The Sheikh's Last Mistress (Harlequin Presents)

by Rachael Thomas

  ‘I will groom him first.’

  The man inclined his head in acknowledgement and a few moments later handed her several brushes. ‘The bridle is hanging here.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She looked at the fine leather bridle adorned with bright coloured tassels, not sure any horse she’d worked with recently would tolerate such things on their bridles. Maybe Majeed wasn’t so bad after all.

  As the man walked away she entered the stable and stood, waiting for the stallion to accept her presence. His ears twitched as he inspected her from the corner of his stable, his head high and regal, his eyes wary.

  ‘You’re very handsome,’ she said softly as she stood and waited for the stallion to relax. ‘Almost as handsome as your master.’

  Zafir’s face came to mind in an image so clear it shocked her. She’d only seen him three times and already every last detail of those dark, attractive features was imprinted in her memory. If that wasn’t a warning sign she was letting her imagination run wild, dragging her in too deep, she didn’t know what was. The last thing she needed was the added complication of being attracted to the Sheikh.

  * * *

  Zafir had wanted to escort Destiny to the stables but had had to bow to protocol. She was here as his guest, a British woman employed to do a job and, as such, it wouldn’t be right to be seen offering her extra favours. Especially now, when he was finally accepting his duty to marry and produce a future generation to rule Kezoban.

  He entered the stables just in time to see Destiny go into Majeed’s stable, apparently about to groom him. Not at all how others had approached the task. He frowned, then dismissed his doubts. He’d sought her out because of recommendation and he would have to accept her way of doing things—for now at least.

  Silently he walked towards the stable and couldn’t stem the satisfied smile as she spoke to the horse, complimenting both Majeed and him. It pleased him to know she was not as immune to him as she had led him to believe last night. It also notched up the simmering desire just being near her provoked.

  As he’d walked her through the garden last night he’d known that if they were anywhere else but his palace he would have taken his attraction for her further. He would have kissed her. For the first time since he’d taken an oath to serve his people he wished such duties didn’t exist, that he was free to explore whatever it was between them. As she’d looked up at him, her lovely face in partial darkness, he’d wanted to take her in his arms and savour her kiss, to hold her against him and become intoxicated by her sweet scent.

  Had she known that? Had she wanted it too? Was that why she’d suddenly bolted last night as they’d stood by the terrace of her suite? He watched her now as she put out her hand, allowing Majeed to smell her. She didn’t move, but the curious horse came to her. She touched his muzzle, then gently took hold of his head collar.

  ‘Do you need any help?’ He decided it would be best to make his presence known before he gave her and the horse a fright.

  ‘How long have you been there?’ She blushed and he knew she was worrying if he’d heard her earlier compliments to him and the horse.

  ‘I have just arrived.’

  She relaxed a little, then turned her attention to the horse. ‘I will brush him for a while so that I can touch him all over, ensure he isn’t unnerved by me. Then I will begin my work with him.’

  Zafir found his thoughts wandering to how it would feel to be touched all over by her and for the first time in his life he was jealous of a horse. This woman seemed to bring out a magnitude of new emotions within him. What would be next?

  He watched as she turned her back on him and began to brush Majeed’s shiny black coat. She wore the traditional Western jodhpurs he’d seen her in when he’d called at the stables in England but, unlike then, she now wore a long shirt which covered her arms and the sexy bottom he’d studied briefly as he’d first watched her. She was bowing to his country’s dress codes as much as her job would allow. For that he was grateful, but he couldn’t help wondering what she’d look like in the silks women in his country wore. The thought intrigued him and he decided it would be something he would discover before she returned to England. He would give her a gift of the finest abayas and silks to wear.

  ‘Very well, I will wait.’

  She turned to look at him, her hand resting on Majeed’s shoulder. ‘For what?’

  For a moment he couldn’t speak. Nobody ever talked to him in that tone of voice. ‘To see you work?’ His tone was sharp with shock but the challenge in her eyes made him clench his jaw against further words.

