her of Prince Ali’s reputation with women.
‘I have heard of the Sheikh,’ Paul said stiffly, and held out his hand towards Bandar, his eyes finally leaving Samantha.
Bandar did not let Samantha’s hand go, and Paul’s hand dropped back to his side.
‘And I have heard of you,’ Bandar returned, in that haughty manner he could so easily adopt.
‘You’ve changed your hair,’ Paul said to Samantha, ignoring Bandar, who was looking more furious with each passing second. ‘Being blonde suits you. It’s a lot softer.’
‘I like it,’ she said.
Seeing the two men together brought home to Samantha why she was so besotted with Bandar. Paul was an attractive man. But Bandar was a man amongst men. A superb male animal in every way. Beautiful and fit and proud, and if she wasn’t mistaken he was something else at that moment which made her heart sing.
He was jealous!
‘Actually, I’ve never seen you looking so good,’ Paul went on, his eyes raking over Samantha again from top to toe.
Still, his staring pleased her. Because it wasn’t pleasing Bandar.
‘Are you staying in Sydney for the weekend?’ Paul continued. ‘Maybe we could meet up for a drink somewhere.’
‘Samantha is with me,’ Bandar snapped.
Paul looked flustered. ‘Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it. We’re just old friends, aren’t we, Samantha? No harm in having a drink together.’
‘I beg to differ,’ Bandar growled. ‘Come, Samantha.’
Samantha threw Paul a slightly apologetic smile over her shoulder as Bandar practically dragged her away in the direction of the grandstand. One part of her found his proprietorial attitude flattering. But there was still enough of the old Samantha left to resent such high-handed behaviour.
‘Hey, cut out the caveman stuff!’ she said, wrenching her hand away from his bruising fingers. ‘You’re hurting me. I seem to recall you said you would never hurt me.’
He swung round and glared at her. ‘When a woman is with me, she does not try to organise assignations with other men. You can at least wait until I go back to London. Then you can come back to Sydney and sleep with that fool all you like.’
‘What’s got into you? Have you lost your brains? I told you. I donot love Paul and he doesn’t love me.’
‘He wants you. I can see it in his eyes.’
‘Half the women here today wantyou , Bandar. Do you see me carrying on like some jealous idiot? I am with you because I choose to be with you. If I’d wanted to be with Paul, I could have chosen him. But I didn’t.’
That shut him up.
His hands lifted to rake through his hair, his eyes showing genuine regret. And something else which evoked a worried response from her.
The penny dropped. It was pain she’d glimpsed—physical pain.
‘Do you have one of your headaches coming on?’
Her question clearly surprised him. ‘How did you know?’
‘I saw it in your eyes. Do you have some of your tablets with you.’
‘No,’ he admitted with a grimace.
‘Then we’ll have to go back to the hotel.’
‘Iwill have to go back. You can stay if you want to.’
‘I don’t want to stay. Come on,’ she said, and this time it was Samantha who tookhis hand, Samantha who did the ordering and he the obeying.
Possibly it was the pain which made him so compliant. He did not say a word during the taxi ride, but she knew he was suffering. Once back in the hotel suite, she undressed him down to his underpants, then sat him on the side of the bed whilst she went to get a glass of water. He was fumbling with his bottle of tablets when she returned.
‘How many?’ she asked as she took the bottle from him.
‘Two,’ he replied with a shaky sigh.
She took two out, handing them to him along with the glass of water, before putting the bottle back on the bedside chest.
He winced as he swallowed them, a muffled moan escaping his lips as he lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. She hurried over and drew the heavy curtains, then closed the doors so that the room was almost dark. Kicking off her boots, she lay down next to him and stroked his head softly till finally, after an interminable period of time, he drifted off to sleep.
Only then did she take the bottle of tablets out into the light of the sitting room and really look at them.
‘Good God,’ she gasped. ‘Morphine!’
What idiot doctor had prescribedmorphine for migraines?
Unless it wasn’t migraines Bandar was suffering from.
Samantha’s heart stopped. No, it wasn’t possible. He couldn’t have anything more serious wrong with him. He was way too healthy-looking, too strong and too virile.
Look at the way he had ridden Smoking Gun around that track. Would a sick man do that? Okay, so it had made him tired. She’d be tired, too.
And yet what about that first night over dinner? Had it just been jet lag he’d been suffering from? Or had he been suddenly struck down by one of these simply appalling headaches?
