Instead, unaided, she swung herself up into the saddle and flashed him a smile of challenge.
‘Race you, then,’ she said.
And with a small exultant laugh he mounted his own night-dark stallion with the grace of the born horseman. ‘Done,’ he murmured, and trotted out of the stable before she had time to gather her reins.
‘Cheat!’ she called after him, but her cry was lost on the desert wind. And suddenly nothing else mattered other than the pounding movement and graceful strength of the animal beneath her. The sand flew up in fine clouds from beneath Pasha’s hooves and Jenna gave a whoop of sheer, unadulterated pleasure as she raced to catch her Sheikh up.
With the purity of the desert spread out before them, they rode for hours, but always within sight of the mounted bodyguards. Every now and then Rashid made them stop to drink from cool flagons of water, the sweat sheening their skin as they greedily tipped the liquid into their parched throats.
‘You look happy now,’ observed Rashid. Achingly, he noted a drop of water which had trickled down from her mouth and now fell with an enticing splat onto the shirt which clung to her breasts, and the heat which invaded his veins was hotter than the desert sun.
Not completely happy. But happier. She passed the flagon back to him. ‘So do you,’ she said softly.
‘It’s easy to be happy when you are unencumbered by the burdens of state,’ he said wryly, with a shrug of his broad shoulders.
‘If you’re trying to tell me that you’d be more contented as a nomad, living out here all the time—then I would challenge you, Rashid!’
She challenged him in more ways than she would ever know. He shook his head. ‘That isn’t what I’m saying—I’m just making the observation that a man is the sum of many parts, and that the carefree part of me can rarely be allowed to break free.’
It was odd that he had used that word. Carefree. Hadn’t she thought the same thing about the doves which had been released on their wedding day?
‘Well, it’s free enough now,’ she observed mischievously. ‘So why not make the most of it?’ And she galloped off to the sound of his soft laughter.
The sun was sinking in the sky by the time they returned to the lodge, and the mountains had grown mysteriously darker in shades of deepest blue and green.
Jenna was uncomfortably aware of being hot and sticky and covered in dust—but even more aware of being closed in. The vast open space of the desert had guaranteed them a certain freedom and ease, but now they were inside the lodge once more the tension was back.
And how.
Rashid’s face had taken on that cool, forbidding mask once more, and his words were almost clipped as he turned to her. ‘Dinner will be at eight,’ he told her formally. ‘I will see you then.’ And he turned on his heel as he headed for his own room.
Telling herself that she would not be disappointed by his abrupt change in attitude, she took herself off to bathe, then she slept for a while before changing for dinner. Just before eight she arrived in the dining room to find Rashid waiting for her. Her heart sank to see that his face was as darkly enigmatic as before.
It was an informal room compared to its counterpart in the palace in Riocard, but its relative simplicity did nothing to detract from the magnificent carved table and the equally magnificent chairs. It was unmistakably a royal room, made all the more so by the sight of a brooding Rashid, who was standing by a roaring log fire, for the mountain nights could be bitter.
He watched her as she walked in, all grace and sensuality in a long, white dress whose bodice was embroidered with tiny sprays of jasmine. With her face completely bare of make-up, he thought that he had never seen a woman look more lovely.
Or more untouchable—which was ironic in view of how she had behaved with him the other day. But that passionate and responsive woman seemed like a world away—and, whilst the memory filled him with the constant ache of longing, he could not deny that he was captivated by the first woman in his memory who was not using every feminine wile in the book to seduce him.
But then, why would she? She wouldn’t know how to play the games of feminine seduction. She had been a virgin, he reminded himself with a bitter pang of guilt.
‘Hello, Jenna,’ he said softly.
When he looked at her like that—with a mixture of awe and hunger and fascination—she felt both shy and secure, and completely at a loss as to how to handle things. She couldn’t just walk straight into his arms, could she? Especially not as a servant was bringing in a steaming platter of Quador chicken and another dish of spicy rice.
‘Hello,’ she said simply.
‘Are you exhausted after your ride?’
She wondered whether that was a leading question. If she said that she was, then wouldn’t that give him the excuse to sleep alone again? And anyway, she did not feel in the least bit tired; she felt alive, exhilarated—as though anything could happen on this night.
She shook her head. ‘Not a bit—I’d forgotten just how relaxing riding could be.’ She looked at him from between slitted lashes. ‘And you?’
His smile was tight. ‘I have never felt less tired in my life,’ he said, his voice pure velvet.
It wasn’t easy to concentrate on anything other than the dark and proud face, but she made a big effort. Somehow she forced herself to eat something, for she had eaten nothing since breakfast, and to drink the iced juice which was poured for her.
But they chatted like old times, and as some of the apprehension left her body it was replaced by the certainty of what she must now do.