The Sheikh’s Reward

by Lucy Gordon

  ‘Don’t,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t…’

  ‘Don’t ask me not to touch you, when touching you is all my joy. Don’t ask me to believe there is no joy for you in my touch.’

  ‘I have never denied it,’ she said huskily. ‘But there has to be more…or there is nothing…’

  He silenced her by laying his fingers lightly on her lips. The touch burned her. She turned her head away but he laid his lips against her neck.

  ‘There is this,’ he murmured, his breath scorching her.

  She tried to protest but the sensation aroused beautiful memories, and she had to fight not to succumb to them.

  ‘Ali-no,’ she pleaded. ‘There’s so much still to say-’

  ‘But we are saying it,’ he murmured, lifting her and carrying her to the bed.

  He undressed her and himself quickly. Fran tried to fight her own sensations, but her body had changed since yesterday. Now it was a body that had known him in the bittersweet intimacy of passion. It had responded to him as to no other man, and as it never would again. It flowered for him. It loved him.

  Her mind might be full of anger and despair, but his caresses made her want to weep tears of happiness. And he seemed to know it, and used his knowledge shamelessly to make her acknowledge him as her king, as she never would do in words.

  When he began to kiss her breasts she arched helplessly against him, seeking the skilful movements of his tongue. As she felt him give what she craved the heat seemed to rise up and engulf her, melting resistance.

  His hands caressed her everywhere, finding her intimately before he moved over her to claim her deeply. At the moment of union she sighed, and even she could not have said whether it was a sound of joy or anguish. She loved him so much, and she’d discovered her love in such heart-rending circumstances.

  When he had left her, he did not turn away, but held her close, prolonging the intimacy of loving.

  ‘You see,’ he whispered, ‘how it can be with us- how it must always be; you must never leave me- you belong to me.’

  At the word ‘belong’ her mouth tried to shape the word ‘no’, but only silently. And what use was a word against the burning, joyful affirmation of her flesh.

  He continued to hold her warmly, until the heat and the physical contentment overcame her and she slept in his arms. But even in sleep she was troubled. Ali’s loving had been beautiful, ecstatic, but she knew in her heart that it had also been another assertion of his power. He had demonstrated that he could subdue her, not through his desire, but through her own. She was as much a prisoner as ever.

  When she awoke he was still there, regarding her tenderly.

  ‘I told you once that I would only be satisfied when you yielded to me completely, in your heart as well as your body,’ he reminded her. ‘When you said that you were mine for all time and desired only to remain with me. Say it, Diamond. Let me hear you say the words, and swear that they are true.’

  She looked up at him from the pillow in despair.

  ‘I will never say those words, Ali.’

  She wept as she spoke, because her heart told her that it was true. She loved him beyond reason, loved him so much that she was engulfed by him. But she must resist her love and never, ever admit it to him.

  He scowled as he heard her. He could see the glisten of her tears, and they caused an unfamiliar pain in his breast. But that was something he must conceal.

  He rose, and turned away from the bed, hiding from her. Her power over him must be resisted and never acknowledged, lest she unman him. He had threatened her with his wrath, but then forgiven her. She would despise him, because no woman respected a man who allowed her to rule him.

  There was a noise in the outer tent. Swiftly Ali pulled a robe about him and went out. Fran heard muttered voices. Then Ali’s voice rose in command. A moment later he was back with her.

  ‘We are returning to the city,’ he said. ‘There is a message to say that my mother is on her way home. I would like to be there before her, to show my respect.’

  ‘Where has she been?’

  ‘In New York. Hurry now.’

  The flight back over the desert at night was magical. Far below them lights gleamed out of the velvety blackness. Gradually they went lower and lower, until the landing on the palace roof. Fran was escorted back to her apartment by a guard of honour that had mysteriously doubled in size since last time.

  Ali’s secretary greeted him with the news that Princess Elise had already arrived. He went straight to her apartments.