He’d had another one on Wednesday night, too. Now another, only a few days later.
She knew migraines could be very bad, but usually not this frequent. And why have morphine to treat them?
She tiptoed back into the bedroom, placing the bottle of tablets by the bed before lying back down next to Bandar. He was breathing deeply now, his face free from pain. He did not stir when she kissed him lightly on the forehead, did not see the tears which filled her eyes and trickled down her cheeks.
‘You have to be all right,’ she whispered. ‘Youhave to be.’
Bandar woke to find Samantha sound asleep by his side, fully clothed. His head still felt thick, but that was probably the after-effect of the tablets. He picked up her hand, which was lying across his chest, lifted it to his mouth and kissed it.
She stirred immediately, her eyelids fluttering open.
‘You’re awake,’ she said, and he smiled over at her.
‘So are you.’
‘How do you feel?’ she asked, her eyes searching his face.
‘Much better, thanks to you,’ he said, sucking one of her fingertips into his mouth, then turning her hand over and licking the centre of the palm. She gasped and tried to pull her hand away, but he grabbed her wrist with his other hand and she stopped struggling.
‘You make almost as good a nurse as a love-slave,’ he murmured, then licked her palm again.
Keep it light, Bandar, he told himself, and sexy. This is all she wants from you for now.
But he had hopes for the future. If hehad a future.
‘Bandar…’
‘What?’
‘You don’t have a brain tumour, do you?’
He could not help it. Surprise stopped him in mid-lick, his head jerking up to meet her far too intelligent eyes.
‘Do not lie to me,’ she said almost sternly.
What did she think he was? A total fool? If he told her the truth then this was over, right now. Hehad to lie. Because he could not leave her just yet. He loved her too much.
At the same time, Bandar accepted that it was insane to delay his operation much longer. For one thing, he could not bear any more of these headaches. They were crippling; only his male pride had stopped him from screami
ng with pain this afternoon. He would contact Ali by e-mail later this evening and explain the situation. He’d brought his laptop with him. He’d e-mail his surgeon’s office as well. And then he would book a seat on a flight to London for tomorrow night.
The next twenty-four hours, however, were going to be his. With the woman he loved.
‘Where on earth did you get that idea?’ he said.
‘The tablets—they’re morphine. You don’t take morphine for migraines. You do, however, take them for cancer.’
‘Cancer!’ He’d never actually thought of his brain tumour in that way. But itwas cancer, of course.
The word was sobering. It was also very effective at making people look at you differently. If he confessed he had cancer she would be too afraid to have him make love to her.
‘Do I look like I have cancer?’
‘No…’
‘I suffer from headaches,’ he said. ‘Flying always brings them on. I have found morphine to be the most effective medication. Those tablets are not strong ones, I assure you. I am not an addict. The only thing I am addicted to is you, my darling. Now, where was I?’ he murmured, and returned to licking her hand.
She stopped questioning him, her eyes gradually glazing over.
He undressed her slowly, tenderly, taking his time to kiss every part of her body, to imprint the memory of her sighs on his mind. She would be the last thing he would think of before he went into that operating theatre. If he died, he would go with a smile on his face and love in his heart.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SAMANTHAdidn’t want to go back. As the time for their departure approached, her joy began to dim and her mood darkened.
So, it seemed, did Bandar’s.
At four, neither of them made any move to get up and get dressed. Yet the helicopter was booked to leave at five, so that they could get home before dark.
Not that the stud felt like home any more to Samantha.This was where she was at home: in bed with Bandar.
‘Don’t go,’ she said when he finally went to rise, her hands reaching out to clasp his arm.
When he turned, his face was grim. ‘We cannot stay here for ever, Samantha. As much as I would like to.’
‘Would you really?’
He bent to kiss her lightly on the lips. ‘Of course I would. But life goes on. I have things I must do.’
‘But you’re not really needed back at the stud,’ she argued. ‘And neither am I. I could quit. We could go away together somewhere. Or we could stay here. For a while at least.’
His smile was strangely sad. ‘You must not tempt me. Like I said, I have things I must do. And they aren’t back at Ali’s stud. There has been an emergency at home. I have to return to London tonight.’
Her stomach felt as if it had suddenly fallen into an abyss. ‘You’re going back to London?’
‘I have to.’
‘But…but why?’
‘It is a private matter.’
‘Take me with you,’ she begged, panic spreading through her whole body.
