Desert Fantasies(42)

She looked up to find Rashid was already standing. He held out a hand. Polly allowed him to help her to her feet. A faint breeze caught at the light fabric of her dishdasha, brushing it against the denim of his jeans.

Polly drew in a ragged breath. She just wasn’t made that way. But she was under no illusions. If Rashid truly intended to ‘win’ she’d be powerless to stop him.





CHAPTER FIVE



RASHID stood looking out across the courtyard, the fountain anything but soothing. There’d been some semblance of normality as he’d escorted Polly back to her room. Years of experience had meant that he was perfectly able to talk about her proposed documentary, the arrangements that had been made to take them into the Atiq Desert, all the while pretending his body wasn’t on fire for her.

He screwed up the piece of paper in his hand and aimed it towards the waste bin by the desk. It brushed the edge and fell neatly inside. Rashid looked away, back out towards the central fountain and jagged a hand through his hair.

He’d kissed her. It didn’t matter he’d intended it as a kind of test. Somewhere between the thought and the action his motivation had changed. And he’d felt her tremble. Her lips had been warm and pliant against his. Her fingers had been in his hair pulling him closer, urging him on until the moment she’d stopped. Stopped him. The control had been all hers.

Rashid swore softly. Inviting them, her, to stay in his home had seemed such an inspired idea. He pulled an agitated hand across his face. It felt less inspired now.

‘Rashid?’

He spun round to face his sister. She quietly shut the door and walked to stand next to him.

‘Are you angry with me?’ she asked in Arabic, her voice low.

‘Do not bring her to me again. I will make my decisions in my own time and in my own way.’

Bahiyaa turned so she could look at his profile. ‘I do not believe Polly is involved in anything criminal.’

‘And you know that how?’

‘I know my own sex, Rashid. I genuinely believe she is here solely to make this documentary. And,’ she continued after a moment of silence, ‘she is charmingly excited to be here. I don’t think she has been used to have her wishes considered. Rashid, are you listening to me?’

He was listening, to every word. In his heart of hearts he didn’t believe Polly was complicit in any crime either. Perhaps it was his sense of self-preservation that had made him cling to that idea longer than was reasonable?

Even so…it was still possible. The timing of their visit was damnable and the stakes were high. If anything appeared in the British press that Hanif’s enemies could use against him, Rashid would never be able to live with himself.

Rashid straightened his spine, the expression on his face set as he looked down at his sister. ‘Golden Mile is sitting in our stables unable to sire anything—’

‘I understand that.’

‘Knowingly sold as a stud horse by Polly’s stepbrother.’

‘But—’

He pulled an agitated hand through his hair once more. ‘The ramifications of that will be far-reaching. There will be people, apparently good people, who have been persuaded to take payouts. People we know, Bahiyaa.’

‘But not Polly. I do not believe it.’

He’d thought…it would be easy to know. By changing her plans, having her stay in his home with the opportunity to talk to her…

He hadn’t expected desire to cloud his thinking.

He’d been prepared for everything but Polly with her wide eyes and soft curves. She seemed to be a woman of contradictions. At Shelton she had appeared so confident. The way she held herself, the way she moved, talked to people, managed difficult egos with quiet skill had suggested inner confidence. Here in Amrah she was eager to please, anxious…

Anxious because she suspected she was out of her depth and knew it?

Rashid left Bahiyaa at the French doors and sat down at his desk, picking up his fountain pen and twisting it between thumb and forefinger.

‘What are you going to do?’

Without turning his head he knew Bahiyaa had moved to stand behind him. ‘Here Polly can be closely supervised. While filming she can be equally monitored.’

‘About Golden Mile?’

‘Wait.’

She came round to stand in front of his desk. ‘For what?’

‘For the evidence to be compiled. Once I am clear as to who was involved and to what extent, I will act.’ He looked up. It was a statement of fact. He would act. In his own time, in his own way.

He intended to see the Beaufort Stud was put out of business. Anthony Lovell, Duke of Missenden, with it. He would send aftershocks through the entire racing fraternity. And if Polly was part of that…

‘Don’t let your pride hurt the innocent,’ Bahiyaa said softly, moving towards the door. ‘Be very certain where your anger is coming from.’

