CHAPTER ONE
THE MOMENT CAITLIN walked into the room she could scent danger. It lingered like stale perfume in the fancy salon. It impregnated the plush velvets which covered the squashy chairs. A pulse of warning thudded at her temple because this wasn’t the first time it had happened. The strange and indefinable feeling that somehow she was being watched—that alien eyes were following her. Several times lately she had found herself whirling around, expecting to see something or someone out of the ordinary behind her—but there had been nothing and afterwards Caitlin had scolded herself for being so jumpy.
Yet now her skin prickled with apprehension as she stood alone and looked around. At tall, mullioned windows, which gazed onto the wet bloom of an autumn garden currently bathed in soft light. She tugged at the sleeve of her home-knitted sweater and was grateful for her thick, woollen tights, which she’d worn because these big old Scottish hotels were always draughty, no matter how grand they might be. And this one was certainly grand, judging by its imposing exterior and soaring position over the city.
As instructed, she had arrived just before eleven and the clock was striking the hour as she was taken into what was obviously the most important room in the hotel by a polite manager with a curiously expressionless face. For the past ten minutes she had been waiting with increasing nervousness, wondering who on earth she was going to meet and what they were going to offer her.
A job, hopefully. Actually, ‘the job of a lifetime’, as the agency had excitedly informed her—offering the kind of salary which usually only featured in fairy tales. And if it had sounded too good to be true that hadn’t been enough to deter her—because who was ever put off by something like that? Certainly not Caitlin, who had a hungry mouth to feed and nothing in the way of security for the future. Why wouldn’t she explore every opportunity which came her way when opportunities were increasingly rare for a single mother who lived on a remote Scottish island?
She was just studying a rather depressing oil painting of a stag standing against a background of blurry purple heather when she heard the sound of a door being opened behind her. Pinning her most polite smile to her lips, Caitlin turned to greet her prospective employer—but the smile withered and died, like a dried-up leaf thrown onto the blaze of a bonfire, as she stared at a man behind whom the heavy doors were now being closed. She felt faint. Then dizzy. Then faint, all over again.
Kadir Al Marara.
It couldn’t be him.
Please let it not be him.
But it was. Oh, it was. There could be no mistaking the aura of raw masculinity which radiated from the powerful figure who stood before her, owning every atom of the space around him. Caitlin felt the blood drain from her cheeks as she stared into a dark face which had haunted her dreams and her conscience for five long years, no matter how hard she had tried to keep it at bay. But the flesh-and-blood version of the man was even more disturbing than the image which crept into her mind when she was least expecting it. And one question circled round and round in her mind, like a dark spectre.
What was he doing here?
For a moment she couldn’t move, so great was her shock at seeing him again. It was only when her heart had stopped missing every other beat that she allowed her gaze to travel over him—the man she’d never thought she’d see again. The man who looked like no other, with his darkly exotic good looks and imposing presence. His face was the most beautiful she’d ever seen, with eyes of glittering jet set in skin the colour of beaten gold. She reacquainted herself with his distinctive hawklike nose and the carved cheekbones which illustrated his noble lineage. And now she wondered how she could have been so trusting when she’d first met him. How could she have been taken in by his explanation that he was nothing but a businessman, when his royal pedigree shimmered from every atom of his impressive frame?
Did he know? she wondered. Did he realise he had a small son who was the spi
tting image of him? And if he did—what then? Was he going to storm into her life again and change it out of all recognition, as he had done once before?
Paralysing fear crept over her as she stood there, not knowing what to do or say, because Kadir’s appearance was throwing her senses into disarray—and not just because it was so unexpected. Because he looked so...different from the man she had known for that brief snatch of time. His jet-black hair was obscured by a pure white keffiyeh headdress, which seemed only to emphasise the olive-hued beauty of his face. And he was wearing robes. Flowing robes of soft silk, which whispered against the hard contours of his muscular body. She half shook her head in confusion. What had happed to the elegant Italian suit? To the silk shirt and vibrant cobalt tie which he had slung with careless impatience to lie on the bedroom floor along with her discarded panties?
That had been his disguise, she reminded herself bitterly. Modern, western clothes worn to send out mixed messages, so that she—and probably countless other women like her—wouldn’t be able to guess his true identity. If he had been dressed this way when she’d met him, would she have been so eager to fall into his arms and his bed? Caitlin wondered. But she would never know the answer to that. Their gazes had connected and a powerful mutual attraction had surged between them. And because of that, her life had changed for ever.
