He stopped reading and looked her squarely in the eye. “Again.”
“Kadir,” she said, her voice softer.
It was enough to satisfy him, and he handed her the paper.
Kadir. It was a nice name, and it suited him much better than Excellency or Al-Nuri. She had suspected all along that simply calling him by his given name would make him feel too close. Too real. Too much like hers.
She’d been right.
Chapter 5
For the return trip, Al-Nuri had put the top up on the convertible. It looked as if they might run into a rain shower down the road, so it was a reasonable precaution. He also drove much more slowly, which was a relief.
Still, Cassandra missed his wicked, joyful smile. It was an unexpected response that she could not afford to indulge in. She never, ever, indulged in anything just for herself, or missed anything so inconsequential as a grin, or even considered placing her career second on her list of priorities. That had made perfect sense to her…until today. Suddenly she wasn’t so sure her well-laid plans for the future were actually well-laid.
And wasn’t that an unfortunate choice of words?
A few minutes more than half an hour from the college, the rain began. It didn’t storm, but fat drops fell on and around the car. Al-Nuri turned on the windshield wipers and dropped his speed, since visibility on the winding road was not what it had once been. The radio was off, and they both remained silent. There was just the sound of rain and the wipers, swishing away at the intense quiet.
Cassandra turned her attention to the Silvershire Inquisitor, reading the front-page article about the museum shooting once again. The article was no less alarming than it had been the first time she’d read it.
“The story distresses you,” Al-Nuri said in a lowered voice that sounded loud and ominous in the confines of the vehicle.
“Yes,” she confessed as she turned to page two. “It should distress you, as well. We both have reputations to think of.”
“You said the paper is not well-respected. Will anyone of importance give credence to the story?”
Cassandra sighed. “Probably not,” she conceded. “But we will have to be very careful. There can’t be any hint of impropriety between us.”
Without warning, Al-Nuri pulled the car to the side of the road, put it in Park and then turned the key—silencing the engine and the wipers. For a long moment there was no sound other than the rain all around them. Raindrops fell on the canvas roof and the windshield, pattering softly. After a moment, Cassandra realized that she was holding her breath.
“Are you distressed because some unimportant person might believe you behaved inappropriately, or are you distressed because they might believe you’re involved with an Arab from Kahani?”
Cassandra’s head snapped up and around. “My annoyance with the Quiz has nothing to do with where you come from or who you are. I’ve worked very hard to get where I am within the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and to have people think I use my position as an opportunity to—to hook up with men is insulting.”
He seemed a bit relieved, but she couldn’t be sure. “They will be watching us closely now, yes?”
“Yes. We can expect photographers to be waiting outside the estate, and if we want to go anywhere without them, we’ll have to sneak out, as we did this morning. That won’t be as easy as it was a few hours ago. The Quiz hadn’t hit the stands when we left the estate.”
Al-Nuri draped one arm across the steering wheel, in a casual—and yet not quite casual—pose. “Should I ask for another aide from your department for the duration of my visit?”
For a moment, Cassandra considered answering “Yes,” but it didn’t take long for her to reconsider. “No. I’m afraid that would only fuel the flames of the rumor. We must continue to work together as professionally as possible.” Let the press take their pictures. Let them try to find something—anything—inappropriate.
“No one is watching us now,” Al-Nuri said.
“No.”
“This might be the last time we are truly alone.”
She didn’t like that idea, not at all. “I suppose so.”
Al-Nuri didn’t make a move, as he had on the break-neck trip to Barton College, but the way he looked at her…it was enough to make any woman’s heart beat faster.
“Asking for one more kiss would surely be inappropriate,” he said. “You’ve made it clear that you don’t wish to become involved with me in any way other than professionally. I like you very much. I wish we had met under different circumstances, so I could pursue you with a clear conscience. But wishes are for children who still believe in dreams, not for grown men who are confronted each and every day with the harshness of reality. There are those who want me dead. I live surrounded by bodyguards because to ignore the danger would be foolish. And yet today I left that danger, that reality, behind, and I’m not sorry. I’m not ready for the day to end, Cassandra. I imagine you think I do this sort of thing all the time, but in that supposition you would be wrong. I admire you. I’m drawn to you. In a little more than two weeks I’ll be gone, and your life will go on as it did before I arrived. You’ve made it clear that you don’t wish anything to come of what we feel.”
