A Diamond for the Sheikh's Mistress

by Abby Green

  She shivered now, remembering the massive empty corridors. The hushed reverence. Her fear of doing something wrong. The feeling of hundreds of eyes on her that she couldn’t see.

  ‘And you were so busy. I hardly saw you.’ Kat hated the accusing note in her voice.

  To her surprise, Zafir unfolded his arms and ran a hand through his hair.

  He sighed. ‘Maybe you’re right. My father monopolised my attention.’ Those grey eyes pinned her to the spot. ‘I shouldn’t have left you alone so much.’

  Kat broke eye contact, not wanting him to see how much that impacted on her. ‘It wouldn’t have changed anything in the end,’ she said. She had to keep reminding herself of that fact. If not him.

  ‘I’m sorry I hurt you, Kat. I never meant to do that.’

  Kat went very still. This was why they couldn’t sleep together again. Zafir was getting far too close to the beating heart of her, and she didn’t want him to suspect that that was why she couldn’t repeat last night.

  She looked at him and said, very deliberately, ‘I was infatuated with you, Zafir. Not in love. It was for the best. I wasn’t ready to step into such a hugely responsible role. I would have disappointed you. And, even though I know you would have been happy with a marriage based on respect and chemistry, it wouldn’t have been enough for me in the end.’

  She knew that much now—indelibly. She needed to be loved in a way that had eluded her all her life. For herself. Not just because she represented some ideal and as such could be used as a commodity, as her mother had used her so shamelessly. And as she had used herself when she’d had to.

  An impulse rose from deep inside her at that moment, a desire to unsettle Zafir as much as he unsettled her. ‘What about you, Zafir?’ she asked before she could stop herself. ‘Would a marriage in little more than name really have been enough for you? Are you so cold?’

  Zafir was silent for a long moment, and then he said, almost harshly, ‘Yes, I am that cold. I was brought up to rule a country, not to fall in love. My parents’ marriage was borne out of a need to unite two warring countries. There was no love lost between them, and yet together they brought peace to a region. Surely that’s more important than the selfish desires of one person to indulge in the myth of a fairy tale?’

  Kat tried to hide her shock. ‘I know things are different for you...that you’re not the same as the average person...’ Not remotely, said a little voice. ‘But I don’t think it’s too much to ask, Zafir...even for you.’

  He started to pace, and as much as Kat had wished to unsettle him, now she regretted it. He stopped and looked at her accusingly. ‘Love tore my brother apart. Destroyed him.’

  Kat put a hand on the back of a chair near to her, as if that might steady her. ‘What do you mean?’

  Zafir had never really talked about his younger brother before, but she knew he existed. He had a reputation as a debauched playboy, and from the photos she’d seen of him in passing, in the gossip pages, he was as tall, dark and handsome as his brother, with a roguish edge that had earned him a place as one of the world’s most elusive bachelors.

  Zafir said, ‘I had a younger sister—Sara. She was Salim’s twin. They were playing one day in a walled garden. They were messing about as usual...’ Zafir lifted a hand and let it drop. ‘I heard Salim scream and I ran to them. She was dead when I got there...a massive head injury... She’d fallen from the high wall...’

  Kat wanted to go and touch Zafir as anguish filled her chest, but it was as if he was still surrounded by that wall. ‘Oh, Zafir... I’m so sorry. How old was she?’

  He looked bleak. ‘Just eleven.’

  He went over to a window and looked out, his back to Kat. She sat down in the chair.

  ‘They were so close, the two of them. From the moment they were born they had their own little world. Even spoke a language no one else could decipher. When she died...and when Salim realised how little our parents had valued Sara because she’d been a girl and not a boy...something broke inside him.’

  After a long moment Zafir turned around. He was expressionless.

  ‘I saw what loving someone and losing them did to Salim. It changed him for ever. I have no intention of ever investing so much in one person that they have the power to destroy you.’

