‘You wanted to talk about ground  rules.’ Khalid’s voice was a rich drawl.  ‘I agree. It’s well past time for that.’

The intensity of his stare held her taut and breathless as her heartbeat thudded, loud in her ears. Something had changed. Treacherous undercurrents swirled between them.

‘Perhaps we could work the details out tomorrow. It’s getting late.’ Her words tumbled out in a rush. Maggie felt strangely vulnerable in this highly charged atmosphere.

‘There’s no need to wait until tomorrow,’ he murmured.

‘There isn’t?’ Maggie watched him stride around the desk, each movement slow and purposeful. She found herself turning so her back was to the desk and Khalid stood between her and the door. Tremors of shock vibrated through her. And something else. A tiny thrill of excitement. She must be mad!

‘No,’ he said, his voice a deep rumble. ‘We’ll sort this out tonight.’

Her eyes were lustrous gold in the lamplight, shot with emerald fire. Khalid had never known any like them. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breasts thrusting in wanton invitation against the fabric. Her lips parted as her breaths shortened.

His body tensed to the point of pain as he prolonged the suspense of anticipation a moment more. He’d never been one to rush his pleasure.

And Maggie would be pure pleasure.

Annie West spent her childhood with her nose between the covers of a book—a habit she retains. After years of preparing government reports and official correspondence she decided to write something she really enjoys. And there’s nothing she loves more than a great romance. Despite her office-bound past she has managed a few interesting moments—including a marriage offer with the promise of a herd of camels to sweeten the contract. She is happily married to her ever-patient husband (who has never owned a dromedary). They live with their two children amongst the tall eucalypts at beautiful Lake Macquarie, on Australia’s east coast. You can e-mail Annie at www.annie-west.com, or write to her at PO Box 1041, Warners Bay, NSW 2282, Australia.

Recent books by the same author:

THE GREEK TYCOON’S UNEXPECTED WIFE

THE DESERT KING’S PREGNANT BRIDE

    BY

ANNIE WEST

www.millsandboon.co.uk

    With warmest gratitude to:

    Leanne McMahon, equine expert extraordinaire;

    Anna Campbell, the best friend a girl could have;

    and my very own hero, Geoff.

    Thank you.

    This book wouldn’t have been possible without you!

Table of Contents

Excerpt

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

MAGGIE bowed her head against the sheets of icy rain as she plodded along the muddy road.

Slick fabric stuck to her where she’d forgotten to do up her raincoat. Water sluiced down her legs, into her wellington boots. Her hair, so carefully washed and dried, now hung in saturated rat-tails against her neck. Vaguely she was aware of the chill numbing her body. After running, stumbling, then trudging so far in the lashing darkness, her steps slowed, became unsteady.

If she’d been thinking clearly, she’d have taken her battered Jeep. That hadn’t occurred to her. One look between the carelessly drawn curtains of Marcus’s sitting room and coherent thought had fled.

She’d stood, rooted to the spot, heedless of the drenching rain. When her brain had finally caught up with the message her eyes had conveyed, she’d simply run. She must have raced past her car into the welcoming blackness.

Pain tore at her throat as she sobbed in a deep racking breath. She had to get home, before the emotions churning inside overcame her.

Yet she couldn’t escape the memory of what she’d seen: Marcus, naked in the arms of his lover.

Now she understood why he’d blown hot and cold, sometimes too busy to see her and at others attentive and loving. His affection had been a sham. He’d only wanted her to conceal his affair with the trophy wife of a jealous horse breeder.

Maggie’s stomach churned. She’d been so gullible.

She’d believed him when he’d spoken of respecting her, not rushing her after her recent loss. He’d said she needed to be sure before they took their relationship further.

In her innocence Maggie had been sure. She’d decided to show him she was a desirable woman, mature and ready for a deeper relationship. She’d read every magazine she could lay her hands on, aiming to transform herself into the sort of woman she thought he wanted. She’d overcome her fears and thrust aside self-doubt. She’d even taken the long trip to town and bought herself a dress!

Her bitter laughter was swallowed by the rushing wind.

He’d never wanted her. She’d been too inexperienced and starved of affection to see he was using her. Nausea welled in her throat and she bent over to dry-retch again.

Strangely, this time as she looked down she could see her boots and her legs, wet and muddy below the raincoat. She frowned muzzily, trying to focus on the present, not the scene of contorting naked bodies replaying in her head.

Where was the light coming from?

‘Do you need help?’ A deep voice curled out of the roaring darkness to reach her.

Blindly, she raised her head and found herself blinking in the headlights of a massive off-road vehicle. A man stood silhouetted before it. He was tall, lean and unfamiliar. Something about the set of his broad shoulders and his wide-planted feet intimated he was a man prepared for anything, a man able to deal with trouble of any kind.

Maggie knew an instant’s insane craving to lean forward into his strong body, rest against those more-than-capable shoulders and slump into oblivion.

Then sense overcame instinct. She had no idea who he was. Besides, she’d just learned her judgement was fatally flawed. She’d believed Marcus to be everything she wanted in a man, a lover, a mate. She’d thought…

The shadow moved closer, near enough to make her stunningly aware of his superior height and power.

‘You’re not well. How can I assist?’ This time Maggie caught the faintest trace of an accent.

‘Who are you?’ she said, barely recognising the reedy whisper as her own voice.

Silence for a moment as the wind stirred the collar of her coat and drove the rain almost horizontal.

‘I’m a guest at the Tallawanta Stud. Staying up at the homestead.’

Now she recognised the latest top-of-the-range vehicle. Only the best for those at the big house. And there was a special guest this week. The Sheikh of Shajehar, who owned the whole enormous horse stud, had sent an envoy on an inspection tour.

That explained his accent. The precise, clipped English, as if he’d attended a top British public school. It was overlaid with a slight softening of consonants that hinted at something far more exotic.

‘Or do you intend that we both stand out here till we’re saturated to the skin?’

There was no impatience in that voice, but nor was there any mistaking its steely undertone. Maggie jumped, reining in her wandering thoughts. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t seem to concentrate properly.

Only now did she realise the stranger wore no overcoat. He must be even wetter than she.

‘I’m sorry.’ She shook her head dazedly. ‘I’m not…’

‘Have you been in an accident?’ Again that easy, calm voice with just a hint of iron in its depths.

‘No. No accident. I… Could you give me a lift, please?’ Maggie had no qualms now about cadging a ride from him. He was the visiting dignitary she’d heard about. They were on the estate’s private road and no one would be out in this weather unless they belonged here.

‘Of course.’ He bowed his head, then preceded her to the four-wheel drive. His stride was long, purposeful and easy, as if pacing down a carpeted corridor instead of a muddy, uneven gravel road. Maggie stumbled after him as best she could, her limbs horribly uncoordinated.

He opened the door and stood back for her to get in.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured as a firm hand cupped her elbow and helped her into the high cabin. Without his support she wouldn’t have made it.

Maggie subsided onto the cushioned seat. Slowly she loosened her cramped fingers and let go of the straps of her high-heeled sandals from one hand, her frivolous new purse from the other. They tumbled to the floor. She’d barely been aware she still held them.

The door closed and she sank back, stunned by the warm comfort of the cabin after the howling wind and teeming rain that had drummed incessantly in her ears.

This was…luxury. Heaven.

Maggie shut her eyes, overcome by the quiet peace.

‘Here,’ a deep voice filtered into her consciousness, ‘take this.’

Slowly she turned towards the velvet-soft voice, fighting the intense dragging weariness that consumed her. She didn’t want to rouse herself, but he was insistent.

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. He sat in the driver’s seat and she looked up into the blackest eyes she’d ever seen. Deep-set, hooded eyes that surveyed her closely, taking in every nuance of her appearance.

Maggie’s eyes widened at the sight of her rescuer in the cabin’s pale overhead light.

His jet-black hair was slicked back from a face tanned almost to bronze. Her breath snagged at the strong, spare beauty of his features, each plane emphasised by the sheen of rain on burnished flesh. Lean cheeks with slanted cheekbones that mirrored the stark angle of his brows. A strong, aristocratic nose with just a hint of the aquiline. Narrow, well-shaped lips that she could imagine tipping into a smile or turning down in displeasure. A jaw that spoke of solid power and bone-deep assurance.

The combination took her breath away. It was as if someone had opened a precious old book and conjured a warrior prince straight from the Arabian Nights.

But nothing in her juvenile reading matched this man for pure magnetism. He looked exotic and masterful.

Maggie had never known any man could look so…

‘Here,’ he repeated, thrusting a soft woollen blanket into her hands. His brows angled down in a frown as he surveyed her. ‘Are you sure you’re not injured?’

She nodded, then hid her face in the folds of wool, holding the blanket with hands that trembled. Embarrassment washed through her, whether because he’d caught her staring, or because of her strange wayward thoughts, she didn’t know.

She must be in shock. That would explain her heedless flight and the muzzy feeling that everything was distant, unreal. Yes, that was it. Shock.

Any woman would be shocked to discover what she had tonight. And no doubt she looked a sight: workaday raingear over her beaded dress—

‘Stop it.’ A firm hand curved around her jaw and swung her face towards him. His fingers were hard and warm and comfortingly real against her numb flesh.

Maggie blinked, amazed to discover the water spiking her lashes wasn’t rain, but tears. They burned her eyes.

‘Stop what?’ she whispered on a hiccough, staring into liquid dark eyes that held hers mesmerised.

Gradually her galloping heartbeat slowed. The breath shuddered out of her constricted lungs. She dragged in air, conscious of a tight ache around her chest.

‘You were becoming hysterical.’

His clasp of her chin shifted, fingers splaying wide to tilt her head higher as if he needed to see her better in the dim light. The heat of his touch burned life back into her frozen skin and she was content to let him hold her so. She felt strangely lethargic.

‘S-s-sorry.’ She frowned. She’d never stuttered in her life. And as for being hysterical… ‘I’ve had a bit of a sh-shock.’ There, she finally got it out. She had trouble coordinating her lips and tongue. ‘I’ll be all r-right.’

‘You’ve been out in this storm too long.’ He took the wool from her white-knuckled grasp and lifted the blanket around her shoulders, pulling the edges together. The enveloping comfort relaxed her into a boneless huddle and the movement drew him close. She caught his scent, faint yet intriguing. Heat and sandalwood, spice and damp male skin. Her nostrils flared as she slumped forward.

Large hands on her shoulders propped her away from him.

‘Where did you come from? How long have you been out?’

Maggie’s lips curved up in a dreamy smile as her eyelids drifted lower. She really did love that accent. The softening consonants and lilting rhythm almost hidden behind the crisp intonation sounded quite…seductive. She could imagine going to sleep to the sound of that voice.

Her eyes popped open as fingers curled hard into her shoulders.

‘Did someone hurt you?’ His voice sounded different. She shivered anew at the hint of anger in his tone.

‘No! No, I’m fine. Just…’ The words petered out and she blinked, confused. She really did feel odd. ‘I need to g-g-get back. Please.’

Abruptly, he nodded, pushing her back into the moulded seat and reaching for her seat belt. The heat of his torso as he leant near was warmer by far than any blanket.

‘Where to?’

He straightened and immediately the chill invaded her body again. When he switched on the ignition the cabin was plunged into darkness but for the light from the control panel. Her gaze strayed to his shadowy profile: powerful yet elegant in a toughly masculine way.

Instinct told her she could trust him absolutely.

‘Another s-s-six k-kilometres. Then r-right. I’ll direct you f-from there.’

He eased the vehicle forward. Rain pounded on the roof and the four-wheel drive slid in the thick mud.

Mud. Her boots. Her gaze spanned the interior of the luxury vehicle.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘My b-boots are f-filthy.’

‘This is a farm vehicle,’ he responded. ‘I’m sure it collects its fair share of mud.’

Spoken like a man who never had to clean said vehicle, Maggie realised. This was no work vehicle. It was reserved for important guests, used when only the best would do.

‘Who are you?’

For a moment she thought he hadn’t heard her question over the sound of the rain.

‘My name is Khalid. And yours?’

‘Maggie.’ She hugged the blanket closer, ‘Maggie Lewis.’ Thank goodness her teeth had stopped chattering.

‘I’m pleased to meet you, Maggie.’ His voice was grave, almost formal. Suddenly she wondered how this man spent his time when he wasn’t visiting Australian horse studs or rescuing stranded women from deserted roads.

Khalid concentrated on the road as driving conditions deteriorated. He had to get her warm and dry quickly. She was in shock and might be on the verge of hypothermia.

Six kilometres and then how far to reach her destination? He couldn’t take that risk. Instead he’d drive her to Tallawanta till she recovered.

She was an enigma. There was no abandoned car and those weren’t work clothes beneath her oilskin. The glimpse of long slender legs below her coat had instantly caught his interest. And the high heels she’d dangled from her hand were for dancing the night away or seducing a man.

Was that what had happened? Had some man hurt her?

Despite her height, tall enough to top his shoulder, there was a fragile air about this woman. Her shadowed eyes were huge in that milky pale face. Her bowed neck as she’d hunched over in the road was long and slender and delicate.

She hadn’t been at tonight’s dinner of luminaries who’d turned out to meet the heir to the throne of Shajehar. Khalid would have noticed.

He flicked a glance at her, huddled beneath the tartan rug, her eyes closed and her head lolling against the seat. She looked weak and defenceless, but she must have a core of gritty strength to head out in this weather on foot. The woman was an intriguing mix that triggered his curiosity. That hadn’t happened in a long time.

He felt a spurt of satisfaction that tonight, for once, he was without his entourage of security aides and obsequious hosts. He could indulge his curiosity, follow his instincts. Given the tight perimeter security on the vast estate, he’d won the argument that he was safe alone within its boundaries. Perhaps his security chief had realised too that it would be wise to give him space.

For six weeks Khalid had dutifully toured his half-brother’s royal holdings in Europe, the Americas and Australia. But he didn’t share Faruq’s enjoyment of pomp and luxury. As heir to his terminally ill half-brother, Khalid had recently acquired a huge security retinue. Its size was due to Faruq’s love of ostentation rather than any threat. Plus he had a schedule full of social engagements.

Social engagements! His time would be better spent supervising his latest project, a fresh water pipeline from the mountains in remote Shajehar. At least that would bring tangible benefits to his people.

Lights shone ahead in the streaming darkness and the tension eased across his shoulders and arms. Once he got her inside, in the light and warmth, he could assess her injuries, call a doctor if need be.

He bypassed the garages and drove round to the private owner’s wing of the sprawling homestead.

‘Here we are.’ He leaned across to shake her awake. She was limp beneath his hand. Frowning, he paused only a moment before touching her pale cheek. It was icy.

‘Maggie! Wake up.’

That voice again. The crisp warm voice with its tantalising hint of a lilt. She smiled to herself as she pictured an exotic prince in flowing robes, a gleaming scimitar in his hand.

‘Maggie!’

She shrugged off a hand that threatened to interrupt her lovely dream. In her mind her prince smiled and tugged her to him. Eyes brighter than gems gleamed down at her and her breath caught. He slipped his hand beneath her legs and lifted her in his embrace, his arms like cushioned steel.

She’d never felt so safe, so secure, so full of anticipation. Those black eyes were shadowed with the promise of unknown delight, his narrow lips curving in a knowing, sensuous smile that made her long for his kiss.

The steady drum of his heartbeat pulsed against her and his arms rocked her close as he strode over the warm sand. Soon now they’d—

Maggie’s brows pleated as hard drops of water beat against her face. Did it rain in the desert?

Instinctively, she turned her head, snuggling closer to his warm, solid body, filling her nostrils with the evocative scent of man. But her frown grew as she discovered he was wet, his clothes sodden.

She opened her eyes and found herself in a man’s arms as he strode through a howling rainstorm. Her startled gasp was torn away by the wind.

Carriage lights shone along the veranda of a classic-style colonial homestead. Warm light gleamed through a massive fanlight window above the door. Suddenly everything clicked into place. Marcus, the long walk home, the exotic stranger. They were at Tallawanta House.

