Desert King, Pregnant Mistress(7)

He  turned from her. It was time to forgot Beth Torrance and concentrate   his powers of intuition on everyone else attending the ball. In a   country enduring birth-pangs, there were always those who would stand in   the way of progress so they could hold on to their old, corrupt ways,   and it was these people he intended to root out. But each time his gaze   raked the hall it found Beth.



He'd looked at her. He had.  She wasn't imagining it! The Sheikh of  Sheikhs had remembered her and  had looked at her. At least he hadn't  forgotten her. Beth Tracey  Torrance had made an impression on a sheikh!  She couldn't wait to tell  her friends.                       
       
           



       

But then Beth started fretting. Was it the fact that  she had turned her  back on him on the beach and stalked away that made  him remember her?  Maybe she shouldn't be feeling quite so thrilled-maybe  he had a dungeon  waiting. And she didn't have her hands on that trophy  yet-the trophy  she had promised her friends she wouldn't return home  without. But, if  the ruler of Q'Adar forgave her and went ahead with the  presentation,  she'd have to say something and look at him, and that was  almost worse.

She'd just have to make sure she didn't blurt out  something completely  inappropriate, Beth thought, starting to panic. She  definitely mustn't  say, 'I hardly recognised you in your clothes.'  Biting her lip as she  settled back in her seat, Beth told herself to  relax and concentrate on  the speeches.



His good  intentions were shot to hell. Try as he might to focus on the  speeches,  all he could think about was Beth Tracey Torrance and the  fact that she  was staring at him. He should have her taken away and  locked her up for  her own safety. He realised now that everyone else  was paying close  attention to the proceedings, and just the two of them  were distracted  by each other. And now it was his turn to speak. He  made it short and  sweet, and when it was time for everyone to stand and  bow before him he  signalled more impatiently than he had intended that  they must sit down  again. He blamed Beth. He needed her out of his  eye-line.

Beth  gave a little jump as a cheer went up, and then realised that the  Sheikh  of Sheikhs' guards of honour had raised their weapons in a  salute to  him and were roaring their approval. And she hadn't even  noticed them  walk in. She had been too distracted by their leader. And  how he had  looked at her. She wasn't imagining it. And that look was  well worth a  night in the dungeon-for the ruler of Q'Adar stood  centre-stage, backlit  as if by Hollywood, with testosterone flying off  him like sparks from a  Catherine wheel. In this land of fierce, hard  men, His Majesty Khalifa  Kadir al Hassan was the hardest of them all.  And she wanted him like  mad, Beth confided to her inner self, glancing  round guiltily in case  there were any mind readers on her table. Who  was she to look at their  sheikh? Except to say that she knew another  side of their ruler-the boss  of the Khalifa group ran a company that  held the best record for  pastoral care of its employees in the world.

Which was why she  was here. The trophy was just another example of how  highly Khalifa  Kadir regarded his employees. Thought it was hard to  credit him with any  gentleness now, when he appeared to be everything a  warrior sheikh  should be and more.



He was aware of her every second.  Seated on the raised dais with the  other members of the royal family, he  told himself that this  distraction was nothing more than his natural  concern for an innocent  abroad. He wanted to be sure Beth was safe; of  course he did. He was  concerned that the attendant his mother had sent  at his request to look  after Beth had abandoned her when she'd joined  the table of young  people. Beth worked for him, and therefore Beth was  his responsibility.

Beth. Beth … She had eaten up too much of his  time already. His body's  responses to her were nothing more than an  adrenalin rush brought on by  this occasion. The fact that he could feel  her clear blue gaze burning  into him meant nothing. She was looking at  him so she could report to  her friends back home, and that was all. She  would report that she had  stared boldly at the Sheikh, and that he had  stared back at her.



She was over-excited and needed to  calm down. Beth gazed longingly at  the exit. The girl seated next to her  took her chance to ask if they  could swap plates. Beth had hardly  touched her food, and the chocolate  pudding did look delicious, she  noticed now it was too late. 'You can  have it,' she said, smiling. She  knew that feeling-the hole in the  stomach that only chocolate could  fill.

'Sure?'

'Positive.' Beth tore her glance from the  Sheikh, welcoming the  distraction. 'I'm overwhelmed,' she admitted,  exchanging plates. 'I  can't face eating. It isn't every day I find  myself in a place like  this.'                       
       
           



       

'Lucky you!' the girl exclaimed,  laughing. 'Imagine having to dress  like this on a regular basis.' Coming  closer, she confided, 'I'd far  rather be galloping across the desert.'


'Wish I could,' Beth agreed, thinking how romantic that sounded.

'You will if you stay here for very long,' her new friend promised, forking up a mouthful of cake.

'I'm going home soon,' Beth explained.

'Then  you'll just have to come back, won't you? Oh, look!' Beth's new  friend  exclaimed, swallowing hectically. 'I think they're calling you.'   Grabbing Beth's arm, she drew her attention to a stern-looking man,   dressed in the royal livery, who was beckoning to Beth in a stiff and   impatient manner. 'You didn't tell me you were someone special!' she   exclaimed again.

'I can assure you, I'm not,' Beth said, shaking her head wryly.

'Well, good luck anyway.' The young girl touched her arm.

'Thank you. I'm going to need it!'



'So,  that's your little shop girl,' Khal's mother commented as Beth   approached. 'She's a pretty little thing, but I'm sure she's feeling   quite disorientated here. Why don't I go and reassure her?'

'You,  Mother?' Khal's eyes narrowed. His mother would let nothing and  no one  stand in the way of her ambitions for her one remaining child.  He had  never been under her thumb, but it worried him that her sights  might be  set on Beth now. He couldn't expect Beth to know how to handle  his  mother, and he half rose from his seat in order to intercept the  Dowager  Sheikha.

'You seem to have forgotten, Khal,' his mother said,  waiting  impatiently for him to move aside. 'That I was a no-one when I  came to  this country; I know how it feels to be a stranger in a foreign  land.'

He had not forgotten, but he wondered at her mention of it. 'Beth's flight home is already booked.'

'Beth?' His mother gave him a long, searching look.

'Mother,' he murmured, leaning close. 'You're not as subtle as I remember.'

'That's because I'm growing more desperate, my son. I want you to find a bride and settle down.'

'Is  that why you invited every eligible female you could find to  decorate  these celebrations?' And when she lifted her chin and refused  to answer  him he added, 'I may indeed settle one day, Mother, but I  will never  settle for second best.'

'Like a shop girl?' His mother stared at him keenly.

'Are  you worried about Beth?' He laughed it off. 'I promise you, you  will  have the grandchildren you long for-just not yet.' Having seen his   mother comfortably settled again, he raised her jewelled hand to his   lips.

'I love you, Khalifa.' His mother stared into his eyes. 'Which means I only want the best for you.'

'I  love you too, but I despair when you're fooled by gilt and tinsel … '  He  gave a meaningful glance at the row of compliant princesses all  leaning  forward in an attempt to attract his attention. 'I'll find a  bride in my  own time,' he assured his mother. 'And now, if you will  excuse me … ?'

His  mother didn't attempt to impose her will on him a second time, and  he  was just gathering his robes around him in preparation to return to  his  seat when a shriek made him turn. There had been a collision at the  foot  of the stairs. Some clumsy oaf had spilled a tray of drinks over  Beth,  and now her ballgown was ruined. Beth had frozen and was  uncertain what  to do.

'Shall I remain seated, my son?' his mother whispered at his ear. 'Or would you have me go to her and help her?'