Had his reluctance to speak been motivated by the fact that palaces were what really drew the line in the sand? Palaces were what emphasised the unbreachable differences between Khalim and ordinary people like her. And, if that was the case, then didn’t that mean that there was a thoughtful streak running through him? Despite her reservations, she smiled.
‘And is it a beautiful palace?’ she asked him softly.
An answering smile curved the edges of Khalim’s hard mouth. Most people rushed onto another subject—seeing his home simply as some kind of status symbol, forgetting that palaces tended to be designed with beauty in mind. But then Rose, he suspected, had a very real sense of the beautiful.
‘Very.’ His reply was equally soft. ‘Would you like me to describe it to you, or will you wait and see for yourself?’
Rose swallowed down temptation. The very last thing she needed was that deep, sexy voice painting lyrical pictures for her. A voice like that could suck you in and transport you away to a magical place and make you have foolish wishes which could never come true. And Rose needed her feet set very firmly on the ground.
‘No, I think I’ll wait and see for myself, thank you,’ she said primly, tucking her still pristine papers back into her briefcase. Khalim had promised to fill her in about the oil refinery on the plane and she was glad to agree. At least it would give them something to talk about, other than the kind of irritating questions which kept popping to the forefront of her mind, such as, Khalim, why are your lips so beautiful? Or, Khalim, did anyone ever tell you that you have a body to die for?
‘Rose!’
Rose blinked out of her reverie to find Lara staring at her as if she were an alien who had just landed from the planet Mars. ‘Wh-what is it?’ she stumbled.
‘You looked miles away!’
‘I was.’ In Maraban and in Khalim’s arms again, to be precise. Wondering if the land he had described could ever possibly live up to the richness of his description of it. I hope not, she thought distractedly. I really do.
‘When are you going?’ asked Lara.
‘The day after tomorrow.’ Khalim had wanted to fly out first thing the next morning, but Rose had put her foot down. She might have a wardrobe which could cope with almost any eventuality, but a trip such as this required a dash round London’s biggest department stores! And hadn’t it been immensely pleasurable to see his incredulous expression when she had opposed his wishes to leave when he wanted? She’d heard Philip’s disbelieving snort as she’d refused to back down!
Who knew? Khalim was a man used to always getting his own way, and thwarting his wishes occasionally might just be good for him! Why, he might even thank her for it one day!
‘Very well,’ he had agreed coldly. ‘The day after tomorrow.’
She spent the next day shopping and on impulse bought a new evening gown far more glittering and ostentatious than any of her normal purchases. But once she’d packed she felt almost sick with nerves, and realised that she’d better tell her parents she was going abroad. She rang and rang their old farmhouse, but there was no reply, and so she phoned her brother instead.
‘Jamie? It’s me, Rose!’
‘Well, hi! How much do you want to borrow?’ came back the dry comment.
‘Very funny!’
‘But you never seem to ring me these days, sister dearest—’
‘You’ve lost the use of your dialling finger, have you? Men are notoriously bad at communication and I don’t see why it should always be the women who stay in touch!’
Jamie sounded indulgent. ‘Fair! So is this just a friendly chat with your favourite brother?’
‘My only brother.’ Rose smiled, and then grimaced at her reflection in the mirror. ‘Well, actually, no—I’ve been trying to ring Mum and Dad—but there’s no reply.’
‘That’s because they’re up in the Lake District—’
‘They’re always going somewhere!’
‘But it’s good, isn’t it? That they’re enjoying their retirement—I hope I’m still having such a good time, at their age!’
‘Yes,’ said Rose thoughtfully. ‘I wanted to tell them that I’m going abroad for a couple of days.’
‘Oh? Anywhere nice?’
Rose removed a speck of dust from the mirror with her fingernail. ‘Have you heard of a place called Maraban?’
There was a pause. ‘Isn’t it in the Middle East?’
‘That’s right.’