‘Hello,’ she said, and then, employing her usual sharp thinking instead of some love-hungry little-girl yearning, she forced herself to confront the reality of the situation.
Fact: they had just had sex.
Fact: Xavier was here to spend time with his father, not to be in bed with his father’s lawyer.
So what would any other woman do in this situation? She would give him a cool thanks-for-the-memory kind of smile and she would get out early, with her dignity and her pride and her heart still intact.
‘I’d better go,’ she whispered, and even managed to lean over to plant a kiss on his nose.
Xavier shook his head. ‘Let’s ring for coffee,’ he yawned.
‘I’d rather not—I don’t want anyone to know I’m in bed with you.’
‘Why not? Malik didn’t make you sign a vow of celibacy before you arrived, did he?’
‘Of course not,’ said Laura. ‘I just don’t particularly want to broadcast what we’ve been doing, if it’s all the same with you.’
‘Oh, come on.’ He gave a slow, cynical smile. ‘You would have to be very naïve if you believed that anything which goes on within the walls of this Palace isn’t already known by Malik and his spies.’ He tilted her chin with his finger. ‘And I am sure that this bewitching lawyer is far from naïve.’
There was something in his tone she didn’t like—something which was making her regret what had happened.
Determined not to make a big deal of it, Laura slid off the bed and began to pull on her clothes as unselfconsciously as possible—which wasn’t easy with those eyes following her every move.
It wasn’t until she had dressed and composed her face into the kind of even-though-we’ve-just-had-sex-I’m-not-going-to-come-over-all-heavy-on-you expression she knew was expected, that she dared to look at him again. And despaired that her heart melted at just the sight of him.
‘So what are you going to do now?’ she asked.
She had clammed up, he thought suddenly. Retreated from him in a way he was unused to. His eyes narrowed. Now, why was that? ‘I presume you aren’t talking breakfast?’
‘No.’ Her cool expression was starting to slip, and Laura was torn between wanting to be spirited out of there and wanting to climb back into bed and into his arms. ‘I meant how long are you planning to stay here, in Kharastan?’
Xavier stretched his arms above his head, not bothering to hide his nakedness or the fact that watching her slipping on her underwear had been enough to make his body stir once more. He ached. He wanted her again—but he was damned if he was going to beg her to get back into bed with him. Women did not usually leave his bed unless he asked or ordered them to. He was the one who left it first!
Frustration bubbled over into anger, but he sublimated it with a cool look.
‘Are you interested from a professional or a personal point of view?’ he questioned.
Laura’s heart missed a beat. There was something in his voice she didn’t like. Was he worried that she was going to start getting all clingy and possessive? And warning her not to?
‘Professional, of course,’ she said crisply.
‘I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet,’ he said slowly.
His troubled face in the dead of the night came back to haunt her. It had torn at her heart then and it tore at it now. ‘Why not stay?’ asked Laura gently. Because—no matter what the outcome of their intimacy—she felt that he owed it to himself to explore his roots. ‘And get to know your father.’
‘You think I should?’
Did that mean he valued her opinion? Laura felt as if she’d been given some kind of moral reprieve and nodded her head. ‘Definitely!’
Xavier’s black eyes narrowed suspiciously as everything suddenly began to click into place. How completely she had switched from cool to passionate, then back to cool again. Her seemingly inexplicable appearance in his room last night, wearing clothes designed to seduce—as indeed all her clothes were.
During the journey from the Sheikh’s apartments back to his room, had Malik somehow got word to her that Xavier’s mood was dark and unpredictable? Had she been told to pacify him in the most elemental way known to women?
‘How very persuasive you are, cherie,’ he murmured. ‘Tell me, is that also part of your brief—to convince me to stay?’
Something in his tone sent another whisper of alarm along her spine and the meaning behind his question became clear. Laura stared into eyes suddenly grown cold and thought how little she really knew of him. How could you connect with a man on a physical level, which at moments last night had seemed almost spiritual, and yet when you came back down to earth all that was left was emptiness and suspicion?