  A million things crowded onto Kat’s tongue. She wanted to say to Zafir that Salim and Sara had obviously had a very strong twin bond, and of course Salim had taken her death hard, but that was no reason to believe Zafir would experience the same thing. But Kat’s tongue wouldn’t work. She guessed that whatever she said would be met with deep cynicism.

  She stood up and tried to ignore the tightness in her chest. ‘I’m sorry you had to experience losing your sister like that, Zafir. I think I would have liked to know her...’

  ‘Yes...’ he said almost wistfully. ‘I often wonder how she would be now. I think she would be formidable.’

  No more formidable than her older brother, thought Kat.

  There was a sharp rap on the door at that moment, and Kat flinched.

  Rahul’s anxious voice floated through the door. ‘Sire, the cars are waiting.’

  Zafir’s gaze narrowed on Kat again as he called out, ‘Just a minute.’

  She felt a frisson of danger as he walked over to where she stood with all the inherent grace and menace of a predatory animal. Their recent conversation was forgotten as that grey gaze skewered her to the spot.

  ‘You meant what you said? You’re certain this affair ends here?’

  For a heart-jolting moment Kat thought that Zafir might just leave her here in Paris and go on without her. Maybe she’d pushed him too far, asking those questions...

  She forced herself to nod.

  Zafir snaked a hand around the back of her neck, under her hair. She went on fire.

  He shook his head. ‘It’s not over, Kat—not yet. You can delude yourself that it is, but when you’re ready to be honest and admit that it’s not I’ll be waiting.’

  The worst thing, as he stepped back and she struggled to find some pithy response, was the relief rushing through her that he wasn’t leaving her behind.

  Not yet.

  * * *

  The setting sun bathed Jahor in warm golden light. Kat couldn’t believe how overwhelmed she was to be back here again, but she told herself it had nothing to do with learning about Zafir’s sister and brother or her renewed intimacy with Zafir.

  She’d once had a very real fantasy of becoming Queen of this land, humbled and awed by Zafir’s belief in her, but that fantasy had been cruelly shattered. She felt it keenly now, though—the sense of loss—even though she knew that it was better this way.

  She wouldn’t have known the first thing about being Queen. She would have let Zafir down. And she went cold now, thinking of how much worse it would have been if her past had come out after she had become Queen.

  Zafir was sitting beside her in the back of a chauffeur-driven car, speaking on his phone in a low, deep voice as they wound their way through the ancient streets and up to the palace on the hill, overlooking the ancient city.

  She was glad his attention wasn’t focused on her for this moment. During the flight from Paris she’d found his gaze resting on her every time she’d looked at him, and by the time they’d disembarked her senses had been jangling with awareness.

  She just had to resist him. That was all.

  She could see people through the tinted windows of the car, bowing reverently as they passed by. And then a gaggle of gap-toothed boys chased the car, waving manically even though she knew they couldn’t see her or Zafir. She felt an impulse to open her window and reach out to touch their hands, and it shocked her.

  It was another reminder of how she’d never have had the decorum to be Queen. So why didn’t that thought comfort her? Why did it leave her feeling hollow?

  They were sweeping through the palace gates now, and into the majestic forecourt. Nerves fluttered in Kat’s belly as Zafir ended his phone c
all and said enigmatically, ‘You might find some things a little changed since last time.’

  When she got out of the car she could see several aides waiting, and Rahul, looking as efficient as ever. Staff greeted them, dressed in long, light-coloured tunics and close-fitting trousers. They were smiling as they took her luggage and Zafir’s.

  The last time she’d been there the staff had been dressed in black, and they’d had a dour air. There’d also been an oppressive atmosphere, but now there was an air of infectious joyousness.

  A smiling young woman came forward to greet Kat, saying in perfect English, ‘I’m Jasmine. I’ll be your maid while you’re here, Miss Winters. If you’d like to follow me?’

  Kat looked over to where Zafir was still watching her, and he said, ‘Go—settle in and rest. I’ll come and find you.’

