Desert Fantasies (Mills & Boon M&B): Duty and the Beast / Cinderella and the Sheikh / Marrying the Scarred Sheikh

by Morey, Trish

‘A-about Golden Mile?’

  ‘You knew?’

  Polly flinched at the barklike tone of his question. ‘I thought. Henry, Anthony’s butler, said you were Golden Mile’s secret purchaser. And I knew you were angry.’

  ‘Do you know why?’

  She shook her head. Weariness seemed to be seeping into her bones. It was over. All over. What she wanted was a quiet lie-down. Somewhere private where she could lick her wounds.

  Instead she was going to have a long flight home. She would have to present a calm face to the world. Hide the heartbreak that was tearing her apart.

  ‘Anthony isn’t a man to do business with though. It seemed to make sense.’

  ‘You are right.’

  Polly looked up and caught the edge of Rashid’s anger. It was gone in a moment, but she’d seen it all the same. Anthony had created a powerful enemy.

  He seemed to brace himself to say what came next. His jaw was set firm, his eyes holding hers with a fierce determination. ‘When I gave permission for this documentary to be made, I did so against my better judgement.’

  ‘I know. You showed me the docu—’

  ‘No, Polly. Yes, the documentary was a factor, but…’ He turned away from her as though he thought it might be easier to speak if he couldn’t see her face. ‘I thought you might be involved.’

  ‘In what?’ Her voice was a husky whisper, her mind racing.

  ‘Golden Mile is unable to sire anything.’ He waited, allowing her time to process what that meant. ‘There were all the usual safeguards in place. All the usual checks: bloods, X-rays, airways, movement and sperm.’

  She’d thought leaving Amrah, leaving Rashid, would have been painful enough; she hadn’t anticipated anything like the agony she was now suffering. ‘What did you think I was here to do?’ she managed.

  But she didn’t need his answer. All those conversations. The times when he’d taken her to one side to talk to her. The interest he’d shown in her life. In Shelton. All were given a new perspective now.

  ‘I thought you may have come to discredit Amrah. Discredit me. To find something that would hold me silent. Perhaps. I wasn’t sure.’

  The fact he’d not been sure didn’t feel like much of a concession. Pain ripped through her. She’d been such a fool. A gullible, stupid fool.

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘Because you love Shelton.’ Rashid straightened his shoulders. ‘And I’m going to take it.’

  Shelton. This part was harder to understand. ‘But surely…if Anthony has done something criminal…’ Surely he’d go to prison? There had to be systems in place to protect against that kind of thing.

  ‘I have offered him the option of repaying what he has stolen from me as I’d prefer it wasn’t generally known my own agent, my own men, took bribes to cheat me.’

  ‘He has no money. The more valuable paintings were sold months ago to private collectors. We only have copies. There’s nothing—’

  ‘He has Shelton.’

  And then she understood.

  It was like a dam bursting. For so long she’d lived in expectation that she wouldn’t be able to keep the castle safe. She’d imagined this moment. The moment when she heard that everything Richard had strived for had been lost. But she had never imagined the words coming from the man she loved.

  Tears welled up and fell down her cheeks unheeded. She scarcely knew they were there. All she felt was pain. Intense, cruel pain.

  Rashid had never felt anything for her. He’d made her believe he cared, that he genuinely liked her. He’d made her feel special. He’d kissed her as though he wanted her with a passion that matched her own.

  All lies.

  ‘Polly, if there were another way I—’

  ‘You’d let Anthony keep the castle?’ She didn’t believe that for one moment. Rashid was an implacable enemy and this touched his honour. She understood that.

  ‘No. I can’t do that.’ He pulled a hand across the back of his neck. ‘But I don’t want this to hurt you or your mother. I will see the dowager duchess is—’

  Polly stopped him. She didn’t want Rashid feeling sorry for them, for her. If the only thing she could take away from Amrah was the tattered remains of her pride, so be it. ‘I think you’ve got enough to be thinking about at the moment. I will see we’re all right.’

  ‘Polly!’