‘You can put me down.’ Maggie tried to lever herself up and out of his hold but she could get no purchase.

‘We’re almost there.’ He stepped under cover and the needling rain on her skin ceased abruptly.

Wordlessly he pushed open the front door, pulling her closer. Muffled against his chest, she was assailed again by that yearning. To stay here against him, his body warming hers. To discover more about the inexplicable excitement that shivered through her blood when he held her like this.

She squeezed her eyes shut. This was no fantasy. This was real. Yet she felt oddly relaxed, almost floating. A yawn seized her and her head lolled against his shoulder.

Khalid. That was his name. She loved the sound of it. Her lips moved as she traced its syllables.

A moment later his grip changed, strong arms holding her flush against him as he lowered her legs. She slid down a hard torso till her feet reached the floor. Yet it was his unyielding embrace that kept her upright.

‘Now,’ murmured that seductively low voice, ‘it’s time to get your clothes off.’

‘What?’ Her eyes snapped open, instantly arresting him. In the bright light he found they were the colour of rich honey sprinkled with green fire. Mesmerising.

Unsteady hands shoved at his chest, fending him off.

Khalid’s lips firmed as he watched her battle to remain upright. Had someone taken advantage of her tonight? The idea sent heat roaring through his blood.

‘You need to get your wet clothes off.’

‘Not with you watching!’ Pink tinted her cheeks, fascinating him, highlighting a spattering of light freckles. A woman who still knew how to blush. When was the last time he’d come across one of that rare breed?

‘I simply want to make sure you don’t get hypothermia. I’m not interested in your body.’

The blush intensified to a deep rose hue and her gaze slanted swiftly away from his. Her teeth sank into her pale bottom lip. She was embarrassed.

‘I can look after myself. I don’t need your help,’ she mumbled.

Didn’t she? His curiosity was roused, and his concern. And, damn it, his time was his own, for tonight at least.

Khalid had always believed in two things. Following his instinct and his duty. Years ago, in the darkest days of grief after Shahina’s death, only duty had kept him going. Embracing his responsibility to his people had given him purpose and strength when he’d wanted to shun the world and mourn his wife, the only woman he’d ever love.

Now both instinct and duty dictated he remain.

And something else. Something about Maggie Lewis that reached out to him in a way he hadn’t experienced in a long time. The realisation fascinated and appalled him.

‘So I should have left you out in the storm?’

‘I didn’t mean that. I appreciate the lift.’ Her widening gaze roved the massive bathroom as if she’d never seen marble tiles before. ‘It would have been easier to take me home.’

Her words were still slurred. But her eyes were clear and bright, the pupils normal. He guessed it was hypothermia, not drugs or drink, affecting her speech.

He released his hold slowly, looking to ensure she could stand alone. Then he shrugged out of his dinner jacket and draped it over the edge of the spa bath.

Maggie watched his swift, economical movements as he turned and took off his jacket. The frame of his spectacular shoulders, the impressive V of his torso, the classic male form of powerful chest and narrow waist. The wet shirt clung lovingly to every inch of his skin, and her mouth dried, absorbing all that physical perfection.

Fiery heat burned her face as embarrassment sizzled under her skin. Of course he wasn’t interested in seeing her naked! She’d always been gawky and unattractive. A wave of anger and humiliation broke over her, threatening to tug her down into a tide of self-pity.

Rapidly she blinked. She’d known for years she wasn’t the sort of girl men desired. Tonight had only just confirmed…no, she refused to go there. The memory was too raw, too mortifying.

There was a whoosh of water and she dragged her focus back to the present. He’d leaned in to turn on the shower. His black trousers were sodden, shaping long, powerful legs and a tightly curved backside.

Maggie’s eyes widened. Even Marcus, with his laughing blue eyes and his tall chunky build, couldn’t hold a candle to this man for sheer physical perfection.

‘Let me help you with your coat.’ He didn’t wait for an answer. Clearly he was used to being obeyed.

Wordlessly she stood while he deftly slipped it from her shoulders. It dropped in a puddle at her feet.

Maggie fixed her gaze on his black silk bow tie rather than on that vast expanse of wet male torso. But, perversely, the longer she stared, the greater her desire to reach out and tug the tie undone, to part the collar and see whether the flesh over his collarbone was the same burnished gold as his face.

Horrified at the wayward thought, she shut her eyes against temptation. She’d never felt quite so…abandoned. Had tonight short-circuited something in her brain?

She was shocked to realise she hadn’t felt anything like this for Marcus. She’d cared for him, respected him and believed intimacy was the next logical step in their relationship. But she’d never felt this charged awareness of him as a man.

Now she felt edgy, as if her skin had grown too tight.

Was this desire?

Her experience was so limited. She’d spent her life on the farm, isolated by her domineering father and long work hours. That was why her fledgling relationship with Marcus had seemed so precious.

‘Next your dress, then we’ll see if you can manage alone.’ Khalid’s voice was matter-of-fact. Yet he could have been reciting entries in the telephone directory and she’d have listened, enthralled, to his sexy smooth voice.

No! This had to stop. The sooner he left, the better. Then she’d become herself again: ordinary, pragmatic Maggie Lewis. No more flights of fantasy, no more…melting at the mere sound of a voice. This responsiveness to a complete stranger was due to shock and tiredness.

Maggie bit her lip on an instinctive protest as he reached round to the back of her dress. Her hands were so unsteady she knew she’d never manage the zip herself. So she complied, holding herself still as he tugged the zip.

Its downward slide took for ever. Blood pounded in her ears, blocking the sound of the shower. The sensation of the fastening lowering, centimetre by slow centimetre, drew her skin tight in goose flesh. He didn’t touch her but he stood close, arms encircling her, his heat enfolding her.

She swayed then, horrified, caught herself and stood straighter, her spine ramrod stiff.

‘There. Almost done.’ His voice was expressionless, his eyes on the dress as he peeled it gently down.

He might have been undressing a store dummy for all the interest he showed. And that, for some reason, was worse than anything that had gone before.

A shimmer of furious tears blurred Maggie’s vision.

Here she stood, naked but for her brand-new ultra-feminine underwear, and he didn’t even spare her a glance. It was as if she weren’t a flesh-and-blood woman. Not a real one, capable of snaring a man’s interest.

Who did she think she was kidding with her new clothes? Her body was too long, with too few curves. She had none of the sensuality other women took for granted.

The only time men noticed her was at work, for she was good at her job. In the stables she was one of the guys. Didn’t that say it all? Something deep inside shrivelled up. An ache cramped her belly and she hunched over.

‘Maggie? Are you in pain?’ Eyes of fathomless black met hers. His hard, callused hands bit into her shoulders.

‘No.’ It emerged as a desperate gasp. ‘But I need to be alone. Go. Please.’

His gaze raked hers. His mouth firmed into a grim line. Then slowly his fingers loosed their grip and his arms swung to his sides.

‘As you wish.’ Abruptly he was gone, leaving her in solitary possession of the magnificent bathroom.

For a bereft moment she wanted to call him back, ask him to hold her, to protect her from the hurt that welled up inside and the marrow-deep cold that gripped her body.

Then pride reasserted itself. He’d been only too thankful to escape. Besides, she was used to managing alone. That was the way it had always been.

She turned towards the shower, her steps as slow as an old woman’s. She didn’t bother to lock the door to ensure her privacy. There was no need.

Why did the knowledge hurt so much?

CHAPTER TWO

MAGGIE emerged from the bathroom swathed in soft white towelling, an oversized robe that swamped her. She hadn’t even noticed Khalid take her discarded dress. The plush robe was warm against her damp skin. She hiked up the collar and dug her hands into the deep pockets.

For a heartbeat she hesitated in the doorway, then swung round at the sound of his voice.

‘Feel better now?’ Khalid halted a few paces away, legs planted wide in a stance that was intrinsically male. He surveyed her from top to toe. Her pulse hammered hard and loud. ‘You look better. There’s colour in your cheeks.’

And no wonder! Maggie felt the heat sizzle under her skin. She was uncomfortable wearing his robe, but it was all she had to hide her nakedness.

Under his survey the brush of fabric against her bare flesh suddenly took on a new dimension. Tingles rayed out from her sensitive breasts, her stomach, thighs and buttocks as she shifted her weight uneasily.

Or maybe it was reaction to the sight of him, clad in black trousers and black shirt that emphasised his spare, powerful frame. Her glance dropped all the way down past his muscled thighs to his bare feet. Her breath stopped. He even had sexy feet. She hadn’t known that was possible.

Maggie snagged a desperate breath and jerked her gaze up to his, praying he hadn’t noticed her ogling him.

‘Thank you. I feel a lot better. Hot water works wonders, doesn’t it?’ Was she gabbling? For the first time since he found her, she felt truly nervous. She slicked her tongue over her bottom lip as her mouth dried.

‘Come.’ He held out his hand imperiously, and to her surprise, she reached out unhesitatingly. The hard heat of his palm and fingers enfolding hers was strangely comforting. If she could ignore the tendrils of shivery pleasure snaking up from their clasped hands.

He led her into a large sitting room. It should have been overpowering with its gilt-edged mirrors and elegant antique furniture. But it was lit by a fire in the grate and the mellow glow of lamps. The long sofa drawn up before the fire looked cosy with its many cushions and rich red throw rug.

‘Sit.’ He gestured to the sofa. ‘It will be a while before your clothes dry and we can get you home. In the meantime you need to keep warm.’

As she subsided into the soft luxurious cushions Maggie knew there wasn’t any danger of her growing cold. The hot shower, the fire, but most of all the way her blood heated at his touch, made her glow with warmth.

Wordlessly he covered her knees, then passed her a delicate glass in a filigree metal holder.

Maggie inhaled the steam rising from the glass. It smelt wonderful.

‘What is it?’

‘Sweet tea, Shajehani style. The perfect remedy for shock and exposure to the elements.’ He stood before her, his back to the fire. Maggie drank in the sight of him, his imposing frame, his obvious strength, the stance of a man utterly confident and in control. Something squeezed the pit of her stomach. Hurriedly she bent her head to drink.

‘It’s delicious!’

‘Surprising, isn’t it?’

‘No, I didn’t mean—’

‘It’s all right. Drink up and relax. I’ll be back soon.’ He moved away and her breathing eased.

This was what she needed, to be alone to collect her thoughts and overcome these unfamiliar emotions that tonight ran so close to the surface.

She stared at the blazing fire, sipped her tea and wondered at the intensity of her reaction to Khalid. He was a stranger. A breathtakingly gorgeous one. Yet it wasn’t just his looks she responded to. It was his easy kindness, that sense of rock-solid dependability, the way he took charge and looked after her as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She wasn’t used to it.

Maggie blinked. She’d forgotten what it was like to feel cared for. To lean on someone else. No one had ever taken care of her like this. Not since she was eight and she’d arrived home from school to find her mother had walked out, taking Maggie’s little sister, but not Maggie.

There’d been no warmth at home after that day. Her father hadn’t been one for creature comforts, let alone a hug or a sympathetic smile. He’d been a hard man, dour and demanding. Even in those last months as she’d nursed him he hadn’t softened.

‘Is there anything else you need?’ Khalid’s deep voice came from beside her. She hadn’t heard him return.

To her horror, the hint of concern lacing his words opened a floodgate of raw emotion. Painful emotion that ignited a terrible weakness in her. She wasn’t accustomed to sympathy.

Her lips quivered. What was wrong with her? She’d discovered Marcus’s betrayal and she’d got a soaking. It wasn’t the end of the world.

She was made of sterner stuff than this. Maggie Lewis never cried. It was one of the reasons she’d been accepted so quickly into the male realm of the horse stud.

‘No.’ The word emerged as a raw croak and she tried again. ‘No, thank you.’ She relinquished her stiff-knuckled grip on the glass as a large, tanned hand took it from her.

‘In that case let’s get your hair dry.’

Maggie opened her mouth to object, but already he’d draped a towel over her head and shoulders. Long, strong fingers massaged her scalp through the thick towelling and her demurral dissolved on her tongue.

Whorls of sensation spread from his supple hands, sensation that made the last of her resistance melt like chocolate on a hot summer day.

Her head lolled back and forward, following the easy rhythm of his hands, till she forgot what it was she objected to. Ripples of delight spread out, down her spine, across her shoulders and lower, deep inside her.

She had to stifle a sigh of regret when he lifted the towel away. It felt so good, the warmth, the company, the comfort of his presence.

She squeezed her eyes shut against the awful sensation of loss and loneliness welling inside her. The aching void of emptiness that stretched all around her.

Quickly she shook her head, hoping to dislodge the ache, the unfamiliar need. Tonight had been a shock, a blow to her self-esteem and her hopes, but she’d get over it. This curious sense of frailty was a passing thing. She’d always been strong. Always coped.

‘Don’t cry, little one.’ His voice was so low it was a mere thread of sound, weaving into her consciousness. His touch was tender as he wiped moisture from her cheeks.

Maggie kept her eyes tight shut. For the second time tonight she had tears in her eyes. The second time in fifteen years. She hadn’t cried since her mother had deserted her all those years ago. Maggie had sobbed herself sick then and hadn’t cried since. Now in one night the dam had broken. A shudder of anxiety racked her.

‘Please,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t want to be alone.’

Khalid stared into the flames, legs outstretched in a casual pose that belied his inner turmoil. Tension pulled his shoulders tight and a charged sense of expectancy weighted his limbs.

Beside him Maggie sat with her feet curled beneath her. She was close enough for him to be aware of her every move and feel her beckoning warmth.

Yet he didn’t touch her.

He fought his instinctive reaction to reach out and hold her, comfort her. He had more sense than that.

Just sitting here was a test of his willpower, and his honour. His desire to pull her into his embrace wasn’t as altruistic as it should have been. Maybe bringing her here hadn’t been wise after all.

Instead of leaping flames the picture filling his brain was Maggie Lewis, standing in his en suite, wearing nothing but lace underwear and pride. She’d been brave, beautiful and hurting, unable to hide the raw anguish in her remarkable eyes.

But it wasn’t her eyes that had riveted his attention. Her lithe body was all elegant lines, pale skin that dipped and curved in exactly the right places. His hands had itched to reach out and take the weight of her high, proud breasts, to smooth over her narrow waist to the gentle curve of her hips. Hunger had surged in him so strongly that he’d been forced to leave the room, lest he do something unforgivable.

She’d looked so perfect, so pure, he could almost have believed her untouched.

Why was he imagining his hands, dark and hard, on her pristine flesh? He’d never fantasised about taking a virgin. His experience in that area was a lifetime ago.

His mind slammed shut on the old memory. There’d been women since Shahina. Beautiful, clever, accommodating women who gave him the satisfaction his body craved. But never had his mind or his emotions been engaged. That was exactly how he wanted it. Short, easy relationships built on physical pleasure were no threat to his heart. That was how he’d lived his life since the death of his wife and it was precisely how he intended to continue.

He frowned, recognising that tonight, with Maggie Lewis, something was different. Sexual need was there, a scorching spike in his bloodstream. But something else too, more complex than physical desire. A shadow, a hint of something more. Something that stirred his emotions, as well as his libido. Something he had no wish to feel.

He dragged in a deep breath, trying not to notice the way her clean, feminine scent stirred his senses.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ So much for his determination not to get involved.

He couldn’t contain his curiosity about the intriguing woman so innocently sharing his couch.

He rubbed his jaw. He couldn’t remember sharing anything innocently with a woman since Shahina.

‘Did someone hurt you?’ He’d make it his business to find the man and bring him to account.

‘It was my fault,’ she muttered, eyes downcast.

A chill iced his veins. ‘Don’t say that.’

‘It’s true. I was the one with expectations.’

‘If some man forced himself on you after you’d changed your mind, it’s not your fault.’

In the fire-lit shadows huge eyes met his. Her hands clenched tight together.

‘No. You’ve got it all wrong.’ Her words ended on a hiccough of unsteady laughter. ‘No one forced himself on me.’ Her voice was stronger, her mouth firm. ‘I wasn’t assaulted, if that’s what you think.’

