In want of a wife.
Hedidn’twant a wife at all. He needed one to allay the fears of his people. Anxiety had risen when Fuad had taken control of the country during their father’s terminal illness, nearly bringing the nation to ruin.
Two generations previously, the country had teetered on the brink of instability when the then sheikh had no male heir and the country faced the prospect of noble families vying to rule. His solution had been to marry his best friend’s widow and adopt her son, Salim’s father, as his own.
Salim’s father had been a powerful and benevolent ruler, if wary of embracing change.
Dhalkur was a country which prized strong, stable government, and the government was, in effect, its sheikh. Salim would do his duty and marry, hoping to provide heirs and the promise of stability as soon as possible, while he got on with saving the country from the effects of his brother’s depredations.
Salim looked at his watch. It was time for his video conference with the American investment consortium.
‘We’ll meet tomorrow, Ms MacIain, and I’ll give you my decision.’
Her lips parted, as if to offer some persuasive argument, but instead she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and nodded. ‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’
Salim dragged his attention away from her glistening lips, telling himself he couldn’t seriously be intrigued by such an obvious ploy, if ploy it was. But now, as he surveyed her, he noted the hint of tiredness in her eyes and the strain around her mouth. If there was any ploy here it was simply the attempt of an exhausted woman to appear on top of an unexpected, taxing situation.
He pressed a buzzer on his desk and instantly the door opened, a footman appearing. ‘You’ll be escorted to your room. I hope you sleep well.’
‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’
Then, with another deep curtsey, she was gone.
Yet it took Salim a long time, too long a time, to turn his mind to mining leases and investment options.
And long into the night he found himself wondering how well Rosanna MacIain slept in her bed under his roof.
CHAPTER THREE
ROSANNAWASGRATEFULthat her next meeting with Sheikh Salim of Dhalkur wasn’t scheduled until late the next morning. It gave her time to gather her scattered wits.
The shock of finding her client was her almost-lover from months ago had kept her awake long into the night. In an effort to relax she’d ended up taking a long soak in the sunken marble tub, using one of the scented bath oils provided. But the warm water and delicate hyacinth fragrance hadn’t worked.
When she’d finally slept it had been a restless, fitful slumber. She’d spent the night rolling from side to side in a tangle of dreams that she preferred not to remember.
Because for six months he hadn’t just been her almost-lover. He’d been the man she’d dreamed about constantly.
And in her dreams they did far more than kiss.
Only pride had stopped her from questioning her Scottish hosts that night about their disappearing guest. If he’d wanted to see her again he would have given her his number and name.
Yet that night Rosanna MacIain, cautious, measured, sensible Rosanna, had been swept up in something so glorious, so visceral, she’d forgotten everything else.
It had put what she’d once felt for Phil in perspective. Surely, if she could feel such an unstoppable need for any man, it should have been for the man she’d once planned to marry. The man who’d so deceived her.
Rosanna shuddered and tightened her grip on her laptop as she followed the footman down a long, marble-floored corridor.
Part of her discomfort was from these opulent surroundings. Everything about it reinforced the difference between her life and the rarefied world inhabited by a royal sheikh. Everything spoke of refinement and privilege. From the antique rugs to the exquisite detailing on every item, from the silver pitcher that had contained her morning juice to the heavy, embossed stationery on her desk. Even her view, of a courtyard dripping with blowsy, richly scented roses framing decorative pools and shaded seats, took her breath away.
As they walked, they passed another beautiful courtyard garden, this one filled with citrus trees in bloom. The air was heavy with the hum of bees and redolent with the scent of orange blossom.
Which reminded her of brides.
Her heart slammed her ribs.
That was the only reason she was here. To find a bride for a sheikh.
Not to spend the night imagining herself held tight in his arms. Warmth flushed Rosanna’s cheeks and she stiffened her spine.