  She stood up. ‘It was all a lie, wasn’t it?’ she asked huskily. ‘You. Me. Today.’ Her voice broke on that last word. Their fabulous time in the desert. The sense of home.

  ‘No, I—’

  ‘Don’t! Please don’t.’ She didn’t want to hear the lies. No more. She didn’t want him saying how much he’d enjoyed her company or any other spurious platitudes. The fact was he didn’t love her. Nothing else really mattered but that.

  She made an ineffectual swipe at her face. ‘If I’m flying back to England tonight I’d better gather my things together.’

  ‘Pol—’

  ‘No!’ Polly stood up, holding him off with her hand. ‘No more. You will do what you need to do. I will take care of what I have to.’

  Somehow, and she wasn’t sure how, she managed to find her way out of the room. Karim looked up as she walked past but she kept on going, her back straight.

  ‘Miss Anderson, allow me,’ Karim said, coming to stand beside her and pushing the button that called the lift.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I have already arranged for a helicopter to take you and your colleagues to the airport.’

  ‘Shukran.’ Thank you. Perhaps the last time she’d ever use those words because she couldn’t ever imagine coming back to Amrah. Minty would find a replacement when the time came.

  ‘Afwan. I will escort you myself. Shall we say within the hour?’

  Polly nodded just as the lift doors closed.

  ‘Polly, you need to sit down. Pace yourself.’ The dowager duchess sat with a box of cutlery on her lap. ‘The auction isn’t for a couple of months yet.’

  ‘I want this done.’ Done and finished.

  ‘Darling, Richard would have understood. None of this is of your making.’

  Polly brushed a grubby hand across the side of her cheek. She knew that. It wasn’t that that was eating away at her. The eight weeks since she’d left Amrah had passed so slowly and they’d been filled with difficult decisions.

  The paintings they’d had copied quietly disappeared. The ‘Rembrandt’she took home, and had it propped up against her bedroom wall. Staff had been given their notice and had already begun to leave. Sotheby’s auctioneers were coming next week to begin their valuations and it wanted only Anthony’s word before the castle was officially on the market. Though he obviously had no intention of being in the country when he gave it.

  Polly climbed the steps and held up two copper jelly moulds. ‘I suppose these might be worth something.’ She heard footsteps. ‘Henry, have you—?’

  ‘His Highness Prince Rashid bin Khalid bin Abdullah Al Baha, Your Grace.’

  Polly looked round, almost falling from the steps she was standing on. She stood looking foolishly at Rashid, so handsome in a soft caramel linen suit.

  Her mother turned her wheelchair around. ‘I have heard a great deal about you. Since I’m sure you are aware my stepson left the castle weeks ago, I imagine you’ve come here to speak to my daughter. Henry,’ she said, lifting up the cutlery box, ‘put that on the table and then take me for a cup of tea in the housekeeper’s room.’

  Polly managed an inarticulate sound.

  Her mother merely smiled and looked up at Rashid and Shelton’s elderly butler. ‘I am ready for a break. Polly is exhausting.’

  ‘Have you come here to see Anthony? I’m afraid he isn’t here. He—’

  ‘No, I’ve come here to see you.’

  She stepped down and placed the copper moulds down on the central kitchen table, then wiped her dusty hands down the sides of her jeans. ‘We were going to open these old kitchens to the public some
time next year. I’m not sure how much all this will realise, but something—’

  ‘Polly—’

  ‘Anthony had already gone by the time I got home.’ She pulled the plastic clip from her hair and let it fall down around her shoulders. If she had to see Rashid again she wished she’d been dressed for it. Some sharp business suit. Make-up on. ‘I’m doing what I can to raise your money but it takes time. I’ve spoken to Karim about it and he—’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ Rashid stepped forward and took hold of her hands. ‘Polly, I have something to say—’

  She gave a half-hiccup, half-cry and pulled her hands away. ‘I don’t like listening to the things you have to say.’ Then, ‘I’m sorry.’ Polly turned back to face him. ‘I do know none of this is your fault. It’s Anthony’s. I know. I—’

  ‘But you are facing the consequences.’

