‘I’m going mad, Atif! Sand and silence are a lousy combination.’ She glanced around her desperately and her attention focused on a cluster of low white washed buildings she’d noticed earlier in the week. ‘How about those stables over there—can I at least go for a ride or something? Just for an hour.’
‘They are nothing to do with the Retreat. The stables are privately owned.’
‘Strange place to keep horses.’ Bella studied the guards standing by the entrance. Why would a stable need guards? ‘Well, if I can’t borrow a horse could I at least have my iPod? I find it easier to relax to music.’
‘Silence is golden.’
‘Around here, everything is golden.’ Simmering with frustration, Bella looked at the shifting sands and an idea took shape in her mind—an outrageous, daring idea. ‘That city we passed through on the way here, tell me about it.’
‘Al-Rafid is a sheikhdom, famous for its rich, cultural heritage.’
‘Is there oil?’ She forced herself to make casual conversation but all she really wanted to ask was, How long will it take me to get there and do they have high-speed broadband?
‘Huge reserves of oil, but the ruling Sheikh is an astute businessman. He has turned what was once an ancient desert city into an international centre for commerce. The buildings on the waterfront are as modern as anything you would find in Manhattan or Canary Wharf, but only a few streets away is the old city with many wonderful examples of Persian architecture. Al-Rafid Palace is the most breath taking of all, but it is rarely opened to the public because it is home to Sheikh Zafiq and his family.’
‘Lucky him, living in a city. He obviously hates the sand too.’
‘On the contrary, Sheikh Zafiq loves the desert, but he is a fiercely bright, educated man who has successfully incorporated progressive business thinking into the running of a very traditional country. But he has never forgotten his roots. For one week every year, he allows himself time alone in the desert. Time for reflection. He is a powerful man—some would say ruthless—but he is also a man deeply aware of his responsibilities.’
Responsibility…
Wasn’t that the last word her father had said to her before he’d sent her into exile? Bella squirmed uncomfortably, trying to ease the sharp prick of her conscience. ‘So…this sheikh. Is he married with eight wives and a hundred children?’
‘His Highness has not yet chosen a wife. His family background is complicated.’
‘I bet it’s a picnic compared to mine.’
‘Sheikh Zafiq’s mother was a princess, much loved by everyone. Unfortunately she died when he was a baby.’
‘She died?’ Bella felt as though she’d been thumped in the chest. Like her, he’d lost his mother as a child. She felt compelled to find out more about the powerful, ruthless Sheikh, forgetting that her original objective had been simply to discover the distance to civilisation. ‘Did his father marry again?’
‘Yes, but tragically both his father and stepmother were killed in an accident when His Highness was just a teenager.’
So he’d lost two mothers.
Bella watched as the rising sun set fire to the dunes, changing the colours from dull red to bright gold. She felt a strange affinity with the mysterious Sheikh. He was out there somewhere across the bleak, featureless mountains of sand. Did he think about the mother he’d never known? Had he discovered things about her that would have been better left a secret?
Was his mind as much of a mess as hers?
Bella dug her hands into the pockets of her cotton trousers and reminded herself that regret was pointless. The past couldn’t be undone. In all the hours of enforced meditation there was one topic on which she’d refused to allow herself to dwell.