  The princess was an elegant woman with snowy white hair and a beautiful, fine-boned face. She had been born in London, sixty years ago, but now she looked every inch eastern royalty. She rose and greeted Ali with open arms, and a brilliant smile that made her face young again.

  ‘My son!’ she said warmly.

  He hugged her with enthusiasm. ‘You look younger every time I see you. Did you enjoy your trip?’

  ‘Yes, it was very satisfactory. You will find the fruit of my work in there.’ She made a gesture towards a desk on which several files lay. ‘I hope you’ll approve of what I have done.’

  ‘When have I ever questioned any decision of yours? Put business aside for the moment and let me look at you.’

  He stood back, holding her at arm’s length until he was satisfied. Then he grinned and hugged her again.

  ‘You look remarkably well for a woman who’s just flown all the way from New York,’ he observed.

  ‘Actually, I took a little detour to London. I seem to have arrived just after you left. And while I was there I heard some strange stories about you.’

  He laughed and settled himself on the sofa, accepting the drink she offered him. ‘People talk. When have I ever worried about that?’

  ‘Perhaps you should have worried a little more. The servants in your house didn’t know how to answer my questions. They shuffled their feet and tried to get away, until I had to be very firm. Now tell me about this English girl that you have “invited” to be your guest.’

  Ali shrugged in a light-hearted way, but actually he was as uneasy as his own steward under his mother’s piercing gaze. Here was one woman who saw through him and would tolerate nothing less than honesty, which made her uncomfortably like another woman, at this minute in his palace.

  ‘Miss Frances Callam is enjoying my hospitality for a while,’ he said. ‘Tell me more about your trip.’

  ‘All in good time, my son. I’ve had to play private detective to find my way through a garbled story about an employment agency, and a servant girl who vanished when you did. Through the agency I found myself talking to an enquiry agent called Joey, who is concerned because he cannot contact Miss Callam. I reassured him, hoping that I was right to do so.’

  ‘Quite right, Mother. Miss Callam is in no danger.’

  ‘Ali, why can’t you meet my eye?’

  ‘Believe me, Mother, you are making a fuss about nothing.’ Elise was looking at him wryly, and he reddened under that all-seeing gaze.

  ‘Ali, there are some laws that even you cannot ignore. I won’t ask what you’ve done, because it might be better for me not to know. But I expect you to bring this young woman to meet me tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes, Mother,’ he said meekly.

  CHAPTER TEN

  E LISE’S apartment was a clever combination of royal luxury and English comfort. She was immediately above Fran’s own rooms, looking out onto the Peacock Garden, and her sitting room was filled with light. Long net curtains filled the floor-length windows and wafted gently in the faint breeze.

  She rose, a tall, graceful figure in white robes, and embraced Fran warmly.

  ‘I have longed for this meeting,’ she said, adding mysteriously, ‘I’ve heard so much about you that it has made me most curious.’

  Tea was served. It was good, solid English tea, because, as Elise explained, ‘After thirty-five years in this country I still can’t do without my cuppa.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Fra
n said, sipping gratefully.

  They made polite small talk, with occasional interjections from Ali, until Elise said with a touch of exasperation, ‘My son, I’m sure you have affairs of state to attend to.’

  ‘No today,’ he said, smiling at them both. ‘If I leave you may talk about me.’

  ‘Certainly we are going to talk about you. Please go away at once. Can’t you see when you are not wanted?’

  He gave a wry glance first to his mother, then Fran, before reluctantly leaving.

  When they were alone Elise kissed Fran on both cheeks and smiled.

  ‘I knew you would be beautiful,’ she said, ‘from the effect you have had on my son. But you are more than beautiful. Speak to me quite frankly, I beg you. Are you here of your own free will?’

  ‘No,’ Fran said, and Elise’s face darkened.

  ‘We will talk of that later,’ she said heavily. ‘For now, tell me how you met.’

  Fran described the first evening, and what had happened subsequently. When she came to the part about the cheque, Elise said, ‘Ah! Now I understand something that has been puzzling me. Come with me.’