On a surge of movement she wriggled higher, squaring her slumped shoulders. Unfortunately the movement made the collar of the robe gape to reveal a sliver of pale, enticing flesh. Khalid moved restlessly and shifted his gaze. But despite the thick towelling he could easily visualise her pert breasts and smooth, silken skin.

He turned to the fire, trying to ignore the rapid thump of his pulse and the heat igniting in his loins.

‘You don’t need to worry. Untouched by the hand of man. That’s me.’ Her voice was bitter and hard.

‘Pardon?’ For a moment he was startled, remembering his fantasy of her as virginal, awaking to his caress. He realised how unlikely that was. She must be talking about tonight. He swung around, unable to resist temptation.

She looked different, more alive, more vibrant. A flush of colour tinted her cheeks and her eyes were bright.

His belly contracted hard as desire stabbed him. She’d got under his skin when she’d been pale and fragile. Now her features were animated, renewed energy evident in her taut body. She was far too alluring.

‘Nothing happened tonight.’ She lifted a dismissive hand. ‘Nothing momentous, that is.’ Her lips twisted in a tight grimace that belied her words.

Taking in the determined jut of her chin, he knew she lied. He gave her full marks for her valiant effort. But something had happened, even if it hadn’t been rape.

‘You said you’d had a shock.’

She shrugged, pursing her lips. ‘Have you ever made an error of judgement?’ she asked at last.

‘Of course. Everyone has.’

‘There’s a comfort.’ She paused. ‘Well, I just made a mistake. A huge one.’ She drew in a deep breath. Khalid fought to stop his gaze straying to the shadow of her cleavage. ‘Tonight I found out just how stupid I’d been.’

Her words were defiant, her profile proud, yet Khalid had seen her at rock-bottom just an hour ago. He knew she must still be hurting badly.

Over the past eight years countless women had tried to snare him with guile, seduction and emotional appeals. He’d remained unmoved. His heart had died with his wife and he had no intention of laying himself open to the raw pain of loss again. But his experience had taught him to distinguish female wiles at a glance. As a result he knew Maggie Lewis was the genuine article. No hidden agenda other than concealing her own weakness.

That stubborn pride was something he knew all about. Hadn’t his father accused him of being too proud when Khalid had refused to live in indolent luxury? When instead he’d forged a life of hard work that brought its own rewards?

‘At least you won’t make the same mistake again.’

Solemn eyes met his before a shadow of a smile curved the corners of her mouth.

‘Absolutely not! I’ll never be that gullible again. I’ve learned my lesson.’

Intrigued, Khalid watched her rueful expression morph into one of determination. But even that was attractive…too attractive.

Her intelligence and character intrigued him as much as her vulnerability and her unvarnished beauty. She wasn’t conventionally pretty, but there was something about the spare elegance of her features that drew the eye again and again. He wished she’d sat beside him at tonight’s tedious dinner. Instead he’d been sandwiched between a yawning bore and a flirtatious airhead.

‘He’s a fool, whoever he is.’

‘He?’ She arched her eyebrows.

‘The man tonight. The one who’s caused you such grief.’

‘How did you know there was a man?’ She looked genuinely shocked.

He smiled at her naďvety. ‘It’s relationships between the sexes that cause most pain.’

‘I can’t imagine you having any such trouble,’ she riposted instantly. A moment later her expression changed to one of dawning horror, as if she couldn’t believe she’d just uttered the words. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I—’

‘You’d be surprised,’ he murmured as memories crowded in. ‘Wealth is no guarantee of happiness.’

Maggie watched with a pang of regret as the vertical lines reformed at his brow and bracketed his mouth. For a little while there the grimness had lifted from Khalid’s features. Now it was as if a storm cloud loomed, shadowing his face and blocking the hint of light she’d glimpsed.

She knew a crazy impulse to reach out and touch him, soothe away the pain she saw. But that wasn’t an option. Instead she changed the subject.

‘You’re from Shajehar, aren’t you?’

He nodded. ‘I am.’

‘Could you tell me about it? I’ve never travelled and it sounds so exotic.’

Dark eyes seared hers as if searching for an ulterior motive. Maggie shivered and rolled her collar higher against her throat. Perhaps she should go. It didn’t matter if her clothes weren’t dry, she’d been here long enough and that look made her nervous. But the raging storm and the long trip to her cold, empty house held no appeal.

‘It’s a country of contrasts and great beauty. Some parts are not unlike your Hunter Valley, though much is arid. There are wonderful riches if you care to look, and I’m not talking about oil revenue.’ His expression told her he loved his homeland.

‘The people are strong and proud of their traditions. But they’ re struggling now to meld their old ways with the best the modern world has to offer.’ He paused, focused on her. ‘You’ve never travelled overseas?’

‘I’ve never been anywhere much.’ At his curious look she continued. ‘I grew up on a small farm. Making ends meet was always a struggle. Travel was a luxury.’

‘And when you left home?’

She ducked her head, watching her hands fold the thick fabric in her lap.

‘I never left. I had plans to go to the city and study, but there was a drought and my father couldn’t spare me.’ He’d reminded her time and again that it was her duty to stand by him as he’d done his duty and kept her with him all those years. A pity his concept of duty didn’t include even a skerrick of warmth or love.

‘And now?’

‘Now? I work here.’

‘Helping your family?’

Maggie thought of the empty front bedroom in the old house, the echoing loneliness of the place she called home.

‘There was only my father.’ Maggie hadn’t had any contact from her mother or sister since the day they’d left. ‘He died a few months ago.’

‘You must miss him.’

Must she? Miss the stern lectures, the disapproving attitude, the dour temperament?

‘I… He wasn’t an easy man to live with.’ That had to be the understatement of the century. Nothing Maggie ever did had been good enough, even when her extra income had been all that kept the old farm afloat. ‘He should have had a son. A daughter is a disappointment to a man like that.’

‘I’m sorry, Maggie.’ The words were filled with understanding. She darted a glance at Khalid. Was that compassion in his liquid dark eyes? ‘Some of us aren’t blessed with the best of parents.’

‘You too?’

He paused, as if taken aback by the personal question.

‘My father had no time for his family,’ he said eventually. ‘No time for children. He had…other interests.’ Khalid’s tone made it clear those interests weren’t anything he approved of. ‘He was an absentee parent, rarely home. And when he was, let’s just say he had little patience with small boys.’

Reading between the lines, Maggie felt a sharp stab of fellow feeling, a sympathy for the suffering Khalid had skated over. For the stoic endurance not to collapse under the weight of a parent’s cruel neglect.

‘I’m sorry.’ Her voice was husky. ‘Little boys need a dad.’

‘And so do little girls.’

To her horror, his ready sympathy cracked the brittle wall she’d built around her feelings. For years she’d struggled against the belief that she was unlovable, ever since her mum had rejected her, taking Cassie instead. Tonight her fears and pain had coalesced into an aching void of anguish that filled her very being. The force of it clogged her throat and fractured her breathing.

‘Maggie.’ Khalid must have seen the stricken expression on her face. He reached out and pulled her close, tucking her head into his shoulder. He rubbed her back with small, circular, soothing movements.

‘You’ve done this before,’ she murmured, trying to regain her composure and downplay her reaction to his touch. ‘Do you have sisters?’

‘No sisters.’

‘A wife?’

She was dimly aware of his pause before he said, ‘No wife.’

A heartbeat of silence and then he urged, ‘Hold me, Maggie.’

She needed no second urging. Maggie slid her arms around him and burrowed close to his heat. She knew later she’d be horribly embarrased but for now her need for comfort drove her beyond her usual diffidence.

His arms tightened around her and a shiver rippled through Maggie as his warmth seeped into her bones. The rock-solid strength of him, the tangible, living power of muscle and bone and sinew, were more real than anything else in the world. His unique spicy scent invaded her nostrils, making her nerves tingle into an awareness that had nothing to do with solace.

The scent, the feel, even the sound of him, the powerful throb of his heart beneath her ear, were all wondrous. She pressed her face to the fine silk of his shirt. Through the fabric his skin was hot, taut and inviting. She breathed deep, drawing in the heady aroma of warm, healthy male.

That was when she registered his quickening heartbeat, the changed tempo of his breathing. Tentatively she lifted a hand to splay over his chest.

The tiniest of tremors rippled across his skin. The hand palming her back ceased its movement and his other hand clamped down on her arm, as if to drag it away.

Thunder echoed in her ears as her pulse raced. Suddenly this innocent embrace had transformed into something charged with unspoken danger.

With excitement. And longing. It bubbled up inside her like a newfound spring—the need for more. The need for him. This was nothing like what she’d felt with Marcus. This was… elemental, as sudden as a thunderclap and just as unmistakable, even to someone of her limited experience.

Heat blossomed deep within as her breath caught, stilled by the stunning realisation of how much more she wanted from this man.

‘It’s time you moved.’ His voice sounded stretched.

Heat flamed her cheeks. What was she thinking? He’d offered her comfort, not a sexual invitation. Just because she felt that sunburst of white-hot desire didn’t mean it was reciprocated. Hadn’t she learned anything tonight?

‘Maggie, you need to sit up. You don’t want to do something you’ll regret later.’

She frowned. Something she’d regret?

‘What do you mean?’ she whispered at last.

Strong hands pried her away, gently pushing her back to her corner of the sofa. Ebony eyes met hers. His face was grim, his mouth a tight line.

‘You’re upset. You’re not yourself. It’s time to end this. You don’t want to play with fire.’

‘Fire?’ She wasn’t normally obtuse, but surely he didn’t mean what she thought he meant. Was it even remotely possible that he felt it too? The sudden overwhelming need for intimacy that ousted everything else? The consuming hunger? A need for her, for plain, no-frills Maggie Lewis?

His gaze narrowed, flicking down to her mouth, and lower to the V-neck of the robe she wore. Flames licked her skin beneath his trailing gaze and tension coiled tight in her belly as her breathing shortened.

‘I’m a man, Maggie. If we don’t stop now it won’t be comfort I’ll be giving you. It will be something much more intimate.’

The words echoed on and on in the silence between them. They should have shocked her, made her draw back. But instead the blatant weight of sensuality in his bald statement had the opposite effect. Excitement tingled down her spine and drew her stomach muscles tight.

Maggie strove to be sensible, careful, reserved, all the things she’d been before tonight.

But something vital had changed. Now, for the first time, she knew what it was to want a man. Really want, with every fibre of her body. It was an urgent, unstoppable force. A compulsion shuddering through her very bones.

She had two choices. She could pretend this wasn’t real. Shrug on her usual self-effacing persona and try to hide from this surge of powerful desire. Or she could welcome it; give in to the strongest need she’d ever felt.

She could be bold or she could be sensible.

She’d spent a lifetime being sensible and self-sacrificing. Where had that got her?

‘And you don’t want to do that?’

She didn’t recognise her hoarse voice. Excitement and anxiety closed her throat. She couldn’t believe she’d just invited another rebuff, but the new sensations heating her blood were too compelling to ignore. She had to know.

Hooded eyes surveyed her and she felt the distance grow between them. He was going to reject her. Something dimmed inside her.

Finally he spoke. ‘I shouldn’t.’ He raised his hand and thrust it back through his hair in a jerky gesture. ‘I shouldn’t but…yes, God help me, I want to.’

CHAPTER THREE

HE COULDN’T. He mustn’t.

This woman was exhausted, not thinking clearly. He mustn’t take advantage, no matter that his need for her was visceral, all-consuming. She deserved his protection.

Her eyes glowed a shimmering green-gold. She looked pale but beautiful, her fine-boned features pure, alluring and incredibly sexy with that hopeful pout.

‘You’re hurt. This is your pain speaking.’ Khalid forced the words out. ‘But this isn’t the answer. You want someone who can give you more. More than a few snatched hours.’

More than a man who could only promise physical pleasure. Who had given up on emotional commitment years before.

For one absurd moment he felt a piercing jealousy for the man who’d one day give Maggie Lewis everything she wanted.

Her chin tilted fractionally in a way that spoke of pride and pain together.

‘What if I said a few snatched hours are exactly what I want? That I’m not in the market for anything more? Not any longer?’

Tension held Khalid rigid as desire spiralled and his groin tightened. Each muscle was rock-hard at the effort of remaining still when he wanted to lean over and imprison her beneath his hungry body.

Desire he understood. He had a healthy male appreciation of a sexy woman. But this craving was something else entirely. It shook him to the core. Unbelievably this felt far more significant than the simple sexual urge he’d assuaged through the recent years with beautiful, willing women.

This felt…different. More real, more vital than anything he’d experienced in years.

A shadowed vision of velvet-soft brown eyes filled his mind and pain lanced his chest.

‘No. I can’t.’ He forced the words out over a constricting throat.

‘Yes, of course.’ Her whisper drew his sensitised flesh to prickling alert. ‘I understand.’

Khalid drew a shuddering breath. He’d done the right thing, the honourable thing. Now he just had to—

The sight of her bowed head, her white teeth cutting deep into her bottom lip, brought him up short.

‘Thank you for helping me tonight,’ she said stiffly, looking away. ‘I’m sorry I embarrassed you with my…with my…’ She shook her head and soft hair the colour of toffee swirled round her neck, catching the light.

‘I apologise,’ she murmured, wrapping her arms around herself. ‘You must have women coming on to you all the time.’

Apologise?

Her profile was taut, her lips pinched. His chest hollowed as he realised he’d caused her more distress. Instinct overcame caution as he cupped her chin in his hand and turned her face around. She resisted, even grabbed his wrist as if to tug his arm away.

‘You don’t owe me an apology.’

Bright eyes met his, startled and disbelieving. He wished the texture of her soft skin weren’t so enticing.

Khalid hoped fate would repay him one day for his superhuman restraint. It was killing him by degrees, inhaling her tantalising scent, sexier than any bottled fragrance. The feel of her, the sight of her, seduced him, more real than any shadowy memories of the past. That scared him, yet he ached to learn the taste of her.

She reared back, away from his touch. Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath the oversized robe.

‘I understand.’ She spoke too quickly, her words tripping over each other. ‘It’s all right.’

But it wasn’t. She thought he lied about wanting her. Could she really be so blind? What had happened tonight to make her so unsure of her attractiveness?

‘I think I should leave.’ Her voice wobbled on the last word. Automatically she angled her chin higher as if to counteract any sign of weakness.

She was a fighter, this woman who played havoc with his good intentions, who’d got under his skin from the moment he’d seen her. Who had to be one of the most alluring women he’d ever met. Even without make-up, drenched and shivering in her underwear, she’d exerted a terrible fascination.

The hot tide rose in him, welling and cresting, and his resolve crumbled, his caution disintegrated.

One kiss. He’d permit himself a single kiss to alleviate the compulsive need to touch her again. To reassure her that she was desirable.

‘Maggie.’ Once more he lifted her chin, this time bending close. Her eyes widened, her mouth slackened just a little as she realised what he intended. Perfect.

Her lips trembled beneath his and he wrapped his arms around her, sweeping her close. The brush of her slender, feminine form and her fresh, sweet taste on his tongue sent a roaring wave of need juddering through him. Khalid breathed deep, summoning control. He had to concentrate, to keep this a gentle, exploratory kiss.

The feel of her lips shaping to his and the sound of her soft sigh were poignant. She fitted his arms as if made for him. It was as perfect as any lover’s kiss he’d known.

He reeled as the discovery slammed into his astonished brain.

Her tongue slid tentatively against his as he entered her mouth and a dart of pure pleasure shafted through him.

Just another minute…

Maggie clung to his shoulders as the world spun and she closed her eyes, dizzy with delight. The feelings he evoked with the touch of his mouth and his arms holding her close swept her into a new world.

She felt desire, daring, a thrill of excitement as his tongue stroked her mouth. Shivers ran down her spine, along her arms where the skin pulled tight and down to her nipples. She gasped as he delved deeper.

