Lucy was stronger than when they’d first met …
Whatever it was he didn’t have long to find out.
Razi was a master of surprise. He’d sprung the first surprise at the door of his office where he’d been dressed in casual clothes and ready to leave, and now this drive into the wild interior. At first she thought there was nothing to see other than sand, but as Razi led the way up the shallow side of a dune and she saw the panorama on the other side she realised her dreams of a desert kingdom had been insipid stabs at conjuring the reality.
‘No comment?’ Razi demanded.
She was too stunned to speak. ‘It’s very beautiful,’ she said at last. This was a massive understatement. The brow of the dune was flat, allowing them to stand securely and look over the surrounding land. She was acutely aware of Razi at her side, sharing the moment as she gazed up into a metallic-blue sky streaked lemon and baby pink. There was a gash of neon-orange at the horizon and all the vivid colours of the dying sun were reflected on the surface of a glittering oasis, whose water was so clear she could see each tiny pebble on the sandy floor. Lush green palm trees provided a frame and there was even fruit hanging thickly amongst the fronds. But it was the pavilion on the bank of the oasis, with its ivory silk walls framed in indigo dusk, undulating lazily in the night-time breezes, that really held her attention. ‘Is that a traditional structure?’
‘It’s mine,’ he said, following her gaze.
‘It’s so romantic.’ She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth.
Razi remained silent, staring out across his desert kingdom. He moved down the dune and she followed him. He strode to the pavilion where he held the curtain aside for her to enter. As she dipped her head and brushed past him she was aware of his exotic scent, and as she walked deeper into the shaded interior she felt the heat of his stare on her back.
As she looked around he explained, ‘Everything you see here was produced in this country.’
It said something about a man who could take his pick from the world’s riches, and yet had furnished his desert retreat only with those items that carried a particular significance to him. Razi’s devotion to the Isla de Sinnebar couldn’t have been more starkly illustrated and she realised his trip to the mountains when they’d met had been one last indulgence before Razi returned to rule—and that her part in that trip had been nothing more than an entertainment for him.
‘What do you think?’ he said, interrupting these thoughts.
She brushed away the sadness and concentrated on her surroundings. ‘I think it’s magical,’ she said honestly. Everything was new and strange to her—she had everything to learn about his country. As she ran the palm of her hand over the fabric walls Razi explained that they were woven so fine to keep out the sand. So like the furniture they were functional as well as beautiful. It was like a treasure trove—Aladdin’s cave, she thought as she turned around to examine everything. There were chests of burnished ebony inlaid with mother of pearl, pierced brass tables and fabulous rugs intricately woven in jewel colours. Plump silk cushions invited rest, while polished lamps cast a subdued and honeyed light. As if a veil had dropped from her eyes, Lucy saw the heritage she was denying her child. The interior of the pavilion was so lovely she yearned for the opportunity to ask Razi for the history of every piece so she could squirrel the information away to tell her baby when the time was right. But how could she do that when he didn’t want idle conversation—and when the time would never be right? How could she ever have a normal conversation with him when she was concealing such a vital piece of news?
He offered her water, which she drank, and then she waited while he went back to the Jeep to collect the picnic he’d brought with them. This gave her an opportunity to look at things more closely, and now she noticed the platters of sweetmeats and the jugs of juice. ‘You planned this,’ she said when he returned.
‘You gave me around five minutes, I seem to remember,’ he said dryly, placing the basket of food on the ground.
And servants would rush to do his bidding, Lucy realised. Razi had everything in the material sense, and yet he seemed to have lost his joie de vivre, along with his capacity to love or even empathise with a fellow human being. How could that be good for his country? How could a fun-free life with a duty-bound father be good for her child?
‘Many of these gifts were left by the Bedouin,’ he explained, oblivious to her concerns. ‘And my brother uses the place sometimes.’
Lucy shuddered at Razi’s mention of the man known as The Sword of Vengeance. ‘You two must be very close,’ she ventured.
‘We trust each other completely.’
What would Ra’id make of her? Lucy wondered. She had to remind herself the great Sheikh probably wouldn’t think about staff at all.
Some of this must have shown on her face, she guessed as Razi dipped his head to stare at her. ‘Are you unwell?’ he demanded.
‘I’m fine,’ she lied, knowing pregnancy had taken hold of both her body and her turbulent thoughts.
‘Here, drink this.’ He poured another glass of water.
‘I’m perfectly all right,’ she insisted as he stared closely at her. But gullible was one thing Razi had never been.
He was instantly suspicious. There had been too much force behind Lucy’s assurance that she was all right. So what was she hiding? He refused to consider the most obvious explanation. Lucy was too honest to hide something so vital from him. But her eyes were wary and she was very pale …
The desire to protect Lucy and to defend a country combined in a surge of longing. He couldn’t have both and had been right to get her out of the city and away from prying eyes. He could have taken her to any number of places, but had chosen the sultry, seductive setting of the Maktabi Lagoon, a place so rich in ecological treasures he and his brother Ra’id only allowed the passing Bedouin to use it. Why here? Because the desert freed him. This place was his haven when he needed to recall how it had felt to be free. And he supposed that, whatever Lucy’s motives for coming to Isla de Sinnebar, some part of him that still remembered the time they had shared in the ski resort had wanted her to see this special place.
And now he wanted her to stay.
Why shouldn’t she stay?
He argued violently with himself, only to come up with the answer that rules might be made to be broken, but that was not the type of leader he intended to be. But for now he’d make her comfortable. ‘I keep a selection of robes in that chest over there,’ he said, viewing her city clothes with some degree of sympathy.
‘For your visitors?’
There was the faintest edge to her voice that made him smile inwardly. This was the Lucy he remembered: fire beneath the ice. And jealous too? He let that pass. What else could he do when he had changed her? He had always wanted Lucy to have confidence and self-belief, and now she had. ‘The Bedouin leave a selection of robes and other products when they use this trail through the desert,’ he explained. ‘That’s our custom here. If we have more than we need we pass it on to our neighbour—so, please, feel free to choose a robe to wear.’ She was hot and flustered in her workplace armour and would be more comfortable in a loose local robe, plus he’d like to see her wearing one—one last image for him to keep. ‘There’s no one but us around,’ he pointed out. ‘Why don’t you take a dip in the oasis to freshen up and then choose a robe?’
Maybe if she reversed that? Lucy thought as Razi strolled over to the ebony chest. She was still on edge with her mind full of what she had come to tell him. She watched as he raised the lid of a chest and rifled inside before pulling out a shimmering robe. In the palest shade of sky blue, it was embroidered with tiny pearls and diamanté, and was perhaps the most beautiful item of clothing she had ever seen. But as he held it up and the light streamed through it she realised it was completely sheer. ‘Don’t you have anything a little less revealing?’
‘This?’ he suggested, pulling