She was a young woman lost in the desert who had been rescued by a handsome sheikh!
And however she felt about him, the first thing she had to do was thank Sharif for saving her life. She had to forget all about who had done what to whom, or how angry she had been about his people's interference in the business, and start with that. She could always tell him what she thought about his high-handed ways afterwards. Sharif had risked his life to save her. Compared to that, her pride counted for nothing.
The women interrupted her thoughts, bringing her towels, which they held out like a screen so she could climb from the pool with her modesty intact. They quickly wrapped her, head to foot, and she noticed now that the sleeping area had already been straightened, and enough food to feed an army had been laid out.
Was she expecting visitors?
One visitor?
Her heart thundered at the thought.
As they led her towards the bed of cushions she caught sight of the lavender sky, tinged with the lambent gold of a dying sun. The women insisted she must lie down on a sheet while they massaged her skin with soothing emollients to ease the discomfort of all the cuts and bruises she had sustained during her ordeal. The scent of the cream was amazing and she couldn't ever remember being indulged to this extent. Being prepared for the sheikh indeed...
She was a little concerned when, instead of her own clothes, the women showed her an exquisite gown in flowing silk. 'Where are my clothes?' she mimed.
One of the women mimed back that Britt's clothes were still wet after having been washed.
Ah... 'Thank you.'
She bit her lip, wondering how the rest of this night would play out, but then decided she would just have to throw herself into the spirit of generosity being lavished on her by these wonderful people. And the gown was beautiful, though it had clearly been designed for someone far more glamorous than she was. In ice blue silk, it was as fine as gossamer, and was intricately decorated with silver thread. It was the sort of robe she could easily imagine a sheikh's mistress wearing. But as there were no alternatives on offer...
One of the women brought in a full-length mirror so Britt could see the finished effect. The transformation was complete when they draped a matching veil over her hair and drew the wisp of chiffon across her face, securing it with a jewelled clip. She stood for a moment staring at her reflection in amazement. At least she fitted in with the surroundings now, and for perhaps the first time ever she felt different about herself and didn't long for jeans or suits. She had never worn anything so exotic, or believed she had the potential to project an air of mystery. I could be the Sheikh's diamond, she thought with amusement.
She tensed as something changed in the tent...a rustle of cloth...a hint of spice...
She turned to find the women backing away from her.
And then she saw the man. Silhouetted with his back against the light, he was tall and powerful and dressed in black robes. A black headdress covered half his face, but she would have known him anywhere, and her body yearned for her lover before her mind had chance to make a reasoned choice.
'So it was you...' Even as she spoke she realised how foolish that must sound.
His Majesty, Sheikh Sharif al Kareshi, the man known to the world as the Black Sheikh, and known to her before today as Emir, loosened his headdress. Every thought of thanking him for saving her life, or condemning him for walking out on her without explaining why, faded into insignificance as their stares met and held.
'Thank you for saving my life,' she managed on a throat that felt as tight as a drum.
She was mad with herself. The very last thing she had intended when she first set out on this adventure was to be in awe of Sharif. She had come to rail at him, to demand answers, but now she was lost for words and all that seemed to matter was that they were together again. 'You risked your life for me-'
'I'm glad to see you up and well,' he said, ignoring this. Removing his headdress fully, he cast the yards of heavy black silk aside.
'I am very well, thanks to you.'
Dark eyes surveyed her keenly. 'Do you have everything you need?'
As Sharif continued to hold her stare her throat seemed to close again. She felt horribly exposed in the flowing, flimsy gown and smoothed her hands self-consciously down the front of it.
'Relax, Britt. We're the same people we were in Skavanga.'
Were they? Just hearing his voice in these surroundings seemed so surreal.
'You've had a terrible ordeal,' he pointed out. 'Why don't you make the most of this break?'
'Your Majesty, I-'
'Please-' he stopped her with the hint of a smile '-call me Sharif.' He paused, and then added, 'Of course, if you prefer, you can call me Emir.'
The laughter in his eyes was quickly shuttered when she drew herself up. 'There are many things I'd like to call you, but Emir isn't one of them,' she assured him. 'This might not be the time to air grievances-after all, you did save my life-'
'But you're getting heated,' he guessed.
'I am curious to know why you found it necessary to deceive me.'
'I conduct my business discreetly.'
'Discretion's one thing-deception's another.'
'I never deceived you, Britt.'
'You didn't explain fully, did you? I still don't know why you left in such a hurry.'
'Things moved faster than I expected, and I wasn't in a position to explain them to you.'
'The Black Sheikh is held back? By whom?'
'I'm afraid I can't tell you that.'
'Isn't that taking loyalty too far?'
'Loyalty can never be taken too far,' Sharif assured her. 'Just be satisfied that your sisters were not involved and that everything I've done has been for the sake of the company-'
'And your deal.'
'Obviously, the consortium is a consideration.'
'I bet,' she muttered. 'I'm glad you find this amusing,' she added, seeing his eyes glinting.
'I don't find it in the least amusing. When a company defaults on a payment risking the livelihoods of families who have worked for Skavanga Mining for generations, I did what I could to put things right as fast as I could, and while you were still in the air flying to Kareshi to see me.'
She knew this was true and blushed furiously beneath her veil. She was used to being on top of things-at work and with her sisters. She was also used to being told all the facts, and yet Sharif was holding something back for the sake of loyalty, he had implied-but loyalty to whom?
It hardly mattered. He wasn't going to tell her, Britt realised with frustration. 'Okay, I'm sorry. Maybe I did overreact, but it still doesn't explain why you couldn't have said something before you left the cabin.'
'I'm not in the habit of explaining myself to anyone.'
'You don't say,' she murmured.
'It's just how I am, Britt.'
'Accountable to no one,' she guessed.
The Black Sheikh dipped his head.
'Well, whatever you've done, or haven't done, thank you-' She was on the point of thanking him again for saving her life, when Sharif held up his hands.
'Enough, Britt. You don't have to say it again.' Glancing towards the curtained sleeping area, he added, 'And you should take a rest.'
Her mind had been safely distracted from the sumptuous sleeping area up to now, and she stepped back, unconsciously putting some distance between herself and Sharif. She needed time to get her thoughts in order. Better do something mundane, she decided, drawing back the curtains. Task completed, she turned to face Sharif, who made her the traditional Kareshi greeting, touching his chest, his mouth and finally his brow.
'It means peace,' he said dryly. 'And you really don't have to stand in my presence, Britt.'
'Maybe I prefer to-'
'And maybe, as I suggested, you should take a rest.'
Now was not the time to argue, so she compromised, sitting primly on the very edge of one of the deep, silk-satin cushion. 'I apologise for putting you to so much trouble,' she said, gesturing around. 'I had no idea a storm was coming, or that it would close in so quickly. I did do my research-'
'But you couldn't wait to come and see me a moment longer?' he suggested dryly.
'It wasn't like that.' It was like that, Britt admitted silently.
She watched warily as Sharif prowled around the sleeping area, his prayer beads clicking at his waist in a constant reminder that she was well out of her comfort zone here. She stiffened when he came to sit with her-on the opposite side of the cushions, true, but close enough to set her heart racing. And while she was dressed in this flimsy gown, a style that was so alien to her in every way, she couldn't help feeling vulnerable.
'The women gave me this gown to wear while they were washing my clothes,' she felt bound to explain.
'Very nice,' he said.
Very nice was an understatement. The gown was gloriously feminine and designed to seduce-which she could have done without right now. Her sisters would laugh if they could see her. Britt Skavanga backed into a corner, and now lost for words.