Their hearts pulsed in unison, their mouths fused as need exploded. She clamped her hands desperately to the back of his skull, pulling herself higher, closer.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

Her need for him was a twisting, hungry sensation in the pit of her stomach, and lower, where a curious ache filled her. Maggie squirmed, trying to ease the hollow feeling deep within.

Recklessly she kissed him back, the fever in her blood urging her on. For now, for tonight, this was what she craved, the sweet headiness of shared passion. All Khalid’s magnificent power concentrated on her.

When he cupped her breast she gasped against his mouth, unprepared for the electric charge his touch evoked. Blue-white fire flickered behind her eyelids as he brushed his thumb over her nipple. Incendiary sparks exploded through her, drawing her body tight and expectant.

Maggie pressed forward into his hand and was rewarded as he firmed his hold. She arched her back in a spasm of pleasure. Yes!

‘Please,’ she mouthed, not even knowing what it was she pleaded for.

Devastation hit when he removed his hand, but a moment later he slipped it into the neckline of her robe. Her skin contracted, sensitised to his touch. His hand closed again around her breast, only this time there was nothing between him and her. No barrier. The feeling of him slowly massaging, then gently squeezing her there was indescribable. Perfect.

She sagged back against his embracing arm, breaking their devastating kiss as she gulped oxygen into her air-starved lungs. She gazed up at him.

Eyes like glittering dark pools shone down at her, unreadable. His shoulders rose and fell as he breathed quick and deep. His heavy-lidded eyelids spoke of passion, tightly leashed. So powerfully controlled.

Would he go now? Would he slide his hand away? Could he possibly leave her alone and so desperately wanting?

She couldn’t bear it. He’d given her a taste of something special, miraculous, something only he could give. And she wanted more. Was it so bad to seek, just this once, the intimate pleasure she’d never had?

Maggie covered his hand with her own, pressing into his hold. His fingers tightened and delicious ripples spread through her.

‘Please, Khalid.’ She knew what she asked this time. She wanted him to show her more, let her experience the intimate joy of truly being with a man.

His face looked grim, the flickering firelight emphasising the sharp cut of his cheekbones, the hard, aristocratic line of his nose and his set jaw.

He was going to do it, she realised. He was going to leave her. Pride warred with need. Already tonight she’d cast aside any pretence of dignity.

Wordlessly she pulled the other side of the robe open to reveal her bare breast.

Cool air shivered across her skin.

Her heart pounded fast in trepidation and anticipation. She watched the muscles work in his throat as he swallowed. Then his chest expanded on a mighty breath.

She waited, trembling, but his next move was to slip his hand away.

Maggie knew defeat then. He didn’t like what he saw. Why was she surprised? She’d always known she wasn’t feminine enough with her underdeveloped curves. She dragged the robe back, covering herself, even though it was too late for modesty.

The touch of his hands made her jump. Before she could gather her wits she was hauled off the couch and up into steel-hard arms. His eyes were molten hot as they clashed with hers.

‘Are you sure you want this?’ His voice was a low burr that reverberated deep in that hollow place within her.

She nodded, her mouth too dry to speak as excitement effervesced in her bloodstream. There was silence but for the crackle of the fire. Maggie held her breath, waiting.

‘Then so be it.’

He turned so fast the room blurred. A moment later they were in a massive, shadowed bedroom. Maggie had an impression of sumptuous furnishings, of a vast royal-blue and gold bedspread, before he ripped the covers back in a single ruthless tug and tumbled her down onto the sheets.

Their eyes met and held and her blood pumped harder, faster. It was a thunderous buzz in her ears as his hands went to his shirt and he tugged it off, not bothering with buttons. Seconds later the rest of his clothing dropped to the floor.

He stood before her, magnificent and more beautiful than anything she’d seen in her life. The warm glow of the bedroom fire gilded his skin and cast shadows across his body. Each plane and curved muscle was thrown into relief. He was long-limbed, strong and virile. She’d never imagined a man could look so potent, so perfect.

Maggie pushed back a moment’s doubt, wondering if she should tell him she was a virgin. He wouldn’t have taken seriously her crack about being untouched.

But she didn’t want him having second thoughts now. A man such as this must have had many lovers. Would he be disappointed? Maggie quashed the worry as soon as it entered her brain.

For this one night she’d live for the moment, thrust caution aside and take what life had to offer.

Heat washed her as he reached into a bedside drawer to retrieve a foil packet and put it on the table.

She was grateful he’d thought of protection, but somehow this reminder of real-world responsibility made her feel awkward and nervous.

‘You have too many clothes on.’ His words short-circuited her thoughts. The sound of his voice drew her skin tight over her bones. Then his hands were on her, drawing the belt from her robe, slowly opening it, laying the sides wide so she lay virtually naked. He stood there, not saying a word as his gaze travelled the length of her body. She had time to feel anxious again, wondering what he thought of it.

He drew in a deep breath and Maggie watched, mesmerised, the movement of muscle and tendon tightening across his torso. He had the superb body of an athlete.

Then there was no chance for further thought as he bent and stripped the robe away, flinging it to the floor. A moment later he was crowding her back on the bed. His body was as hot as a furnace. Everywhere they touched she registered unfamiliar, exciting sensations. The brush of wiry hair as his legs tangled with hers. The impossibly erotic slide of his chest against her heated skin; hard-packed muscle and a drift of silky hair against her own sensitised breasts. And, lower, his heavy erection on her thigh.

Her breath shuddered as sensory overload hit.

But there was more to come. He lowered his head to her breast and ecstasy consumed her.

‘Khalid!’ Her hoarse cry was barely audible as she fought to catch her breath. The sensations coursing through her as he suckled, at first gently, then hard, stiffened her body in shocked delight. Then his hand was on her other breast, circling and teasing. She wondered if it was possible to die from pleasure. His body heat against hers was exquisitely exciting.

Her fingers speared through his thick hair, holding him close. Liquid heat throbbed through her bloodstream and pooled between her legs. An urgent longing filled her. She wanted him. Now.

But Khalid was in no hurry.

‘Patience, little one.’ He turned his attention to discovering her body with a single-minded intensity that made her head spin and her blood sing.

From her shoulder to her fingertips, from the sensitive place just behind her ear to her collarbone and her breasts, he took his time caressing, kissing, learning her. Arousing her. She sighed as he moved lower, to her navel, her hipbone, her thigh, even the back of her knee.

Pleasure rippled through her as sensation after sensation bombarded her. She grew alternately limp and stiff with excitement at his touch. The one constant was the ever-building need that grew stronger by the minute. Soon it was a throbbing ache.

Hours might have passed by the time he paused to reach out a hand to the bedside table. Then he was back, his hard hands tender, his breath hot on her sensitive inner thighs and higher, on the place where the heat scorched brightest and hottest.

She cried out as he caressed her there, at the very apex of her need, and she almost jolted off the bed as jagged lightning shot through.

She was burning up; she couldn’t breathe. Her pounding heart must surely suffocate her.

‘Khalid.’ Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she tried to drag him higher. Her legs twisted wide as instinctively she offered herself.

There was no doubt in her mind now. This was right. He was right. It was almost as if he was the one she’d been waiting for all this time.

The burgeoning realisation fractured into nothingness as he covered her body with his and she ceased to think.

He was heat and power, hard muscle and surprisingly silky skin. Maggie slipped her hands around his neck, her breath faltering as her breasts rubbed his chest.

Dark, fathomless eyes held hers and amidst the maelstrom of desire she felt…safe.

She hung on tight as he propped himself up on one arm and she felt the muscles in his shoulders ripple. His other hand moved down to touch her between her legs. His fingers glided through slick folds, over the throbbing nub and inexorably lower. Wildfire blazed in her bloodstream at his touch. Her body convulsed as he pushed inwards and her breath tore away.

For a long quivering moment she waited, eyes wide, fingers clenching tight in his hair as her body tugged at him. She saw his pulse jerk heavily in his throat and felt the throb of his erection against her.

She shifted against him, not sure how to proceed but knowing she’d die if he stopped now.

Clumsily she unwound an arm from around his neck and slid it down till her fingers curled around him. He came to life at her touch, pushing into her palm: hot, heavy and powerfully strong. Tentatively she squeezed.

A guttural rumble of Arabic near her ear might have been encouragement or an oath.

‘Stop!’

Instantly she loosened her hold.

Khalid’s lips were drawn back in a grimace of pain. Or pleasure? His eyes glittered febrile-bright as he stared down at her.

Then he moved and there were no more doubts. He braced himself over her as his palm spread her thighs wider. Her legs shook as she complied. He nudged at her entrance and instinctively she rose up to meet him.

He dipped his head to her neck, kissing and grazing her tender skin with his teeth as he pushed in. The movement was smooth, easy and impossibly long. Maggie experienced a strange sensation of fullness, of stretching, of weight and heat. There was discomfort at first, but when he stopped she couldn’t believe the feeling of oneness.

Khalid raised his head, a pinch of a frown marking the centre of his brow. He stared down at her through narrowed eyes for a long moment. Then raised a hand to her cheek in the gentlest of caresses. To her amazement Maggie registered a tiny tremor in his touch.

She turned her face into his palm, revelling in the slide of his callused fingers against her cheek.

‘You are a treasure. So generous,’ he murmured in a deep husky voice that curled her insides.

His mouth took hers in a sensuous kiss. His body moved away, then slid back, again and again in an easy rhythm that set incendiary sparks flying through her body. Frantically she hugged him, giving him back kiss for desperate kiss as the tension coiled tighter and tighter inside her.

Then the fire they’d built consumed her in a flare of white-hot light and the world exploded around her, blotting out everything but the perfection of that single climactic moment that went on and on and on.

It was dark when Maggie woke. Time for her early start in the stables. Yet she didn’t stir. She felt lethargic, yet energised. She tingled with effervescent energy as if her bloodstream ran with champagne.

Her lips curved as she snuggled down on her pillow, enjoying the remarkable sense of well-being that filled her. She felt like a different woman. Not plain old Maggie Lewis. Then she registered the heat behind her. The living heat of another body.

Khalid.

Memory crashed upon her in a bitter-sweet tide.

She thought of last night, of Khalid’s passion and the way he’d made her feel…beautiful. She’d never been given such a gift before. She hugged the memory tight to herself.

When he’d made love to her she’d even, for a moment, believed herself to be a desirable woman.

The tentative curve of her lips faded. Her mouth flattened into a grim line. Her—desirable? No, she couldn’t fool herself like that. She was strong enough to face the truth.

Khalid had made love to her because she’d thrown herself at him. She’d seen the pity in his eyes. She’d read his initial unwillingness. She’d played on his sympathy and he’d read her desperation.

It didn’t matter that she’d needed him so badly she’d felt she might shatter with the force of her feelings. Or that their love-making had been the most wonderful experience in all her twenty-three years.

Last night she’d told herself she should grab what she wanted. Anger had welled at Marcus’s duplicity, at the dull, demanding life she’d accepted for so long, at the hurt she’d endured. She’d wanted for one night the powerful pleasure she’d known instinctively Khalid could give her.

He’d probably spent the encounter thinking of some voluptuous beauty, not the awkward emotional woman in his arms.

Mortified, Maggie felt her face burn.

She was strong, a survivor. But did she have the nerve to face him this morning? She imagined him trying to stifle his distaste.

Maggie darted a furtive look over her shoulder. He lay asleep. Even in the pre-dawn gloom the set of his shoulders and deep chest above white sheets snared her gaze. Heat built inside her. That needy ache was back again.

No! She buried her face in her pillow, only to inhale the faint spicy scent that lingered there. The evocative scent of Khalid’s skin. Her resolve splintered. The temptation to stay was so strong.

But Maggie was done with fantasy. Last night had been a wonderful, once-in-a-lifetime experience, but it couldn’t lead anywhere. Better to let Khalid wake alone. He deserved that. He’d be relieved to find she wasn’t clinging to him still.

Slowly, her heart heavy, she pulled back the covers and slipped noiselessly from the bed.

Khalid woke at dawn. His recall of last night was instantaneous, evidenced by his early-morning erection. Despite the startling perfection of sex with Maggie Lewis it had been a frustrating night. Once was rarely enough for Khalid and last night his climax, despite its rare intensity, had barely scratched the surface of his need. He’d itched for more.

Only the knowledge that, incredibly, he was her first lover had restrained him from sating himself in her slim, sexy body again and again.

A powerful shudder ran through him.

Her first. The knowledge stirred a deeply primitive satisfaction in his belly. He didn’t deflower virgins. He sought pleasure with women who were worldly, experienced and unlikely to cling. Women who knew he no longer had a heart to bestow even on the most generous lover.

Yet here he was, rampant with sexual hunger for his next taste of Maggie.

Last night’s shock at her inexperience had worn off. So too had his reservations, that hint of guilt that he’d taken advantage of her vulnerability. She’d wanted him. Had eagerly welcomed him. Then afterwards had curled into him with the trusting innocence of a kitten. No, there could be no regrets.

The liaison had been unlooked-for, but now it had begun he knew no qualms about pursuing it further. He was a generous lover and she would have no regrets. He’d change his flights to extend his stay. But first… He rolled over, seeking the warm, welcoming embrace of his new lover.

The bed was empty.

He swiped his arm over the sheets. There was barely a trace of her warmth. A single movement propelled him out of bed, striding across the room. She wasn’t in the bathroom. Her clothes had disappeared.

Khalid’s puzzled frown accelerated into a scowl.

She’d left him without as much as a word? As if he was some sordid secret to be ashamed of! He sucked in a deep breath and willed his clenched hands to relax. But nothing could stem the surge of annoyance, of…outrage.

Never had a woman walked out on him. His pride rebelled at the very idea. Usually he was the one distancing himself from importunate lovers.

He swung round, scanning the room. No note. No explanation. Annoyance and frustration warred with curiosity. What had sent her hurtling out of bed at that ungodly hour? Fear? Guilt?

For a moment he pictured her racing off to sell her kiss-and-tell story to some slimy tabloid. The press was insatiably hungry for stories about him.

But…could he have been so wrong about her? Instinct told him not, told him she was exactly what she’d seemed last night. But he’d better make sure.

The buzz of his mobile phone caught his attention, interrupting his unwanted doubts. One glance at the caller ID had him connecting the call and sinking into a chair.

Ten minutes later he ended the call and stared across the shadowy room, his eyes fixed on a distant place.

Khalid’s world had changed in those few minutes.

Faruq was dead. Khalid was Sheikh of Shajehar.

He drew a slow breath, thinking of the half-brother he’d barely known. There’d been no love between them, but regret pierced him at that life cut short.

After a while he rolled his shoulders and stood. His people needed him. He’d return immediately. He paused, his gaze settling on the wide, rumpled bed. He had no time to look for Maggie Lewis now. Yet there was unfinished business between them.

The situation was easily remedied. He’d have her located and brought to Shajehar. His lips curled in a faint smile.

It would be his pleasure to renew their acquaintance.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘COME on, Tally. Let’s get this show on the road.’

Late-morning sun beat down on Maggie through her long-sleeved cotton shirt as she led Tallawanta’s Pride to the ring. The dry heat reminded her of an Aussie summer and the smell of horse, hay and sawdust was comfortably familiar.

Yet everything else was different in Shajehar. The stables were infinitely more luxurious than in Australia. The sheikh obviously lavished a fortune on his horses.

Pity he didn’t give as much attention to his people. In the days since she’d flown in, accompanying the Tallawanta horses, she’d seen the stark divide between rich and poor. Extravagant modern complexes beside slums.

‘Almost there, Tally,’ she whispered as the mare caught an unfamiliar scent and shuddered to a halt. The flight to the Middle East had been a long one for the horses. Only now, after lengthy veterinary checks, were they being paraded for the sheikh’s approval.

Not that he’d deigned to come. Always the cushioned seat at the centre of the ringside stand, the gilt-covered chair set aside for the sheikh, had been empty.

She tensed as they entered the ring, scanning the crowd for the imposing figure of the man who kept her awake each night.