He hadn’t told her he was a powerful desert king. There were plenty of things he hadn’t told her. Things which would have filled her with horror if she’d been aware of them at the time. She had only found out about them afterwards, when she had tried to track him down. When she had discovered what a stupid fool she had been. And the power of that memory allowed her to suppress her fear and the nagging sense of guilt that she could have done this all so differently.
‘Kadir,’ she said, and somehow the word slipped from her lips as easily as breathing. It sounded almost calm—and so very different from the last time she’d said it, when it had shuddered from her lips in another cry of helpless passion. She licked her lips as a wave of nausea washed over her.
Because what if he did know? What if he had discovered the truth she had fought so hard to conceal? She thought about Cameron, safely at home with Morag, and, despite her thick sweater, Caitlin could feel another shiver begin to ripple over her skin and it took everything she knew to stop her teeth from chattering. Wasn’t it her duty to discover Kadir’s intentions before she even thought about telling him? Or maybe she was just dragging her feet, knowing that once she told him the truth, nothing would ever be the same again. She tried to keep her voice cool, as befitted a woman who had been deceived as badly as she had. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’
* * *
Kadir didn’t respond to Caitlin’s question immediately, but then he didn’t have to because he was King and could make people hang on to his every word. The most powerful king in the Middle East, or so it was said. He owned rich lands and lavish palaces, which many envied, as well as countless servants and trusted aides who would walk over burning coals to do his royal bidding. Why, up until a few short weeks ago, he would have agreed with those who commended him for his many attributes. For having his finger on the international pulse after all his hard-won battles to regain a lasting peace in his sometimes primitive homeland. To many, he had everything a king could possibly desire.
And yet...
He felt the flicker of heat on his skin.
Yet this woman had kept from him the most precious thing a man could possess. The fruit of his loins and rightful heir to the vast region over which he ruled. She had denied him four precious years of his son’s life. Four years he could never get back.
And never had he felt such an all-consuming rage.
But he would not show it. He knew only too well that concealing emotion was the only sure way to triumph in this strange business they called life. Because emotion was just another word for weakness and it rendered a man as powerless as sexual desire. It could make him do things which were abhorrent to him. Things which could take your destiny hurtling towards an unwanted destination and that was a feeling he couldn’t afford to have. Not ever again. Celibacy had made him strong and powerful—which was why he would ignore the soft gleam of sunshine which made Caitlin Fraser’s hair look like a fall of bright flame. He would disregard her pale skin and gentle curves and the memories of what it felt like to be deep inside her, and on her, and next to her. He would forget the fact that once she had made him feel as strong and invincible as a lion. Instead, he would lay the bait and let her walk into her own, doomed trap...
‘You seem surprised to see me, Caitlin,’ he observed coolly.
She furrowed her freckled brow. ‘That’s something of an understatement. Of course I’m surprised. You disappeared without a word five years ago. You crept away in the middle of night and now you’ve turned up without any kind of warning,’ she said and then added, as if the thought had only just occurred to her, ‘How did you find me?’
He shrugged. ‘Such tasks are not a problem.’
‘For someone like you, you mean,’ she accused.
Steadily, he met her gaze. ‘Someone like me?’
‘A desert king! A royal sheikh! Something you didn’t bother telling me at the time!’
Kadir did not comment on her furious allegation. Instead, he continued to stare at her with that same unruffled curiosity. Let her condemn herself with her own words, he thought bitterly.
‘I don’t understand why you’ve just suddenly appeared like this,’ she was saying. ‘Is this some kind of set-up?’
‘A set-up?’ he questioned coldly, his fury growing as she continued to act the innocent and, oh, didn’t she do it so well? Did women learn the art of deception in the cradle? he wondered bitterly. Might that explain why they were so damned good at it?
She nodded her bright head. ‘I came here expecting to meet a prospective employer.’
‘Someone you did not know?’ he probed.
‘That’s right,’ she agreed.
‘Someone you did not know,’ he repeated. ‘And yet still you agreed to keep the appointment?’
Her soft lips opened in protest, as if she had correctly picked up on the censure in his voice. ‘Well, yes. Why wouldn’t I?’