“It’s even more beautiful up here in the desert. We’ve gone for miles without seeing another human being. It’s just so quiet,” Pip said, glancing occasionally out of the side window. Apparently, he was forgiven for whatever he’d done to upset her. “The colours are amazing, so rich, and the dunes are spectacular—like waves. I should have brought my snowboard with me and I could have tried some sand surfing. Melina took James out on the dunes and they loved it.”
He grinned over at her. “It is, isn’t it? Some of those dunes are over eight hundred feet high,” he explained, nodding over towards the gigantic sand mountains. “I don’t know why I don’t make more time to come up here—appreciate it more.” He felt the need to push for a little more information on his friend’s behalf. “So what happened with Melina and James? Are they planning on keeping in touch?” He tried to make sure his interest sounded purely conversational.
“Well, James is James.” She shrugged her shoulders and looked over at him. At his confused expression she continued, “By which I mean, he’s a red-blooded young male. I think he really liked Melina but nothing serious was ever going to happen before he left. Much to my dismay, I think he thought a long-distance relationship was never going to stand a chance. Unfortunately Melina disagreed. She was heartbroken and I felt awful. I mean, it was me who kinda set them up but I thought she’d be happy to just have some fun too. Seems she was hoping for more. Anyway, I think she’s getting over it now. Someone sent her some flowers and chocolates, and I called James to make sure it wasn’t him. It wasn’t, although I must have woken him up or caught him at a bad time ‘coz he was a bit offhand with me, which is unusual. So now Melina is trying to solve the mystery of her new admirer. I reckon it’s Conrad in accounts,” she told him.
So Malik had a romantic side… Good for him. Shame he hadn’t put his name on his gift.
Satisfied with his enquiry on his friend’s behalf, he changed topic. “Wait until you see the house,” he teased. “You’ll love it. There’s a veranda and it’s lovely to sit out there at night and look up at the stars. Out here in the desert, you see constellations that you never get to see in the city. My mother used to teach me all about the stars when I was a little boy.”
He looked over at her quizzically. “What are you grinning at?”
She shook her head. “Just imagining you as a little boy; bet you were gorgeous then too. So is this where you grew up?” she asked as the desert lunar landscape flew past the window as he stared out.
“Hmm-hm.”
“So, how does it work exactly?” she asked before adding. “The sheik thing, I mean. I always thought a sheik was some old, dodger chap.”
He let out a sharp huff. “Well it’s really just a tradition now I suppose, although there are still Bedouin communities a little way into the desert. It’s really now just a title handed down from my father, although I do still help resolve internal problems and issues. If you’re really interested, we could visit one not too far from here.”
She looked over at him briefly. “Wow, I mean, yes. I’d love to see that,” she said enthusiastically before focusing her attention back on the long straight road ahead.
“My father was the local sheik until, as you know, he handed that title over to me. Although we have made lots of progress with the culture—religious diversity, infrastructure and lifestyles in the city—things out here are pretty much as they have been for hundreds of years. I was worried about how the two worlds would gel and exist together but they just do. We kept our heritage but support the camps. We provide access to education for the children right through to university level, and we give them any business support that they might need to sell their wares to the increasing numbers of tourists and in the bigger towns. That’s where I come in and help. Here,” Jumal said, pointing towards a dirt track coming up on the right-hand side. “Turn up there.”
Pip narrowed her eyes. “Up there” she checked, pointing with her index finger. “Will the car get up there?”
“She’ll be fine,” he assured her. Pip turned off as directed and tentatively steered the car up the track.
***
“Oh my goodness,” Pip exclaimed as they reached the crest of the hill and the home came into view. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this.” She gestured widely with her hand.
Jumal furrowed his brow as he looked down at her. “What were you expecting?”
“Just something—I don’t know—more modern. Just another version of your apartment, but out here and in a house, I guess,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.
The ranch-style home was widespread and featured lots of greenery. Jumal explained that it was only possible through some state-of-the-art irrigation system and something about desalination and solar panels, but she’d zoned out when he was trying to explain how it all worked. White wooden fences surrounded the property and she could see several horses scattered throughout the fields. As they entered through the prerequisite security-guarded gates to ensure the safety and protection of his world-class horses, she noticed the wraparound porch.
“There’s a saltwater swimming pool out the back too if you’re interested.” Jumal added, “But I’ll give you the full tour. I have staff in residence to make dinner but I’d really like to take you out somewhere tonight if you’re not too tired. We can do that visit to the Bedouin on the way as well,” he suggested eagerly.
“Sure.”
They spent the next hour or so touring the grounds and Jumal reintroduced her to the foal—Apollo—he’d bought from Matt when he flew to the stud last December.
“He’s beautiful,” she gushed, stroking down the foal’s mane as she fed a carrot him from her palm. She wasn’t only thinking about Apollo.
***
Jumal walked proudly from his dressing room. He was wearing the traditional white robes with a red-and-white headdress secured with a black twisted rope. She seemed to recall it was called an agal.
