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  She shook her head and sighed in mock despair. ‘You have such a low view of other people.’

  ‘It is based on experience,’ he observed. ‘Women selling stories about my prowess as a lover! Business rivals describing me as unscrupulous.’

  ‘You probably are a bit unscrupulous, though, aren’t you?’

  He stared at her for a long moment, and then unexpectedly began to laugh. ‘Ah, but you are outrageous, cherie,’ he murmured admiringly.

  The compliment warmed her more than it should have done—and Laura forced a prim smile. ‘If you don’t want women to sell their story, you should get to know them properly before you have sex with them!’

  He slanted her a look. ‘Like I did with you, you mean?’

  Laura blushed. ‘That was cheap.’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, it was,’ he agreed—because what he had shared with Laura felt anything but cheap.

  The colour began to fade from her cheeks. ‘If you’re worried about confidentiality—I would never break the confidence of a friend.’

  Was it because of her job that he found himself wanting to talk to her? Yet he had dated lawyers before without feeling the need to bare his soul, hadn’t he? But you have never found yourself in a situation quite like this one. And hadn’t talking been the precursor to that incredible night he had spent with her?

  He felt free with her. Free to be able to put his thoughts into words and not have them stored in an emotional bank to be used against him. It was like allowing yourself to swim naked in the sea after years of being restricted by a tight rubber wetsuit.

  ‘It’s weird,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘It’s just the little things that make you realise. The Sheikh is left-handed, and so am I. He never watches television but he devours non-fiction, and so do I. He is shrunken now by age, but his eyes…’

  He had seen a photo of the Sheikh in his glorious youth—strong and indominitable—taken long before he had met his mother. But seeing the man in the flesh, even shrivelled flesh, was profoundly different—for in that virile face Xavier had caught a glimpse of himself, a merging of past and present which was a whole new and slightly shattering experience.

  ‘His eyes are the same as yours?’ guessed Laura.

  ‘Yes,’ he said simply. ‘Exactly the same.

  Laura suspected that on one level Xavier knew that traits such as left-handedness and eye-colour were inherited—but some things went beyond mere science. It was the human connection which was the important one here—the missing link in his life which had now been joined up.

  ‘Do you think this discovery will change how you live your life from now on?’ she asked quietly.

  It was a perfectly reasonable question, he supposed—and yet he reacted badly to it, like someone allergic to strawberries being exposed to the refreshment tent at Wimbledon.

  ‘You are suggesting there is something wrong with the way in which I live my life?’

  Laura shrugged.

  ‘Aren’t you?’ he persisted softly. ‘I want to know, Laura.’

  What did she have to lose? They were hardly going to be bumping into each other on opposite sides of the Channel after this trip. Once she might have been tempted to tell him in order to deflate some of his arrogance—but now she wanted to tell him for a very different reason. Because she was a friend, and she cared.

  ‘Okay, then, I’ll tell you,’ she said. ‘Yours seems a rich life only in the most superficial of ways. Like you’re being carried along on a wave of luxury and not really connecting properly with people. Like money matters and nothing else.’ Her voice tailed off and she gave a little shrug. ‘That’s all.’

  ‘That’s all? You demolish my very existence and say that’s all? You think your own life is so great, do you, Laura?’

  ‘Of course I don’t!’ she burst out frustratedly. ‘I knew this would happen. I’m not here to sit in judgement on you, Xavier—but you did ask.’

  Yes, he had—and she had told him, with breathtaking honesty. He could not think of a single other person in the world who would have had the courage to do that. Was some of what she said right? he wondered.

  ‘Why did you take this job?’ he asked suddenly.

  Laura stared hard at her fingers, which had acquired a faint tan from the Kharastan sun. How much more of her honesty did he want—and how much of her story did she want to tell? But friendship—true friendship—wasn’t one-sided.

  ‘Oh, the usual. A man. Josh.’

  ‘And you were in love with this Josh?’ he said, scarcely believing that he should ask such a question. He was sounding like one of those men he had always despised. Like one of those jealous fools who were bothered by other men.