  ‘I don’t work with an audience.’

  ‘I am hardly an audience. I am the owner of this horse and, as the Sheikh of Kezoban, I expect to get what I want.’ The audacity of the woman! How could she not know he would get just what he wanted and when he wanted it?

  ‘Then we have a problem.’

  ‘A problem?’ Briefly he floundered, like a man stumbling down a large sand dune, his balance disrupted. ‘I am not about to allow anyone to work with my horse without my knowledge of what is happening.’

  She moved away from the horse, put down the brush and came to the door. ‘Then it seems we have wasted one another’s time.’

  Had the world tipped on its axis? Had everything been turned upside down? He gave orders, not took them. He made demands, not met them.

  She looked directly into his eyes, the shyness she’d displayed last night gone and in its place fierce determination.

  ‘Can you help this horse?’ He snapped the question out, his patience tested to the full and not just by her impertinence but by the way his body craved hers.

  ‘Yes, I can, although it appears his master is in need of some help too.’ Her words were spoken in a low tone with smooth flowing syllables, but the unrelenting strength in them was unmistakable. Was it possible she knew how long he’d tortured himself with the guilt of not being there for Tabinah, of not hearing her pleas or understanding her unhappiness?

  ‘You are not here to analyse me.’ Maybe his presence here would affect the outcome. Was it possible Majeed sensed his guilt? This was all too deep for him. He didn’t explore emotions—ever.

  ‘When I work with a horse, I also invariably work with the owner as well.’ The slight rise of her delicate brows gave her a superiority he found strangely attractive. Something else he didn’t want to look too deeply into. It was time to retreat. Time to gather his strength.

  ‘Very well. I will meet you in my office this afternoon and I expect your verdict on what Majeed needs.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She didn’t smile and he couldn’t. She had got the better of him, caught him totally off guard, a sensation which both unsettled and excited him.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon Destiny waited to see Zafir. She’d spent several hours with Majeed, wanting only to gain his trust, because she could see beneath his fear. She needed much more information about what had happened to change him so much. She sensed he was a gentle creature who only wanted to please, which was all the more reason to take things slowly.

  The big problem now was how his master would react to having the death of his sister all but investigated by her.

  ‘The Sheikh will see you now.’ Zafir’s aide approached and she followed him through the tall doors she’d first entered on her arrival. Was that really only yesterday?

  As she stood before him, his gaze slid down her in an imperious way that sent a shimmer of awareness all over her as if he’d actually touched her and she was glad of her continued choice of clothes which fitted in with his culture and, more importantly, covered as much of her as possible.

  ‘You may leave us.’ He spoke to his aide but kept his gaze firmly fixed on her and she blushed, wishing somebody would stay. He gestured to a large chair in front of his desk. ‘Please, sit.’

  She did as he bid her and sat on the gilded chair. The room was so large, with arches opening out onto yet more ornate gardens, but she couldn’t focus
on any of that now. Zafir took all her attention. She needed to keep her mind focused and to quash the heady feeling that rushed around her just from being in the same room as him. Was that why she’d been so adamant that he couldn’t stay this morning? Because of the way he made her feel? Or was it the need to test his authority, to push his control back and gain some for herself?

  ‘Now that you have had time with Majeed, what is your professional opinion?’ His voice was deep with a firm edge to it that highlighted his accent. It also did things to her she had never known possible, like a tingle rushing down her spine and a heavy sensation deep within her.

  ‘Majeed needs time and he needs to build his confidence by facing his fears. As he has not left the palace walls since the accident I suggest I work towards that ultimate goal.’

  Zafir nodded as he sat in his large and very regal chair. She had to keep her nerve, keep her mind from thinking of his dark skin, the trimmed beard that made him so incredibly attractive. But it was his eyes which unsettled her most. Their dark intensity reached within her, bringing out a woman she’d never wanted to be, one who desired a man, wanted him in a way that was as impossible as her being in his kingdom in the first place.

