A Sheikh to Capture Her Heart

by Meredith Webber

  She was asleep—it had to be a dream—but the surge of feeling through her body when Harry’s lips brushed her hand suggested that she must have been awake.

  Awake, and oh, so aware of the man beside her...

  But he was who he was—Rahman here, not Harry—so a furtive kiss beneath a sculpted apricot tree was not going to be an option.

  She could smell the faint hint of roses in the water in the fountain—more fantasy, a land where fountains sprayed rosewater—and walked towards it by the side of the man she couldn’t kiss.

  And she knew with terrible certainty that she shouldn’t have come—shouldn’t have answered his plea for help, for all he’d answered hers.

  For seeing him again, having him beside her like this, she couldn’t help but realise the holiday wasn’t over—if what they’d had had really been a holiday romance.

  Not for her, anyway.

  ‘He’s down this way,’ Harry said, breaking into her musings and guiding her down a side path where raised beds, set out in precise geometric patterns, held garden vegetables.

  Sarah told herself to lighten up, to relax and enjoy the wonder of this new experience—to set aside all other thoughts and feelings and live for the moment.

  Easier thought than done when Harry’s light touch on her arm joined them, providing a conduit for messages to hum between their bodies.

  Although that would probably be happening without the touch, she admitted to herself, then realised they’d left the garden through an arch in a tall earthen wall and were entering what appeared to be a jungle.

  ‘A jungle in the desert?’

  Harry laughed.

  ‘With water we can grow anything, even jungles, and while the sea along one of our borders provides us with water for desalination, we will never be without it.’

  Another gate, again through high earth walls, this one carefully locked with a key code for entry.

  Harry called and to Sarah’s delight an animal—probably an elephant—answered. Then, rumbling towards them from the shadowed trees appeared the huge bulk of the animal he called Rajah.

  ‘But he’s beautiful,’ Sarah whispered, awed by the huge beast who stood so quietly in front of them.

  She reached out and touched the rough hide on his trunk as Harry made formal introductions.

  ‘Sarah, Rajah. Rajah, Sarah.’

  The big beast seemed to nod, and Sarah stepped back a little, needing to take him in more fully.

  ‘I’ve never been this close to one before—never realised just how big they are.’

  ‘He’s a beauty,’ Harry said, so much pride in his voice Sarah had to laugh.

  Harry looked at her for a moment, then he, too, laughed.

  ‘Some first date for a woman—being introduced to an elephant.’

  Sarah studied his still-smiling face.

  ‘Is it a first date, Harry?’ she asked.

  ‘I think so,’ he said. ‘I know we skipped that bit on the island but, given the circumstances, I thought I could make up for it here. Take you places, show you things, while we get to know each other better.’

  ‘But are you free to do that? Your mother said something about you seeing to things, but are you free?’

  He frowned and she wondered, if he’d broken the arrangement, just how hard it must have been for him.

  ‘I could never have married another woman while feeling the way I do about you. I’m not even sure how that is, which is why we need to go back to the beginning, leaving out the lust part and just get to know each other.’

  ‘And why would we want to do that?’ Sarah asked, as too many emotions jostled in her head.

  He grinned at her.

  ‘Well, for a start the lust part is impossible here, where every move we make will be watched and broadcast far and wide. I do have some responsibility to my family. I hadn’t thought it through—I needed you for the op, but I also needed to see you, not even considering that seeing each other would be all we’d be able to do.’

  ‘And fully clothed at that,’ Sarah teased, as she realised just how he must have felt. ‘But why the courtship?

  The smile disappeared, and he frowned slightly.

  ‘Because it’s the right thing to do,’ he said firmly.

  Whatever, she decided. If it meant spending a little more time with him, even time made agony because they couldn’t touch and kiss, she’d take it.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, then to her surprise he took her carefully in his arms and kissed her. Not a heated kiss of passion, like ones they’d shared before, more a first-date kiss, a goodnight kiss...

  Or was goodbye lingering behind it?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SARAH DIDN’T ASK, simply satisfied to be with Harry as they talked beside the elephant then wandered back through the beautiful orchard, hands linked and bodies touching, and back into the palace.

  ‘I think I’ll show you the souks—the markets—tomorrow,’ Harry announced as he handed her over to another young woman. ‘Lea will take you back to your room and bring breakfast in the morning. Is eight too early for you? I would like to get out before it gets too hot.’

  It was beyond weird, Sarah decided, listening as Harry spoke to Lea, apparently giving her orders for the morning.

  ‘I have told her to make sure you have something suitable to wear—well covered so the sun doesn’t damage your skin.’

  Such ordinary words, but his eyes were saying other things.

  Saying that he cared about her?

  Loved her?

  She frowned and he reached out and smoothed the frown away.

  ‘Don’t worry, everything is arranged,’ he told her. ‘And tomorrow I will show you the souks.’

  His fingers slid down to rest lightly on her cheek.

  ‘Goodnight, Sarah,’ he said, then turned and walked away.

  ‘This way,’ Lea said, her English clear, unaccented.

