‘Goodnight, sweet Rose,’ he said softly, resisting the soft, blue temptation of her eyes. And he turned back along the wide, marbled corridor, the shadowy figure of his bodyguard immediately echoing his movements, and she watched him go with a sense of disbelief.
Had she been mistaken, then? Imagining that Khalim’s not-so-hidden agenda had been to seduce her? And she had actually accused him of that? Oh, Lord! She leaned her forehead against the cool of the wall, recognising that she had just succeeded in making a complete and utter fool of herself.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BUT by the time she was dressed the following morning, Rose had recovered most of her equilibrium. The morning sun always had a habit of putting things into perspective. Okay, so Khalim hadn’t made a pass at her—why, she should be celebrating, not moping around the place! Falling into his arms—which she had been all too ready and willing to do last night—was a sure-fire recipe for a broken heart. Her head had already told her that in no uncertain terms.
His authoritative rap sounded just after nine, but she went through the pantomime of asking, ‘Who is it?’ and hearing the reluctant trace of amusement in his voice as he replied. ‘Khalim.’
She opened the door to find the ebony eyes mocking her. ‘Good morning, Khalim,’ she said innocently.
‘I see you learn your lessons well,’ he told her softly as he scanned her face for the tell-tale signs of crying. But there were none, and he was taken aback by a sense of disappointment that she had not wept in the night for his embrace.
And Rose knew exactly what he was thinking! Had he hoped to find her despondent? she wondered wryly. ‘That depends on whether or not I have a good teacher!’ she murmured.
‘And am I?’ he purred. ‘A good teacher?’
She walked past him, knowing how dangerous this kind of conversation could be if she allowed it to continue. The seductive tilt to his question made her want to melt into his arms, and that was not on his agenda—he had made that quite clear. ‘It doesn’t require a lot of skill to tell someone not to open the door without first finding out who’s there!’
Khalim’s mouth hardened. Such impudence! So—today she was refusing to play the game, was she? He wondered anew why had he not tasted the pleasures she had been all too willing to offer him last night, tasted them over and over again until he had grown bored with them?
‘Let us go and eat breakfast!’ he growled.
‘Lovely,’ she murmured.
They broke bread and ate fruit on a terrace which overlooked the tiered rose-gardens and the scent and sight of the flowers were almost too distracting. Just as Khalim was. And where had her appetite gone? Rose picked undisinterestedly at a pomegranate and drank juice instead.
‘You aren’t hungry?’ he demanded irritatedly, because of his restless night racked with frustrated dreams.
‘It’s too hot.’
Too something, he thought, shifting slightly in his chair as if mere movement could dispel the rapidly building ache of longing deep inside him. ‘We shall drink some coffee, and then leave.’ He glanced down her long legs which were modestly covered in sage-green linen, matching the short-sleeved safari shirt which gave no emphasis to the curve of her bosom beneath. ‘I see you have worn trousers.’
‘I knew you would not want me showing any flesh.’
He bit back his instinctive comment that she could show him as much flesh as she wanted, and whenever she wanted.
‘And I didn’t know if I would have to climb stairs at the refinery,’ she continued animatedly. ‘So I played safe.’
‘Yes.’ His pulse hammered as he imagined her walking upstairs, worrying about her modesty. Affording him the occasional tantalising view of lace panties. A pulse began to hammer at his temple. She would wear lace, he was certain of that. And once they were lovers he would buy her a tiny little skirt and she would wear no panties at all, and he would demand that she climb the stairs in front of him…
‘Khalim? Is something wrong?’
Her face was an enchanting picture of genuine concern, and Khalim glared. ‘Nothing is wrong!’ he snapped as his erotic daydream didn’t quite do the decent thing of leaving him alone. ‘But the sooner we get out to the refinery, the better!’
They drank their coffee in uncomfortable silence and then walked around to the front
of the palace, where two gleaming four-wheel drives sat awaiting them.
Khalim went to the first and opened the passenger door for her and Rose looked over her shoulder to see that the second vehicle had a burly and shadowy figure at the driving seat.
‘Who’s in the other car?’ she asked as he climbed in and turned the key in the ignition and the second vehicle started its engine in synchrony.
‘My bodyguard,’ he said shortly.
The ubiquitous bodyguard! ‘Doesn’t your bodyguard have a name?’
He gave a thin smile. ‘I am monitored twenty-four hours a day, three hundred and sixty-five days a year, Rose,’ he said. ‘There are a team of them—faceless, nameless and invisible to all intents and purposes. It is better that way—if I build a relationship with any of them then it makes me…’ He had been about to say vulnerable, but changed his mind. Khalim vulnerable? Never! ‘Familiarity makes them more accessible to bribery,’ he compromised.