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  Xavier resisted the desire to contradict her. How little she knew! How naïve and foolish if she thought that he would allow such a scenario to take place. She would bid him farewell only when he had tired of her, and that would be not be until he had had her.

  He felt a pulse beat deep within his groin.

  Oh, yes—she would be his for the taking.

  But sexual hunger was replaced with a different kind of tension as the sound of the jet engines changed and the plane began its descent into Kharastan.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  JUST a month earlier and Laura had made this very same landing, onto a runway fringed by huge and distant snow-topped mountains, and it had made her gasp aloud in wonder. But then she had been hopeful as well as nervous—filled with the kind of excitement you got when you were stepping outside of the confines of your normal world.

  She had been slightly terrified of meeting the Sheikh’s representative—but equally she had been feeling strong. The hurt and the subsequent fall-out she had experienced from the break-up of her relationship with Josh had somehow transformed itself into a brand-new attitude of resilience and defiance.

  Most importantly, she had done everything in her power to extricate herself from the situation with something more than pride. She had seen her mother suffer financially at the hands of men, and she was determined not to repeat her mistakes. Yes, this time a month ago, life had looked hopeful.

  And now?

  Now she just felt the terror and none of the strength. It seemed to have been sapped by the sexy man who had kissed her with such unbearably sweet and restrained passion on the plane and left her aching and uncomfortable. And how unprofessional was that?

  Laura shot him a glance as they stood at the top of the aircraft steps, watched his reaction as he breathed in his first breath of the warm Kharastan air which seemed to envelop her body like a warm caress. But she didn’t want to think of being caressed, because that would take her mind to pointless places.

  She wanted to feel something other than this prickly state of ebbing desire, and tried to concentrate on his high-handed arrogance instead. But somehow she couldn’t seem to do it. His black eyes had narrowed as they took in his surroundings, and for a moment there seemed to be an almost unguarded air about him. Stupidly, it made her think about a little boy searching for his father and his roots—instead of a calculating playboy who knew how to kiss a woman in order to guarantee seduction—and, even more stupidly, she felt her heart turn over.

  ‘Ready?’ she questioned softly.

  ‘Wait,’ he said, his deep voice as soft as hers.

  Xavier looked around him, as if excessive sound might disturb the natural quiet beauty of this place, and a peculiar sensation shivered over his skin as he stared out at a stunningly unfamiliar landscape.

  The sun was beginning its slow descent in a clear sky of intense cobalt, and it seemed a much bigger sun than the one he was used to—a gigantic, fiery ball of coppery red which was turning the snow on top of the distant mountains into pink cream.

  He saw the dark shape of a huge bird swooping by him, and noticed the dust and the dry air and the heat which seemed to seep straight into his pores—and for a moment he felt utterly mesmerised by this strange new world.

  He had grown up in a city, had lived and breathed an urban life since birth, and he loved Paris with a passion because it was impossible not to. Yes, he had travelled, but always more west than east, and his trips to the latter had been infrequent working trips to the highly populated finance capitals of the world. But this place looked wild and almost desolate, and it struck some deep, warm chord—made his heart lurch in a strange and unexpected way.

  ‘Mais c’est magnifique,’ he whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ said Laura slowly, and she stopped and caught the moment and just drank in the beauty. Magnificent indeed. And, under the guise of reaquainting herself with the landscape, she couldn’t resist snatching another look at that strong and rugged profile—etched like a stark and beautiful portrait painting against the deep blue backdrop of the sky behind him. As if he was meant to be here. As if he belonged here. I wonder if he feels that too? she thought suddenly. Or whether it’s just fanciful imagining on my part?

  Xavier’s gaze swept from the panoramic view to the airport itself, where there were gleaming, state-of-the-art buildings and high-tech radar—as well as the control towers. But when his eyes had adjusted to the clear light he could see armed soldiers on the edge of the airfield, along with convoy of dark and gleaming vehicles and a number of motorcycle outriders.