  So why had Harry spoken to her in their native tongue? Had he said more than telling her to make sure Sarah covered up?

  ‘He told me to make sure I take special care of you,’ Lea said, apparently reading Sarah’s mind. ‘It is unusual for him to speak our language in front of a guest so you must be very important to him.’

  Was she?

  He’d said not to worry—everything was sorted—but was he speaking of the marriage arrangement? Was it because it had been sorted—his betrothal broken?—that he could take her out on dates? He’d said he could never marry another woman while he felt the way he did about her, but what way did he feel exactly? And if that feeling ceased, what then?

  Sarah shook her head, suddenly exhausted. She sank down on the bed in the beautiful room and shook her head when Lea offered help.

  ‘I’ll be fine, thank you. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  The girl disappeared on silent feet.

  Too tired to do anything more than brush her teeth and wash her face, Sarah stripped off her clothes and climbed into bed. She had pyjamas somewhere in her luggage, but again they were for winter in London.

  London. She must phone her parents, let them know when she’d be home.

  But when would she be home?

  And what time would it be there now?

  Her brain refused to think about it, so she turned over and went to sleep on a mattress that seemed more like a cloud than something solid, and with a faint rose scent lingering in the pillows beneath her head.

  Roses and Harry and an elephant called Rajah—they’d be entwined in her mind forever.

  That was her first thought on awakening to a bright, sunny day—perhaps all days were bright and sunny here—and Lea bringing in a tea tray, asking what she’d like for breakfast, offering to fix a platter of the things they usually ate.


  ‘That sounds lovely,’ Sarah told her, sitting up with the bedclothes wrapped around her.

  As soon as Lea left, she leapt from the bed, had a quick shower, and pulled on a clean towelling dressing gown that was folded on a shelf in the bathroom.

  Decent now, she poured some tea and took it across to the window so she could look out at the small courtyard garden while she drank it. There was something magical about it because, just looking at the patterns of the hedges and paths and the different greens in the garden, she felt at peace with the world.

  Yes, she had a ‘date’ with Harry, and had no idea what would happen next, so she’d just take life as it came, enjoying the company of the man she was pretty sure she loved, for all the impossibility of it.

  For now, just being with him would have to be enough.

  * * *

  Harry had an early breakfast with his mother, enjoying the traditional tastes of the yoghurt with honey, thick date bread and milky coffee.

  ‘Are you happy, my son?’ his mother asked, and he could only stare at her, for she rarely asked personal questions. But when she did, she would expect an honest answer.

  ‘Not entirely,’ he admitted, ‘although having Sarah here, being able to show her a little of our country, that makes me happy.’

  ‘You are from very different worlds,’ Hera said, watching him over the rim of the wide cup while she sipped her coffee.

  ‘I know that, little mother,’ Harry said. ‘Just as I know, and I think you know, that my little brother would be a better ruler.’

  ‘So you could move to her world?’

  Harry shook his head. He had no idea where Sarah’s world would be. She’d escaped to Australia to get over a tragedy but she was rebuilt now. Would she want to continue to live there? Might not her parents want her nearer as they aged?

  London! Could he live in London again without regretting every minute of every day that he had lost?

  ‘I don’t think the question of either of our worlds will arise, little mother. I think now Sarah has found herself again, she will realise how much the future has to offer her. I may not be part of it.’

  His mother was silent. Which was just as well, because when he said those words, he suddenly realised that since breaking the arrangement with the family of the woman he was supposed to marry, he had not considered whether marriage lay ahead for him and Sarah.

  He’d just known he couldn’t continue to see her—even for a date—while he was promised to someone else.

  But in saying the words—the ‘not being part of her life’ bit—he’d felt pain, deep within his body, and he knew he wanted her, perhaps needed her, beside him forever.

  Somewhere...

  * * *

  ‘When you look at all the sandals and shoes outside the different doors, I have to wonder how my shoes always end up outside the door I’m going out of,’ Sarah said, turning to Harry with a puzzled frown as she slipped on her shoes.

  ‘There’s no mystery,’ Harry told her, ‘as those of us who live here probably have sandals at every door, so the servants know the strange shoes in the line.’

  ‘And know what door the strange-shoe wearer will be using next?’ Sarah teased, and Harry smiled.

  His mind might be in turmoil over what lay ahead, but his body was so happy to be with Sarah, even if it was only for one more day, that he probably wouldn’t stop smiling.

  How asinine!

  But she did look beautiful. She was wearing traditional flowing trousers in a pale orange colour and a long-sleeved tunic over them, with embroidery around the hem and cuffs of the sleeves in a darker colour, almost the red of her hair.

  On top of it all, she’d slapped on a wide-brimmed orange hat.

  ‘Your mother found this for me,’ she said, pointing to the hat. ‘She’s worried I might get burnt but I’ve used plenty of sunscreen, and you said we’d be back home before the day got too hot.’

  Home?

  Could Sarah ever think of Ambelia as home?

  It was important because he’d realised on this visit that no matter where he lived, Ambelia would always be home.

