inroads—though of course there are many gaps.’
‘And she studied here?’ Ethan checked, more than interested now.
‘Yes—at Columbia.’
It was the same college where Khalid and Ethan had met. He had known that the amulets belonged to Khalid’s family, but he had not known that the late Queen had studied at Columbia too. It struck Ethan that he had learned more about the enigmatic Khalid from a stranger than from the man himself. He was more than intrigued as Merida spoke on.
‘Princess Dalila returned to Al-Zahan to marry. However, her fondness for New York City was the reason that her son, Sheikh Khalid, agreed to the amulets being displayed here.’
Ethan moved on—but not out of boredom this time, more out of interest. He stood peering into the next display. Embedded within a large, egg-shaped piece of marble was a ruby.
‘This one is my favourite,’ Merida admitted.
She took out some black gloves and handed him a pair, then, as she put on her own gloves, Merida told him its story.
‘Three hundred years ago in Al-Zahan there was a secret wedding,’ she explained, and Ethan found he was drawing nearer to hear her low voice, as if she were sharing a secret only with him. ‘Due to feuding between the two families there was no amulet given. Peace was finally restored, but after two years, when there were still no signs of a baby, it was decided that this was the reason. The Sheikh King, desperate for the lineage to continue, asked that the best stones be excavated. It took three years until what he considered a suitable offering was found.’
‘It’s stunning,’ Ethan said, and so was the voice that told the tale.
She handed the large stone to him; he weighed it in his hand and then held it between finger and thumb, bringing it nearer to his eyes to examine it more closely.
‘Careful,’ Merida said, and drew on yet another of her well-worn lines. ‘It ensures fertility.’
‘For a hen, perhaps,’ Ethan mused.
That tiny glint of humour made her smile. It reached her eyes, and they shone as beguiling as any amulet, and there was a single perfect moment when he forgot his hellish day.
Hellish because he should be in Dubai, finally kicking back, but instead would be heading to the hospital soon, where his father had been admitted in advance of some exploratory surgery that morning.
Ethan knew no more than that.
In an hour or so he would glean what he could, but for a moment or two he forgot the troubles awaiting him in the world outside. For now he focused on her smoky voice and the history of this beautiful stone, said to promote both love and fertility—two things he did not want.
‘And did it work?’ Ethan asked, handing the amulet back to her.
Merida nodded. ‘Yes, the Sheikha Princess went on to have the first set of royal twins.’
The tour continued to its conclusion and, having seen and held some more amulets, Ethan handed the final piece to her and watched as she carefully replaced it in the display.
‘The amulets really are beautiful—though it’s all fairy tales of course.’
‘I’m not so sure,’ Merida said. ‘All the marriages attached to these amulets were seemingly happy ones.’
‘The Queen died in childbirth,’ Ethan pointed out.
‘They don’t promise eternal life.’ Merida smiled. ‘I still think there’s something rather magical about them.’
‘Well, we’ll have to agree to disagree on that point.’
Ethan didn’t believe in love. Full stop.
But as for lust? Absolutely.
He was almost tempted to tell her now that he knew Khalid—that the Sheikh was, in fact, himself a twin. Though only to prolong the discussion. To talk with her some more.
‘How long have you worked at the gallery?’ he asked as they headed back up the stairs.
‘Almost a year.’
Merida certainly wasn’t going to admit that she had been hauled in this afternoon at the last moment, but as they came out from the tunnel she did admit that this wasn’t her full-time job.
‘Though I only work here part-time.’
‘More of a hobby, then?’ he asked, or rather assumed, for he was more than used to women whose daddies found them a ‘little job’ until a suitable husband came along.
‘Not quite,’ Merida said, and gave him a tight smile without elaborating further.
Ethan Devereux was here to see the gallery, not hear her life story.
They walked past the displays where he had stood bored, and then came back to the desk. Of course she offered him a drink once more, and waved a hand over the nibbles.
Again, he declined.
‘Do you have any more questions?’ Merida asked, just as she always did, and yet it felt a little different this time. The beguiling, sensual air surrounding the amulet display seemed still to cling, and she found that she held her breath as she awaited his response.
‘Just one...’ Ethan said.
He saw her blink rapidly, and rather thought that she’d guessed what his question was.
Dinner.
And it should be as seamless as that—because for Ethan it always was.
Yet he hesitated, and did not know why.
It wasn’t the fact that he had to head to the hospital that halted him from asking. He could offer to pick her up in an hour.
Yet he didn’t.
Instead he reminded himself he was here for Khalid.
‘The rugs,’ he said. ‘If I were to order one, how long would it take to make?’
‘It would depend on the size.’
‘One like that.’
Merida should be dancing on the spot at the unexpected chance of earning some commission. A commissioned rug was worth a fortune, and she should be engaging him and wowing him with details. Yet all she could think of was dinner. Or rather, the lack of it.
Which was just as well, given Reece’s warning that he would crush her in the palm of his hand.
Yet Merida suddenly wanted to experience the feel of his palm more than she had wanted anything before in her life.
Except Broadway, which she had dreamed of all her life.
Ethan Devereux, whom she had only just met, suddenly came a very close second.
Merida stood there, trying to unscramble her mind so she could answer his question as to how long a commissioned rug would take to make.
‘I would think around eighteen months.’
‘What if I wanted it sooner?’
‘Ubaid has many artisans. If they were focused on one piece, perhaps a year...’
‘And what if I wanted it sooner than that?’ he pushed.
‘I’m afraid it would take time. Patience.’
Reece might never forgive her, but instead of promising limitless artisans, all devoted to pleasing this man who could name his price, she told him instead that he would have to wait.
Only they weren’t talking about rugs. She was quite sure of that.
And so was he.
‘I don’t have patience,’ Ethan said, and the words were delivered with a slight snap, for he knew now why he hadn’t invited her to dinner.
For