Desert Fantasies(57)

‘So was Bahiyaa right? Do you think riding camels should be reserved for men?’ Rashid asked as she inelegantly climbed off Ashid.

‘I think the jury is still out.’ Her legs felt a little as if they’d turned to jelly. Rashid seemed aware of that because he reached out to steady her, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back.

‘You did well.’

She laughed. ‘Surprised?’

‘Not as much as I thought I’d be,’ he answered. ‘Now we get lunch and a rest before we head back to Al-Jalini.’

Polly walked gratefully under the shade of the shrubby tree. ‘Is this an acacia tree?’

He nodded, pulling the rolled fabric off Ashid and bringing it over for her to sit on.

‘How does it survive out here?’

Rashid came to sit beside her. ‘It has root systems which spread out a hundred feet or more. As you get nearer the wadi there are considerably more than here.’

She watched as the cameleers tied the front legs of the camels together, turning to Rashid with an impulsive, ‘Does that hurt them?’

‘No. Annoys them, perhaps,’ he said. ‘There is a saying among the Bedouin that you should never trust a camel. You can’t take any chances. To lose your camel out here would be like being shipwrecked.’

Polly had thought she’d read fairly extensively, but there was so much she wanted to know. Everything about the Atiq Desert fascinated her. The men had already lit some kind of a brazier. Kareem was involved in a complicated process of pouring liquid from one pot to another from a flamboyant height.

‘Wh—?’ she began.

Rashid settled back into the shade of the tree, more at peace than Polly had ever seen him. He’d described this as his home, and it seemed it was. His palace home was sumptuous, but it came with much responsibility.

Here there was just space. Quiet, all bar the sound of camels complaining and munching on the thorny branches of the acacia tree. It felt so much like sitting in the centre of history. The birth place of three world religions. The petty squabbles of Shelton, her concern over its long-term future, suddenly seemed so very unimportant.

She turned her head to find Rashid was watching her, his blue eyes unfathomable. ‘This is the most amazing place I’ve ever seen.’

He smiled.

‘What is he doing?’ she asked with a look at Kareem.

‘Making tea.’

She looked back as the cameleer poured the liquid into several glasses already laid out on a tray.

‘Water is precious here and is treated like vintage wine.’

Polly knew Rashid’s eyes didn’t leave her face as she first sipped the frothy tea. Over the rim of his own glass, Rashid’s eyes were wickedly teasing.

‘Shukran,’ she murmured as Kareem returned her glass a second time. The flavour was slightly different. Sweeter. Perhaps a result of tea and sugar continuing to blend.

In twenty-seven years Polly didn’t think she’d ever experienced such peace. It was partly Rashid, partly the incredible privilege of being here in a magical place he loved. Real happiness bubbled inside her.

The tallest man, the one who’d guided Ashid, stretched out some dough rather as you would a pizza. It was all fairly surreal. As meals went it was one of the simplest she’d ever eaten. She’d no idea what the men around her were saying, but she loved the laughter and their easy camaraderie.

‘It’s time we were leaving,’ Rashid said, breaking in on her thoughts.

Polly experienced a wave of disappointment and then her innate sense of responsibility kicked in. ‘I wish… I hope I can come back here one day.’ She smiled up at him, fighting an inexplicable desire to cry. ‘Thank you.’

Rashid caught her chin, tilting her face so that he could look deep into her eyes. ‘Pollyanna Anderson, you are a remarkable woman,’ he said, almost echoing her words to him.

It wasn’t a declaration of love, not in any conventional sense, but it felt like it.





CHAPTER TEN



THE flight back to the Al-Ruwi Palace Hotel seemed to take no time at all. Al-Jalini, beautiful though it was, didn’t have the charm of the desert and the hotel gardens were an unnatural splash of green.

Polly felt as if she’d left a little piece of her heart behind. She looked down at her watch. ‘I should have time for a shower before I meet the boys,’ she said with false brightness. ‘Then we’re off to the souk. According to Dr Wriggley it’s one of the oldest in Amrah.’

Rashid nodded. ‘You’ll walk under the same tall arch Elizabeth did.’

‘Will you be there?’