  ‘I had anticipated that you would say that. Tomorrow morning we will ride out. I will take you to where Tabinah was found and endeavour to impart as much of the events as possible.’ His tone was courteous, his words firm and distinct and she wondered if she’d just imagined the last few moments when something like attraction had sparked between them.

  ‘That will be good. I understand it must be painful for you, but it is something...’

  ‘Painful?’ He cut her words off before she could finish the remainder of the sentence. ‘Why would it be painful?’

  ‘It must be hard after losing your sister because of the need to follow tradition.’

  He stood up abruptly, his eyes eagle-sharp, almost pinning her to the spot. ‘I had thought because of the way you have been dressing that you were acquainted with my culture.’

  Destiny frowned, unsure what she’d said to have changed things so drastically, but she wouldn’t allow him to intimidate her. She was here of her own free will and would leave if necessary. She stood up as quickly as he had, her chin defiantly lifted even though inside she was trembling. ‘I’m sorry if my sympathy offends.’

  ‘It does not offend. It is misplaced.’ He tempered his tone and walked around the desk towards her slowly as if he feared she might bolt through the archway at any moment and into the gardens.

  ‘Misplaced?’ The question came out as a cracked whisper and she could hardly stand, her limbs were so weak. Still he moved towards her, coming so close she could smell the desert on him and the heady, raw masculine scent of power.

  ‘It was to have been a marriage of convenience. Love was not involved. Just as it will not be when I take a wife.’ He looked down at her and she refused to break eye contact, watching him even though just being this close weakened her knees and made her pulse leap wildly. ‘Marriage is a contract, nothing more.’

  ‘But what about love?’ She couldn’t help the question slipping from her lips and as she spoke his gaze flicked lower, as if watching her lips move, and she had to fight hard against the urge to bite down on her bottom lip. What was this man doing to her?

  ‘Love is a concept I have not allowed in my life. Desire, however, is.’ She could see it in his eyes, feel it with every pore of her skin. At that moment he desired her. Light-headed and shocked, she backed away from him, bumping into the chair she’d just leapt from.

  ‘That is not something I know.’ Why did her voice sound so husky?

  ‘You have not desired something?’ He was playing with her; she was sure of that. Was it punishment for speaking out of turn?

  ‘Yes, of course I’ve desired things.’ She let out a long breath. For a moment she’d thought he meant a man.

  ‘Someone?’

  She looked at him, knowing that right now she desired him. What had he done to her? He was a powerful Sheikh, a man used to getting what he wanted and probably had a harem of women tucked away in his palace somewhere. She had to stop this. She was getting in way too deep. If she wasn’t careful, she would go down the same sorry road as her mother, falling for a man who could never love her.

  ‘No. I have never desired anyone and neither do I intend to.’

  ‘So if I touched your face with my fingertips you wouldn’t tremble with desire and need for me.’

  He reached out his hand and before he could touch her she knocked his arm away, glaring angrily at him. ‘I am not here to become one of your harem. I am here to work with your stallion. Nothing more.’

  He narrowed his eyes and she knew she’d insulted him. Was it because she’d touched him or because she hadn’t fallen into a heap at his feet, begging him to make love to her?

  ‘I do not have a harem of any size and I will be faithful to my wife from the day we are married. No woman has come close to threatening that ideal before today.’ He turned on his heel, his robes flowing out wildly, and went to stand by the archway, the sunlight of the afternoon framing him.

  He looked vulnerable and she swallowed down hard, finally able to breathe properly now that he’d stepped away. Last night she’d believed she’d been mistaken when she’d thought he’d been about to kiss her; now she wasn’t sure. Was she doing something wrong? Giving him the wrong message? She was a naive virgin who’d barely shared a kiss with a man and this particular man was so overwhelmingly powerful she couldn’t understand, let alone control, the way he made her feel.

  ‘You should leave.’ He didn’t look at her and the rigid set of his back made his disapproval all too evident but she wasn’t about to argue with him again.

