breath, realising money had never occurred to her.
‘How much do you want?’ he said, easing away from the door.
Could a man change so much? Lucy wondered, seeing the suspicion in his eyes.
A king would be suspicious of everyone’s motives, she reasoned, but Razi needn’t worry, because his money was ring-fenced for her daughter’s future. She hadn’t touched it. ‘I’m not here for your money—though now you mention it—’
‘Yes?’ His face eased into a cynical smile as if he had been expecting this all along.
‘You left me a ridiculous amount of money in Val d’Isere,’ she began nervously.
‘Have you never received a tip before? I find that hard to believe.’
A tip for good service? Lucy wondered, feeling mortified as Razi’s sweeping brows lifted in mocking denial of everything they’d shared. ‘A tip? Yes,’ she said as her mind cleared. ‘Of course.’ She borrowed Razi’s mannerism and shrugged, as if a guest leaving her a tip big enough to buy a house with was an everyday occurrence. ‘I can’t think why else you’d leave me so much money.’
‘What aspect of money and payment would you like to discuss first?’ he offered, so certain of moral victory he opened his arms in a gesture of encouragement.
To see Razi so cut off from human feeling broke her heart. It hadn’t even occurred to him that she might be here to see him, or that what she felt for him was deep and everlasting love that asked for nothing in return. But this wasn’t about Lucy Tennant or even Razi al Maktabi, it was about a small defenceless child. She were here in Isla de Sinnebar to tell a man who no longer existed that they were going to have a baby together. The fact that something in Razi’s history meant he couldn’t imagine a woman loving him as she loved him was irrelevant.
The man she knew had gone and in his place was the ruler of Isla de Sinnebar, a warrior sheikh, who probably knew more about mastering a fiery stallion at the head of his troops than love. And now she was desperate to buy time. She might be strong and determined in her mind, but, unlike Razi, she was human and exhausted. Pregnancy had drained her and the enormity of the task ahead of her had begun to tell. ‘Would you mind if I freshened up before we talk? All I need is—’
‘Five minutes of my time?’ he interrupted.
‘If you can spare it?’
‘I can spare you five minutes—in my office. When you’re ready to see me ring the bell and someone will come to escort you. Don’t keep me waiting, Lucy.’
And with a swirl of robes he was gone.
He was a king with measureless powers, a king who had sworn to devote himself to a country and its people, but he was also a man and had thought that part of him locked away before Lucy’s reappearance.
She was a brief, bright memory, and must remain so, he told himself firmly. He wasn’t a ruler under sufferance. He wanted to be King so that he could change things for the better in Isla de Sinnebar.
He wanted the responsibility that came with rebuilding a backward country and would allow nothing to stand in the way of progress or the happiness of his people—and that included Lucy Tennant. If she wanted more money she could have it, but she could not stay. His first action would be to get her out of the building and away from public view. Her mere presence in a country that was still so backward-looking was all it might take for unsettling rumours to start up.
But she had fainted at his feet and he was concerned about her. She didn’t appear to be her usual robust self. There had always been something luminous about Lucy, but now there was a fragility he hadn’t noticed before. Perhaps it was just lack of food—or dehydration, the climate change or jet lag—or perhaps the stress of coming to see him. Whatever—he could at least feed her.
His arrival in the kitchens caused quite a stir. He ordered a picnic to be packed immediately. However suspicious he was of Lucy’s motives, hospitality was the way in Isla de Sinnebar and that particular tradition insisted he attended to all of her needs before he sent her on her way.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SITTING by Razi’s side in an unmarked army Jeep, Lucy was filled with apprehension. He had dismissed the driver. The vehicle had been waiting for them with its engine running, at the back door of the Maktabi office building with her luggage already loaded in the back. Razi was wearing jeans, desert boots and a plain black top, with the sleeves cut off to accommodate his biceps and a pair of aviators concealing the expression in his astute green eyes. To a casual observer he would pass for any particularly good-looking government agent with an uneasy suspect at his side. ‘Are we going to the airport?’ she asked, dry-mouthed.
‘Soon.’
So, where were they going? Lucy wondered, her anxiety mounting as the Jeep swept away from the kerb. Her great idea lay in ashes. Telling Razi her wonderful news now would be akin to walking into the lion’s den and asking if the lion would like relish with his meal. She couldn’t do it. Her first priority had to be going home to England where she could consult a lawyer. ‘Is there another flight to the UK today?’
‘Not as far as I’m aware.’
She craned her neck to read a sign as Razi drove down a slip road onto the highway. ‘Where did you say we were going?’
‘I didn’t.’ As you very well know, his quick glance seemed to say. ‘We’re going into the desert.’
The desert? Her heart was thundering so violently she felt sick. Why couldn’t they have talked at the office as Razi had suggested? Because he didn’t want anyone to see him with her, Lucy concluded.
But he could have ordered someone to take her to the airport.
And had chosen not to.
Because he wouldn’t want any loose ends, she told herself sensibly, trying to calm down. Razi would never ask anyone to do something he believed was his duty; he took care of his own problems.
The highway cut through the desert, and at one time exploring that would have excited her, but the thought of travelling into such dangerous terrain with a man who could only wish she had never existed was a terrifying prospect.
Razi’s grim expression did nothing to allay Lucy’s fears. They sat in silence while he drove the same way he made love, with focus and a frightening degree of skill. ‘I thought you were joking about the desert,’ she said nervously as he took a turning off the highway.
‘I never joke,’ he said grimly.
Not these days. And now there was only the shimmering heat haze in front of them and the wilderness beyond.
When they arrived at their destination he had barely put the brake on before Lucy tumbled out of the Jeep. She gazed around in fear at what he realised must appear nothing more than featureless desert and mountainous dunes to her. ‘There’s more to come,’ he assured her, springing down to stand by her side.
She didn’t answer and the tension in her shoulders filled him with the urge to comfort her. He had forgotten how natural and unaffected she was, or that he hadn’t met anyone like her before or since. He made the effort to see things through her eyes and then he realised that what was familiar to him was strange and threatening to Lucy, and as she stumbled on the sand he leapt forward to steady her. ‘You’re trembling,’ he said, taking tighter hold of her. ‘You’ve no need to be frightened of me.’ He stared into her anxious eyes. ‘I come here all the time,’ he explained. ‘It’s quite safe. I thought it would be better for our talk than a sterile office building.’
‘It’s certainly more discreet,’ she observed shrewdly.
He had forgotten how perceptive she was too. ‘As soon as we’ve had our talk,’ he promised, ‘I’ll take you back.’
She looked at him as if to say she knew as well as he did that the time of her departure