Lucy and the Sheikh(51)

She turned over in bed, trying to find a less heated part and was suddenly aware of another sound above the sound of water. It was the sound of feet walking toward her room. She froze. No servants passed these guest quarters. She glanced at the door and was relieved to remember she’d locked it. There was a knock but she didn’t answer. She lay in the warm, heated dark and listened to her heart pound, wanting, desperately wanting the man she knew to be the other side but knowing if she answered the door, she’d lose the strength she needed to carry on.

She heard the footsteps retreat. She lay back and waited for her heart to steady. She took deep breaths and tried to keep her mind on track. Her bags were packed. Alex had responded to her text and luckily, his boat would dock first thing in the morning. She’d be on it before breakfast. They’d be sailing later that night.

Still her heart pounded. She got out of bed, poured herself a glass of water and went to the open window to breathe in the cooler night air. It was then that she saw him coming toward her.

“What the hell are you doing? Can’t I have any privacy?”

“No.” He continued walking up to her.

She slapped her hand against his chest. “Go away Razeen, I don’t want you here.”

He ignored her and grabbed her hands. “And what did you think of the beautiful Neelam?”

“You’re mad if you ever think she’ll help you move this country forward. You’re crazy. She’s not what you need.”

“Then who is?”

She shook her head. “Go away, Razeen.”

She couldn’t see his expression in the starlight but she sensed he was frustrated and angry.

“I want you to come with me. I have something to show you.” It was as if she’d never spoken.

“Do I have a choice?”

“At last you are understanding the power of the sheikh,” he said facetiously.

She pulled her hands away from his grasp and threw on a robe.

“This way.”

He led her through darkened halls to a corner of his private quarters she’d not visited before. He opened the door for her to enter and closed it behind them both. She was momentarily swallowed up in darkness until Razeen switched on a small lamp. Despite the anger she was awed. She turned around on the spot, her gaze shifting from the priceless artworks on the walls to the intricately worked ceiling. While it was as richly decorated as the rest of the palace, it was on a smaller, more intimate scale. It wasn’t a place to impress people, it was a place to appreciate its treasures.

“It’s beautiful.” Lucy’s voice was hushed as she walked around the bijoux room.

“It was my mother’s. She was English.”

Razeen became more of a stranger to her with each passing hour. She realized she knew nothing about him. She sighed and looked down at the priceless rug, suddenly feeling defeated. “I thought your parents were both from Sitra.”

“No. My father was educated at Eton and Oxford and fell in love with a society beauty.”

There was a sadness behind Razeen’s even tone that made her look up. “What happened?”

“She had two children—my brother and me—and died alone and unhappy. She was never accepted into Sitra and my father grew to resent that. He lost a lot of support over it. He increasingly turned his back on the West, kept Sitra isolated. They both grew bitter. It was not a happy place to grow up in. My mother was deeply unhappy.”

“Why didn’t she return to England?”

“Because that would have been even worse for my father. It would have brought great shame to him and to the kingdom. She sacrificed her happiness for my brother’s future as King.”

“Not your future.”

“No, not mine. It was always about the future of Sitra and so, it was always about my brother.”

She walked over to a table upon which photographs were placed. She picked one up. “She was beautiful.” She replaced the photograph and picked up another, of Razeen and his brother. “And you were very cute.”

“Just ‘were’?” She turned to find him behind her, a ghost of a smile resting on his lips.

“Searching for compliments?”

There was no humor in his eyes now. “Lucy, do you see what I’m trying to tell you? This is no place for a western woman. There can be no future for us.”

She replaced the photograph carefully on the table. “Your mother and father made mistakes. They were different people to us. You’re right but for the wrong reasons. There is no future for us because I’ll be leaving in the morning.”

“I’m sorry, Lucy. It was never meant to be this way.” He touched her cheek with his fingertips so gently, that all resolve disintegrated.