Pip saw him reflected in the mirror she was using while she put her earrings in. “Good lord,” she stuttered, her hand shooting to her chest as she spun around to face him. “You’re every woman’s hottest fantasy right now. Wait…wait, let me take a picture.”
His cheeks heated and he dropped his head briefly at her statement. “But I’m only interested in being yours.” He smiled cheekily, nodding at her, and stalked over to her. “Because you are mine Pippa,” he declared before bending to kiss her. He broke their embrace as they were both left breathless.
“My very own, real-life Lawrence of Arabia. For the next couple of months anyway. I may swoon,” she declared, fanning herself dramatically with her hand. “Would you catch me?”
“Always,” he promised before dropping another soft kiss to her lips. He gave her a boyish grin. “Come on,” he encouraged, taking her hand. “We’d better get going before I change my mind and take you to bed.”
***
They drove for about half an hour inland, deeper into the desert, the setting sun swamping the land with a warm, hazy glow. She’d chosen a light mint green, fifties-style summer dress but added a white cardigan and popped a silver wrap in her bag at Jumal’s warning that the desert would get cold later. She’d added sensible flats for the visit to the Bedouin village.
On the journey, Jumal had explained the make-up of the village and the importance of the family.
The village was made up of several tents in varying sizes but all colourfully decorated and scattered around palm trees.
“Camels!” she exclaimed excitedly, exiting the car as she pointed towards the small herd. She clapped her hands and then reached for her phone to take a photo.
“Hmm-hm,” Jumal whispered into her ear as he came up behind her and hugged her back to his chest. “How do you think we’re getting to the restaurant?”
She gasped and spun around. “Oh but I’m not really dressed for that, if I’d known—” she complained, holding the skirt of her dress out widely.
�
��Wait,” Jumal said, turning her in his arms. “You mean you’d happily get up on a camel and ride in the desert with me? I was joking,” he clarified, astounded.
“Are you kidding? Of course I would,” she agreed, nodding intensely and peering back over her shoulder at the animals.
Jumal seemed stupefied. He shook his head and took her hand to lead her towards one of the larger tents. “Unbelievable,” she heard him mutter not quite under his breath. “No bloody fear.”
Chapter Ten
She gingerly entered the tent, having covered her head respectfully with a silver scarf from her handbag, and was sincerely surprised by the space and luxury it offered. The smell of roasting spices and coffee was mouth-watering. At the centre was a wooden fire pit; Jumal had the mock gas version at his house. An older woman with warm eyes and deep-set wrinkles beckoned her inside and offered her a drink of tea in a small white ceramic pot, nodding appreciatively as Pip managed to thank her with some faltering Arabic. Pip caught Jumal’s gratitude at her attempt.
She was shown to a seating area with a scattering of purple, orange and red cushions. The entire floor was covered with rugs in a multitude of rustic colours, and she sat crossed-legged, happily observing as Jumal partook of the traditional hookah bubble pipe with several older men of the tribe. She loved listening to the guttural sounds of their language. A plate with freshly baked pitta from the fire pit was handed around the group, together with pots of hummus and olives. Pip munched away contentedly.
Jumal was perfectly comfortable. He sat crossed-legged on the floor, talking with the older men who seemed to look to him for advice. They listened attentively to what he had to say—not that she could understand any of it. It just seemed that way. At one point, Jumal had shocked her with his exultant laughter and wide grin as he patted one of the men on his back exuberantly. Despite the fact that he was probably the youngest of the men partaking of the pipe, the others watched him as if he were the most important man in their camp. The role of a sheik was a revelation to her and it was clear that it wasn’t just a title; it was an important position and Jumal enjoyed his time here. It seemed like a “time out” from the day-to-day routine back in the city. No matter what she might have wished for the future, it was evident that Jumal would always be needed here.
They stayed for over an hour and she spent time showing the younger children how to sketch with a pencil. It was something that her mother had taught both her and Matt when they were younger. In turn they showed her the soft leather bracelets they made to sell in the local market. Eventually, Jumal motioned that it was time to leave. After offering her thanks she followed Jumal and they waved at a young boy who was shepherding goats back into their pen.
“Thank you for bringing me, Jumal. That was truly amazing, certainly one for the scrapbook memories,” she said, as he guided her back towards their car. She turned to take another quick photo with her phone.
“You’re welcome. I love—” he paused briefly “—er, that you wanted to see it and share it with me. Thank you,” he added softly, before lightly running his fingers over her cheek and touching her scarf. “You look beautiful by the way.”
As they strolled back to the car he gazed down at their joined hands and said, “I suppose I should at least be grateful that I landed on my right side.”
She looked over and shielded her eyes from the low setting sun with her free hand. “Why’s that?”
He dropped his eyes again to their joined hands. “So I can hold your hand while you drive us around,” he explained, as if this was perfectly obvious, before looking up to meet her eyes and adding mischievously, “chauffeur.”
***
After another twenty minutes or so of driving, during which Jumal had held her hand over the middle console, he instructed her to pull the car over and park alongside four other four-by-four vehicles.
Pip looked out the window at the surrounding darkness. “Where are we?” she asked, confused.