‘I told you,’ she said stiffly. ‘My job was simply to bring you here.’
‘And sleeping with me?’ he drawled. ‘Would you define that as a perk—or a condition?’
Laura froze, for a moment thinking that he couldn’t possibly have meant it. But one look at the icy set of his features told her that he had. ‘If I were the hysterical type I might just slap your face for that remark—but as I’m not I’ll treat it with the contempt it deserves.’
‘But you enjoyed it,’ he challenged softly. ‘In fact I’d go so far as to say you absolutely loved it—so I’d say it definitely fell into the category of perk, wouldn’t you?’
Something about the way he said it reminded Laura of how eagerly she had writhed beneath him. The way she had wrapped her thighs around his back and the way her body had arched ecstatically beneath his. How she would have loved to tell him no—that as a lover he was a dead loss—that she had endured what had happened with gritted teeth. But he knew and she knew that would be the biggest lie of all.
‘Oh, you’re right. I did love it—the sex was great,’ she said. ‘But then I expect it always is—men don’t get reputations as super-lovers without it being backed up by fact.’
‘Why, thank you, cherie,’ he drawled.
‘It wasn’t supposed to be a compliment!’ she snapped. ‘If you want to know, I think that going around seducing everything that moves is a pretty sad and empty way to live.’
‘Whereas dressing to seduce and luring men back for wealthy Middle-Eastern potentates isn’t sad and empty, I suppose?’ he snapped.
Laura opened her mouth to tell him that the silk-satin clothes she wore were a million miles away from the way she usually dressed—but surely to do that would only bring substance to his argument? If she admitted that her wardrobe had been commissioned by the Palace—and at great cost—he might reasonably ask why her clothes had been of such importance. And, in a way, she wasn’t completely blameless, was she? When she had been told to acquire the expensive garments she had readily agreed, hadn’t she?
Because she had wanted the job, that was why—and because she had been willing to play the part she had been complicit in their schemes. But if she had allowed herself to be decorated like a cake—then she couldn’t really complain if Xavier had wanted to take a slice of her for himself, could she?
Because you didn’t have to let him!
She lifted her chin, telling herself that his last memory of her would be as a strong, proud woman, and not one who was crumbling inside and wishing it could be different.
‘You know what?’ she said. ‘A constant stream of different women throughout your life means that you can cleverly avoid any intimacy and commitment, and that’s okay—that’s your choice. There will always be willing and available women for a man like you, Xavier.’ She leaned forward, banishing self-interest and regret from her agenda, her green eyes on fire. ‘But you’ve only got one father—remember that—though maybe the one you have got doesn’t fit in with your particular image.’
Xavier stared at her. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Maybe it will suit you to have a rich father you never knew. Maybe it makes you feel better—knowing you were denied access and forced to spend your early life in poverty. Though, iron
ically, that’s probably the main factor in your success.’ She studied him as dispassionately as was possible. ‘Maybe you’re one of those people who likes going through life with a reason to be angry—thinking it makes their unreasonable behaviour in some way acceptable. Well, it doesn’t—not in my book.’
‘How dare you speak to me like this?’
‘Isn’t it time that someone had the courage to?’
‘Get out!’ he flared furiously.
Laura suddenly felt the most delicious and heady sensation of power. ‘I think you’re forgetting yourself, Xavier. I don’t work for you and therefore I don’t take orders from you—and besides, I was leaving anyway, remember? I’ve got some paperwork to do, and after that I’m going to ask Malik to get me on the next flight out of here!’
Feeling his eyes burning into her back, Laura stalked out. It was possibly the most stylish exit she had ever made, but the satisfaction of knowing that did nothing to hide the pain she felt inside.
CHAPTER TEN
‘DO YOU have any idea how much longer Malik will be?’ questioned Laura, trying like mad to hold onto her temper, which was becoming more frayed by the second.