Cassandra thought of arguing that she felt nothing, but it would be a lie—and he’d know it.
“So, I wish for one more kiss,” he said. “Here, where we are truly alone and no one will see. One last kiss, before reality returns. If the idea does not appeal to you on any level, say as much. Reject the idea and I will continue on, and will not mention it again. But if you feel, as I do, that such a kiss is necessary…”
Cassandra leaned slightly toward him. She’d liked it better when he’d just taken the kiss. Now he was making her choose, he was making her think. And she didn’t want to think about this anymore.
One more kiss would prove to her that her reaction to the first one had been a fluke. One more kiss would remind her that Al-Nuri was no different than any other man. “Just kiss me, Kadir,” she said. One more kiss to set her mind straight, and then she could dismiss the inappropriate feelings that grew stronger every time she looked at this man.
Al-Nuri—Kadir—placed his lips on hers, and as before he cradled the back of her head in one large, warm hand. The kiss grew deeper quickly, and this time she tasted desperation as well as desire. She leaned closer, he held her tighter and her lips parted more widely. This was the last kiss—this was all they could have—and so she didn’t want it to be over quickly. It had to last a while longer. His tongue danced gently with hers, and her arm snaked around his shoulder so she could hold on tight.
Sensations—passion, need, tenderness—all swelled inside her. It was as if her body pounded with what it wanted…what it needed. Like Kadir, she wished, for one impossible moment, that they had met under different circumstances.
But like him, she knew that was a foolish wish.
Had she really thought this kiss would remind her that he was just like any other man? He was not…and the kiss was truly extraordinary.
Cassandra drew away, breaking the kiss because she knew if she didn’t, she’d soon be unable to stop. She was not a woman accustomed to losing control. Kadir dropped his head to her shoulder, and after a moment he laid his lips on the side of her neck. Briefly, warmly, tenderly and with emotion. He drew away slowly and looked her in the eye.
She hadn’t eaten bad salad dressing for days, and yet…and yet…
Three photographers were waiting outside the Redmond Estate gates when Kadir and Cassandra returned, but as it was just after dark, the photographers couldn’t tell who was in the vehicle. The sight of those photographers who had not been there that morning annoyed Kadir; it proved that Cassandra had been right, and in the coming weeks they must be very careful in the ways in which they presented themselves to the public.
Once they were inside the estate, Cassandra said a quick and obviously distracted farewell, and made her way to her own vehicle. She was anxi
ous to escape. From the photographers and the article that disturbed her, and from him. He felt as if he were losing her as she drove away, though in truth she had never been his to lose.
Sayyid had discovered Kadir’s escape late in the afternoon, but thanks to Tarif’s and Oscar’s explanations, the security guard was not overly concerned by the absence of his employer. Irked, yes, but not worried. No matter how annoyed he might be, Sayyid could say very little.
Kadir closed himself in his office and tried to attend to the business he had neglected all day. If he could arrange a meeting with Lord Carrington quickly, perhaps he should make an excuse for leaving before the gala took place. That meeting was his primary purpose for being in Silvershire, in any case, and his departure would certainly make Cassandra’s life easier.
If he could do that for her, perhaps he should. She was not like the women who occasionally came in and out of his life, and there would be no opportunity for more to develop between them. It was best that he take care of the business that had brought him to Silvershire, and then leave, as quickly and quietly as possible.
Tomorrow morning he would call the Silvershire Ministry of Foreign Affairs and demand the meeting with Lord Carrington. Even on a Saturday morning, someone would be available to take his call.
It was getting late, and he was thinking of retiring for the evening, when Hakim knocked briefly, then opened the door and walked into the office with a brisk step. “You have a visitor, Excellency.”