  Then he was striding away, his aides and Rahul hurrying in his wake. And, in spite of Kat’s intentions to put some distance between herself and Zafir, all she felt right then was bereft. But, she told herself sternly, that this was a good thing if it reminded her of how out of place she’d felt here before. It would help her to resist Zafir.

  She was led over to a nearby golf buggy and the younger woman indicated for Kat to get in. Kat did so, and soaked up the glorious lingering heat and the beautifully cultivated gardens as Jasmine carefully drove them round to where Kat’s suite was located, at the other side of the palace.

  On her first visit, Kat remembered walking miles and miles through vast corridors behind a silent woman as she’d been led to her quarters, feeling as though she was being punished for something she hadn’t done.

  Her rooms were different this time—which she was grateful for. She had enough memories bombarding her brain without adding more to the mix. Memories of long hot nights when Zafir had crept into her bed and woken her up with his mouth on her...

  ‘You’ll see here, Miss Winters, that your wardrobe is fully stocked with clothes from our finest designers.’

  Kat’s cheeks burned as she diverted her mind away from X-rated memories, and her mouth fell open as she took in the acres of sumptuous fabrics hanging in the massive wardrobe. She put out a hand, touching an emerald-green gown reverently, and breathed, ‘This is too much.’

  But Jasmine was already opening drawers nearby, showing her a vast collection of brand-new lingerie and more casual wear. Everything and anything Kat could possibly need.

  Except Zafir’s trust and love.

  She cursed herself for even thinking it. She might have had his trust, before she’d broken it, but she’d never had his love.

  She thought of what he’d said before they’d left Paris, and wondered with a pang if any woman would be able to entice him out from behind the rigid wall he maintained around his heart.

  Jasmine left Kat alone after she’d given her an exhaustive tour of the vast suite and shown her where a tray had been laid out with mouth-watering refreshments and a jug of iced water infused with lemons and limes.

  After eating a little, Kat explored the bathroom, and was alternately shocked and moved to find that someone—Zafir—had obviously given instructions to have the shower made more accessible for her, with a chair and rails.

  After a refreshing shower, she put her prosthesis back on and slipped into a long kaftan she’d found among the clothes hanging in the wardrobe. It was dark gold, and it glided over her body like a cool breeze. She lifted her hair up and off her neck, twisting it into a knot on her head, and went outside the French doors to explore the grounds.

  The sun was setting in a blazing ball of orange on the horizon and Kat watched it for a long moment, a sense of peace she hadn’t experienced in a long time stealing over her. She took a deep breath, revelling in the heat and the rich, exotic scents around her.

  This place resonated deep within her in a way that she couldn’t explain. A familiar refrain popped into her head: she came from a trailer park in one of the poorest parts of Midwest America and she hadn’t even completed her high school education. She had no right to feel an affinity with this place.

  Kat pushed the assertion down. She could recognise how intimidated she’d been before, but of course she had a right to be here—no matter what her background was. If anything, the last eighteen months had shown her where her true strengths lay, and she wasn’t as wide-eyed and naive as she’d once been.

  She walked along a path shaded by the overhanging branches of a tree that bore small black fruits like berries. It truly was paradise. She spotted a walled garden ahead, but came to a stop at the entrance when she saw that it was untended and overgrown—in stark contrast to the lush perfection surrounding it.

  Something about it called to her, and she stepped inside. She could just make out an empty dry fountain, and beautiful mosaics that were cracked and broken.

  She felt as if she was intruding on a private space, and was just turning to go when she heard a noise. She whirled around to see Zafir standing in the entrance to the garden, breathtaking in traditional flowing cream robes.

  As soon as she saw the look on his face something clicked in her mind, and she said slowly, ‘This is where she died, isn’t it? Sara...?’

  He nodded once, curtly, and stepped inside the garden.

  Kat said, ‘I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just passing...’

  Zafir came and stood near the overgrown fountain. ‘It’s fine. How were you to know?’

  He didn’t look at Kat, and impetuously she asked, ‘Tell me about Sara. What was she like?’

  She held her breath for a moment, not sure if Zafir would indulge her, but then she saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

  ‘She was beautiful and stubborn and mischievous.’