“You’ll see,” he teased vaguely, opening his door and coming round to open hers. “Shall we?” Jumal asked, as he chivalrously offered her his left arm. Pip took it happily and allowed Jumal to walk her towards what looked like a cave with a dim light radiating from inside.
“We’re eating here?” she asked sceptically, peering out the side window.
“Hmm-hm. Trust me. If I know you at all, you’ll love it.”
Pip let out a sharp breath as they entered the large cave. Her mouth dropped open with surprise. It was an actual restaurant, although unlike any she had ever frequented, and they were escorted to a bar area and seated with menus and drinks. It was a genuine cave, warmed in the day through the absorption of the sun’s blistering heat in the rock. She could smell the warmth of the sandstone. She kept gawping around the area to take in the unique setting. There were only five tables in the intimate restaurant area, which was set lower in the cave, down several stone steps carved into the cave floor. The cavernous room was lit with only natural candlelight from table candles, larger candelabras scattered around the floor and torches mounted on the cave walls. It created a romantic, otherworldly feeling, like something from the pages of A Midsummer Night’s Dream; she half expected their waiter to be Puck.
***
Pip was so content she felt like she should be curled up on Jumal’s lap purring rather than concentrating on her driving. The meal had been wonderfully romantic; she’d eventually stopped noticing the sideways glances from the other guests. They had giggled as they shared their food and more stories of growing up and right through to her university studies and his setting up his own successful business.
She felt sorry for the young boy who’d been sent off to university in England, his every action supervised and controlled by minders employed by his father. Even though most of his friends were enjoying the freedom that usually came with tertiary education, Jumal had to focus on his studies almost all the time. He’d told her how he’d found it difficult to settle at first; he felt swamped and overawed by all the people and the unrelenting fast pace of life in England. He’d told her how he was used to being able to simply mount his horse and head off for the day, unlikely to come across another person. That was almost impossible in most areas of England.
He’d admitted to her that he was actually quite shy and had begged his father not to send him away from home, up until leaving for university. Then he and Matt had become friends and Matt had encouraged Jumal into fancy dress to get out for the odd nights in Oxford and Cambridge and further afield, and they’d both made the rowing team, which gave him some limited degree of freedom. His father had confirmed his agreement to him taking up the sport.
The wheel suddenly jerked under her hands, shuddering and pulling to the side. Jumal sat up straighter and let go of her hand as she managed to guide it to a controlled stop. Jumal looked over at her worried expression and offered her a reassuring smile. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.”
After a few moments on her own, strumming her nails on the wheel, she grew restless and curious and got out to investigate.
She found Jumal at the back of the car, resting on his haunches, his good arm pressed against the side of the car as he looked at the nearside back tyre.
“What’s the problem?”
He looked up at her from his lower position, concern etched on his brow.
“We’ve got a puncture,” he told her, raking a hand through his hair. “And it’s not a run-flat tyre.”
“Oh right, phew, I thought we’d hit something. So I guess we don’t just call a garage out here then, hey?” she joked, looking around the deserted desert.
“No. No phone signal out here in the desert anyway,” Jumal told her and she caught the worried expression on his face before he hid it.
“Right, well, I assume you’ve got a spare. Can’t we just change it?” she asked innocently.
“Er,” Jumal mumbled as he straightened and brushed the dust from his trousers with his good arm.
Sh
e cocked her head to the side. “Tell me you have a spare.”
“Oh yeah, I’ve got a spare—” he nodded “—but I can’t change it,” he admitted, somewhat sheepishly.
“Oh I know, your arm ‘n’ all,” she said pointing at his lighter strapping. “But I can change it if you tell me where the spare is in these cars, and the locking wheel nut.”
“The what?” Jumal asked, squinting and shaking his head in confusion.
Pip stood back and crossed her hands over her chest and let out a sigh. “You have no idea how to change a tyre, do you?”
He shrugged and blushed at her challenge before finally shaking his head. “I was never shown. Hell until a year or so ago I had a permanent chauffeur.”
She stalked back to the passenger seat and rummaged around in the glove compartment before declaring her success and returning to him. “Okay, well this time, you get to assist me, Aldabbagh.” She handed him the wheel nut clinically, just like he’d handed her that spoon back in his kitchen.
***
Jumal took complete advantage of the circumstances as he stood back, watching Pip at work and admiring her backside as she bent down to inspect the huge tyre. She’d instructed him to stand behind her and point the flashlight she’d found in the boot along with the light from his phone. Did he feel less of a man letting his woman change the tyre? Nope. He was all in favour of it. He’d take charge of the cooking; she would take care of all things automotive. Seemed a fair division of labour to him!
“So how come you know how to change a tyre?” he called out, moving his head to look around at what she was doing.
She looked back over her shoulder as she crouched on the ground, positioning some kind of contraption under the car and bending to check it again.
“Don’t bother me while I’m positioning this jack, Aldabbagh, or I’m likely to break your car—” he shut up promptly “—and stop moving the light,” she complained.
His Irresistible Darling Page 17