  * * *

  Just happy to be with Harry again, on their own, out on a date, Sarah sat in the big four-wheel drive vehicle and looked out at the country they were driving through as they left the palace.

  It wasn’t desert, but rocky, red-gold country, and red cliffs scoured by the wind.

  ‘They’re like the cliffs at Sunset Beach, aren’t they?’

  Harry smiled.

  ‘I thought you’d like them.’

  Like I like you, Sarah thought, as her eyes remained focussed on the countryside while her mind mused over ‘like’ and ‘love’—two small words, but very important in the whole scheme of things.

  Because they led to bonds, and, no matter how much people thought they could manage on their own, most needed friends and family, people they liked and loved.

  And ‘hated’, probably, but that was a far uglier four-letter word—

  ‘This road ahead is my father’s pride and joy.’

  Harry’s voice brought her out of the internal debate she was having, and she looked ahead to see a wide motorway, lined by palm trees and with a median strip planted with smaller, squatter trees that still looked like palms.

  ‘Dwarf date palms,’ Harry said, pointing to the smaller trees. ‘My father likes to play around with plants and helped develop those. He says they make it easier for children to eat dates straight from the tree, and every child should have such pleasure.’

  The pride in Harry’s voice told her how close his family were, something she’d suspected when she’d met so many of them the previous evening.

  ‘That’s a lovely idea, but how many of them are skittled by the cars roaring down this motorway?’

  ‘Not one,’ Harry replied, pointing an overhead walkway, looking more like an exotic sculpture, with steps twisting down to the median strip.

  ‘Those walkways are scattered along the road—about every two hundred metres—and are built to resemble climbing frames in playgrounds so the kids can have an adventure on their way to grab some dates.’

  Sarah was about to ask if they were used when she heard the excited shouts of children racing each other down the twisting stairway.

  Children!

  There’d been children at the dinner, so obviously they were important to the families.

  Don’t think about it, just enjoy them.

  ‘Where do they come from?’ she asked, seeing the little forms darting among the small trees.

  ‘Beyond the noise barriers are quite large housing developments. A lot of the overseas workers live out this way. Many come from very poor and crowded cities and having space is paradise to them. As the city has grown we have needed them for the skills they bring, from architects and doctors down to people who can drive a back hoe.’

  Looking beyond the taller palms, Sarah could now see the noise barriers, painted with various scenes of both desert and the sea.

  ‘And here’s the city,’ Harry announced, and there it was, tall towers rising from the barren ground into the bluest of blue skies. ‘We skirt around it to the old town. There are shopping malls and other stores in the city, but for a taste of Ambelia as it was, we keep the old city mostly undeveloped.’

  Ahead, earthen walls like she’d seen at the palace came into view. Harry pulled into the shade by a wide arched gate.

  ‘You can take vehicles inside, but do so at your own risk. The roads are jammed with old cars, bikes, donkeys and camels, but, come, you’ll see for yourself.’

  They walked through the gate into a world of noise and colour.

  ‘Here on the right are the camel markets. Once a week, breeders bring their camels here to sell or tr
ade. Many people still live in the old way and use camels for transport, but today they are mainly bred for tourism and for racing, and as tourists like pretty camels, there’s great competition to breed the prettiest.’

  Sarah smiled.

  ‘A camel beauty contest,’ she said, looking around the covered stalls where a few of the animals rested.

  Harry took her hand and squeezed her fingers—first-date style—and although she tried to tell herself it didn’t mean anything, her heart leapt at the touch.

  ‘Now we’re into the markets proper,’ he said. ‘This area is for fabrics and clothes.’

  ‘Yes, well, I could have guessed that one! But how could anyone choose?’

  Sarah looked around in disbelief as traditional outfits danced on hangers on both sides of the narrow alley. Bolts of brightly coloured cloth stood amongst the outfits, and trimmings dangled temptingly from rods across each stall.

  ‘No prize for guessing this one,’ Harry said, when suddenly they were surrounded by metalware. Large jugs and huge pots, silver, bronze and brass, gleamed in the sunlight, the intricate patterns incised into them flashing out ‘buy me’ lures.

  ‘The shapes are so beautiful,’ Sarah murmured, lifting up a tall, graceful jug, running her fingers down its exquisite lines, thinking of the jug in Harry’s bure that had brought them both together.

  ‘They are traditional shapes, going back thousands of years,’ Harry told her, as she thought of her luggage and reluctantly put the jug down. ‘All such household items, even plates and platters, were made in metal so they could be easily transported without fear of them being broken.’

  Sarah moved behind him through the crowds, as aware of him, in this crowded alleyway, as if they’d been alone together. Wanting to touch him, brush lightly at his shoulder, his hand...

  ‘Now the gold. Prepare to be dazzled.’

  Harry led her to the right, and she was dazzled. Jewellery of every type hung from hooks and rods and stands like trees, right out in front of their eyes in places, so to get down the alley at times they had to walk sideways.

  Delicate filigree earrings hung beside chunky gold chains, trailing gold necklaces, up to eight strands in each one, competed with gold bangles and bracelets.