CHAPTER FIVE
KARIMLEFTHISmeeting in the Assaran palace torn between satisfaction and frustration. The interminable deliberation over legalities was complete. Agreement had been reached on all the important issues—including the provisions for Tarek and Safiyah.
And if some of the Assaran officials had been surprised that he, the incoming Sheikh, was the one ensuring the little Prince lost nothing as a result of Karim’s accession, they’d quickly hidden it.
As for the red tape…
His homeland of Za’daq had its fair share, but Assara outdid it. They’d spent hours longer than necessary on minutiae. But Karim hadn’t hurried them. Time enough to streamline processes after he became Sheikh.
But now, after hours hemmed in by nervous officials and nit-picking lawyers, he needed air.
He turned away from the palace’s offices, past the broad corridor leading to the state rooms, and headed down towards the main courtyard where he guessed the stables were.
Emerging outside, Karim glanced at the lowering sun dropping towards the distant border with Za’daq. Purple mountains fringed the horizon and even here, on the coast, he registered the unmistakable scent of the desert.
His nostrils twitched and he inhaled deeply, though he knew he was imagining that elusive scent. The desert was half a day’s journey away. Yet the very air seemed familiar here, as it hadn’t in Europe and North America. He felt more at home in Assara than he had in years there.
Karim smiled as he sauntered across the yard to the stables. In the couple of days since he’d agreed to come here his certainty had increased. He’d made the right decision.
But his smile faded as he registered the stable’s echoing silence. The doors were shut and there was no sign of activity except in a far corner, where part of the stables had been turned into garages. There, a driver was busy polishing a limousine.
‘The stables?’ he said, when questioned. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but they’re empty. No one has worked there in years. Not since the last Sheikh’s father’s time.’
‘There are no horses at all?’
Karim couldn’t believe it. Assara was known for its pure-bred horses. Surely the Sheikh would have the finest mounts? Plus, Safiyah had virtually been born in the saddle. Riding was a major part of her life.
He remembered the first time he’d seen her. She’d been on horseback, and her fluid grace on that prancing grey, her lithe agility and the way she and the horse had moved as one had snagged his admiration. The sight had momentarily made him forget the reason he was visiting her father’s stud farm, the horse he wanted to buy.
‘Where does the Sheikha keepherhorses?’
‘The Sheikha, sir? I don’t know of her riding or about any horses.’
Karim stared. Safiyah? Not riding? It was impossible. Once there’d been talk of her possible selection for the national equestrian team. He recalled thinking she’d never looked more alive than on horseback. Except when she was in his arms.
The memory curled heat through his belly, increasing his edginess.
Thanking the driver, he turned and entered the palace, heading for the royal suites. It was time he visited Safiyah anyway. The past couple of days had been taken up with meetings and he’d barely seen her.
Five minutes later he was admitted into her apartments. His curiosity rose as he entered. This was the first room he’d seen in the palace that looked both beautiful and comfortable rather than grandiose. The sort of place he could imagine relaxing after a long day. He liked it.
‘If you’d like to make yourself comfortable, sir?’ The maid gestured to a long sofa. ‘I’ll tell the Sheikha you’re here.’ She bobbed a curtsey and headed not further into the apartment, as he’d expected, but through the open doors into a green courtyard.
Instead of taking a seat Karim followed her, emerging into a lush garden full of flowering plants. Pink, white and red blossoms caught his eye. Fragrance filled the air and the swathe of grass curving amongst the shrubs was a deep emerald.
He paused, taking in the vibrancy of the place, so unlike the courtyards elsewhere in the palace, which were all symmetry and formal elegance. This was inviting, but casual, almost mysterious with its thick plantings and meandering paths.
The sound of laughter drew him forward. There was the maid, moving towards someone half hidden from view. Beyond her, on the grass, was a tumble of movement that resolved itself into a floppy-eared pup and a small boy. Giggles filled the air and an excited yapping.
Karim stepped forward and discovered the half-hidden figure was Safiyah, seated on the grass.
His gaze was riveted to his bride-to-be. In Switzerland he’d seen her cool and reserved, then later satisfyingly breathless in his arms. He’d seen her mutinous and imperious. But he hadn’t seen her like this—relaxed and happy, with laughter curving her red lips.
For a moment something shimmered like golden motes in the late-afternoon light. A mirage of the past, when they’d enjoyed each other’s company, gradually getting to know one another. Safiyah had laughed then, the sound sweet as honey and open as sunshine. Her laughter, her eager enjoyment of life, had been precious to someone like him, brought up by a man who had been at best dour, at worst irate, and always dissatisfied.
‘Karim.’
Her eyes widened and the light fled from her expression. Stupid to mind that the sight of him dulled her brightness. It wasn’t as if he wanted to share her laughter. He wasn’t here for levity.