‘You will be informed just as soon as he becomes available,’ said his secretary smoothly, and Laura stared mutinously at his back as he disappeared through the door of Malik’s office.
She had been kept waiting outside the office of the Sheikh’s aide for almost forty minutes—growing angrier by the minute. She couldn’t even go back to her suite—because Xavier was there and, having stormed out of his bedroom, she would look and feel a fool if she had to go crawling back again.
Yet neither could she just pack her bags and leave. She had flown here by private jet, she was the Sheikh’s special guest, and as such it was going to be difficult to make her own travel arrangements and get back again. She wasn’t even sure if there were any scheduled flights back to the UK—they almost certainly wouldn’t be direct.
And they were bound to be expensive. Having gone to all this trouble earn herself enough money to get herself out of a financial fix, wouldn’t it be a bit stupid if she then blew a large chunk of it on a ticket because her pride had been hurt and she felt used?
The sensible thing to do would be to wait and speak to Malik and gently remind him—if it came to it—that he was contractually obliged to pay her and send her home.
The door to Malik’s large suite of offices opened and another of the male secretaries appeared, and bowed.
‘Miss Cottingham,’ he said, in the now familiar Kharastani accent. ‘Malik Al-Ahal asks that you meet with him in the Perfumed Garden—will you please follow me?’
Laura frowned. Had Malik exited from his offices by a different entrance, or had she been misled into thinking that he had been there all along? Not that she would bother asking his secretary, she thought, as she stepped out into the brilliant Kharastan day. His undoubted loyalty to his boss told her it would be a waste of time.
Instead, Laura forced herself to concentrate on the beauty of the Palace gardens and try to erase the beauty of Xavier’s face and body from her mind. Because a man could not be said to be beautiful or handsome—not if he had a black soul and a suspicious mind, and would pluck a woman up as if she were a flower to then be crushed underfoot.
But he could only do that if a woman let him.
The torment of her thoughts was momentarily soothed by the sweet scent of the flowers which drifted out from the Perfumed Garden. It was intoxicating and evocative, and Laura breathed in deeply as she followed the secretary through an arched arbour, where honeysuckle grew in wild profusion.
And there was Malik—standing with his back to her as he snipped a perfect white rose from its bush.
He must have heard her footstep, for he turned when he heard her and said something rapidly in his native tongue to his secretary, who bowed deeply, then left.
Malik held the rose out towards her. ‘You will accept this flower?’
Laura’s face was grave. ‘Only if I can be certain it comes without obligation.’
Malik raised his eyebrows. ‘Perhaps you will tell me why you insisted on this meeting?’
‘Because I want to finish up whatever work is left and go home—to England.’
‘I’m afraid that may not be possible.’
Laura’s blood ran cold. It was worse than her worst fantasies. ‘What do you mean—not possible? My boss knows I’m out here, and he’ll get worried if he doesn’t hear—he’s expecting me back at work,’ she breathed. ‘So you can’t keep me here against my will!’
Malik gave a short laugh. ‘My dear Miss Cottingham! We do much trade with England, and I do not think that the government of your country would look kindly on us if we started keeping its young women prisoners!’
Laura stared at him suspiciously. ‘Then why won’t you let me go home?’
‘It might be a little more…’ Malik hesitated ‘…convenient if you stayed. Just for a couple more days, you understand?’
But it was a velvet-cloaked order, not a polite request, and realisation slowly began to dawn on her. ‘This is Xavier’s doing, isn’t it? He has demanded this?’
Malik didn’t react.
‘Isn’t it?’ questioned Laura.
Malik shrugged. ‘You cannot blame the man for wanting you to remain here as his…companion—not in view of what has happened.’
Did Laura imagine the faint note of censure in his voice, or was she just feeling vulnerable and raw? ‘I’m not with you,’ she said. But then she saw the way he lowered his eyes, and suddenly she knew exactly what he meant.