  ‘I’m mopping up the mess.’ She took a shaky breath and attempted to change the subject. ‘Prince Hanif was named as your grandfather’s successor. You must be pleased.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Rashid’s eyes didn’t leave her face and Polly felt a compulsion to keep talking. ‘And everyone seems to have accepted that. In fact, Minty was saying—’

  ‘Polly, I have brought something to show you.’ Rashid handed over an envelope.

  She looked up at him. ‘Wh—?’

  ‘Please read it.’

  A muscle pulsed in Rashid’s cheek. He was nervous. Uncertain of her reaction. And it mattered to him. Polly looked down at the stiff envelope and carefully drew out the official-looking document inside.

  He’d bought Shelton. But more than that. Much more.

  Tears burnt the back of Polly’s throat. So much so she found it difficult to get the words out. ‘You’ve given it away? I don’t—’

  ‘I’m setting up a charitable trust to ensure Shelton’s long-term future. I can stop this if you think it’s wrong,’ he said quickly. ‘It will take time to finalise but this way Anthony and all future Dukes of Missenden will retain the right to live in an apartment at the castle. I know it’s not the same…’

  It was better than the same. Shelton would be safe. Its management would be in the hands of people who cared about it and who had the skills to protect it. But…it made no sense.

  Rashid intended to allow Anthony the use of an apartment within his ancestral home without cost. The future Dukes of Missenden, too. For as long as the line continued unbroken. He was pouring a staggering amount of money into the trust fund to begin the most pressing conservation work.

  Why? She knew how much Beaufort Stud Farm would realise and it wasn’t enough to compensate him for this.

  ‘Why would you do this for Anthony?’

  ‘I want to do this for you,’ he said quietly.

  ‘But the money you spent on Golden Mile. You’ll never—’

  ‘The money was never important.’ Rashid’s hands found their way to his jacket pockets. ‘What mattered was that Anthony should not be allowed to profit.’

  ‘He does from this. He can still live at the castle. He—’

  ‘And his son can, and his son’s son. Isn’t that what’s important to you? What was important to your late stepfather?’

  Polly nodded, tears threatening to choke her.

  ‘And I found that what really mattered to me, beyond everything else, was you.’

  Polly brought a hand up to cover her mouth, hoping that would somehow stop her from crying.

  ‘I hurt you, and I’m sorry.’ She shook her head but he continued anyway. ‘I hurt you when all I want to do is make you happy. Keep you safe. Fill your life with adventure. Polly, I love you.’

  It was like a dam bursting. Emotion flooded through her. It didn’t matter she was standing in a dusty, unused Victorian kitchen. That she was in old jeans and an even older baggy shirt.

  Rashid stepped forward and his thumbs smoothed away the tears on her cheeks, before he bent to kiss each eyelid.

  ‘You need an Arab wife.’

  ‘I need you,’ he countered, his voice firm. ‘I choose you. I want you to be the mother of my children. The woman who lives her life by my side. My equal. My heart.’

  It was hard to think clearly when his hands were stroking her face, his eyes caressing her. ‘My mother—’

  ‘May well want to spend time in England, but I’ve put in ramps, lowered work surfaces…’ He smiled. ‘I choose you.’

  Me. He wants me. Loves me.

  ‘And once Hanif is secure we can even live in England if that’s what you want. Polly, I have discovered my life is empty without you in it. I ache for you.’

  As she ached for him.

  ‘I can’t settle to anything. I can’t concentrate.’

  Polly reached up and smoothed out the deep frown lines on his forehead. ‘I do love you.’

  His arms closed about her, fiercely possessive. Incredibly he hadn’t been sure of her answer. She laughed up at him, letting all the love she felt for him show in her eyes. ‘And I can love you in Amrah. But what I can’t do is share you.’

  Rashid placed a kiss beneath her ear and then another by her eye. ‘Or I you. I will love you, and only you, until the day I die.’

  His beautiful, sexy blue eyes held hers for a long, long moment until he was absolutely certain she believed him. And then he kissed her.

  Really kissed her.