Khalid. The thought of him sent excitement skimming down her spine, though it was a month since they’d been together.

She hadn’t seen him since the morning after they’d made love. She’d thrown herself into her work, hoping to erase the memory of her behaviour that night. But nothing could blank the recollection of Khalid holding her, loving her. No matter how she berated herself, she couldn’t prevent the fillip of delight inside when she remembered.

She’d spent the next day fearful he’d visit the stables. She’d been on tenterhooks, anxious that she might come face to face with the man who’d made her discover a new Maggie. A needy, sensuous, wanton woman who responded to his touch with a total lack of control.

Yet when she’d overheard someone mention the stud’s VIP guest had changed his plans and left that morning, it hadn’t been relief she’d felt. It had been disappointment.

A small foolish part of her had hoped their passionate encounter had meant something to him. That he’d want to see her again. But she’d been an object of pity, nothing more.

Maggie notched her chin up as she led the mare around the ring. Khalid was probably on the other side of the world with some beautiful sophisticate in tow.

Sunlight glinted to her left and movement caught her eye—new arrivals taking their seats in the stand.

Maggie faltered as she caught a glimpse of the man at the centre of the newcomers. Tall, lean and dressed in concealing robes. But the stark white fabric couldn’t hide a pair of spectacular shoulders, a physique that made him top his companions by a head.

It couldn’t be.

He was obscured by a bowing usher yet Maggie was sure she’d seen a familiar profile: spare, powerful and unmistakable. Her stomach churned and fire fizzed through her bloodstream.

Khalid.

If it was him, what then? Would he acknowledge her or pretend they were strangers?

Maggie bit her lip. Would he remember her? He was a man with a wealth of sensual experience. No doubt there were plenty of women—beautiful and glamorous—who’d captivated his attention for more than a couple of hours.

No, he’d remember that night for a while at least. It had been out of the ordinary—making love to a gawky, bedraggled wreck of a woman.

A shout and a loud whinny from the entry tunnel snapped her out of her reverie. She clung to the lead-rein as Tally sidled abruptly towards her. Tally plunged and it took all Maggie’s strength to hold the spooked mare. Her arms felt as if they were being ripped out of their sockets. But she knew her job and her horse, and soon had it under control.

The same couldn’t be said for Tallawanta Diva. Maggie caught a flash of black as the horse thundered into the ring, kicking up sand and sawdust, its head tossing wildly.

Damn it. She’d counselled against giving Diva to a new, untried groom. Diva was too skittish and unsettled and far too mettlesome for inexperienced hands. But the stable manager had insisted. Maggie wished it could be the stable manager who caught the fractious horse.

Swiftly she turned towards the ringside seating and thrust Tally’s lead-rein into the hands of the local trainer who’d worked with the horses. His startled eyes met hers, then she was spinning away, striding to where the other horse ran loose.

The new groom picked himself up, looking stiff and wary. Meanwhile Diva showed every symptom of a highly strung beast who was out of routine, out of familiar surroundings and working herself into a frenzy. Maggie saw the whites of her eyes as she tossed her head and lashed out with her hindquarters at a silk banner waving on the edge of the ring. She skittered sideways at a ripple of movement in the stands as spectators rose, eager to watch.

Maggie didn’t take her eyes off her for a second. She knew only too well the power of the animal. None of the grooms turned their back on this horse. Slowly she approached, keeping her voice low and soothing.

Diva listened, ears flicking back and forth at Maggie’s familiar tone, but still sidling nervously, muscles twitching and head jerking at each movement in the encircling stands. Every so often she’d swing round to lash out at a shadow or at the banner snapping in the breeze.

A deep, authoritative voice called out something short and sharp in Arabic, then, thankfully, the spectators subsided in their seats. Thank goodness someone in the audience had had the sense to see   the horse was spooked by the rippling movement of so many long robes.

At last Maggie was close enough. Keeping eye contact, talking all the while, she stepped forward, reaching for the lead-rein. Her fingers touched leather. She almost had it.

Suddenly the horse reared, spun round and backed towards the ringside. Maggie had an instant’s grace to extricate herself from the gap between horse and stand. She almost made it. Then she was crammed back against the wooden structure and pain slammed into her.

A moment later Diva danced sideways and Maggie snatched the chance to brace herself, head bent and hands on knees, gasping in air. Then she straightened and turned to the horse. There was pin-drop silence in the ring.

Maggie circled, hand raised to grab the lead-rein. Then she discovered the job had already been done. Someone stood at Diva’s head, holding her steady.

Through the smells of sawdust and horse Maggie caught another scent. Sandalwood and warm, male skin. She stopped dead. Diva moved and suddenly Maggie caught sight of the man who’d vaulted into the ring to capture the mare.

‘Khalid!’

Maggie’s heart revved and her throat closed on an instantaneous burst of pleasure. He looked so good.

His expression was hard, his mouth a taut straight line bracketed by grim slashes. His ebony-dark eyes had narrowed, his nostrils flared as if he needed extra oxygen. Or as if he clamped down on anger.

He looked all male in a way that sent spurts of excitement racing through her. With his face framed by a pristine head-cloth that emphasised his dark tan, he looked the epitome of some exotic fantasy.

He held the mare with the easy competence of an experienced horseman. Already Diva was calming.

In the bright light of the open air Khalid was even more arresting than she remembered. Heat blazed deep inside as her mind strayed to the memory of him naked, his superb body gilded by flickering firelight.

‘Maggie.’ His tone was abrupt. ‘You’re on your feet? You need to sit and get your breath back.’ Clearly he wasn’t disturbed by memories of their night together. He was anchored firmly in the here and now. Embarrassment washed her in a hot tide and she drew herself up taller.

‘I’m OK.’ The response was automatic.

Dark eyes held hers while her pulse thumped in her throat. What was he thinking? Was he remembering?

‘That remains to be seen.’ He turned and gestured and the head groom appeared. Khalid said something in Arabic and the groom nodded before leading Diva away.

‘I’m perfectly capable of…’ Maggie’s voice died as Khalid lifted warm hands to her face, his touch like a benediction on her skin. Slowly he dragged long fingers down her throat and across her shoulders.

Sensations sparked from his touch and rippled out across her skin. Convulsively she swallowed.

His touch was light. The brush of his fingers across her skin reignited sensations she’d discovered for the first time weeks ago. When he’d caressed her, aroused her.

‘No! I’m fine.’ She tried to jerk out of his grasp but his grip firmed on her upper arms.

Had he stepped closer? His body heat seared through the cotton of her shirt and his eyes were so close she felt she could lose herself in their glittering depths.

‘We need to make sure.’ His tone was adamant as he cast an eye over her dusty clothes.

Maggie, brought up on her father’s maxim of ‘no tears, no complaints, just get up and get on with it’, couldn’t believe how easily she subsided in the face of Khalid’s determination. Obviously he was a man used to issuing orders and receiving unquestioning obedience.

She could barely believe he was here.

‘Do you make a habit of rescuing strange women?’ Her voice was husky.

His mouth quirked up briefly in what might have been a smile. Or a grimace. ‘You’re my first.’ He met her gaze then. The intensity of his look dried her throat instantly. No more flippant remarks.

For a moment Maggie was back in Australia, in bed. Khalid leaned over her, his glorious naked body propped above her, his eyes warm with the promise of delight. Desire swirled like hot treacle in her abdomen.

Then she registered a buzz of sound. Belatedly she remembered they weren’t alone. This time when she tried to step away he didn’t prevent her. His hands dropped to his sides. For an absurd moment she felt…bereft.

Maggie turned and saw, beyond him, a cluster of strangers watching with concern and open curiosity. Blood rushed to her cheeks.

‘What were you doing here?’ she whispered. It was easier to focus on him than the encircling onlookers.

His brows rose. ‘Viewing the horses.’

Of course. His presence had nothing to do with her. Hadn’t she already guessed he’d probably prefer to be anywhere else than with her? At Tallawanta he’d accepted her departure easily, choosing to leave the estate without trying to contact her.

He met her eyes, his expression unreadable. ‘We’ll have a doctor examine you.’

‘No, I’m OK.’ She cast a look around the ring but the horses had disappeared. ‘I’m needed in the stables.’

‘Nevertheless, it would be sensible.’

‘But—’

‘Especially since you are a visitor here.’ His voice brooked no argument. ‘We take our responsibilities to our guests very seriously. You need to be fit to do your job.’

‘Sire.’ A man stepped forward from the group around them. ‘The doctor is here as requested.’

Maggie frowned. Sire?

‘I don’t need a doctor!’ She was horrified at the fuss they were making. ‘Look, this is overkill.’

‘Let him do his job,’ Khalid said in a low voice that only she could hear. ‘Unless you’d prefer to make a scene?’

The tilt of one sleek eyebrow dared her to argue. She shook her head. If submitting to a medical check meant she could escape these curious eyes, she’d do it.

‘Good. Sensible woman.’

Watching Khalid, Maggie was struck by the knowledge that, for all they’d shared, he was a stranger. In a long robe that emphasised the lean power of his tall frame and a keffiyeh hiding his dark hair, he looked exotically foreign. His expression was unreadable but his stance was commanding. She noticed that the other spectators, for all their curiosity, kept back a few paces.

Then the doctor was there, distracting her thoughts. He bowed to Khalid before checking for injuries. Then he announced that she should accompany him. Good. The sooner she escaped this crowd, the better. She was mortified at this fuss. And at the impossible yearning she felt still for Khalid’s touch, his tenderness.

If fate was kind, she wouldn’t see him again. Then she could pretend her reaction to him was due to shock and not, as she feared, something far stronger.

Khalid paused before the door to the first-aid room, glad he’d finally shaken his entourage. He hadn’t missed the speculative glances at the ring. They were used to Faruq, who had been too lazy and self-indulgent to bestir himself for anyone else, much less an employee. He’d never have personally rescued a groom from the trampling kicks of a frightened horse.

Khalid could imagine the whispers circulating about him and the Australian stable hand. The graceful, courageous, female stable hand.

He’d already made a name for himself as an unconventional ruler, more serious and hardworking than either his father or half-brother. Now the courtiers would wonder if at last he exhibited a family weakness for beautiful women. Whether the slim girl with the wide eyes and luscious mouth had captured his fancy.

Let them speculate. If he’d waited to intervene…

Khalid’s blood had run cold, seeing her in danger. He’d ordered the spectators to sit, to give her a chance to quieten the thoroughbred. She’d almost done it too. She’d shown no fear or doubt, just a single-minded intent and a reckless disregard for her own safety that had filled him with admiration even as it had chilled him.

He reached for the door, deliberately taking his time.

Four weeks since he’d been with this woman. Yet the impact of her in the flesh was more devastating than he’d expected. He’d told himself his memory was faulty. That he’d imagined that intense sensual spark between them.

Perhaps this compelling sense of unfinished business, this acute physical hunger, stemmed from the fact that Maggie Lewis had, uniquely among women, walked away from him.

Khalid Bin Shareef was not a man used to being denied. For all his modern education, his forebears had been arrogant and strong leaders, who took what they wanted.

His blood sizzled in anticipation as he rapped on the door, paused and then pushed it open.

She sat primly in an upright chair. Why didn’t it surprise him that she wasn’t lying down after what must have been a frightening experience?

Her light toffee hair fell around her shoulders. She looked dirty, dishevelled and ridiculously alluring. Perhaps because he could so easily picture the creamy smooth skin and pert pink nipples beneath her shirt.

He didn’t want to remember. It would have been so much easier if he could look at her again and feel nothing. But even that first glance at her in the ring, her profile clear and proud, her body supple and tempting, had brought his libido roaring into life, making him pause to watch before taking his seat in the centre of the stand.

A knot of desire tightened his groin as he saw her mouth slacken in surprise. He recalled her soft, astonished gasp of pleasure as he’d brought her to climax. The sound of it, the remembrance of her innocent temptation, had haunted his nights ever since.

‘What are you doing here?’

Maggie could have bitten her tongue as soon as the words were out. She sounded waspish.

Last time they’d met she’d been a wreck. Was she destined always to be at a disadvantage with him? She was grimy and tired and the doctor’s continued absence was making her jittery. She sat straighter, watching Khalid cross the room with his long, easy stride.

‘Hello, Maggie. It’s a pleasure to see you too.’ There wasn’t a hint of reproach in his voice, but he looked grim. She curled her fingers tight round the edge of the chair.

‘Hello, Khalid.’ Just the sound of his name on her lips sent excitement twisting inside her. She notched up her chin, as if to repudiate the reaction.

‘What was the doctor’s verdict?’

She shrugged. ‘I’m fine. I’ll be back to the stables soon.’ At Khalid’s querying look she added, ‘The doctor is just running a couple of tests.’

When she’d mentioned that she’d felt a little light-headed lately the doctor had kept her longer. But surely that odd sensation had been due to the bustle and excitement of her first overseas trip. Maggie had spent the last weeks so busy she’d been more exhausted than she could ever remember.

‘You walked out of the lodge without a word,’ Khalid said abruptly. ‘Why?’

Maggie stared at him, horrified at the change of subject, and wondering where to start. She had nothing in common with this man who was clearly a VIP. A man of power and wealth who’d taken pity on her when she’d hit rock-bottom. That night was best forgotten.

She braced her shoulders, stiffening her spine as she met his glittering eyes head-on.

‘We had nothing to discuss.’

She didn’t want him thinking she was some clinging vine, shown pity once and ever after seeking what she patently couldn’t have. Pride came to her rescue and kept her gaze steady.

‘Not even the fact that you were a virgin before you took me into your body?’

Her gasp was loud in the silent room.

‘How did you know?’ she blurted out, then silently cursed herself. No doubt her clumsy embraces had been eloquent testimony to her lack of experience. She didn’t need him to spell it out for her.

He took a single pace towards her. That was close enough for her to feel the sizzle of his presence. The air between them almost zapped and crackled.

‘You were untried. Your body told me.’

Maggie bit her lip as blood rushed to her cheeks. At least he’d spared her comparisons with his other lovers.

‘So?’ The single syllable sounded belligerent. Better that than pathetic.

‘Don’t you think I wanted to know you were all right?’

‘Of course I was all right! It was just sex, after all.’ The blush intensified as the words spilled out of her mouth. Inside she cringed.

‘Just sex.’ His lips pursed and his eyes narrowed as if he were seeing her for the first time, assessing her and finding her wanting. He shook his head. ‘We both know it was far more than that, Maggie. How old are you?’

The question threw her off balance and she answered automatically.

‘Twenty-three. Why?’

‘Twenty-three and a virgin.’ His brows tilted up as if in surprise. ‘That’s not so common these days.’

Of course, he was an expert on the matter! Maggie opened her mouth to say so, then snapped it shut as she realised he probably had far more knowledge of the subject than she did. With his tantalising good looks and that subtle air of command, he’d cut a swathe through women wherever he went.

His lips twisted up in a brief smile that sent a tingle of shocking pleasure through her. There was an edgy, unsettled sensation deep in her pelvis, a hollow ache she’d never known before the night they’d first met. And when he looked at her, his eyes hooded and secretive, her nipples tightened and puckered. She lifted one hand to grasp her other arm, trying to look nonchalant as she hid her pebbling nipples from his view.

‘You had been saving yourself,’ he murmured in a tone so deep it made her skin tingle.

She shrugged. ‘Even if I was, it didn’t matter. The man I’d thought was the one wasn’t what I’d believed him to be.’

Her night with Khalid had achieved one thing at least: it had shown her just how little Marcus had really meant to her. She’d been in love with the idea of love. Her night of intimacy with Khalid had blasted the illusion apart with a white-hot surge of power and the old, naďve Maggie had gone. Now she was stronger by far, unencumbered by stupid fantasies.

‘You’re not still in love with him?’

She shook her head and turned to stare out the window at the cloudless sky. ‘No. I don’t think I ever was.’

The sound of the door opening made her swing her head around. Thank goodness. The doctor. At least now the personal questions would stop. And with the doctor here she wouldn’t be tempted to meet Khalid’s liquid dark eyes again. Each time she did her stomach went into free fall.

