Despite lying between linen sheets as fine as gossamer on a spacious bed which could have slept a family of four, she was disturbed by images of Kadir’s searing black gaze as he had bade her goodnight after dinner last night. She couldn’t believe that she had confided in him so honestly and told him more than she’d ever confessed to another living soul, considering it to be nobody’s business but her own. Even Morag knew only the very barest facts about her background.
But Kadir had lulled her into a frank disclosure about her mother and father, before walking her to her suite of rooms and then leaving her in a swirl of kingly finery. The atmosphere around them had felt loaded with tension and for a moment she’d thought he was going to kiss her again. And, when that had failed to materialise—hadn’t she convinced herself she was relieved? That had been total self-delusion, of course—because she would have liked nothing more than to have been cradled within the warm power of Kadir’s embrace.
After checking on a sleeping Cameron, she had gone to bed but the night provided no immunity against forbidden thoughts, and suddenly she found herself wide awake and at the mercy of her senses. She kept remembering how it had felt to have Kadir’s hands and lips on her body—brushing with devastating accuracy over her belly and breasts. At one point she awoke, her nipples aching and her skin bathed in sweat, aware of an aching deep inside her which wouldn’t seem to go away. In the end she gave up chasing that elusive slumber, shutting herself in the bathroom while it was still dark outside, and standing beneath the power shower as she blitzed her body and her hair. By the time dawn was glimmering on the horizon, she was already dressed and raring to go.
Her nerves felt jangled as she waited for Cameron to wake up, forcing herself to lie back against the pillows on the huge bed and watch as the garden was gradually lit by soft shades of rose and gold. She had given Kadir her word she wouldn’t attempt to influence their son in any way, but she couldn’t believe her little boy would want to stay in this remote place, so far from everything he knew. She couldn’t let herself believe it—because that offered a glimpse of a future which terrified her. A future in which her own position was uncertain. What place would she have in a culture like this? Would she become the faceless Englishwoman unwillingly tolerated because she was the mother of the future King? She swallowed. She would give it a few days, as promised, and then quietly ask Cameron what he wanted to do. And when, as expected, he complained of being homesick, she would convey his sentiments to Kadir.
The ticking of the Ottoman clock was hypnotic and she must have dozed off, because when her eyes snapped open it was fully light and she could hear the distant bustle of life in the corridors of the palace. Hastily, Caitlin barged into the adjoining suite of rooms to find Cameron’s bed...
She blinked in dismay.
Empty.
Morag was in the next room and at first Caitlin didn’t recognise her because her ample frame was clothed in a flowing robe instead of her usual elasticated trousers and comfy top. She was sitting alongside a veiled female servant as the two of them companionably folded unfamiliar garments into a neat pile. They looked up in slight alarm as Caitlin came bursting in through the door.
‘Where’s Cameron?’ she demanded.
Morag smiled. ‘Ach, he was awake ages ago! Running around as excited as I’ve ever seen him. The Sheikh has taken him down to the stables.’
‘Has he had breakfast?’
‘The Sheikh said they would eat upon their return.’
‘Oh, did he?’ questioned Caitlin, trying to keep her voice light. ‘You should have woken me.’
‘The Sheikh said that you must be tired after your long journey and we should let you sleep.’
‘I’ll bet he did.’
She wanted to ask Morag if she realised that she sounded like a tame parrot with ‘the Sheikh’ this and ‘the Sheikh’ that, but Caitlin realised that would be taking her temper out on the wrong person. And besides, she needed Morag on her side. Turning to the servant who was seated alongside her, she tried to summon the semblance of a smile. ‘Do you think you could show me the way to the stables?’
‘Certainly, mistress. I will go and find Makim and ask him.’
She returned minutes later with Kadir’s aide by her side and he chatted equably as he led Caitlin from the suite, even though his attempts at conversation were met only with politely monosyllabic responses because she didn’t trust herself to say what was really on her mind. At least—not to him.
But she was unprepared for her emotional reaction when eventually they tracked Cameron down to the state-of-the-art stable
s on the eastern side of the palace and Caitlin felt as if she were looking at the scene through the wrong end of a telescope, because it was so...unexpected. And never before had she felt quite so redundant as a mother. Or so excluded.
Her son was being held by his father and his little arms were locked tightly around his father’s neck as Kadir crooned softly to the most beautiful horse Caitlin had ever seen, its glossy dark coat gleaming like a polished nut. It made such a perfect tableau that she almost wished she had her camera with her so that she could have captured the image, but her hands were trembling so much she doubted she’d have been able to hold the camera. Because all she could think was, why had the Sheikh spirited away her son without telling her?
Despite the heat she felt cold. An outsider. Someone who had no right to be there. A dark and nebulous fear began to creep over her as she took a step forward.
Did they hear her enter? Was that why Kadir suddenly turned and saw her, a brief flare of something she didn’t recognise in his black eyes. Was it resolve?
‘Caitlin,’ he said softly.
She hated how her skin shimmered in response to the way he said her name as he bent to put Cameron down so he could come running over to her, black hair flopping into his eyes.
‘Mummy! Mummy! Daddy’s going to get me a pony so I can learn to ride! He says we can go and choose one!’
He looked up at her expectantly and Caitlin’s heart sank as she bent to kiss his soft little cheek. What could she say? You won’t be needing a horse, darling, because hopefully you won’t be here long enough to ride it.
But even she acknowledged that as a mean and selfish thought. Just as she acknowledged that if she reacted in any way other than positive, it would be like announcing to a class of excited youngsters that there was no such thing as Father Christmas.
‘That’s lovely, darling. I hope you said thank you,’ she replied gamely.
‘Indeed he did,’ purred Kadir. ‘The child’s manners are faultless.’