Had his mother sent him on a wild goose chase? And, if so, for what purpose? And then a movement behind him caught his eye, a flash of black as Sera lifted her hand to shade her eyes as she looked out of her window.
And he remembered her moonlit skin as she’d emerged from the water, a goddess from the sea, and he didn’t care if it was a wild goose chase, because it had given him the chance to even the score with Sera. If he was going to lose sleep, he might as well be better occupied than spending the hours in tortured and fractured rest.
Last night she’d thrown him with her accusations of being a tourist prince. Last night he’d let her go.
He wouldn’t let her go again.
He was a prince, whether she liked it or not. And, just as he’d set himself the task of making a business success of himself, so too would he be a success in his role as prince.
And when it came to dealing with Sera he was the one who would set down the ground rules.
The car came to a stop in a largish square in the centre of the village, with the dusty squeak of brakes and the sound of the children laughing and calling as they swarmed around the car.
Soon the square was filled, as people emerged from their houses, squinting against the bright daylight, smiles lighting up their faces. A white-haired man came forward, his spine bent, his skin tanned like leather, the lines on his face deep like the crevasses of the very mountains themselves.
‘Your Highness,’ he said, bowing low as Rafiq emerged from the car. ‘It is indeed a pleasure to have you visit our humble village. I am Suleman, the most senior of our village elders. You have come to see our treasures, I believe? Come, take refreshment, and then it will be our pleasure to show you those things of which Marrash is justifiably proud.’
So there were treasures to be seen after all? Rafiq followed the elder, and the small party made its way through the crowded square. Wide-eyed children reached out to touch him, and women holding babies asked for his blessing as he passed, or sent their blessings to Kareef for his upcoming coronation.
How many hands he held, how many babies’ cheeks he touched and murmured soft words to he quickly lost count—but he could not forget Sera’s accusation of last night.
Tourist prince.
She would pay for that.
CHAPTER SEVEN
RAFIQ was impatient. He had two priorities now. Seal the deal with the Marrashis, if there was to be one, and bed Sera. But the second could not happen until the first was completed, and so far he hadn’t seen any treasures. Instead the rounds of coffee seemed endless, the plates of tiny treats never-ending—as if they had all the time in the world to engage in polite conversation with the dozen elders of the village, about everything but the reason they’d come.
After ten years building his empire in Australia, he was frustrated. This was not the way he did business. But he was in Qusay, and things were done differently here. Time seemed to pass more slowly, formalities had to be observed, niceties endured.
And so he observed and endured and smiled through gritted teeth, and made a note to thank his buyers, who did this all the time in order to source the goods for his emporiums. They must have patience in abundance.
Sera, he noticed with mounting irritation, looked like patience personified. She sat elegantly, her feet tucked out of sight underneath her, her back straight and her attention one hundred percent on whoever was speaking.
Or maybe not quite one hundred per cent.
For the second time he caught the slide of her eyes towards him, the panicked flight when she saw she’d been caught, the colour that tinted her smooth-skinned cheeks.
It was all he could do to drag his attention back to the ceremony.
Finally, with the last question as to the health of his brother and his mother answered, the coffee pot withdrawn, Suleman appeared satisfied. ‘Now,’ he said, his eyes lighting up like one about to bestow a special gift on a child, ‘shall I show you our treasures?’
Rafiq smiled and nodded. At last. If there was little to see they could be out of here and back in Shafar in plenty of time for tonight’s state banquet. He stepped back to allow Sera to precede him as Suleman led the way, and breathed in the scent of her hair, remembering a golden goddess emerging from the sea.
Although there was something to be said for staying one more night in the camp by the sea.
The palace would be crowded with visitors arriving for the coronation, noisy and demanding, and it would be near impossible to lever Sera from his mother’s apartments even if there were somewhere private to take her.
Whereas at the camp by the sea they would be practically alone.
A deep breath saw oxygen-rich blood jump to the ready, like an army eager to do battle.