  ‘I thought I was in love with him,’ Laura answered. ‘But that may just have been my own justification for sleeping with him.’

  In one sentence she had exposed her relative innocence, and Xavier wondered if she was aware that her faint shudder had told him everything he needed to know about her physical relationship with this other man.

  Was that what made him suddenly feel so guilty—the fact that he had judged her so harshly and made those false allegations against her?

  ‘But, no, on reflection—it wasn’t love,’ she said, after a bit more thought. ‘He dazzled me—but he turned out to be shallow. He just seemed so exciting. I’d worked hard to get my law degree—taken so many jobs during the holidays because money was tight—that I’d never really stopped to have fun.’ She gave a rueful smile. ‘And while Josh had the worst CV I’ve ever seen—he certainly knew how to have fun.’

  ‘What happened?’

  Laura shrugged. ‘We bought a house in joint names, but our contribution to its upkeep was—how shall I put this?—unequal. Josh still wasn’t working, and I was putting in more and more hours just to pay the bills. When he started playing around I knew I wanted him out of my life—but I wasn’t prepared to lose the home I’d worked so hard for. I’d spent my childhood in a series of rented flats, and I couldn’t bear to go back to that way of life. And so when my boss suggested that the royal household of Kharastan needed a discreet lawyer urgently—well, it seemed like the answer to all my prayers. I’d be able to buy Josh out and be free.’

  ‘Free?’ he said thoughtfully.

  ‘That’s right.’

  There was silence while Xavier thought about what she had told him. He wanted to reach out to touch her, to run his hands over the slippery red satin of her hair. But he had no right to do that.

  For, while his lips might curve with disdain at the antics of her ex-boyfriend, in a way, wasn’t he, Xavier, just as guilty of using her, of trying to impose his wishes on her as Josh had been?

  He had spoken to Malik and asked—no, demanded that Laura stay here. But that had been when he’d imagined she would change her mind about sleeping with him again. Because it was inconceivable that any women could not be seduced, or bent to his will.

  But her quiet resolve had been firm, and suddenly Xavier was appalled at his own behaviour. His determination to succeed—or rather to have exactly what it was he wanted—had spilled over from his professional into his personal life. And he didn’t like it.

  They were almost back at the Blue Palace—he could see the wide sweep of road which led to the main gates and the pluming fountains beyond. He knew what he needed to do.

  ‘I won’t hold you here any longer against your will, Laura,’ he said heavily. ‘I should never have done so in the first place. You are free to leave at any time. You can go home.’

  Laura had been staring out of the window at a bird with orange plumage, nestling in among the flowers on some beautiful unknown tree, and his words hit her like a bucket of cold water on a hot day. Carefully, she composed her face into some sort of smile, hoping against hope that it masked her dismay.

  ‘Home?’ she questioned, as if it was a word in Kharastani that she was hoping to learn before they arrived back at the Palace.

  He nodded. ‘Just as soon as you like. I�
��ll speak to Malik.’

  Here was the freedom she had convinced herself she wanted. Yet wasn’t it ironic that you could tell yourself you wanted something over and over again and yet, when it finally came, it left you feeling as if someone had blasted a great hole in the centre of your heart?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘THE Sheikh wishes to see you.’

  Laura looked up from her case—which, to Sidonia’s horror, she had insisted on packing herself—to see Xavier standing framed in the doorway of her bedroom. His black eyes were watchful as she folded an exquisite silk-satin evening gown, and she wondered if she’d ever get the chance to wear it again. But at least focussing on practical considerations like that stopped her from thinking how much she was going to miss the Frenchman.

  ‘He wants to see me? What for?’

  ‘Mind-reading has never been a particular skill of mine,’ he drawled ‘Why don’t you ask him yourself? I’m to take you there.’

  ‘Not Malik?’

  ‘Apparently not.’