‘I am sorry, but I cannot.’
Her panic gave way to desolation…Desolation and desperation.
‘But I can’t live without you,’ she sobbed. ‘Don’t you know that? I…I need you. You must take me with you. I won’t be a bother, I promise. You can have those other women if you want, as long as you have me as well. Oh!’ she cried, her whole mind shattering apart at the humiliating reality of what she’d just said.
She buried her face in her hands and wept.
His arms around her were gentle. ‘I am not going back to those other women,’ he said softly as he cradled her against his chest. ‘I will come back to you as soon as I can.’
His amazing words brought some hope to her heart. Her eyes lifted, still glistening with tears. ‘You mean that? You’ll come back?’
He smiled and kissed her on the forehead. ‘Would I abandon my perfect little love-slave?’
‘When? When will you come back?’
‘As soon as I can.’
‘But when is that?’
‘I’m not sure how long it will take to attend to this emergency. Be assured, I will not delay my return. If and when everything is fixed.’
‘You don’t sound sure that this problem can be fixed. Is it money? Have you run into trouble with some investments? Look, I don’t care if you’re poor. Please don’t ever think that. I don’t give a hoot about your money. I have money. I can pay for you to come back. I can support you.’
He stroked her hair and smiled so sweetly at her. ‘This is not a matter of money. Now, do not upset yourself further. Go back in the helicopter and I will be in contact shortly. I will take your phone number with me.’
‘You promise?’
‘I promise.’
‘When?’
‘Give me a few days.’
Bandar could see she was not happy with that. But he could not risk talking to her when his emotions would be fragile. He had to stay strong for his operation. Had to change his will as well. In a few days she would be contacted. Either by him or his lawyer. For he aimed to leave her everything he owned, this woman who loved him for himself and not his money.
‘I love you, Bandar,’ she choked out, and it almost broke him.
‘I’m sure you think you do,’ he returned, hating the hurt look on her face but knowing he was doing the right thing.
‘You don’t believe in love, do you?’ she threw at him. ‘If and when you come back, it’ll just be for the sex.’
He had to harden his heart. Had to find the steel to leave her.
‘Would you rather I did not return?’
Suddenly she was back, the angry woman he’d first met, her spirit undaunted, her fire unextinguished.
‘Please yourself,’ she snapped. ‘You always do.’
He smiled. ‘I am glad to see that you have not changed. You still have more character than any woman I have ever known. You will see me again, Samantha,insh’ allah .’
Samantha cried the whole way back in the helicopter. Character? She didn’t have any character. She was a total mess!
She was still crying as she stumbled down the steps of the helicopter and threw herself into the arms of the red-haired woman standing at the bottom of the ladder.
‘What’s this all about?’ Cleo asked, obviously perplexed. ‘What’s happened? Dear heavens, there’s not anything seriously wrong with you, is there?’
‘I…I can’t tell you here.’
‘Okay. I’ll get your case and we’ll go to the house. But where’s Bandar?’
‘On his way to London, the bastard,’ Samantha blurted out.
Cleo’s eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t say anything, wise woman that she was. She waited till they were alone in the kitchen of the main house, with a cup of soothing coffee sitting in front of Samantha. The helicopter had long gone, and everything was very quiet.
‘You’ve been sleeping with him, haven’t you?’ Cleo said, straight out.
Samantha was way past denying it, so she just nodded.
‘When did all this start?’
‘Last Wednesday night,’ Samantha said with a weary sigh. Now that she’d stopped crying she just felt terribly tired. Though it was more an emotional than a physical tiredness.
‘Mmm. The night I gave him that soup to bring to you. He’s a fast mover; I’ll give him that. And of course you haven’t been sick, have you? That was all an invention.’
‘I’m sorry, Cleo.’
‘Don’t be. I’d probably have done the same thing in your boots. Hard to knock back a man like that. I knew he liked you. I told you. By the way, why’s he gone back to London?’
‘He said there was some sort of emergency. He wouldn’t tell me what. It sounded a bit suspect to me. He said he’d e-mailed Ali and explained the situation.’
‘I’ll give Ali a call later. He’ll tell me what’s up. So what’s our playboy like in bed? Devastatingly good, by the look of you.’
&nb
sp; ‘I can’t begin to describe it.’ If she did, Cleo would probably faint dead away.
‘I suppose you’ve fallen in love with him?’
‘Unfortunately.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that. Sometimes it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.’