  She needed to get away, to calm herself and work out what was going on between them. Every time they met it became more intense, harder to ignore. Whatever it was.

  She turned and walked to the door, about to reach for the large gold handle when she heard his voice again. Deep and soft.

  ‘Destiny.’

  She turned to him, not liking the way her heart lurched at the sight of him. Even across the vastness of his cool marbled office, she could feel his vulnerability, as if every barrier he’d ever used as a weapon was briefly down, exposing the real man.

  ‘Yes?’ she said stiffly, not willing to be fooled by his soft tone.

  He frowned and regarded her suspiciously. ‘Be ready by dawn.’

  ‘Ready?’ Her heart went into freefall. Ready for what?

  ‘To ride out. We leave before the sun rises too high.’

  His eyes locked with hers across the room and she couldn’t break the contact, couldn’t look away. Instead she nodded, her breath coming hard and fast. Finally she dropped her gaze and turned to pull open the door quickly, her haste to escape whatever spell he was casting on her making her clumsy.

  How could she want a man such as this hard and dominating Sheikh? She couldn’t answer that, but she did know she would have to keep her emotions much more firmly under control. He was too much like the man who’d broken her mother’s heart and dominated her life ever since. So why did she yearn for his touch, his kiss?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ZAFIR HAD BEEN up long before the first tendrils of dawn had shown themselves in the sky and now he waited impatiently at the stables. He’d wished he could simply go to Destiny’s suite and escort her himself, but if he wanted to avoid scandal and protect her reputation, protocol had to be followed. He was the Sheikh and she was an unmarried woman. Their dinner on her first night had pushed those boundaries—and he’d always pushed boundaries—but with his staff waiting on them he’d considered them enough of a chaperone.

  Yesterday he’d impulsively banished all his staff from his office, probably giving rise to speculation about why Destiny was here in Kezoban. He knew well enough how the tongues of gossip could spread rumours through his palace, yet now he was about to ride out into the desert alone with h
er because he didn’t want her to hear the more elaborate tales connected with his sister’s death. The only way to ensure that was to take her into the desert himself, tell her only what she needed to know. But still he questioned if he’d lost all sense of reason.

  In a way he was not yet able to understand, Destiny scrambled his usual cool and rational thoughts. He had a business to oversee as well as a kingdom to rule, duties and expectations to meet, and none of them involved the brown-eyed woman who had haunted his sleep, making him want things he could no longer have from the first moment he’d seen her working the chestnut mare in England.

  He strode to the stables, knowing that soon he would be able to escape the confines of the palace—for a short while at least. Riding across the desert sands, following the edge of the river that was the lifeblood of his kingdom was the only time he ever felt truly free to be himself.

  He’d never allowed anyone to accompany him before. Did it signify something deeper that he wanted Destiny to share such an intimate moment with him? Could it be more than attraction which kept pulling them ever closer to each other? He had to push aside the temptation to make it something more, even though he wanted to explore it until it fizzled out, as desire always did.

  Movement behind him made him turn as he reached the ornate archway to the stables. Destiny was being escorted towards him and, as he watched her gracefully walk, he couldn’t drag his gaze from her. She was beautiful and mesmerising.

  A whispered curse slipped from his lips. What was he? A youth who’d never touched a woman before? It was so far from the truth, but right now he could be exactly that.

  ‘Good morning.’ She smiled at him as he dismissed her escort. ‘I’m looking forward to this. Riding in the desert, I mean.’

  Satisfaction slipped over him as she blushed, her last words all but highlighting that she’d been looking forward not just to riding in the desert, but being with him. Again thoughts of a dalliance with this English woman rushed through his mind. He’d been committed to his duty from the first day he’d become the ruler of Kezoban, working hard and leaving behind a life of playing, one which had been filled with many beautiful women. He’d been faithful and true to his people, just as he would be to his new bride. But as yet he had not selected a bride from those chosen for him, and neither did he want to when all he could think of was Destiny Richards.