Polly saw the muscle pulse in his cheek and knew his answer before he gave it. ‘There is no need. You will have security with you.’

She could feel him slipping away from her. ‘What will you do?’

‘Work.’ His monosyllabic reply set her at a distance. She knew, logically, that he would have to. He’d taken hours off today to help the film crew, ensuring their safety, and then spending time with her this afternoon. But…

It felt more than that. As though the weight of the world had come back to rest on his shoulders.

‘When will you speak to Prince Hanif again?’

‘This evening.’ Rashid brought the helicopter down on the hotel’s helipad. Within seconds her door was opened and hotel staff were helping her down.

Polly flicked the scarf from her head and shook out her hair as Graham ambled over. ‘Where have you been?’

She felt a ridiculous reluctance to tell him. It was as though the sound man was trying to force his way into something intensely precious. Private. ‘We’ve flown over the Atiq Desert,’ she evaded, turning back to watch Rashid step down from the helicopter.

He came over. ‘I will leave you.’

There was nothing Polly could say. Not with Graham overhearing every word. And that was probably just as well, because what was there to say? She wanted to reach out and touch him. Hold him. Take the pain of whatever he was experiencing away, make it hers.

Rashid held himself stiffly, completely inaccessible. The man she’d kissed so passionately had vanished.

‘Graham.’ He nodded at the other man. ‘I will see you both later this evening, perhaps?’

By the time Steve had decided they’d filmed enough for the day Polly was exhausted. She’d walked up and down one section of the souk more times than she could remember, each time exclaiming at the same stalls of silverware. She’d loved the canopied roof of palm fronds, the feeling of walking in the footsteps of her great-great-grandmother, but her mind had been elsewhere.

It was with Rashid, wondering whether he’d any news about his father. Whether he’d spoken to Bahiyaa.

‘Drink?’ John asked as they walked into the foyer. ‘Or shall we get something to eat first?’

‘What about the prince? Might be a good idea to ring up? See if he wants to join us?’ Baz looked over at the reception area and then back at them. ‘What d’ you reckon?’

‘Do it,’ John said. ‘We’ll wait in the bar. Come find us.’

Polly let herself be guided towards the largest of the hotel’s bars, edged with small seating booths. She missed the quiet of the desert. She wanted to be with Rashid. There was a slight possibility he might decide to join them, but she doubted it.

She sat cradling her chilled pineapple juice, one eye on the entrance watching for Baz to return. The tall Yorkshireman walked over shaking his head. ‘Nope. Didn’t actually get to speak to Sheikh Rashid. Spoke to his aide. The one from Samaah. He flew in an hour or so ago,’ he said, pulling a face. ‘I think the Crown Prince might be a goner.’

Polly put her pineapple juice down on the table. ‘Did he say that?’

‘No. Didn’t say anything at all which is why I think there’s been some bad news. Wasn’t supposed to be here, was he?’

Pete pushed a beer across in Baz’s direction. ‘What’ll that mean to us?’

‘We’ll be out of here, won’t we? No way Minty is going to keep us here if it looks like the country is going to be unstable for a bit.’

There were a few disgruntled murmurs.

Baz added, ‘She didn’t like the changes to the itinerary. Think she’d have had us home then if she hadn’t wanted not to offend Sheikh Rashid. I reckon we’ll be out.’

Polly quietly slipped away, leaving her juice scarcely touched on the table. Baz was almost certainly right in thinking Karim Al Rahhbi’s arrival at the hotel couldn’t be a good sign. She wasn’t quite sure what she actually intended to do now. She simply knew she couldn’t sit there making small talk when Rashid might need her.

She’d no particular reason for thinking it, but she suspected he’d told her things about his family he’d not discussed with anyone else. Other people might know that when Prince Khalid died Rashid would lose the father he loved and any hope of reconciliation with him, but she knew how he truly felt about that. He hadn’t had a chance to say ‘goodbye’. Nothing that would make the loss of his father easier to bear.

Polly hesitated at the main reception desk and then turned towards the glass lifts. Vaguely she remembered the guys talking about Rashid being booked into the penthouse suite. That seemed likely and it was quite possible they wouldn’t give that information out at the desk even if she asked them. Better to go and see.