For a moment, Kadir wondered…Cassandra? But he knew it wouldn’t be her, no matter how he wished it to be so.
“A Mr. Nikolas Donovan,” Hakim finished.
“It’s rather late. Can he wait until morning?”
Hakim’s eyes were very tired. “I don’t believe so, Excellency. He apparently waited for the photographers at the gate to leave, as he did not wish his visit to be recorded. Tomorrow morning the photographers may very well return.”
The fact that Donovan didn’t wish to be photographed entering the estate was intriguing. “Show him in.”
Kadir knew, of course, who Nikolas Donovan was here to represent. He was well-informed of all the political factions in Silvershire, including the Union for Democracy.
Donovan had been searched for weapons, and still Sayyid insisted on being in the room during the meeting. As Kadir trusted the bodyguard with all his secrets—well, all of his political secrets—he didn’t mind. The guard’s presence did seem to distract Donovan at first, but Sayyid did his best to blend into the woodwork.
When introductions and cordial greetings had been made, Donovan took a seat on the opposite side of Kadir’s desk.
“I’ll get right to the point,” Donovan said briskly. “You’re well-respected in the diplomatic community, and I’m here to ask for your support for my cause.”
“You want me to publicly support the Union for Democracy?” Kadir asked.
“Yes, Excellency,” Donovan answered. “I believe we can be of some use to one another, if we align.”
Aligning with the Union for Democracy would be in direct opposition to Kadir’s planned affiliation with Lord Carrington. Though he personally admired what Donovan was trying to do, he could not condone that organization and still ask for an alliance with the monarchy of Silvershire. Besides, there were well-substantiated rumors that some factions within the Union for Democracy had begun to advocate violence as a way to meet their goals. Kadir was quite sure that Donovan was not among those who would turn to violence, but it was a chance he could not take.
“I’m afraid I must decline,” Kadir answered without any softening of expression that might give away his personal feelings on the matter.
“Believe me, I understand that your position here is precarious. It’s for that reason that I waited until the photographers left before calling. I don’t want to put you in a difficult position. All I ask is that you consider my proposition.”
Kadir shook his head. “I am here as a representative of my government in order to form an alliance with Lord Carrington, and as soon as I meet with him I’ll return home.”
“Good luck with that,” Donovan said sharply. “Carrington has just left the country, and I don’t believe he plans to return until a day or two before the Founder’s Day Gala.”
A small knot formed in Kadir’s stomach. “Are you certain?”
“I met with him last night. He and his wife, Princess Amelia, were getting ready to leave for a visit to Gastonia.”
Last night. Kadir sighed. Would nothing of his duties in this country proceed as they should?
“What do you think of Lord Carrington, Mr. Donovan? Will he make a good king?”
Donovan’s jaw went tight and hard. “He’s a decent man, a much better man than Prince Reginald.”
Kadir smiled. “That isn’t saying much, from what I hear of the departed prince.”
“With the king in a coma, Carrington refuses to even discuss altering our antiquated system of government. The people should be able to decide who leads their country. I know that Kahani is also a monarchy, but you’ve been advocating change for years. What you and I want is not so very different.”
“I’m not trying to overthrow a government.”
“Neither am I,” Donovan argued. “I want my country to advance into a new and more modern world, which is what you want for your country. Together we could advocate for that change in a much more powerful way than we can alone.”
It was almost tempting, and there was something very likable about Donovan. He was intense, in that way visionaries often are. And yet—Kadir had no choice in the matter.
“Again, I must decline.”
Donovan was disappointed, but not angry. It was a point in his favor that he didn’t fly into a rage when he didn’t get what he’d come here for. Of course, he was well aware that Sayyid watched his back, so perhaps he didn’t dare lose his temper.
Business done, Donovan leaned back in his chair and offered a gentle smile. “I saw your picture in the Quiz this morning.”
Kadir lifted his eyebrows slightly. “Did you? I wouldn’t think you’d waste your time reading such a disreputable newspaper.”
