Desert Fantasies(65)

Impatient with her thoughts, she rose and paced the studio. She needed to be focused on the next idea, the next piece of art. She had to build a collection that would be worthy of an exhibit and then of exorbitant prices. Had Madame al Harum spoken to the gallery owners as she had said she would do when the time was right? Probably not. Why speak of something that was years away from happening.

“Great. It’s bad enough he’ll try to get me off the property. I truly have no place to go and no chance of getting a showing if I don’t have someone to vouch for me,” she said aloud. She could scream.

But it would do no good.

“Deal with it,” she said to herself. She’d take the advice she’d given him and make sure she made every moment count. He might try to evict her, but until she was carried kicking and screaming from the studio, she’d work on her collection.

The day proved interminable. Every time she’d start thinking about Khalid al Harum, she’d force her mind to focus on designing pieces using the swirling of blues and reds. It would work for a few moments, then gradually something would drift in that had her thinking about him again.

She didn’t like it one bit.

After dinner, she debated taking a walk on the beach. That usually cleared her mind. But after the last two nights, the last thing she wanted was to run into him again.

She sat on her terrace for a while, trying to relax. The more she tried to ignore his image, the more it seemed to dance in front of her. She was not going to be intimidated by him. Jumping to her feet, she headed down the path to the beach. She’d been walking along the shore for months. Just because he showed up was no reason to change her routine.

When she stepped on the sand, she looked both ways. No sign of anyone. Slowly she walked to the water, then turned south. If he did come out, chances he would head north as she had the last two nights. She’d be safe from his company.

It didn’t take long for the walk to begin to soothe. She let go of cares and worries and tried to make herself one with the night.

“I took a guess,” a voice came from her right.

Khalid rose from the sand and walked the few yards to where she was. “I thought you might go a different way tonight and I was right.” The smug satisfaction in his tone made her want to hit him.

“Then I’ll turn and go north,” she said, stopping and facing him. She’d tried an earlier time and a different direction. Had he come out to the beach a while ago to wait for her? She ignored the fluttery feeling in her stomach. So he came out. It probably was only to harangue her again about leaving.

“I am not stopping you from going in either direction,” he said. He stood next to her, almost too close. She stepped back as a wavelet washed over her feet. The cool water broke the spell.

“You are of course welcomed to walk wherever you wish,” she said. She began to walk again along the edge of the water.

Khalid walked beside her.

The silence stretched out moment by moment. Ella had lost all sense of serenity. Her nerves were on full alert. She was extremely conscious of the man beside her. Her skin almost tingled. She could see him from the corner of her eye—tall, silhouetted against the dark sky. She didn’t need this sense of awareness. This feeling of wanting to know more. The desire to defend herself to him and make him change his mind and want her to stay in the guesthouse until the lease expired.

She kept silent with effort, wondering if she could outlast him. It grew harder and harder to keep silent as they went along.

“I called an attorney,” he said at last.

She didn’t reply, waiting for the bad news. Was there an escape clause?

“You’ll be happy to know the lease is airtight. You have the right to stay as long as you wish. The interesting part is, you have the right to terminate before the end but my grandmother—and now me—didn’t have the same right.”

She’d forgotten. Madame al Harum had insisted Ella might wish to leave before five years and didn’t want her to feel compelled to remain. At the time Ella had not been able to imagine ever leaving. She still didn’t want to think about it. Would four more years be enough time?

“So if you wished to leave, I’d still make it lucrative for you.”

“I don’t live here for the money,” she said.

“Why do you live here? You’re not from here. No family. No husband. What holds you to the guesthouse, to Alkaahdar?”

“A safe place to live,” she said. “A beautiful setting in a beautiful country. I also have friends here. Quishari is my home.”

“Safe? Is there danger elsewhere?” he countered, focusing in on that comment.

She stopped to look at him. She wanted to get this through to him once and for all. “Look, I came here at a very hard time in my life—just after my husband died. Your grandmother did more for me than anyone, including making sure I had a place to live, to work, sheltered from problems and a chance to grieve. I will forever be in her debt. One I can now never repay. It hit me hard when she died. I grieve for her, as well. Now I’m coming to a place of peace and don’t wish to have my life disrupted because you want to get rid of a home she loved and left to you in hopes you’d use it. Do not involve me in your life. I have no interest in taking a gazillion dollars to leave. I have no interest in disrupting my life to suit yours. I want to be left alone to continue as I have been doing these last months. Is that clear enough for you?”

“Life changes. Nothing is as it was last year. My grandmother is dead. Yes, she left me the estate in hopes I would settle there. You saw me this morning. You know why I’ll never marry. Why should I hold on to a house for sentimental reasons, visiting it once or twice a year when some other family could enjoy living in it daily? Do you think it is easy for me to sell? I have so many memories of my family visiting. I know I’ll face pressure from others in the family to hold on to it. But it’s more of a crime to let it sit vacant year after year. What good does that do?”

“Why will you never marry? Did the fire damage other parts of you?” she asked, startled by his comment.

“What?”

She’d surprised him with that question.

Oh, this was just great. Why had she opened her mouth? Now she had to clarify herself. “I mean, can you not father children or something?”

He burst out laughing.

Ella frowned. It had not been a funny question.

“So you’re all right in that department, I guess,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “So what’s the problem?”

He leaned over, his face close enough to hers she felt the warmth of his breath. She could barely see his eyes in the dark. “As I said, you saw me this morning. What woman would get close enough for me to use those other parts?” he asked very softly.

She stared into his eyes, as dark as her own, hard to see in the dim light of the stars. “Are you stupid or do you think I am? You’re gorgeous except for a slight disfiguration on one side. You sound articulate. I expect you are well educated and have pots of money. Why wouldn’t someone fall for you? Your grandmother thought you should be married. Surely she’d have known if there was a major impediment.”

“I do not wish to be married for my money. I have a temper that could scare anyone and, I assure you, looks count a lot when people are looking for mates. And my grandmother saw only her own happy marriage that she wished replicated for her grandsons.”

“So again I say what’s the problem?”

“Maybe you are stupid. This scar,” he said, reaching for her hand and trailing her fingers down his cheek, pressing against the puckered skin.

He let her hand go and she left it against the side of his face. The skin was warm, though distorted. Lightly, she brushed her thumb against it, drifted to his lips which had escaped the flame. Her heart pounded, but she was mesmerized. His warmth seemed to touch her heart. She felt heartbreak for his reasoning. He was consigning himself to a long, lonely life. She knew what that was like. Since Alexander’s death, hadn’t she resigned herself to the same?

But the circumstances were different. She had loved and lost. Khalid needed to feel someone’s love, to know he was special. And to keep the dream his grandmother had so wanted for him.


Khalid was shocked. Her touch was soft, gentle, sweet. Her thumb traced a trail of fire and ice against his skin. No one had touched him since the doctors had removed the last of the bandages. When he released her, he expected her to snatch her hand away. It was still there. The touch was both unexpected and erotic. He could feel himself respond as he hadn’t in years.

“Enough.” He knocked her hand away and took a step back. “Tell me what it would take to get you to leave the guesthouse.”

“Four years,” she replied, and turned to resume her walk.

He watched as she walked away along the sea’s edge. She was serious. At least at this moment. She didn’t want money. She wanted time.

Why was she here? Was there anything in his grandmother’s things that explained why she’d befriended Ella Ponti and made that one-sided deal with her? He hadn’t gone through all her papers, but that would be his next step first thing in the morning.

He remained standing, watching. She didn’t care if he walked beside her or not. If this was her regular routine, she’d been coming for nightly walks for a year. She didn’t need his company.