  ‘Here they come,’ he observed softly, as a handful of people—all men—proceeded towards them, their silken robes and headdresses shimmering in the dying light of the sun.

  Can this be for real? Xavier wondered. Or had he wandered onto a film set—where fantasy was cleverly designed to mimic reality? Yet had his whole world not been turned upside down within the space of a couple of short days?

  ‘Which one is the Sheikh’s special aide?’ he questioned tersely.

  Laura’s eyes were raking over the granite-faced group. ‘The tallest of them,’ she said slowly. ‘The man in the white robe. Malik.’

  ‘And you say they are related?’

  ‘Only very distantly, I believe—but he is definitely the Sheikh’s confidante. He tells him everything.’

  Xavier’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. And had she not answered as his confidante? He had been right—as usual—a taste of his sublime lovemaking had been enough to guarantee that all her loyalty would soon lie with him. It was time for him to take control. ‘Come,’ he ordered. ‘Let us go and greet them.’

  Laura blinked as he preceded her down the aeroplane steps, wondering whether Xavier had decided that he was going to start acting like a royal—for wasn’t there something suddenly imperious in his manner?

  And did she imagine the merest flicker of hostility in the eyes of Malik as he approached them, bowing deeply from the waist?

  ‘Good evening,’ he said formally. ‘I, Malik—on behalf of His Most Eminent Highness Zahir of Kharastan—bid you welcome.’

  A nerve flickered at Xavier’s cheek. There was a part of him, a primitive part, that wanted to demand answers to a few incisive questions—to demand some kind of proof of the outrageous claim which had led to him being here on foreign soil. Something more than a damned black-and-white shot which could have been mocked up by any half-decent photographer! But it was not Malik’s story to tell.

  Instead, he nodded his jet-dark head in response. ‘I thank you for your extravagant welcome,’ he answered silkily.

  ‘You must be tired, and thirsty after your journey,’ said Malik. ‘The car awaits to take us to the Palace.’ He turned to Laura. ‘You will take the first car, where you will find Sidonia, your maidservant, awaits you,’ he instructed. ‘Monsieur de Maistre and I will follow in the other.’

  His voice was definitely cool, and Laura suddenly felt as if the men were closing ranks and excluding her. She had achieved what they had asked her to do—did that mean she was now superfluous to requirements?

  I don’t want to travel in a separate car with a servant, she thought—flicked away as you would an irritating fly on a hot summer’s day. She turned to look at Xavier, but his eyes were stony and his face unmoving—the man who had kissed her so passionately on the plane now seemed like a distant dream. Would he object to this sudden segregation of the sexes? she wondered. Would his obvious desire for her go as far as wanting her companionship on the journey to the Palace?

  Xavier met her eyes. He knew that she wanted to stay with him—and, in truth, would he not have preferred her beside him? Familiar and beautiful. But her beauty was distracting—and not just to him. He wanted to keep all his wits about him—and, like a small animal locked outside in the cold and rain—her gratitude would know no bounds when he took her back into the warmth of his arms once more. Let her have a taste of what it was like to be rejected by Xavier de Maistre, and in
future she would acquiesce to his every desire!

  Besides, Laura and Malik both had the potential to be his enemy, and was it not best to divide your enemies? So that if necessary you could play one off against the other…?

  ‘Run along now, cherie,’ he murmured. ‘As you see—everyone is ready to leave.’

  Laura didn’t react—even though his patronising dismissal felt like a slap to the face. Yet she had travelled out here before under her own steam and managed admirably—because she had been playing her professional role instead of allowing a passionate kiss to knock her guard down. So start playing it again! You are here as an employee, she reminded herself, and nothing more.

  She nodded and gave a serene smile. ‘Yes, of course. You men will have plenty to talk about. I’ll see you at the Palace.’ And she turned and walked towards the car without another word, knowing that they watched her.

  For a moment both men were silent as a guard sprang to attention and opened the door of the armoured car for her.

  ‘She is beautiful, is she not?’ asked Malik reflectively.