“I never miss it. Between the stories of alien visitations and the adventures of dog boy, there’s the occasional bit of truth that catches my eye.”
Dog boy? Alien visitations?
Donovan’s smile widened. “No one will admit they read the Quiz, but somehow everyone knows what’s in it. It’s one of our guilty pleasures, I suppose. Do you have guilty pleasures, Excellency?”
Not nearly enough. “If I did,” Kadir said with a smile, “I would not admit as much to you.”
“Of course not.” Donovan stood, offering his hand across the desk.
Kadir rose and took that hand, shaking it firmly. “Good luck, Mr. Donovan.”
“And to you, Excellency,” Donovan answered. “If you change your mind, please contact me at your convenience. I’m easy enough to find. I believe you and I would work together well, given the chance.”
Sayyid escorted Donovan from the room. When his visitor was gone, Kadir sat in his desk chair and leaned back, relaxing for a moment. Lord Carrington had left the country, so there would be no meeting in the near future. Why hadn’t Cassandra told him Carrington was in Gastonia? Was it possible that she didn’t know? Or was she keeping secrets from him?
In any case, it seemed there was no reason for him to remain here at the Redmond Estate. Tomorrow morning he would go to Leonia and take up residence on his yacht. Given the atmosphere following their trip to Barton College, Cassandra would probably be very happy to see him go.
Cassandra was just about to crawl into bed when the phone rang. The jangling noise startled her. Who would call so late? Was something wrong? Maybe it was Kadir, calling to say good-night.
She lifted the receiver from her bedside phone. “Hello?” she answered, her voice just slightly suspicious.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t be asleep yet.”
>
Cassandra breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of her mother’s voice. “No, not yet. I’m headed in that direction, though.”
After a short pause Piper asked, in a very soft voice, “Is he there?”
Cassandra didn’t have to ask who he was. “No! Of course not! I told you, Mum, you have the wrong idea about what’s going on here. Rather, what’s not going on. My relationship with the sheik is entirely professional.” At least, it was now, and would remain so for the duration of his visit. There would be no more kissing, no more conversations about dreams and wishes.
Piper sighed. “Too bad. I was rather hoping to have a sheik as a son-in-law one day. We could vacation in Kahani, which I hear is lovely. Would your sons be sheiks, too? I’m afraid I really don’t know how that works. And Kadir really is a very nice man. I like him. And oh, my, he’s so handsome. Are you sure he’s not there?”
Cassandra couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sure.”
“Too bad. It’s long past time for you to take the plunge, Cassandra. You’re smart not to fall for every line that’s thrown your way, you’re smart to wait for something more than out-of-control hormones.” Again she sighed. “But really, darling, sometimes you’re too smart. There comes a time when a woman has to follow her heart and forget what her head tells her. Love is a rare and precious thing, and if you allow love to pass you by without making a grab for it, it might never come again.”
“What makes you think love has anything to do with this?” Cassandra tried to sound lighthearted, but she wasn’t sure she succeeded.
“Because I know you,” Piper answered confidently.
Cassandra reclined on the bed with the phone to her ear. “You’re such a nosy mother,” she said without anger. “All right. Since you’re determined to pry where you should not, answer one question for me.”
“Fire away.”
Cassandra waited a moment before proceeding, and her mother remained silent. And then a dam burst and Cassandra began to talk rapidly. “How does a woman know if it’s her heart speaking or her hormones? ‘Out-of-control’ hormones, you said. You know how I hate being out of control.” A knot of uncertainty and unease formed very near to Cassandra’s heart. “Is a man, any man, worth throwing away years of work and dedication and planning? How can a woman know if a man who speaks to her heart, or her hormones, cares for her in anything other than a physical way? And if you know a relationship can’t possibly last, is it worth the pain of a potential heartbreak? Lexie was deliriously happy with each of her husbands and boyfriends, at least for a while. Would she have been better off turning her back on the good times to avoid the bad, or are the good times worth the pain that follows?”
The Sheik and I Page 6
