“Then, your Oxford college will not receive payment for your services and will cease to exist.”
“How do you know—”
“That your college is desperately short of funds? It came to my attention that one of its major sources of funds had dried up.”
She closed her eyes briefly. “It was you.”
He shrugged. “I do what I have to do.” He stepped away. “Be ready in an hour.”
“Where are we going?”
“I anticipated you might be reluctant to tell me.” He took another step away. “We’re going to the desert castle of Khasham.”
“The desert castle,” she repeated. She shook her head. “But—”
He turned to her, his face hard. “No buts. We’re going to Khasham. Once back in the surroundings where it all began, perhaps then you’ll find it easier to tell me everything I wish to know. And if you don’t? Then I shall remain by your side for the duration of your contract.” He paused, but she didn’t answer. “You have a month, Gabrielle. One month until the bi-millennial celebrations, when your paid services will no longer be required.”
“Why then?”
“Because I will then know exactly what I need to know.”
As he swept out the room, she knew with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t allow her to leave Gharb Havilah without giving him what he wanted. But, if she did that, she risked damaging the very country she loved.
As Zavian walkedalong the palace corridors to his suite of offices, he had only one image held in his mind, triggered by the way the rose-colored light had touched her face. It had been soon after her grandfather had died. The same light had fallen on her face as she’d awoken in a traditional Bedouin tent in the desert, far from civilization. He’d opened a flap of the tent so he could watch the sun slowly rise through the trunks of the palms, shimmering its delicate peachy rays across the water onto the oasis where birds had come to drink before the heat soared. But he’d had no interest in the wildlife that day. Only the way the shadows of the palm leaves had flickered light across her face, relaxed by sex and sleep. He’d known at that moment that she would always be his, no matter what.
Growing up, he’d got to know Gabrielle’s grandfather on his frequent visits to the palace to visit his own grandfather. He’d always sought the older man out to listen to tales of the desert and the history of his country, about which none of his own family appeared particularly concerned. And he’d heard all about Gabrielle long before he’d ever met her. That meeting hadn’t happened until they were both teenagers. But they hadn’t come close until an accidental meeting in the desert when she’d returned from her studies at Oxford University.
Her grandfather had died shortly after their relationship had begun. Zavian had taken it slowly at first, knowing her grief over losing her only relative. But, if he was correct about her role in the repatriation of the Khasham Qur’an, then her reason for accepting the bribe from his father was called into question. Why had she taken it?
He thought he knew why, but he needed to hear it from her. And when he did, he’d resume his relationship with her, simply to rid himself of his obsession. That was all.
Chapter 4
She’d never been good at being controlled. Not by a person or by a thing—a wall, a lock, an instruction. Her grandfather had known that, her head of department had come to realize that, but it seemed the King of Gharb Havilah had yet to learn it.
Yes, she wanted, noneededto go into the desert, but not with him. She wanted to be alone, now, more than ever before, free of the shackles of ownership, of locked doors, and deadlines. And, not least, free from Zavian’s spell. Whenever she was near him, she wanted him, physically and emotionally, like a person emerging from the desert who’d survived only on meager rations. She was hungry and thirsty for him as if her life depended on it.
But it was no good. Despite all the lingering looks, theirs was a relationship with no future. Neither of them could deny their intense physical attraction to each other, nor their enjoyment in each other’s company. She loved to watch Zavian’s impassive face, noting the slight changes to indicate his humor, the slight contraction at the corner of his mouth when something amused him, and not least the heat in his eyes when he looked at her. But she had no choice but to resist the magnetic pull toward him. It could go nowhere because they were poles apart. And the thought of spending the next twenty-four hours—or longer—with him was enough to drive her crazy.
And she didn’t intend to be driven crazy. That was why she’d arranged for a taxi to collect her a good two hours before the appointed time and to take her into the desert—not to the desert castle—but to the place she’d grown up with her grandfather. It would be deserted, she knew, but she needed to see it again, needed the solace just being in her old home would bring. She’d do what was required of her, she reasoned. She didn’t need physical resources to put together the PR stories; it was all in her head and her laptop. She’d be working, keeping to the letter of her contract, just not quite in the way Zavian imagined. He might be king, but he wasn’t her king.
She packed her bag and arrived at the car early, handing her bag to the chauffeur, who stowed it away. She was about to get into it when a group of men burst out from the castle. She knew it was him before she saw him. Athletic, white-robed men talked into microphones and swept the empty courtyard with their gaze. Only one gaze was directed at her—the man at their center.
She jumped in the car. “Let’s go! Now!” she called to the driver. But the driver pretended not to hear and stepped to one side, allowing a clear view of Zavian striding out of the white marble foyer of the palace, flanked either side by security, his eyes focused on her beneath a frown.
She looked away, steeling herself for his response.
“Good morning, Dr. Taylor,” Zavian said, briefly gripping the top of the car and peering inside, looking over his dark glasses at her with eyes of obsidian. “It seems you anticipated we’d be making an early start.”
She swallowed hard, then turned to him. “We? No. I was leaving on my own.”
“And you were going to the desert castle?”
She shook her head and looked straight ahead. “I was going to my family home—my grandfather’s house.”
“To do what, exactly?”
“To work. As you wished me to do.”