  Their eyes met. Laura wanted to tell him that she was going to miss him, that she wished now she’d opted for one more taste of the joy she’d found in his arms. She wanted to tell him that she longed to stay here, in this enchanted paradise—with him. But he was letting her go, and she must do just that. Laura was headed home. Alone.

  But I am going to miss you, she thought sadly as she stared into the soft ebony blaze of his eyes.

  Her hand flew up to brush away a stray strand of hair from her cheek before she met the Sheikh. ‘Do I look okay?’

  He knew that this was not the disingenuous snaring of a compliment. He knew that the boyfriend who had tried to rip her off had destroyed a lot of her confidence. But in her simple linen dress, with her red hair tied back in a ribbon, she looked good enough to…He felt a nerve work in his cheek. ‘You look beautiful.’

  Laura supposed it would be churlish to tell him that she wanted his approval, but not with such a high rating—because when he used words like beautiful it made her start wanting what she had told herself she couldn’t have. And she could never have Xavier in the way she would most like him—as a proper boyfriend she could do normal relationship stuff with.

  She had thought that friendship was the answer, but in that it seemed she had been wrong—because friendship was almost as perilous as sex in making you feel close to a man. Well, maybe more so. The sex she’d had with Xavier had been the best sex of her life, and even though she had laughably little to compare it with she knew deep down that she would never have another lover like him.

  But their friendship felt special. Different. As she suspected it was. He was letting her come closer than he would normally let anyone come—because of the bizarre circumstances of their being literally thrown together.

  Well, today it was coming to an end, and while Laura was trying to tell herself that it was a job well done, inside her heart was heavy. But as she slipped out into the wide marbled corridor she thought that she hid it rather well.

  ‘I wonder what he wants?’ she mused, as Xavier fell into step beside her. ‘You know—it’s actually the first time that I’ll have met him. I’ve always dealt with Malik before.’

  ‘Presumably he wants to say goodbye.’

  ‘I hate goodbyes,’ said Laura fiercely.

  Usually Xavier didn’t. Usually he relished closure—the chance to cut ties, to move on and start anew. But today didn’t feel anything like that. Laura was leaving, and he was not experiencing his habitual release.

  ‘Have you…decided how long you’re going to stay?’ asked Laura.

  ‘No.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘For the first time in my life I’m not certain of anything. I’m lucky enough to have the choice—many men are locked into jobs they cannot take leave from.’

  ‘You are lucky,’ she echoed.

  ‘Yes, I am,’ he agreed quietly. But when had he last counted his blessings? Got off the speeding train which was his life in order to enjoy some of the benefits he’d worked so hard for? Look at the way Laura’s face had lit up when she’d spoken about buying Josh out and getting her own house and independence. Had prosperity made this former Paris urchin spoilt and unappreciative?

  ‘Maybe he’ll make you his heir,’ said Laura. ‘What then?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ said Xavier, with a frown. ‘And don’t you know that you should never plan for the future?’

  Laura didn’t want to think about the future, so she concentrated on looking at some of the ancient paintings of Kharastan which lined the high walls.

  Their echoing footsteps took them along more wide marble corridors, and Laura thought about the strange contradiction of the Palace. How exquisite and beautiful it was—while outside lay the wild and unremitting desert, like a hungry beast just waiting to reclaim the land.

  Did the Sheikh think of things like that as he grew ever older? she wondered. Was it a cultural imperative for him to hand the reins over to his kith and kin—and was he now about to pass on such a weighty responsibility to Xavier? Because if he didn’t make his son his heir, then what would happen to Kharastan, and who would rule it?

  She stole a look at his hard, set profile and he looked down at her, his eyes momentarily softening in a way they rarely did.

  ‘You look sad,’ she observed.

  He sighed. She was so perceptive. And you’re going to miss that, aren’t you? taunted a voice inside his head.

  ‘I am—a little. It feels strange that, having found him, I shall soon go back to my own life in Paris. Life is so unpredictable that this might be the last time I ever see him.’