  Marrying the

  Scarred Sheikh

  Barbara McMahon

  BARBARA McMAHON was born and raised in the southern United States, but settled in California after spending a year flying around the world for an international airline. After settling down to raise a family and work for a computer firm, she began writing when her children started school. Now, feeling fortunate in being able to realise the long-held dream of quitting her ‘day job’ and writing full-time, she and her husband have moved to the Sierra Nevada Mountains of California, where she finds her desire to write is stronger than ever. With the beauty of the mountains visible from her windows and the pace of life slower than that of the hectic San Francisco Bay Area where they previously resided, she finds more time than ever to think up stories and characters and share them with others through writing. Barbara loves to hear from readers. You can reach her at PO Box 977, Pioneer, CA 95666-0977, USA. Readers can also contact Barbara at her website, www.barbaramcmahon.com.

  To Kelly-Anne, Jeff, Justin, Dylan and Bridgette: Family is always best. Love from me.

  CHAPTER ONE

  ELLA PONTI walked along the shore. The night was dark. The only illumination came from the stars overhead. No moon tonight. The wavelets gurgled as they spent themselves on the sand. Alexander had loved walking in the dark and she felt a closer tie than any other time.

  He’d been dead for over a year. The crushing pain of his death had eased, as others had told her it would. Only a lingering ache where her heart was reminded her constantly that she would never see him again.

  Sighing, she looked to the sky. The stars sparkled and shimmered through the heat of the night. Turning slowly, she looked at the black expanse that was the Persian Gulf. Nothing was visible. Some nights she saw ships sailing silently through the night, their lights gliding slowly across the horizon. Nothing there tonight. Turning toward home, she began walking, splashing lightly through the warm water at land’s edge.

  What a contrast this land was, she mused as she enjoyed the silence. Here at the seashore it was as beautiful as any Mediterranean resort; lush plants grew in abundance. She loved the leafy palms, the broad-leaf ferns and the flowers were nothing short of breathtaking. Each house around the estate she lived on seemed to flourish with a horticulturist’s delight.

  She enjoyed sitting out in the afternoons in the shady nooks of the garden, smelling the blend of fragrances that perfumed the air. While only a short distance from the capital city of Alkaahdar, it felt like worlds away from the soaring skyscrapers of the modern city.

  She would go to bed when she reached her place. I
t was already after midnight. She liked to work late, as she had tonight, then wind down by a walk on the deserted beach—alone with only the sand, sky and sea.

  With few homes along this stretch of beach, only those who knew the place well knew where to turn away from the water to follow winding paths through lush foliage that led home. Ella knew exactly where to turn even in the dark.

  From a distance, as she walked along, she saw a silhouette of another person. A man, standing at the edge of the water. He was almost in front of where her path opened to the beach. In all the months she’d lived here, she’d never seen another soul after dark.

  Slowing her pace, she tried to figure out who he might be. Another person who had trouble sleeping through the night? A stranger exploring the beach? Or someone intent on nefarious activities?

  Ella almost laughed at her imagination. The homes along this stretch of beach belonged to the fabulously wealthy of Quishari. There were guards and patrols and all sorts of deterrents to crime. Which was why she always felt safe enough to walk alone after dark. Had that changed? She had only nodding acquaintances with her neighbors. Ella kept to herself. Still, one of the servants at the main house would have told her if there were danger.

  She could cut diagonally from where she was to where the path left the beach, avoid the stranger entirely. But her curiosity rose. She continued along splashing in the water. The flowing skirt she wore that hit her midcalf was already wet along the hem. The light material moved with the slight breeze, shifting and swaying as she walked.

  “Is it safe for a woman to walk alone at night?” the man asked when she was close enough to hear his voice.

  “Unless you mean me harm, it is,” she replied. Resolutely, she continued walking toward him.

  “I mean no harm to you or anyone. Just curious. Live around here?” he asked.

  As she walked closer, she estimated his height to be several inches over six feet. Taller than Alexander had been. The darkness made it impossible to see any features; even his eyes were hidden as he tilted his head down to look at her. No glimmer of light reflected from them. The traditional white robes he wore were highlighted by the starlight, but beyond that, he was a man of shadow.