  Xavier turned his head back to look at the Sheikh’s aide, acknowledging the glint in the other’s eyes with a stony response. Had this man already been intimate with the luscious redhead? he wondered. And a dart of sexual jealousy lanced right through him. ‘Laura?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Malik, and then paused. ‘She is your lover?’ he questioned deliberately.

  A furrow appeared between Xavier’s black eyebrows. ‘Is it the custom in Kharastan to speak of women in such a way?’ he demanded.

  Malik acknowledged the barb with a slight shrug. ‘You come from the West—where attitudes towards sex are liberal, and where your own reputation with women is that of a legendary stud.’

  ‘And where only schoolboys boast to each other of sexual conquests,’ returned Xavier.

  ‘I was not asking you to boast—I was merely trying to find out whether Miss Cottingham has yet joined the long list of your lovers.’

  ‘My reputed lovers,’ drawled Xavier. ‘If I had bedded all the women who have offered themselves to me then there would be little time for anything else.’

  ‘So is that a yes or a no?’ persisted Malik.

  Xavier’s eyes narrowed. Was it just masculine pride which made him reluctant to admit that Laura had not yet been his, since the Sheikh’s aide was clearly obsessed with her? Or was it a niggling doubt that perhaps she actually might do the unthinkable and resist him? Never! There was not a woman born who was foolish enough to deny herself that.

  Think about the way she responded to you on the flight over, he told himself, offering a tantalising foretaste of the abundant pleasures to come. ‘You display a curiosity on the subject which borders on the distasteful,’ he gritted.

  Malik shrugged. ‘Perhaps I am thinking of sleeping arrangements.’

  ‘Or perhaps you want her for yourself?’ Xavier challenged. ‘Tell me—is it necessary for you to employ a woman to be able to take her to your bed?’

  There was a moment of disbelieving silence. ‘Your comments could be construed as insults, Monsieur de Maistre,’ observed Malik coldly. ‘Is that wise, do you think?’

  But Xavier refused to be cowed by the menace which had suddenly crept into the other man’s voice. I don’t have to like this man, or respect or pay homage to him, he thought. ‘If I were being wise, then I probably wouldn’t have agreed to come on this damned journey in the first place!’

  ‘Then why did you?’

  Xavier’s lips curved into a glacial smile. ‘I will talk to the Sheikh,’ he said carelessly. ‘And not to one of his henchmen.’

  He saw that his incautious words had made Malik clench his fists in the folds of his silken robes in ill-disguised fury—and suddenly Xavier felt almost reckless. As if he had just been given a draught of cool refreshment after being parched and dry for longer than he cared to remember. Before him lay a gilded path to the unknown, and suddenly that excited him—because for all his freedom and his many glittering successes hadn’t his life become just a little predictable?

  After all, there were only so many fine wines you could drink, exquisite meals you could eat and beautiful women you could bed. When you wore nothing but silk or cashmere or Irish linen next to your skin, when every whim and wish was granted—did you not lose something of the fierce hunter which lay at the deepest core of every man?

  A luxurious palate could grow jaded, but for the first time in as long as he could remember Xavier’s blood began to fizz with an elemental excitement as the car drove down a wide avenue, where rows of guards saluted as they passed.

  He sighted an ornate set of metal gates—turned blood-red by the dying embers of the sun. Through them he could see a glimpse of water, spraying up in a white plume from a huge fountain, and unknown trees throwing down dark and dappled shadows onto immaculate paths.

  As they approached the compound he could see a domed building covered in exquisite mosaic and the glint of gold. Alongside the gold was blue of every shade imaginable—from summer sky to ocean deep.

  And, despite his unfamiliar heightened state of emotion, Xavier suddenly felt a strange and powerful sense of destiny—as if it was his place to be here, now.

  ‘We are here,’ he observed slowly, and saw Malik had been quietly watching him, an unfathomable look in black eyes so like his own.

  ‘Indeed we are,’ said the Kharastan man softly. ‘The Blue Palace is very beautiful, yes? And it is here that Zahir the Great awaits you.’