  ‘It might,’ she agreed. ‘But at least you’ve had this heaven-sent opportunity to get to know him.

  They were outside the Sheikh’s apartments now, and the ornate doors opened and Malik appeared, his eyes black-chipped and hard.

  ‘He will see you both now,’ he said curtly.

  The light in the Sheikh’s glorious golden room was muted and soft, and the air was cooled by some unseen fan and scented with the faint perfume of fresh flowers.

  Aware of Malik behind her and Xavier by her side, Laura suddenly felt like an outsider. Why did Kharastan’s ruler want to see her? she wondered.

  ‘Approach,’ came the soft command from a divan, and Laura suddenly forgot all her misgivings as she realised what a great honour was being afforded to her. As she drew close to the old man she sank instinctively into a deep curtsey—without having been aware that she even knew how to perform such a graceful gesture of homage. There she stayed, her eyes downcast, until she felt his hand on the top of her head.

  ‘Arise,’ he husked. ‘Thank you for bringing my son to me, Miss Cottingham.’

  ‘It was my…pleasure,’ said Laura, her heart beating fast with nerves.

  Xavier had moved forward, too—and Malik was indicating that she should sit on a low stood beside the Sheikh.

  Laura didn’t know what she had been expecting. Golden robes denoted his privileged position, and the Sheikh was old, yes—but he carried with him the indefinable aura of power. And Xavier was right—his eyes were as memorably black as his son’s. He sat up—as if the sight of the three of them had in some magical way revitalised him. A male servant appeared, to offer him a drink from a goblet inlaid with precious stones, but the Sheikh waved him away.

  ‘Xavier, you are my son,’ said the Sheikh. ‘And I am granting you the freedom of Kharastan. Designated lands and great wealth will be made available to you in this, your country.’

  ‘I thank you, but I have no need of your gift,’ said Xavier proudly. ‘And that is not the reason I came.’

  The Sheikh nodded approvingly. ‘I know and understand that—for you have made your own wealth in life. You have succeeded as I would have expected. These gifts are not made because of their financial worth—but because they are yours by birthright. The past can never be rewritten, my son—only the future is ours to forge, and yours lies ahead of you. You must go where destiny takes
you—but you will always have a place and a home here, as one of the Sheikh’s sons,’ he finished quietly.

  There was silence for a moment, and Laura was so awestruck that she wasn’t really listening with her usual sharp and analytical lawyer’s ear.

  But Xavier was. And his eyes narrowed as one phrase leapt into his mind and fastened itself there, like a leech.

  ‘One of the Sheikh’s sons?’ he repeated.

  Laura saw the look which passed between Malik and the Sheikh.

  ‘There is another son?’ Xavier demanded hoarsely. ‘I have a…brother?’

  ‘You have a half-brother,’ said the Sheikh carefully. ‘Unlike you, he is Italian, and lives in the land of his birth.’

  Xavier stared at the Sheikh. ‘Why?’ he whispered.

  It was a question which could have been interpreted in many ways, Laura thought—though the Sheikh seemed to know exactly what it was that Xavier demanded to know with that single word.

  The Sheikh glanced around the room, nodding to dismiss the servants so that only he, Xavier and Malik remained. And Laura of course—who was half expecting them to ask her to leave as well. But they did not.

  ‘Because I made a great dynastic marriage at a time of civil unrest in Kharastan, and my people dearly loved my wife. As did I,’ he added softly. ‘It was a successful marriage on many levels except on one—I never had a child with her.’

  ‘You just went round procreating throughout Europe, did you?’ accused Xavier hotly.

  Laura saw Malik scowl and half rise, but the Sheikh stayed him by lifting his hand.

  ‘You have a right to express your anger, Xavier—but, as I have already told you, we cannot rewrite the past, and we prepare for our future only by how we behave now, in the present.’

  For a moment there was silence, and then eventually Xavier spoke, but even to his own ears his voice sounded strange and disconnected. He had a brother! ‘And what of this half-brother of mine?’