‘Sire.’ The doctor stopped abruptly just inside the room. ‘Shall I come back later?’

‘No, no.’ Khalid waved him forward. ‘I’m sure Ms Lewis is eager to hear the results of your tests.’

Maggie’s brows furrowed. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why Khalid was addressed in such a formal way. But she didn’t want to prolong his presence with questions.

‘Of course.’ The older man approached the bed, his serious gaze caught her attention and she sat straighter, staring. It was impossible he’d found anything wrong with her. She was as healthy as a horse. Yet the tiny frown on the doctor’s face sent anxiety pulsing through her.

‘Is there something wrong?’

‘No, no,’ he assured her. ‘Nothing wrong.’ Yet the look he cast over his shoulder at Khalid looming nearby was clearly unsettled.

‘I’ll leave you alone,’ Khalid said immediately.

‘No!’

Two pairs of startled eyes fixed on her and Maggie chewed her lip. She’d never been a coward, had always faced life with all its problems and disappointments head-on. But if there was bad news, she felt a fervent, unreasoning wish that Khalid be here too. She was in a strange country and he was a familiar face, she rationalised, blindly ignoring her own desire just moments ago to escape his dominant presence.

‘Please stay,’ she said, curving her lips into what she hoped was a smile.

Now the doctor looked really uncomfortable, his eyes sliding to the younger man, then away. Suddenly Maggie had a very bad feeling about this. She remembered her father’s cancer being diagnosed and how, at the end, it had ravaged him beyond help.

‘It’s all right,’ she assured the doctor, eager now to get this over and done with. Whatever the news, she’d rather know it now than wait on tenterhooks. ‘Please tell me.’

The doctor nodded and cleared his throat. ‘You’re in excellent health, Ms Lewis. Apart from some bruising you’re fine. However…’ He paused and Maggie felt her heart sink.

‘However, are you aware that you’re pregnant?’

CHAPTER FIVE

‘BUT I… It’s not possible, surely.’ Maggie’s voice was breathless, her face tense with shock. ‘Are you positive?’

Khalid knew Aziz too well to doubt. If he said she was pregnant, then Maggie Lewis was expecting a child.

His child.

The idea scraped a hollow in his chest.

Immediately he discarded the possibility that Maggie had gone from him to another man who’d got her pregnant. The idea was ludicrous. More than that, to his consternation he discovered it was untenable. Khalid couldn’t imagine her in anyone else’s bed. Just his own….

The realisation froze him into physical lockdown, his mind rejecting the gut-deep certainty. Warning lights flashed across his consciousness. Such possessiveness should be absurd. Should be. His chest heaved as he dragged in a slow, shuddering breath.

‘I assure you, Ms Lewis, the test is positive. Congratulations.’ The doctor’s words and Maggie’s response faded, drowned by the roar of blood in Khalid’s ears.

Pregnant! This was one issue he’d never expected to confront. Not since his life had ripped apart eight years ago. Since then he’d plunged himself into a gruelling schedule of demanding projects rather than face the aching void inside him. When he found solace in a woman’s company, he ensured the liaison was temporary. No entanglements, no complications.

A child…that was definitely a complication. A child meant family. Emotion. Love.

Khalid’s jaw tightened, pain radiating from gritted teeth. He’d vowed never to go down that path again. He’d spent years avoiding anything that might develop into an emotionally intimate relationship. He’d wanted never to lay himself open to the risk of such anguish again.

That was the only safe way. The only way to survive.

The blur of emotion cleared and he saw Maggie, clinging to the chair with a white-knuckled grip. Her hazel eyes sparkled yet her face was too pale. She looked wan and shocked. She needed support. She needed him.

Not pausing to think, Khalid spun round, headed to the sink and poured a glass of water.

‘Here. Drink.’ It took a moment to catch her attention. Her fingers trembled as she took the glass. A surge of protectiveness washed over him.

Pregnant.

Regret stabbed him. Or was it guilt? Shahina had longed for a baby. She’d borne the news that she could never have children with a stoicism that had almost broken his heart. The one thing above all that his beloved wife had wanted and it had been denied her.

Yet, despite the poignant memories, it was satisfaction he felt deep in the pit of his belly. A kernel of pleased anticipation at the idea of his seed, his child, growing inside Maggie. His blood flowed effervescent and his heart pumped stronger and faster.

‘But we took precautions,’ Maggie said to the doctor.

Aziz shook his head. ‘No precaution is foolproof, Ms Lewis. Nature has a way of succeeding in her purpose, no matter how hard we try to thwart her.’

Khalid considered the odds against that night leading to pregnancy. They’d made love only once and he’d been scrupulously careful to use a condom. And Maggie hadn’t made love before. Her untutored caresses and tight, virginal body had been a potent aphrodisiac, tempting him to completion almost before he’d ensured her climax. Only the knowledge of her inexperience had prevented him turning to her again and again in the night.

There was no doubt this child was eager to come into the world. It must share its mother’s indomitable spirit.

His gaze settled on Maggie, her slim form rigid. His emotions were jumbled and confusing. Yet above all there was a sense of rightness and of acceptance.

Khalid wanted this child.

‘For now, I want you to rest,’ Aziz said to Maggie. ‘Your baby is safe and we’ll continue to monitor its progress. We can discuss antenatal care later,’ he added with a smile.

‘Antenatal care?’ Maggie’s brow pleated in confusion and Khalid found himself wanting to step forward and soothe the frown from her face. Clearly the news had stunned her.

‘Of course.’ Aziz nodded. ‘We’ll need to discuss your diet among other things.’

‘But I’m only here for a short time, to settle the horses in.’

Aziz looked from her to Khalid and Khalid knew he was trying to assess the situation between them. Khalid’s presence here was unprecedented. It would be obvious to the meanest intelligence that this woman was special to him.

He stepped forward. ‘Dr Aziz will see you tomorrow. No doubt by then you’ll have questions for him. As for your stay in Shajehar, there must have been a misunderstanding. Your presence is required in the long term.’

‘But my visa—’

‘A new visa will be issued. Don’t fret about it.’

Maggie watched the two men walk to the door, one comfortably plump and concerned, the other enigmatic and powerful. They conversed in their own language and she felt she’d missed something vital. Or perhaps shock made her imagine things.

Pregnant!

She sipped the water Khalid had brought and tried to marshal her thoughts. She couldn’t believe it. The idea of children had been far into the nebulous future.

Panic tore through her, sucking her breath away. How would she manage? She knew nothing about babies. She’d been young when her sister was born. Nor did she have friends with young children. She’d lived too isolated a life; her father had seen to that. And she had precious little knowledge of ‘normal’ family life. She was alone, inexperienced and unprepared.

Money would be a problem too. She’d have to defer her plans to study. Her father had insisted she plough her earnings into saving the debt-ridden farm. With his death Maggie had given up the losing battle and begun saving instead for the future she’d always wanted.

Yet, despite the difficulties, Maggie knew absolutely that she wanted this baby. Already the thrill of excitement was overtaking stunned shock. She had no idea how she’d manage but there’d be time to sort that out later. Determination and joy welled inside her.

She’d have to scrimp and save and work hard and learn as she went. Nothing new there. And at the end of her pregnancy she’d have a precious child, family of her very own to love and care for.

A smile tickled her lips as she raised the glass once more. Crazy it might be, but she was excited.

‘You’re happy about the baby?’ Khalid broke across her thoughts as he returned.

‘It’s…overwhelming,’ she murmured as she met his gaze. Would their baby have eyes like his? Dark as jet and beautiful? Her pulse quickened. Their baby. It was incredible.

His stare was so steady, so intense that Maggie shivered, wondering what he was thinking. His face was so still she could discern no expression.

‘You’re not…with someone, are you?’ she blurted out as the horrifying idea surfaced. He wasn’t married, but there were other sorts of commitments. ‘Do you have a girlfriend? A fiancée?’

‘No.’ His voice was curt. ‘I had a wife once. But there’s no one now.’

He’d had a wife once…

Maggie stared up at his hard-edged face, transformed now into forbidding lines of aristocratic hauteur and disapproval.

Obviously his ex-wife wasn’t a subject for discussion. Maggie wondered what the woman had done to deserve such disfavour.

‘Why?’ His expression was remote. ‘Are you proposing?’

‘Of course not!’ Maggie heaved in a shocked breath. ‘I just wondered… I don’t want to cause trouble.’ She paused, thinking. ‘But then it won’t matter, no one need know.’

Instantly Khalid’s brows tilted together in a thunderous frown. ‘You intend to dispose of our child? Is that what you’re saying?’

Maggie edged back from the ferocious anger vibrating in his voice and put her glass down, not taking her eyes off him. His large hands fisted and his jaw looked honed of solid rock. She got to her feet and braced herself.

‘No.’ She shook her head till her hair swirled around her neck. ‘How can you even suggest that?’

He regarded her intently, his flared nostrils and the rigid tendons in his neck proclaiming his tension.

‘I don’t know you,’ he said eventually.

‘Well, believe me, nothing would make me get rid of this baby.’ She slipped her hand across her abdomen in a shielding gesture, overcome by wonder at this news and by the intense protectiveness she felt already for her child. She’d do everything she could to keep it safe.

His frown didn’t ease and she felt like an insect scrutinised under a microscope, about to be dissected. She jutted her chin. He had no right to judge her.

‘It’s true. I want this baby.’

Our baby. But she couldn’t say that, not when he looked at her with the eyes of a disapproving stranger. It was impossible to reconcile him with the generous, passionate man who’d taken her to paradise in his arms.

‘Why do you want it?’ He sounded like an interrogator, unconvinced and ready to believe the worst.

‘I…’ What could she say when she didn’t know the answer herself? All she knew was that this child was part of her and she’d do anything to protect it.

‘I don’t believe in unwanted children,’ she said at last. ‘Every child should be wanted…and loved, by someone.’ She’d spent most of her life knowing she wasn’t loved, that her father only sheltered her out of grudging duty. She wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

Her child would be loved absolutely and unconditionally. It would never know an instant’s doubt about its special place in the world.

‘I’ll make sure this baby is loved and cared for.’

‘That is not your responsibility.’

‘Sorry?’ His words brought her head swinging round to meet his gaze, ready to do battle.

‘It is ours.’

Ours? Khalid’s and hers? Her shoulders slumped in relief. For a moment there she’d thought he implied she wasn’t fit to raise her own child.

‘You want a role in bringing up this baby?’

‘I will be involved in caring for our child.’ Each word was clipped and definite. His posture, his look, proclaimed an arrogant certainty she secretly envied.

Maggie shook her head. Surely the difficulties of long-distance parenthood must outweigh the benefits.

‘You’d deny me my rightful position as its father?’

He took a step forward and suddenly he was right there in front of her. Heat radiated from him and wrapped close around her. The scent of his skin invaded her space, overwhelming her attempts at rational thought. Instantly she was in bed, the smell of sandalwood and fresh male sweat tangy in her nostrils as he caressed her and drew her to shattering climax. Once more that secret, telltale heat ignited in the pit of her belly.

She closed her eyes, trying to master the surge of memory that shattered her thought processes. How could she think when he stood so close?

‘It wouldn’t work,’ she murmured at last. ‘It would be too difficult to manage.’

Warm fingers tilted her face up. Her eyes popped open and she met his gaze. It glowed with heat and something else, some burning emotion she couldn’t define. For a moment absurd hope welled that perhaps he felt something for her. Something more than sympathy. She wanted that so badly it was a physical ache.

‘Nothing is impossible, Maggie.’

The air sizzled as that spark, the connection she’d experienced only once before, arced between them. When he spoke like that, looked at her like that, she almost believed everything would turn out wonderfully.

Her heart accelerated to a hammering throb as she sank into the luxury of his heated gaze. Unthinking, she relaxed in his hold, slumping closer, drawn to his hard strength.

‘We will find a way to make it work,’ he murmured.

For all her prized ability to stand up for herself, this one man had the unerring ability to find weakness where none had existed. He made her feel she wasn’t whole without him. She melted at his touch, even questioning the precepts she’d spent a lifetime learning: independence, pride and self-reliance.

Khalid was dangerous in ways she was only beginning to understand. She had to resist him and think rationally. Too much was at stake. Not merely her pride, but an innocent new life. Maggie jerked her chin from his hold, leaning back till his hand dropped away. Instantly she missed the warmth of his touch, craved its return.

‘It’s not that simple,’ she argued.

His eyes narrowed to glittering slits and his challenging expression froze to implacable.

‘Perhaps you’d like to explain why you’re insistent I not take responsibility for my child.’ He crossed his arms over his chest. The movement emphasised the spare power of his taut frame and gave him a threatening air.

Maggie looked away. It was far too easy to stare in helpless fascination at him. For all the belligerence of his stance, he was utterly mesmerising.

‘Is it because I’m not from your country? Because I am a foreigner to you?’

Helplessly she shook her head. ‘That’s got nothing to do with it. It’s just…’ How did she explain that they were poles apart in wealth and status, in experience and expectations, without making it sound as if she were seeking reassurance? ‘You’re here and I’ll be in Australia and—’

‘Not necessarily.’

‘Pardon?’

‘We needn’t be separated. For our child’s sake, the sensible thing would be to stay together here.’

‘Together?’ she squawked. He couldn’t mean what she thought. ‘Together’ didn’t mean anything personal.

Still, it took far too long for her galloping heart rate to slow back to normal.

‘That’s not an option. I have to return home.’

‘Perhaps I could persuade you.’

One sleek eyebrow rose questioningly and his lips quirked up at one corner in the merest hint of a smile. A pulse of heat throbbed deep inside her, impinging on her ability to think clearly. How did he do that?

Heaven help her if he ever deigned to smile properly. She’d dissolve into a puddle of molten desire at his feet. Maggie scrambled to compose herself.

‘I’ll be in Australia.’

‘Do you really think that’s best for our child? One parent in Australia and one in Shajehar?’

Anger unfurled in Maggie’s belly at his calm question. She’d been rocked by today’s news and was still grappling with the implications. Apparently Khalid had taken it in his stride. Unreasonably she resented that.

‘You think you know what’s best for the baby? Is that it? You’re suddenly an expert with all the answers?’

She caught a glimpse of banked heat in his eyes. Was he so accustomed to deciding, always having his way? Did he expect her to accept his decision meekly?

‘I don’t pretend to be an expert, Maggie.’ His voice was low and calm. ‘I just know our child deserves the chance to be loved by both its parents.’

She felt as if he’d punched a hole through her indignation and her fear, right down to her secret, scared inner self. A desolate, black void of long-buried hurt yawned before her, threatening to suck her under. What did she know about parental love? She’d had so little of it.

For one panicked, sickening moment she wondered if the lack of love in her own childhood meant she was fated to be a poor parent herself. Was it possible? Could that sort of thing be inherited?

She gulped in an unsteady breath. Surely not. If anything the neglect she’d suffered meant she’d try harder to be a good mother.

‘Maggie! What’s the matter?’

Khalid watched her, his brow knitted with concern. Suddenly she was claustrophobic. This small room and his dominating presence were too much. She was used to being outdoors, on the move, not cooped up indoors.

‘Can we leave here now?’ she asked abruptly. ‘We can talk this through later. I have to get back to the stables.’ She stepped to one side, eager to escape the confines of the sickbay and Khalid’s scrutiny. Surely they could put off this conversation till she was more in control of her emotions.

But he didn’t budge. The set of his jaw told her he wasn’t going anywhere. His proximity was daunting. Her breath shortened, but she refused to back down.

‘Look.’ She angled her face up to meet his impenetrable stare, steeling herself not to flinch. ‘We have lots to discuss, I know. Lots to work out. I’m not trying to avoid you. But wouldn’t it make more sense to talk this through later? Somewhere private where we’re not likely to be interrupted?’ That would give her time to adjust to the news and marshal her thoughts.

‘If I’m not back at work soon, my boss will be furious. I’ve already been gone for ages. It’s a wonder he hasn’t stormed in here demanding I get back to the stables. What we have to discuss is too important for interruption.’

