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Taken by the Sheikh
Penny Jordan
CONTENTS
‘SO THE negotiations went well, then?’
Drax frowned, his dark, arrogantly slanted eyebrows snapping together over an equally arrogant aquiline nose. Although his brother had welcomed him back to the small Arab emirate they ruled together with his usual warmth, Drax sensed that there was something on his elder twin’s mind that Vere had not yet revealed to him.
‘The talks in London went very well,’ he confirmed. He and Vere had ruled Dhurahn together now for almost a full decade, having come to power just after their twenty-fifth birthday, following the death of their parents in a car accident during a state visit.
Despite their closeness, they had never talked about the horror of that time—or the loss of their strong, energetic and forward-thinking father and their beautiful Irish mother. There had been no need. As twins they in stinctively understood each other’s feelings. Physically they were identical, but when it came to their personalities sometimes it seemed to Drax that they were two halves of one whole—sharing the same basic mind-set and understanding, and yet manifesting a desire to follow their shared life path in different ways.
Drax had come straight to his brother’s private audience room from the airport without bothering to go to his own quarters first to change. So, while Vere was dressed traditionally in a robe of dark blue embroidered with gold, worn over his white dishdasha, his head covered, Drax was wearing a formal dark blue business suit, the jacket open over a crisp white shirt worn with a discreetly striped dark red silk tie.
However, although their mode of dress could not have been more different, that faded into insignificance against the impact of their identical and magnificent physical appearance.
They were both tall and broad-shouldered, with the same slightly hooded ice-green eyes which could glitter with fierce heat, and the same distinctive predatory profiles. Their Berber blood, mixed with French and then Irish, had ensured they possessed an aura of power and sexuality that went beyond easy good looks to something that would have been dark and dangerous enough in one man, but when doubled possessed a force that was unnerving and compelling.
‘We both know that we aren’t the only Middle Eastern country wanting to establish ourselves as not just the Arab world’s recognised premier financial centre but the one with the strongest links to the recognised financial centres throughout the world. However, from the talks I had in London I gained the impression that we are the favoured choice. As we agreed, I made it clear that Dhurahn is prepared to put aside an enclave of one hundred acres of land to house the buildings needed to develop and grow a “knowledge economy”, and that we favour the use of English mercantile law because of its principles of equity and fairness. I also told them we envisage developing a financial exchange that will equal anything that New York, Hong Kong or London has to offer, with a regulatory system that investors and the business community can rely on and trust. But that’s enough about what I’ve been doing in London, Vere. Something’s on your mind.’
Vere raised one eyebrow in silent recognition of his twin’s astuteness.
‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘We have a problem.’
Drax looked searchingly at his twin. ‘And that problem is?’
‘While you were in London we were contacted by both the Ruler of Zuran and the Emir of Khulua.’
Drax waited. There was nothing particularly unusual in them being contacted by their closest neighbours; they were on good terms. Dhurahn did not have the large oil reserves and revenues enjoyed by its neighbours, but its long river made the land rich and fertile, and Dhurahn had become the ‘greenhouse’ that supplied Zuran, in particular, with fresh produce for its expanding tourist industry. The days when the fiercely warring tribes had fought bitterly over the hot desert sands were long gone, and the people of Dhurahn lived in peace with their neighbours, enjoying a mutual and shared prosperity.
But certain tribal methods of ensuring peace still endured.
‘Both the Ruler and the Emir have, in the mysterious ways of such things—the desert wind is, as ever, capricious in where it blows—heard rumours of our plans,’ Vere told his brother dryly. ‘Not that they said as much, but of course it is obvious why they are both now so eager to cement the existing good relationship we share with them.’
‘You are telling me this—but what is it that you are not telling me?’ Drax demanded, easily recognising that his brother was withholding something. ‘To keep on good terms with our neighbours makes sound business sense…’
‘What the Ruler and the Emir are so keen to discuss with us is the matter of our marriages.’
‘Our marriages?’ Drax frowned again. They were thirty-four. One day, of course, they would both marry, choosing their wives carefully and with due consideration for the future of their country, but that time was not here yet. Right now they had far more important things to do—like establishing Dhurahn as the strongest financial powerhouse in the region.
‘Our marriages,’ Vere repeated grimly. ‘Yours to the Emir’s eldest daughter and mine to the Ruler’s youngest sister.’
The two brothers looked at one another.
‘Such marriages would strengthen our ties with both countries, but it would also strengthen their potential involvement with Dhurahn,’ Drax pointed out. ‘While we stand between them, and get on well with both the Ruler and the Emir, there are issues on which they do not agree. The Emir