He did know that she’d slept with Xavier—had Xavier told him, or had one of the servants gossiped? Laura was aware of the sting of colour to her cheeks, knowing that to try to defend herself would be a doomed enterprise certain to lead to even more embarrassment.
What excuse or reason could she give to condone her behaviour in a country where a woman’s honour was as highly prized as rubies? She could not even offer up deep emotion as a contributing factor—who would believe her when she had known Xavier for such a short time?
Yet it was not as it must have looked to an outsider. Deep emotion had been there—well, certainly on Laura’s part. She had wanted to comfort him as well as to be made love to. She had wanted to touch him in ways which were more than physical—the sad thing was that she had ever believed she could. Something strong and powerful had reached out to her—something so rare that she had felt nothing remotely like it in all her twenty-six years.
But now?
Laura bit her lip, wondering if she had been completely stupid. Whether what had happened had been all about her writing the script for what she wanted it to be—rather than the reality of what it was.
But if Xavier thought that she was going to continue with the intimacy, then he was badly mistaken. What was done was done—she couldn’t blame him for taking what she had so freely offered—but now it was time to look after herself.
‘This is intolerable, Malik,’ she said in a low voice, but the Kharastani man was shaking his head.
‘Only if you make it so,’ he demurred.
‘But we have interconnecting rooms,’ she pointed out.
‘And you have a key,’ he said sharply.
He didn’t say And maybe you should have used it before—but he didn’t have to. It was all there, written on his face, and Laura flinched.
‘And I suppose that if I make a fuss then my salary will suffer? You’ll withhold it—or use complicated international machinery to delay payment for so long that by the time I get it I’ll no longer need it?’ she challenged.
Malik’s eyes widened fractionally, as if matters as vulgar as money were not talked about within the rarefied surroundings of the Palace, but Laura didn’t care. She was not—like him—cushioned by the untold wealth of a royal family and its courtiers. She was a working girl.
‘I must ensure that everyone is kept happy,’ he said.
; ‘Everyone except me, that is,’ returned Laura as she recognised her predicament. She had no choice other than to stay, but at least she could word it to sound as if it had been her decision—her wounded pride demanded that much. ‘Well, I’ll stay for as long as it is necessary, but no longer. I’m not prepared to sacrifice my livelihood simply because I made a poor personal judgement.’
‘I think it will not be as bad as you anticipate. For all its antiquity the Blue Palace has many facilities for you to enjoy,’ countered Malik. ‘There is an Olympic-sized pool, a gym—and our cinema houses the most up-to-the-minute films. And I have assigned Sidonia to cater for your every need.’
Laura raised her eyebrows. ‘A gilded cage, you mean?’
‘There are many ways of looking at a situation,’ he said softly. ‘You could always try to enjoy it.’
Laura met his eyes. ‘If you say so.’ But it wasn’t as easy as that. If Xavier hadn’t been part of the deal, then it might have been—but how could she enjoy what sounded like a state-of-the-art holiday camp if she was worrying about fighting him off? Or, worse, fighting off her own attraction to him?
She turned on her heel, not knowing or caring whether she was supposed to wait for the Kharastani nobleman to leave first. If they were breaking the rules of her employment then she would damned well break a few of her own in return!
Emerging from the direction of the palace, Laura saw Sidonia walking towards her, and suddenly she was pleased to see the friendly and welcoming face of the servant.
‘Good morning, Sidonia,’ she said.
‘Good morning.’ Sidonia folded her hands together, the tips of her fingers beneath her chin, and gave the elegant bow of the traditional Kharistani greeting. ‘You wish perhaps to take breakfast now?’
Laura shook her head. ‘Not just yet. What I would really like is some exercise. Is there any way you could get hold of a swimsuit for me?’
Sidonia nodded, then spoke in her sweetly accented English. ‘But of course. The pool is equipped with everything you could possibly require.’
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