Her heart thudded as Khalid watched her silently. Eventually he inclined his head.

‘You’re right. This isn’t the most appropriate place for our conversation. As for being interrupted, you need have no fear. No one will intrude on us.’

‘You don’t know the stable manager. He’s—’

‘No one you need worry about.’

At her astonished stare Khalid’s lips curved up into that delicious quirk, then slowly spread to a full-blown smile that made the pulse thunder in her ears and her nerves jangle in awareness.

He was utterly, indescribably magnetic. He was far more vibrant, more potently attractive than any man had a right to be. Her breath snared and she swayed, feeling the full impact of that attraction.

A firm hand grasped her by the elbow and turned her towards the door. The heat of his touch sizzled like summer lightning across her skin.

‘I see you haven’t caught up with the latest news, Maggie. You don’t know who I am, do you?’

‘Your name’s Khalid,’ she murmured, unsettled by the glint in his eyes. ‘You were the sheikh’s envoy.’

He nodded. ‘I was. Now my position has changed. Four weeks ago I became Sheikh of Shajehar. You’re an honoured guest in my palace. My country.’

Maggie sat quietly in the ornate garden pavilion as Khalid thanked the servant who’d brought refreshments. Then he conversed briefly with a man in an expensive suit who obviously had important news.

She was grateful for the respite, was still reeling from the shock of Khalid’s identity. Even now she couldn’t quite believe it!

Yet watching him she wondered that she hadn’t guessed the truth. He had the face of a storybook prince: strong, commanding and aristocratic. More than that, his air of authority, of uncompromising power, was unmistakable.

Hadn’t she seen him with her own eyes, about to sit on the gilded throne at the centre of the ringside stand? Hadn’t she heard the doctor refer to him as ‘sire’?

Khalid, the man who’d made tender, tempestuous love to her weeks ago, the man who’d cared for her when she was distraught, the man who’d leapt into the ring today and taken control of Diva…was the royal Sheikh of Shajehar.

‘My apologies, Maggie. My chancellor had a few urgent matters that required attention.’

‘That’s OK.’ She nodded, though she felt completely out of her depth. She didn’t have a clue what a chancellor did, much less a monarch. The opulent luxury of the pavilion with its silk-covered divans, exquisite murals and breathtaking views to the indigo mountains only reinforced the fact that she didn’t belong here.

She’d never seen the previous Sheikh on his visits to Australia, but his wealth and power were legend. It was rumoured he’d had a silver Rolls-Royce. Not silver-coloured but made of silver. That he bought entire luxury resorts so he could holiday in private. More than that, here in Shajehar his word was law. He’d been an absolute ruler.

As Khalid was now.

That was the sort of man who’d fathered her child. A man of wealth and power beyond her imaginings. A man who could buy anything he wanted.

Suddenly fear jolted through her. If he wanted the baby badly enough, could he take it from her?

‘I won’t give up my baby.’ The words were out before she’d even had time to consider them.

Khalid paused in the act of passing her a glass of tea and raised his brows. ‘No one is asking you to, Maggie.’

Relief swamped her. She’d grown up without her mother and she wouldn’t inflict that on her baby. That permanent sense of loss, the sadness for missed intimacies and love and laughter. The lingering self-doubt, that maybe it was something she’d done that had driven her mum away. Maggie had missed so much, not having a mother to share her hopes and fears and guide her as she grew from girl to woman.

‘Good.’ She refused to apologise. ‘I just thought it better you knew up front.’

He nodded. ‘And you should know that I will not walk away from our child, either. Here.’ He pressed the glass into her hand. ‘Drink up. It’ll do you good.’

Maggie inhaled the familiar aroma of sweet tea, Shajehani style, and remembered Khalid telling her once before that it was good for shock. She hoped he was right.

‘I can recommend the pastries too.’

She looked at the perfectly presented delicacies. Could the tray really be solid gold?

‘Not at the moment, thank you.’ Instead she sipped her tea gratefully. But the sensation of his eyes on her made her look up. He watched her so intently.

‘You have no cause to fear me, Maggie. I’m a civilised man.’

‘A civilised man who rules his own country and can buy the best lawyers in the world.’ She bit her lip, willing herself to shut up before she dug herself any deeper.

‘That’s not how I work!’ There was a flash of fury in his eyes before he looked away towards the distant view. Instantly regret filled her, but she had to be sure.

‘I didn’t ask to be sheikh, didn’t expect it. But my half-brother died without a son so I shoulder the role.’

‘I’m sorry about your brother.’

He inclined his head and she paused, searching for words.

‘You don’t sound as if you enjoy your new position.’ Which was probably tactless, and definitely not royal protocol. But their relationship certainly wasn’t normal. And she needed to understand him.

‘I will never shirk my duty,’ he said in a low voice. ‘There is much to do here. In the past my family were true leaders and visionaries, protecting their people. But—’ his expression tightened ‘—since the discovery of oil, our rulers devoted themselves to squandering the country’s wealth. It’s my task to make up for years of neglect. To rectify the damage. It will be my lifetime’s work.’

Now she understood. Khalid was a man of honour, driven by duty. ‘You see our baby as your responsibility. Your duty.’ She slipped a hand over her abdomen.

‘Together we are responsible for that new life growing inside you.’ At his words she felt heat unfurl within her, a tingle of excitement and awe. Her lips curved up in a faint smile. She still found the news wondrous.

‘So together we must make the best arrangements for our child’s future.’

She looked up, wary at his portentous tone. His heavy-lidded eyes gleamed with a sultry, unfamiliar heat.

‘There’s an obvious solution,’ he continued.

‘There is?’ Her heart pounded and her nerves stretched thin as something like fear awoke in her breast.

‘Of course.’ His lips curled up at the corners in a satisfied smile. ‘We will marry as soon as possible.’

CHAPTER SIX

KHALID was ready for Maggie’s reaction: sheer, stunned silence. He knew that in her world people usually married for love. That children were often born out of wedlock.

Hadn’t he married for love himself? Then vowed never to marry again, after losing Shahina tore his soul in two?

Nevertheless, the dawning horror in Maggie’s eyes irked him. She hadn’t found him so repulsive when she’d offered herself to him just weeks ago. And he knew any number of women who’d do almost anything to elicit his proposal. Some had already tried.

‘You’re… Are you serious?’ Her voice was husky.

Khalid clamped down on rising anger. ‘It is the most appropriate way forward.’

‘The most appropriate.’ Her lush mouth twisted. What did she expect? That he’d turn his back on her and the child? That he wouldn’t care about them? She could hardly expect a declaration of undying love. Besides, that was something he could never give any woman.

‘Maggie, think about it. Our child will be born into a family. It will have two parents that love it. He or she will grow up in a stable environment, not hauled across continents and cultures, divided between distant parents.’ He watched the green flecks darken her eyes.

‘And you will have wealth, security, status.’ All the things so many women desired.

‘What if I’m not interested in money or status?’

Khalid pursed his lips against a smug grin. If she’d been the sort to chase him for his wealth this situation would have been different. But he knew Maggie Lewis was no gold-digger. Even the investigator who’d located her had said she was poor but hardworking, honest and reliable.

‘Think of what this will mean for our baby. Isn’t that most important? You said your father brought you up alone and it wasn’t the happiest of situations. How much better for our child with both of us to care for him or her?’

He watched her chew her lip and felt a spurt of triumph. And a surge of sensual awareness. ‘We have that in common, remember? My father wasn’t a good parent, either. But we two together could provide the sort of home neither of us had ourselves.’

‘But there’s no guarantee it will work. What if we marry then separate? That can shatter a child.’

Khalid took her hand, smoothing his thumb over her skin. Her bones were fine, yet she was strong. He took it as a victory that she didn’t pull back.

‘You have my word, Maggie, that I would never drive you away or ask you to leave. You have my bond that I intend to work at building a warm, loving home for our child. And since we’re not marrying for love, then our relationship won’t be cluttered with emotion. We won’t have the power to hurt each other as lovers can.’

The more he thought about it, the more perfect this arrangement sounded. Yet he read doubt in her eyes.

‘But what if you fall in love with someone else?’ She shook her head. ‘No, marriage is a recipe for disaster.’

Strange, he thought, that she didn’t consider the possibility she might fall for someone. Not that he had concerns in that regard. He knew how to keep a woman satisfied and happy. Maggie wouldn’t be looking at other men while she had him.

‘I am not the sort to lose my heart. You can be absolutely sure of that,’ he murmured, determination firming his lips. His heart was well guarded now. He had no intention of ever opening it again.

Yet, still, she wasn’t satisfied. ‘Why do you want to marry? Is it so you have a legitimate heir?’

‘You believe it’s wrong to give our child the security of two parents and the protection of my name?’ Khalid straightened in anger. Couldn’t she see this was best? There was nothing shameful in his proposal.

‘No, of course not,’ she said slowly.

‘Good. I have no intention of allowing our child to be born illegitimate.’

Khalid knew too well the unwanted implications of that. If his Uncle Hussein had been legitimate, instead of the fruit of a brief liaison between Khalid’s grandfather and a dancer, Hussein would have been Sheikh. Honest, serious, hardworking, he would have been an excellent ruler. Instead the crown had passed to his younger, feckless, legitimate brother, Khalid’s father, a shallow man, wrapped up in his own importance and with an obsession for personal gratification. As a direct result Shajehar had suffered all these years.

‘So you want an heir.’ Her voice was disapproving.

He shrugged. ‘If I have no child the sheikhdom will pass to someone else in my family. But there is a child. Or there will be.’ He darted a glance at her flat belly and a stab of wonderment shafted through him at the idea of her swelling as his child grew inside her.

A visceral, possessive sense of ownership filled him. This was his baby. And Maggie Lewis, though she didn’t know it yet, was his woman. Already the sexual pull between them was too strong to deny. A single look was all it took to ignite roaring need inside him.

‘Would you deny our baby its birthright? The chance to know its father’s culture? Would you stop it from taking its rightful place here?’

‘You’re assuming it will be a boy.’

‘No, you’re the one making the assumptions.’ He released her hand and surged to his feet, striding away, then spinning round to face her. ‘I will love our baby if it is a boy or a girl. If it has pale skin and gold hair like yours or olive skin like mine. What matters is that it is our baby and we do the best for it.’

He looked at her as she sat, tea clasped in one tense hand. Despite her obdurate front this woman needed gentle handling. Pain, as well as strength, coloured her view of the world. Her eyes still revealed the shock of Aziz’s news.

Silently he cursed his tendency to instant action. When he saw his way ahead, he never delayed. Perhaps this time he should have tempered his response and given her a chance to absorb the implications of her pregnancy.

Her pregnancy. His child.

He stepped close and took the glass from her. ‘Come, Maggie. We will talk of this later. It’s time you rested.’

Maggie was hot and dirty and weary. Yesterday’s revelations still stunned her. She could barely believe she was going to be a mother! Yet her excitement was tempered by a morass of confused emotions.

Nor had her mood improved when she’d arrived at the stables this morning to discover she’d been ordered onto light duties. A day of menial tasks and curious stares had done nothing to rebuild her equanimity. Her every move was watched, assessed, speculated over.

‘Come on, Tally.’ She led the mare through the yard to the horses’ swimming pool. Tally’s ears flicked forward and her nostrils widened as she scented water.

‘Maggie!’

She stopped mid-stride, held fast by that voice. Khalid’s tone was commanding. Her heart pump faster, knowing he was here, watching her. She felt his stare, like a hot knife blade between her shoulders.

Slowly she turned. He stood framed in the shadows of the arched gateway. The late-afternoon sun gilded his long, pale robe. It highlighted his superb breadth of shoulder, the tensile strength of his tall frame, the breath-stealing male beauty of his stern face.

The hiss of her indrawn breath was loud in her ears as she stared in helpless fascination and felt her instant response. It was as she’d feared. A flare of excitement, of anticipation, sparked deep within her at the sight of him. It didn’t matter that he was angry. His scowl only emphasised his strong features and his air of authority.

She’d never liked domineering men. Had vowed never to fall into the trap of caring for a man like her father. But, despite the potent masculine power that fair sizzled off Khalid, Maggie couldn’t douse her thrill of pleasure. The air between them sparked with enough energy to light his vast palace. She couldn’t drag her eyes away.

‘Hello, Khalid.’ She hated her breathless voice. She’d been expecting another summons, not the man himself.

He paced across the sun-warmed pavement and something sank inside her as his stride ate up the distance. Her only hope had been that she wouldn’t be affected by his presence as before. That hope shattered as she stood, held in thrall. Now she knew: her response was dangerously real.

‘I asked you to come and see me.’ His narrowed gaze trawled over her and heat blossomed under her skin in its wake. She tried to look nonchalant.

‘Did you? That’s odd. The message I received didn’t sound like an invitation. It was more like a royal decree.’

It took every ounce of strength to meet his glinting eyes. Now she was paying for her refusal twenty minutes ago to obey his summons instantly.

After a sleepless night she was still confused and anxious, unsure what to do for the best. All day she’d expected to see him, had been taut with nerves, preparing to face him again. Yet he’d kept his distance. No doubt he had other, more important things on his mind than her pregnancy!

‘And yet you chose not to come.’ His voice was cool, his expression composed, but she felt anger in him as he stopped, far too close for her peace of mind.

Tally must have sensed her agitation for the horse started forward towards the ramp that led down into the pool and Maggie had to work at holding her steady.

‘I’m not a subject to come at your bidding.’

His sudden stillness told her that barb had hit home.

‘But you are my employee,’ he said eventually, his voice low. ‘Or doesn’t that matter?’

Maggie blinked, reeling that he’d choose to use her position here to bring her to heel. What was between them was personal and private.

‘My apologies, boss.’ She almost choked on the word. ‘I hadn’t realised you wanted to discuss my work.’

He raised a hand and massaged the back of his neck, as if to soothe away a knot of tension. The blood thundering in her ears pounded out the passing seconds of silence.

‘I’m sorry, Maggie. That was uncalled for,’ he said at last. ‘I apologise.’

He looked so uncomfortable that she felt a swell of sympathy for him. Was he as unsettled by this situation as she? No doubt he was used to making demands that those around him were eager to meet. Especially women. She’d guess they’d be only too happy to deal with his requests, no matter how demanding. The idea created a niggle of discomfort so intense it dismayed her.

‘Accepted,’ she said quickly. ‘I was going to come to you as soon as I’d finished here.’ She avoided his eyes. ‘I take my work very seriously.’

‘You think the matter between us isn’t serious?’ His tone told her he wasn’t used to people refusing to comply with his wishes. That straightened her backbone.

‘I assumed you didn’t need to see me urgently, since you waited all day.’

‘Ah.’ He paused for so long she wondered if he had no reply. ‘Again I must beg your pardon, Maggie. I’ve been with representatives of two neighbouring countries while we negotiate multilateral agreements on trade and regional infrastructure.’ His voice dropped to a deep pitch that unravelled some of the tightness in her shoulders. ‘I wanted to see you earlier but it was impossible. The meetings were organised months ago.’

Which made Maggie feel smaller and less significant than ever. Of course he’d had a good reason not to see her. It was stupid to be piqued at his lack of attention.

‘Do you mind if I take Tally in?’ she asked abruptly, nodding to the deep channel of water. ‘She loves her swim.’

‘And when you’ve done this, you’ll finish for the day.’ It was a statement, not a question. Maggie had the suspicion that even if she hadn’t finished, Khalid would ensure she stopped. ‘Please, go ahead. I’ll walk with you.’

She turned and led the mare into the water. Maggie walked beside the pool as Tally hurried down the ramp and in the channel sunk below ground level. Soon the horse was swimming in the deep water, kicking out strongly.

‘Marriage is the best option. You know that, Maggie.’

No preliminaries, no hesitancy. Was Khalid always so supremely sure of himself?

Didn’t he see how preposterous his suggestion was? As if it were totally logical for her, a girl who worked in the stables, to marry a man who ruled his own country.