  She took Fran’s hand and led her into the next room. Fran stopped dead on the threshold. This room didn’t belong to a female forced to live in retirement. This was a business office, complete with desks, filing cabinets and all the latest equipment.

  Two young women were busy at computers. They rose and bowed when the princess entered, and she waved them lightly away. Under Fran’s astonished eye she went to a third computer and began to tap in some figures. A file opened on the screen and Elise beckoned her to look.

  ‘Normally Ali gives the ICF one million a year,’ Elise observed calmly. ‘When he suddenly added another hundred thousand I couldn’t understand it. He never does such things without first consulting me.’

  ‘A million?’ Fran echoed in dismay. ‘And-consulting you?’

  ‘I handle all his donations to foreign charities.’

  ‘All his-?’

  ‘About twenty million a year.’ Elise gave her lovely smile again. ‘My dear, have you fallen for the legend of the playboy who spends every penny on himself? How unwise of you!

  ‘Ali maintains this grandiose palace because it’s expected of him, but the oil revenues are spent first on his subjects, and only afterwards on himself. I must show you some of our hospitals. They are simply the best equipped in the world.’

  ‘But why didn’t he tell me this instead of just saying loftily that he wouldn’t discuss it?’ Fran said in frustration.

  ‘Because he is a prince,’ Elise said, amused. ‘He doesn’t feel he has to explain himself to anybody. You take him on his terms or not at all.’

  ‘And all those things he told me about not discussing serious things with women-’ Fran said with mounting indignation.

  ‘He was probably trying to annoy you. And it’s true that he wouldn’t talk with a strange woman, nor does he appoint women to his cabinet. He makes an exception for me because I am his mother. In this country, a man who does not respect his mother is considered a disgrace.

  ‘I remember years ago, in England, my own brother once quarrelling with our mother and telling her to shut up. No Kamari man would speak like that to the woman who gave him life.’

  She gestured towards the computer.

  ‘He takes his charities very seriously indeed, and they are all in my hands. If people wish to solicit donations they come to me, not to him. I visit them, and advise Ali according to what I discover. That is why I have been out of the country recently.’

  ‘And I thought it was a shopping trip.’

  ‘Well, I indulged myself with a little shopping as well.’

  ‘I can’t take all this in,’ Fran said, dazed.

  ‘Then I will give you some more.’ Elise pressed a buzzer on her desk and spoke into an intercom. ‘Be good enough to have my car brought around to the front.’

  Ten minutes later the two women were seated in the back of the princess’s personal limousine, gliding into the heart of town. They stopped outside a huge white-walled building, which Elise explained was the city hospital.

  ‘We shall have to go through the private part first, but quickly.’

  The private section was much like a private hospital anywhere, but it was the public wards that alerted Fran.

  ‘These are for people who cannot afford to pay,’ Elise explained. ‘The money comes from state funds, or, in other words, Ali.’

  Everywhere she looked Fran saw spotless cleanliness, the finest equipment and a high ratio of staff to patients. She had to admit that the place shamed a good many western hospitals.

  ‘The people with money are charged heavily,’ Elise said, ‘and they partly pay for the poor patients. But only partly. The rest of the money comes from the royal coffers.’

  ‘From the oil,’ Fran mused.

  ‘Not just from the oil. The casinos make a handsome profit.’

  ‘Casinos? Plural?’

  ‘In almost every capital city in the world, and several in Las Vegas. We need all the profit we can make because Ali has some very expensive ideas for irrigating the desert. So far most of the money has been soaked up by the sand, but he keeps trying one experiment after another.’ Elise smiled fondly. ‘Sometimes there’s a touch of the mad professor about my son.’

  She saw Fran craning her neck out of the window. ‘Something interests you?’

  ‘The Sahar Palace. Ali told me how it was built and then abandoned as not being big enough.’

  ‘Did he tell you what it’s used for now?’