  Zahir the Great. The man who claims to be my…father, Xavier thought, and then a strange sense of isolation crept over him. What if none of it were true? What if this strange, almost dream-like state turned out to be exactly that?

  Because—for all his money and his power and connections—Zahir might have made a fundamental mistake: the kind all men were capable of. It might turn out to be some random error—and then what?

  Xavier must be very careful indeed not to allow his customary cool composure to slip. To remain as indifferent as he always did—because he would be watched closely for his reactions, and an unguarded moment could be interpreted as weakness. And that he would never allow.

  ‘When will I see him?’ he questioned suddenly.

  There was a pause. ‘It has not yet been decided,’ said Malik.

  Xavier could sense the other man’s authority reasserting itself, and he knew that he must demonstrate his own power.

  Because they want you here far more than you want to be here, he reminded himself.

  ‘I have travelled out here at considerable inconvenience—and I will not be left dangling like a puppet on a string,’ he asserted fiercely. ‘If Sheikh Zahir wishes to see me, then so be it—but it must be accomplished as quickly as possible. I am a busy man who does not play to another’s whims.’

  Malik’s eyes became stony. ‘It is not a game that we play with you, Frenchman,’ he grated. ‘Zahir is old and frail and the time of your meeting will be governed by the state of his health—by that, and that alone.’

  Xavier’s heard the raw note which had distorted Malik’s voice, and his eyes narrowed. Was he genuinely fond of his master, in the way that sometimes happened with a subordinate? he wondered. Or was he just projecting into a future without the Sheikh and worrying about his own livelihood?

  But he looked into the other man’s eyes and saw genuine grief there, and it smote at Xavier’s conscience. ‘I did not intend to cause you pain,’ he grated.

  Malik inclined his head in thanks and appeared to regain his composure. ‘Obviously, the meeting will be arranged as soon as possible.’

  There were a million questions teeming in Xavier’s mind—but now was not the time to ask them.

  Malik’s voice broke into his thoughts.

  ‘Dinner will be at nine, after you and Miss Cottingham have had a chance to refresh yourselves. I hope that will meet with your approval?’

  And suddenly Xavier knew that he wanted—needed—to
assert himself in other ways, too. To follow up on the promise of his kiss with the beautiful Englishwoman. Because what else was he going to do with the idle hours while he waited for the Sheikh to see him? ‘What will meet with my approval is if the sleeping arrangements are to my satisfaction,’ he said, with soft, smooth emphasis.

  Malik stiffened. ‘That depends on what you mean by satisfaction.’

  ‘I think we both know what I mean,’ said Xavier softly.

  There was a moment’s silence. ‘Obviously it would greatly offend Kharastan sensibilities if two unmarried people were openly put in the same room, but…’ Malik shrugged his shoulders and a knowing look passed between the two men. ‘I am certain that something can be arranged to your satisfaction.’

  ‘I’m glad we understand each other,’ said Xavier.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘I THINK there must have been some kind of mistake!’ declared Laura, as she looked around the room with a mixture of anger, fear and unquestionable excitement.

  ‘Mistake?’ echoed Xavier innocently as two servants put down the last of their bags. ‘And what kind of mistake would that be, cherie?’

  ‘Sharing a suite!’ she declared. ‘With you!’

  She was glaring at him as if he was devil himself, and Xavier allowed a feeling of brief contentment to wash over him. How much easier to allow his thoughts to be dominated by the familiar frission of sexual tension rather than wondering about the wisdom of having come here on such a strange quest.

  ‘Well, it isn’t exactly sharing, is it, cherie? We have one sitting room in common—surely you can deal with that for a few nights?’ He raised his black brows in mocking query. ‘Did you never share with members of the opposite sex when you were a law student?’

  ‘That’s different!’

  ‘How is it different, Laura?’

  ‘Playing the innocent doesn’t suit you, Xavier,’ she said. ‘Are you behind this?’