‘Not from my perspective,’ she murmured. She kept her head averted, watching the mare.

‘My manager hasn’t spoken to you yet about my plans for the stables, has he?’

She jerked her head around. He walked beside her, closer than she’d realised. His eyes were grave.

‘What plans?’ Anxiety shivered down her backbone.

‘Your job at Tallawanta will end in the near future.’

Her mouth dried. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m disposing of the stud. While there’s so much to be achieved here in Shajehar I don’t have the stomach for such luxuries, even successful ones. Which means…’ he paused, surveying her carefully ‘…that your job in Australia will no longer exist. The stud’s new owners may need you or they may decide to bring in their own staff.’

Foreboding ratcheted up Maggie’s pulse and she faltered. Cold sweat prickled her nape at the thought of her job disappearing.

Her arm jerked as Tally swam ahead and Maggie tried to concentrate on the mare. But her thoughts circled around Khalid’s news. She needed her job to support her baby. Good positions were scarce and she had no other qualifications.

Surely he wasn’t doing this to force her hand?

‘I’d decided to sell it, and several of Faruq’s other indulgences, well before we met.’

Had he read her mind and the doubt hovering there?

‘But I need a steady job for the baby, and to save so I can train one day as a vet.’ Even as she said it she realised how unlikely that dream was. Looking after her child had to be her priority now.

‘There’s a fine university here in Shajehar. Veterinary study is one of its specialties.’

Sure, as if she could enrol. She couldn’t even speak the language. Maggie pursed her lips in a derisory grimace.

‘So I should stay here because it would be easier than finding a new job?’ She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone. She felt as if he’d pulled the whole fabric of her world askew. She was adrift on a sea of uncertainty.

Maggie urged the mare on, wishing she could run ahead, outpace Khalid and absorb this news alone. But solitude was a luxury she didn’t have anymore. Whether she wanted it or not, Khalid was determined to be involved in her future.

Correction, their child’s future. The two were inextricably linked. Claustrophobia encompassed her, binding round her till she could barely breathe.

Tally surged up the ramp and out of the deep swimming channel. Even the comical sight of the mare shaking herself like a dog didn’t make Maggie smile. She felt overwhelmed.

‘Maggie?’ Khalid stepped in front of her, straight into her line of vision. ‘You will have a new job whether you like it or not. Being a mother will be very demanding.’

She shook her head in amazement. ‘And you think it will be easier for me if I emigrate, tie myself to a man I barely know and marry into a royal family?’

‘You would not be alone. You would want for nothing.’ His tone was patient, warm and reassuring.

Yet she’d run the risk of losing what little she had achieved for herself. Her independence, her plans for the future.

Though perhaps it was inevitable. Her future wasn’t her own anymore. A shiver of panicked excitement shot through her as this new reality struck her again. Pregnant. Maggie breathed deep and calmed herself.

‘I don’t fit your world.’ She waved a dismissive hand over herself. Her boots were dusty, her trousers splashed and liberally sprinkled with horse hair. ‘I don’t belong in a palace. I’m ordinary. I work for my living.’

His eyes held hers and a pulse of something unexpected beat between them. Connection.

‘As do I, Maggie.’

Instantly she regretted her words. Already she’d learned how seriously Khalid took his responsibilities.

‘I’m sorry, Khalid. I know you do. But our circumstances are different.’ She tethered the mare, reaching for a plastic scraper and beginning to dry Tally’s wet coat. It gave her the perfect excuse not to look at him. She focused on the slide of the plastic over Tally’s body, sluicing the water away. If only it were as easy to remove one large, stubborn male from her vicinity.

‘Surely you need to marry someone who will fit in.’

‘You will fit in, Maggie.’ He took a step towards her. The world narrowed to him. His glowing eyes, his rangy power, his presence. Her heart pounded against her ribs.

‘I’ll be right here with you.’ His voice dropped to a soft rumble that made her insides squirm with pleasure.

She shook her head, denying the shiver of tentative delight. He didn’t understand at all! How could she marry a man who saw their wedding as ‘the most appropriate way forward’? Who didn’t love her and never would? She’d be mad to tie herself to such an arrangement.

‘I mean, you must be expected to marry someone—’ she swallowed her pride ‘—beautiful and elegant, groomed for the position. Someone from an important family.’

As he watched she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. It was body language he recognised, a stance he’d used himself as a child when ordered to some irksome duty.

She didn’t hide behind the usual female prevarication. She was so transparent he felt a moment’s qualm for her vulnerability. But that couldn’t sway him. He intended to have her as his bride, by persuasion if possible.

‘The sheikhs of Shajehar have a reputation for marrying to please themselves.’

He conveniently omitted to mention the tentative negotiations Faruq had instigated just months ago to cement a dynastic match between Khalid and a princess from a neighbouring kingdom. Khalid had been opposed to the idea from the start. He’d never wanted to marry again.

Until now.

This was necessary. Marriage was his duty to his unborn child. Fate had given him this opportunity for a child and he could no more turn his back on it than stop breathing. He knew exactly how precious life was and he intended to be an integral part of his child’s world.

That meant having Maggie too. He felt surprisingly reconciled to the idea.

‘No one will believe you want me.’ Her voice was cool, but her mouth had a vulnerable slant.

Maggie stepped aside, turning to work on the horse. Her movements were smooth and rhythmic, almost but not quite concealing the tension that gripped her.

The dying sun lit her hair to old gold. It outlined her sleek curves and lissom body. Heat shot through him at the memory of those endless legs encompassing him the night he took her virginity. Of her exquisite body coming to life for the first time at his touch. Maggie was so wonderfully responsive, so endlessly enticing.

He might not be marrying for love this time, but there was no doubt he wanted this marriage. He wanted Maggie. All these weeks, through the turmoil of taking up his role as Sheikh, he’d missed her. More than he should have.

Missed the woman he’d known for just one night!

Marriage was his duty—obvious and unavoidable. But not entirely simple. He thought of her passion, her vitality, how she’d roused him and satisfied him, then made him hunger for her again with a desperate intensity that was entirely new.

This marriage would be about pleasure too. As Maggie would soon discover.

He stepped close and felt her heat through the fine linen of his clothes. Instantly an answering fire scorched his flesh, drawing it taut with sexual anticipation.

‘No one will question my choice, Maggie. They will know as soon as they see you that I want you.’

She swung round to face him, her hazel-gold eyes wide with astonishment. And something more. A flicker of pain.

‘Don’t. They’d take one look and know that for a lie.’

Had she never looked in the mirror? Never recognised the heady eroticism of her own body? The bone-deep beauty, the elegance and allure? Had she truly no idea how gut-wrenchingly sexy she was in slim-fitting trousers, her face pure of artificial embellishment?

Heat pooled low in his body, his groin tightening, his arousal burgeoning heavily. It would be the work of a moment to reach out and haul her against him. Show her exactly how much he wanted her.

But that shadow of anguish in her expression stopped him. This was difficult enough for her. Pregnant, in a foreign country, still grappling with the idea of marriage. She looked ready to take flight. He had to proceed slowly.

‘Clothes can be changed. They are nothing.’ Instantly a vision filled his mind of her standing there, absolutely naked, for his personal delectation.

Every muscle froze at the potent image.

He drew in a sharp breath and continued before his good intentions deserted him and he resorted to a more earthy form of persuasion.

‘I will treat you with respect. I will treat you as my wife. There will be no doubt in anyone’s mind.’

She shook her head. ‘You mean, the respect the mother of your child deserves.’ Her words had a wasp-sharp sting.

‘That too,’ he murmured. He read Maggie’s set face and changed tack. ‘I can promise you respect and loyalty. Is that such a bad bargain?’ Ruthlessly he tightened the net. ‘What do you have to go home to? Is there so much waiting for you there you can’t give it up for a new life?’

He didn’t need to say more. The truth lay stark and unrelenting between them. No one waited for her. Her own country held nothing except unemployment, loneliness and the struggle of single parenthood.

‘But we have nothing in common,’ she said at last, her mouth a flat line, her eyes averted.

Khalid repressed a smile. He’d won, though she might not admit it yet. Spears of hot anticipation lanced him.

He steered away from mentioning their explosive sexual compatibility. Instinct told him she found that unsettling. Time enough to deal with that when they were wed. He looked forward to that day. To alleviating the heady arousal he experienced whenever he was with her.

‘We will find that with time,’ he assured her. ‘For now we have our child and our honesty. That’s a better beginning than many.’

‘Here you go, sweetie.’ Maggie gave the little boy a boost up into the saddle of the sturdy pony.

It didn’t matter that he didn’t speak English nor she Arabic. His grin told her all she needed to know. Quickly she checked his feet were in the stirrups and that he held his reins properly. She motioned for him to straighten his back and shoulders, smiling and nodding approval as he did.

When she reached for the leading-rein a torrent of outraged protest issued from his lips.

‘Don’t pay any attention, Maggie.’ Khalid’s voice came from just beside her. ‘Hamed knows he’s not ready to ride alone yet.’

Maggie flashed her rider a look that indicated she wouldn’t brook any nonsense, then dropped the lead-rein, leaving the pony standing tethered. There was instant silence as Hamed realised he wasn’t going anywhere just yet.

‘He’ll be OK.’ She turned to Khalid. ‘It’s just his pride talking. I’ll give him a moment.’

Khalid’s smile was warm and Maggie felt the tension of the past forty-eight hours slip away. This afternoon spent with Khalid and his cousin’s brood of children had been more fun than she’d expected. Not once had he mentioned marriage, though his proposal stood between them, silent and unavoidable. As always, being with children had lightened her mood. She’d revelled in their excitement at visiting the ponies Khalid kept for them.

‘You know about young boys.’ Was that approval she heard?

She shrugged. ‘Back home I help out with a programme for disabled riders. We meet every second Saturday and most of the riders are children. I’ve picked up a thing or two.’

‘You enjoy being with children?’

‘Of course. What’s not to like?’ Kids took you as they found you. They were open and honest about their feelings.

‘Have you always wanted children?’

‘I…suppose so.’ His eyes held her so she couldn’t look away. ‘It wasn’t something I’d planned just yet.’ She grimaced. This pregnancy was anything but planned. ‘But I’d always assumed I’d have children. One day, when I met…’

‘The right man.’

Silently she nodded, rocked again by the vast difference between reality and her secret hopes of everlasting love. It was time to forget her dream of finding a man who’d love her for herself. She had to think now of her baby, not pie-in-the-sky romantic dreams.

‘How about you? Did you want children?’

His face was still, suddenly sombre. ‘It wasn’t a lifetime ambition, but yes, I’ve wanted children.’

Maggie didn’t understand the shadow of pain in his eyes. Khalid wasn’t a simple man to understand.

She turned back to Hamed with an encouraging smile. Soon she was leading him round the stable yard, reminding him to sit still while he chattered nineteen to the dozen.

But as they walked it was Khalid who held her attention. Khalid standing with little Ayisha in his arms, showing her how to feed a carrot to one of the horses. There was a squeal of delight as the mare snuffled up the treat and Ayisha giggled. Alone of all the children, Ayisha had been timid with the ponies.

Maggie watched Khalid cradle the child against his strong frame and felt something give way inside her. The big man and the tiny girl were so perfect together.

She heard his murmured encouragement, saw his swift movement to prevent Ayisha lunging recklessly at the horse’s head. He was patient, gentle, caring. Khalid would be a doting parent, but no pushover. Their child would have boundaries but plenty of love too. If she married him.

That was what she wanted for their child. Not the constrained existence she’d led, always anticipating her father’s disapproval, his temper. Khalid was nothing like her father. He’d encourage, not destroy youthful aspirations. For all his power and wealth, Khalid would make the sort of father she wanted for their baby.

Her breath expelled in a sigh. Could she commit to a loveless marriage when she’d craved love all her life?

She couldn’t allow it to matter. She’d do whatever it took to give her baby the best.

Khalid would never love her, never regard her as anything other than the mother of his child. His ‘proposal’ had left it baldly obvious his emotions would never be engaged. This was about the baby. About legitimacy, honour and duty.

He kept his distance, never touched her now. Any marriage would be in name only. She’d have to find a way to stop the surge of physical longing she felt for him. She bit her lip. Maybe it was because she’d been a virgin till so recently. Perhaps this…desire that haunted even her dreams would cease with time.

‘You look very serious.’

Maggie found Khalid blocking her path, Ayisha still in his arms. The sight made her think about him holding their child. Of the love and support he’d give it in abundance.

She drew to a halt and Hamed’s pony nuzzled her side.

‘I was thinking.’

Was that a flash of something in his dark eyes or a trick of the light?

‘Thinking about us,’ he murmured. ‘About the baby.’

He was so sure of himself she wanted to deny it. But what was the point? Of course she’d been thinking about them. It was all she thought about, wondering what to do for the best. Scared to trust herself to a stranger, but forced to acknowledge the benefits for their baby.

‘You’ve decided.’ His stare imprisoned her. ‘Tell me.’

Maggie’s heart rose in her throat. She’d finally made her decision.

‘Yes, Khalid. I’ll marry you.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

BARELY two weeks later Maggie stood in front of the full-length mirror in her luxurious new suite of rooms. Amazement filled her at the stranger she saw there. It was incredible what a fortune in clothes and jewellery and the attentions of a small army of women could achieve.

There wasn’t so much as a whiff of the stables clinging to this royal bride.

Uncertain, she walked closer, aware with every step of the unfamiliar weight and the stiff formality of the cloth-of-gold fabric embroidered with pearls. Someone with an eye for her colouring had insisted on emeralds for her jewellery. They made her eyes sparkle.

Or was that trepidation? The butterflies in her stomach were the size of giant condors and her second thoughts took up most of her time.

And yet… She stared at the woman in the mirror and wondered. Could she make this work? If she could look the part maybe, one day, she could grow into the role of sheikh’s wife. And she did look—

‘Magnificent!’

She spun round in a flurry of long skirts, her pulse jumping.

‘Khalid! What are you doing here?’

He’d been leaning against the doorjamb. Now he straightened and paced towards her. He looked every inch the royal sheikh. More, he looked like her fantasy prince come to life: lithe, gorgeous and dangerously intense. His splendid robes emphasised the lean elegance of his masculine frame.

The look in his eyes made her blood sizzle.

‘I’m admiring my bride.’ He halted in front of her. His intent scrutiny made her heart pump harder.

‘But are you supposed to be here?’

‘Where else would I be on our wedding day?’

His gaze dropped, travelling slowly over her flushed cheeks, lingering on her mouth. She snatched a breath. Her lips throbbed and parted and his eyes narrowed. Heat flared across her skin at the intensity of that look.

He surveyed every inch of her from the ornate gossamer-thin silk veil covering her hair, down to the full-length gown. A little earlier, being dressed in all her finery, Maggie had felt like an impostor. The luxurious fabrics and the wealth of jewels weren’t for the likes of her. Yet as his gaze heated her skin to a white-hot sizzle she let herself wonder, just for a moment, what he really thought of his bride. His eyes lingered on the emeralds, heavy at her ears and breast.

Slowly he smiled. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have said it was a proprietorial smile. Like a man coveting a secret treasure. Yet that was impossible.

She frowned, trying to concentrate on something other than the desperate yearning she felt for this man. He wanted her only as the necessary means to obtain his child. Lust for her husband was not an option.

‘Isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see his bride before the wedding?’

‘Luck?’ he scoffed. ‘We make that for ourselves. Besides, you are alone on a day when a woman looks to her family and friends for support.’

He stepped close and took her hand, his warmth enfolding her. ‘You have no family and you didn’t invite any friends to the wedding. So I am here to take their place. I didn’t want you to be alone, Maggie.’

The timbre of his voice was low and rich and warm, sending a frisson of emotion through her.

She’d expected him to be kind, and she knew him to be generous, but she hadn’t thought he really cared.

‘Thank you, Khalid.’ The words seemed woefully insufficient.

He squeezed her fingers and the churning in her stomach eased just a fraction.