  ‘No, I thought it was just standing empty.’

  ‘And he let you think that,’ Elise said with motherly exasperation. She said something in Arabic to the driver, and the car turned into the palace entrance.

  As they went through the main gates the big front door opened and two women came hurrying out, smiling as they saw their visitor. They were followed by a stream of children who engulfed Elise, with scant regard to her royalty.

  ‘They all love it when Her Highness visits us,’ one of the women confided to Fran. ‘They have no mothers of their own, so in their hearts she is their mother.’

  ‘This is an orphanage?’ Fran asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Elise said. ‘Ali insisted that this place must be put to good use, and what better use can there be than the future of our country? Come inside. I think you will see things that will surprise you.’

  But Fran was no longer surprised by any revelation. The home clearly had a generous budget and was well staffed and equipped, but it was the place’s warm atmosphere that delighted her. She had begun to realise that she knew nothing about Ali and the way he ran his country.

  At the rear of the orphanage were the classrooms. Girls were taught apart from boys, but Fran’s alert eyes noted that their science equipment was equally good.

  ‘My husband was an enlightened man,’ Elise explained. ‘Which is to say that he listened to me,’ she added with a twinkle. ‘I made him see the need for women to be properly educated. My son is the same. His ideas are old-fashioned, but the right woman could make him listen.’

  She smiled, apparently not needing a reply to this, which was lucky because Fran was far from knowing what to say.

  ‘Do the casinos pay for all this?’ she asked, changing the subject.

  ‘No, this is the London property portfolio.’

  It wasn’t until they returned to the palace that Elise demanded full details of Fran’s presence in Kamar. She listened composedly, only a small furrow on her forehead betraying any sign of disturbance. When the story was finished she simply said, ‘How charming.’

  They had tea together, then Elise declared that she was tired and needed to lie down. But as soon as Fran had departed Elise picked up the phone and demanded, in a voice that promised trouble, to be connected to her son.

  He arrived to find her pacing the floor, and her first words contained no welcome, and certainly no respect.<
br />
  ‘My son, are you quite mad? This young woman is a writer for several internationally respected publications. She has friends in high places, and you have simply kidnapped her. Are you asking for an international incident?’

  ‘There will be no incident that I can’t smooth over,’ Ali said arrogantly. ‘They need our oil.’

  ‘I like you least when you talk like that,’ Elise snapped, and he had the grace to blush.

  ‘You don’t understand, Mother,’ he said at last. ‘Fran and I-understand each other. We have done so from the first moment when I met her in the casino.’ His eyes kindled. ‘At least, so I thought. Later I discovered that she went there on purpose to find out about me.’

  ‘And so you fell in love with her and took her home,’ Elise said wryly.

  ‘Certainly not. I took her home but there was no question of falling in love. She was a pleasant companion for a night.’

  ‘Really,’ Elise said with a touch of scorn. ‘Continue. I am agog!’

  ‘When we talked-something changed. Her mind enchanted me. She took me back to my childhood, and the magic stories I loved to read. She knew them too. I could talk to her. We felt so close, but she wouldn’t tell me her name.

  ‘Then I was summoned away, on business, and when I returned she had gone.’

  Elise’s lips twitched. ‘She just walked out on you?’

  ‘Yes!’ Ali’s voice had an edge. ‘But she returned two days later, as herself. I’d agreed to see a journalist; I was expecting a man. Naturally I refused to talk to her.’

  ‘Naturally,’ Elise murmured.

  ‘While I was away, she gained entry to my house, pretending to be a maid.’

  ‘And so you decided to teach her a lesson. For what, I wonder? For her methods, or for daring to reject you?’

  Ali flung her a dark look, but made no comment.

  ‘So,’ Elise continued thoughtfully, ‘if you’re not afraid of an international incident, it seems that all you have to worry about is Mr Howard Marks.’

  ‘Who is he? I’ve never heard of him.’

  ‘I gather he is Miss Callam’s fiancé.’