  ‘Did she have your eyes?’

  Zafir shook his head. ‘No, she had blue eyes—like Salim. Long dark hair. They were inseparable like I told you, from the moment they were born. Like a little unit.’

  ‘What about you?’

  Zafir shrugged minutely. ‘They didn’t need me. They had each other.’

  Kat didn’t know what to say to that. She was blindsided by an image of a young Zafir, always on the outside of his siblings’ intense bond, and how lonely that must have been.

  ‘I can’t believe your parents weren’t affected when Sara died. They couldn’t have been so cruel.’

  Zafir turned around then, and the cold look on his face made Kat suck in a breath.

  ‘Yes, they could and they were. Don’t you remember meeting them?’

  Of course she did. She’d met them on her first visit and endured an excruciating lunch during which they’d spoken their own language and made no attempt to speak with her, directing all their conversation to Zafir. They’d clearly deemed the prospect of her becoming a daughter-in-law a total travesty.

  Zafir shook his head. ‘I can’t believe you still retain such optimism about people when your own mother exploited you so shamelessly.’

  Kat’s face grew hot. She felt like that naive virgin all over again. Mocked by Zafir’s deep well of cynicism.

  She lifted up her chin. ‘I’d prefer to be optimistic about people rather than believe there’s no hope for love or redemption. You’re not your brother, Zafir. Or your parents.’

  Suddenly acutely aware of the small space, and its air of general decay, Kat felt claustrophobic.

  She started to walk out, but Zafir caught her by the arm. ‘Where are you going?’

  She looked at him, and hated the ease with which he could strike at her very heart. ‘Back to my room.’

  ‘I’ve arranged dinner for us in my private suite.’

  Zafir’s hand was warm on her arm, and it made her think of how it would feel on other parts of her body. It would be so easy just to say yes—to go with Zafir to his suite and let the inevitable happen. Her blood grew hot just from thinking about it. But she couldn’t. Not if she wanted to walk away relatively intact when all this was over.

  She pulled her arm free. ‘No, Zafir. I’m tired an
d I’d like to go to bed—alone. I’m here to complete the job of promoting the diamond and Jandor and that’s all I’m interested in.’

  Zafir’s eyes took on a gleam she didn’t want to interpret. But he just said, ‘Very well, Kat. I’ll see you after lunch tomorrow, then.’

  She had turned to walk away again before she stopped and asked suspiciously, ‘The function is in two days. What’s happening tomorrow?’

  Zafir folded his arms and looked powerful and dangerous. ‘A little sightseeing tour of my country. I’m making up for the fact that you saw very little of Jandor last time.’

  Panic skittered along Kat’s skin. ‘You really don’t have to do that. You’re busy. I can sightsee on my own.’

  He walked forward and caught her arm again, escorting her out of the garden in a smooth motion. ‘Your concern for my schedule is commendable—but, yes, Kat, I am doing this. Jasmine will help you pack for the trip.’

  Kat pulled herself free. ‘Pack?’

  ‘I’m taking you into the desert for the night—a unique experience, and one I’d hate for you to miss out on before you leave.’

  Before you leave.

  Kat stifled the dart of pain. She recognised his look of steely determination. ‘Fine, Zafir,’ she bit out eventually. ‘But don’t think that this changes anything—all you’ll be doing is wasting your own precious time.’

  * * *

  Zafir watched Kat walk back to her suite of rooms, her slight limp the only hint that there was anything different about her.

  When he’d seen her standing in Sara’s garden—as he called it—he’d expected to feel a sense of intrusion. But he’d felt the opposite. He’d felt as if a weight was being lifted off his shoulders. He’d found himself avoiding her eye, embarrassingly afraid of the compassion he suspected he’d see in those amber depths and what it might unleash inside him.

  And then, when he’d told her about Salim and Sara and their bond, she’d asked, ‘What about you?’

  Her innocent question had impacted on him like a blow to the gut. No one had ever said that to him before—What about you?—because no one had ever really cared.