Rashid watched as his sister left and, for a few moments after the door shut, stayed looking at the closed door. Bahiyaa’s meaning was clear. She knew how betrayal affected him. Betrayal touched a nerve that had been left exposed during his childhood.

In among the fiasco that was Golden Mile there was betrayal in plenty. People close to him. People he employed and trusted. Under those circumstances how certain was he the cool, clear logic he prided himself on remained the guiding principle of his actions?

But did it matter? If Polly was as innocent of all involvement as Bahiyaa believed her to be it wouldn’t matter her visit here was closely supervised. She would get her documentary. He…would get peace of mind.

He pulled a hand across his face.

Only…

Only he’d kissed her. And he could still taste her sweetness in his mouth, feel the pressure of her lips on his. A kiss was nothing. He’d kissed many women, enjoyed their company and taken them to bed.

But…

It had been a long time since he’d connected to… He’d been going to say ‘a woman’, but the truth was it had been a very long time since he’d allowed himself to connect to anyone. And he knew why that was.

Rashid tapped his pen on the table, waiting. His eyes flicked to his wristwatch. Hanif had yet to return his call—and the wait was hard. While his father still lived there was hope of forgiveness, a chance to heal the hurts. Bahiyaa coped so much better than he did. Perhaps because she had long since ceased to seek her father’s approval.

At last the phone rang. ‘Rashid.’

‘No news to report.’ His brother’s voice sounded weary. ‘He is sleeping a great deal. Talking less.’

‘Has he asked for…the family to be gathered?’

He’d chosen his words carefully, but Hanif understood the question. ‘I’m sorry, Rashid. There has been no change. Not towards you or Bahiyaa, and I have tried.’

Rashid didn’t doubt that. His brother would have done everything possible. He sat back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling.

‘He really only wants Raiyah, who would prefer not to be here. Samira makes a duty visit twice a day primarily to stake her claim over Raiyah.’

Rashid smiled wryly at the thought of his brother standing between their father’s two wives.

‘And I’ve yet to persuade our grandfather he needs to leave Dholar. It’s been one nightmare of a day…’

‘Anyone know why we’re here?’ Pete asked, his shirt damp in places from having dragged it on after an interrupted swim.

John shook his head. ‘Something’s happened. Please God it’s not that Crown Prince Khalid has died. If Amrah goes into mourning, then starts to squabble over the old King’s successor, we’ll be stuffed.’

Polly sipped mint tea, too sweet for her taste, as Pete came to sit beside her. ‘You okay?’

She nodded. There was no time for more. Echoing footsteps and the sound of voices heralded the arrival of Rashid. She’d had a long sleepless night to prepare for this moment. Most of the morning. She was ready. Or thought she was.

‘Your Highness—’ John began, getting to his feet.

Rashid brushed him aside. ‘Please sit.’

Polly knew the moment he saw her. It was a fleeting glance but she knew he’d remembered it all. Their conversation in the garden. Their kiss. It was there as a sudden flare in his eyes and she knew hers responded.

What would have happened if she hadn’t pulled back? Would they be lovers now? Would she know what he looked like naked? Know how his skin felt beneath her fingers?

If only she’d been braver. That was the regret. She might never have the chance again to know what a man like Rashid Al Baha would be like as a lover.

The sensible part of her brain saw no problem with that. He was obviously a highly sexual man and, for him, it would have meant nothing. It was different for her. Her heart and soul went with her body. If she became his lover she would carry him with her the rest of her life.

‘I have had to make some changes to your itinerary.’

John made a guttural sound as though he were about to speak. Rashid’s blue eyes turned on him and the other man sat back to listen.

‘We will be starting in Al-Jalini—’ Rashid nodded to an aide who passed out neatly typed sheets ‘—as opposed to the Atiq Desert.’

‘Are we allowed to ask why?’ Steve asked in his Texan drawl.

A muscle in Rashid’s cheek flexed. It wouldn’t take much, Polly knew, for him to answer, ‘Because I wish it.’ Whatever his reasons were, he didn’t like being questioned on them.