A few minutes later Beth stared at the outfit Jamilah was holding out to her. 'Oh, but I couldn't possibly … '
'You don't like it?' Jamilah's face fell.
'Oh no,' Beth quickly explained. 'I mean, it's so beautiful I couldn't possibly wear it.'
'Unless I insist, and assure you I'll be deeply offended if you don't?'
As both girls laughed companionably, Jamilah helped Beth dress, arranging the floating chiffon of the Arabian gown to best advantage. In subtle shades of powder blue and silver, the yards of fabric took a lot of taming. 'I'd never have managed it on my own,' Beth admitted, staring at herself in amazement in the mirror. 'Would you take a picture of me?' she said, thinking of her friends as she snatched up the camera.
'Of course I will. You look really beautiful.'
'I certainly look different, but it's your beautiful dress that makes the difference,' Beth argued in her usual down-to-earth way.
'Just one final touch,' Jamilah told her, draping a panel of the flimsy headdress across Beth's face.
Beth's eyes widened as they approached the encampment. She had never seen anything like it in her life. With the fire blazing high into the sky in front of the ocean, and the musicians beating their Arabian drums and strumming even more exotic instruments, it was like the setting for a film. Jamilah's family tents were vast and decked out with pennants and gold hangings, with the symbol of a hawk prominently displayed next to something written in Arabic script.
'Khalifa,' Jamilah said, noticing Beth was looking at it. 'Though it's a reference to my family's loyalty to the Sheikh of Sheikhs, and there are no designer shoes other than mine in our tent, unfortunately.'
Beth laughed at the reference to the Khalifa luxury brand. Would she ever get used to this mix of East and West? It couldn't have been more starkly illustrated. But as the warm breeze caressed her face she forgot the comparisons. 'It's so beautiful here,' she breathed, moving closer to the ocean on sandaled feet. The night breeze was making the ruby satin curtains outside the tents dance, and the susurration of the waves breaking on the shore was so soothing she barely noticed Jamilah slipping away and someone else taking her place.
He could move freely in the dark, and as yet his face was not widely recognised. His title meant nothing now, and the usual restrictions did not exist here in this temporary tented city outside the palace walls. He headed away from the music, following silently in the footsteps Beth was leaving on the sand. He waited as she slipped off her sandals, admiring the way she looked in traditional dress. She wore it well, with all the grace of a true Q'Adaran, and he could tell she was enchanted by the romance of wearing the flowing robes of an Arabian princess. She didn't even know Jamilah was his cousin, or that Q'Adaran women could be as subtle in their matchmaking endeavours as their Western counterparts. And for once he was grateful to the mischievous Jamilah, for no one but she knew he was there.
Khal in snug-fitting jeans? No, she must be dreaming.
'Khal?' Beth swallowed hard, rooted to the spot as the music started up again and drowned out her voice. What should she do now? Should she carry on walking out along the beach, or … It didn't matter what she did, Beth's sensible self insisted, since the Sheikh of Sheikhs could hardly be here to seek out her company. But as Khal blocked her way Beth realised she was wrong.
'You shouldn't be walking along the beach on your own.'
'Jamilah told me I'd be safe here.'
'There are so many people … ' Khal gazed out across the tented city, while Beth's throat tightened to the point where she doubted she could speak at all.
'Do you dance?' he said, turning to her.
'Do I dance?' Beth repeated foolishly wondering if that really was a touch of humour tugging at the corner of Khal's mouth. And in his eyes … The dance was already inside her, she realised, and it was both an erotic and an irresistible temptation. 'Of course I dance,' she said. 'Don't you?'
This time he really smiled; there was no doubt about it. 'Shall we?' he said, offering her his hand.
Where had that attractive crease in his cheek come from? 'Do you mean you want to dance with me?' Beth gazed at Khal's outstretched hand.
'That's the general idea.'
Beth Tracey Torrance dances with the Sheikh on the beach! No toes broken-thanks to being barefoot! That would be her headline. But did she trust herself to hold Khal's hand?
Khal took the decision for Beth, drawing her to him and yet holding her at arm's length so that they were barely touching. But it wasn't enough to make her resist the seductive rhythms of the Q'Adaran music. 'Do you come here often?' Beth whispered cheekily, still wanting to pinch herself in case this was a dream.
'Never quite like this,' Khal admitted, playing along. 'But that could change.'
'What would it take to change, Your Majesty?' Beth glanced shyly up.
'Khal,' he murmured, holding her gaze until Beth thought she might never breathe again. And his smile was back. Please let it last this time, she silently begged. She didn't want him to change; she wanted this moment to last for ever.
When the music stopped they stood together in silence, and when it started up again in a much slower rhythm His Majesty Khalifa Kadir al Hassan, Sheikh of Sheikhs, Bringer of Light to His People drew her so close she could feel his heart beating against her breasts. Her nipples grew instantly taut at the subtle stimulation. Surely he must feel the change in them? There was no doubt in her mind that Beth Tracey Torrance had turned into a wanton hussy.
A wanton hussy with precious little common sense, Beth told herself impatiently, pulling away.
As Khal pulled her back again Beth knew she was on the point of stepping over a boundary from which there would be no turning back. So she must resist. Of course she must resist! But the lure of her surroundings combined with her need to feel wanted made it hard-no, impossible-to resist. And so she rested against Khal's hard, warm body, knowing the strength to pull away had completely deserted her. She was on fire for him, and could feel every inch of him pressed up hard against her, while streams of sensation went pulsing through her veins …
The report to her friends would have to end here, Beth decided as Khal's hand settled in the hollow at the small of her back. With his fingers splayed across the top of her buttocks, and her body pounding with desire, the rest of the night would be X-rated, and as such it would have to be censored.
CHAPTER FIVE
SEX With A Sheikh was a cocktail, not an option, Beth reminded herself as Khal took hold of her hand and drew her with him. As the lights of the campfire faded behind them, and the laughter and conversation subsided beneath the rush of the surf, she was cloaked in awareness as he stopped walking and brought her to face him.
Was this was really happening, or should she pinch herself? Her hand felt so safe in his, as he drew her inch by inch towards him, she didn't even pretend to resist. Beneath a rich blue velvet sky studded with diamonds, this was so magical her throat had closed with emotion. Things like this didn't happen to her; no one had ever treated her as if she was precious and fragile before. Khal could take his pick from any number of women, but he had chosen her. Closing her eyes, she inhaled his cologne. It was the most wonderful fragrance, but more intoxicating still was the man holding her. And, when she finally allowed her muscles to soften against him, Beth knew she was more aroused than she had ever been, and that was dangerous.
How long had it been since he'd held a woman like this? Had he ever held a woman like this?-as if she might break? By this stage he would expect any play mate to be pressing themselves against him as though they were on heat, telling him without words what he could take and what it would cost him. But not Beth.
Beth …
He should pull back now. He should recognise the way he felt about her for the warning it was and pull back now. But as he took a step back she reached out to him. He looked at her outstretched hand. It was so tiny, she was so tiny. What he should do now was throw her a careless smile and tell her he'd enjoyed the dance, before sending her back to the encampment and Jamilah, where she'd be safe. 'Shall we walk a while?' he said instead.