Master of the Desert(12)

Like what? In a few words he had made her feel ashamed. What did he mean  about the way she was dressed? She was dressed like someone who had  escaped a pirate attack-the same way she had been dressed all the time  they had been together. Had Saif even looked at her? Had he even  realised what he'd said? He made her feel like a piece of flotsam that  had washed up on his deck and now had to be swept away. She had hosed  herself down with the fresh water, and she had tied her hair back. She'd  done everything possible to make herself look respectable.

What Saif was actually saying, Antonia realised, was that she must never  refer to what had happened on their desert island again. What they had  shared had been great, but as far as Saif was concerned it was over now,  and she was a potential embarrassment to him. 'I'll cover what I'm  wearing with a blanket,' she offered. 'No one will expect me to be  smartly dressed.' She was willing to show her respect for tradition in  Sinnebar, but had no intention of making a bigger fool of herself than  necessary by stumbling over some over-large robe when she disembarked.

Saif acknowledged this briefly. 'An ambulance will be waiting at the  dock to take you straight to the Al Maktabi clinic for a check up,' he  informed her, swooping by to complete some other task.

'Thank you,' she called to his disappearing back. 'I appreciate your concern,' she told the empty space.

It was a marvel to discover she could hold in tears for so long. But who  knew what she could do? Antonia mused as she leaned over the prow while  the yacht came in to dock. She had a feeling she was going to have to  dig a lot deeper yet.

She was on her way down the companionway to get the blanket when Saif  asked if she would do him a favour. 'Anything,' she called back, knowing  this was no more than the truth.

'Take this down with you when you go, will you?' He'd lashed the wheel,  and, peeling off his top, tossed it to her. She was determined to keep  her gaze firmly averted from the body she loved-the body that had loved  her so expertly.

'You'll find a cream robe hanging in what to you would be the front of the boat,' he told her.

'And you want me to bring it to you?' she asked. She caught the  still-warm top he tossed to her, resisting the impulse to bring it to  her face and drag in his scent.

'If you wouldn't mind?'

Then, like a spotlight on the star of a production, the sun caught him  full on the chest and her mind went numb. She stared at Saif's tattoo.  It occurred to her then that she hadn't seen him stripped to the waist  in daylight-something that certainly put her moral code in question.

But right now her moral code wasn't uppermost in her mind. She had done  her homework before setting out for Sinnebar, and knew what the tattoo  over Saif's heart represented. The snarling lion with the sapphire  tightly grasped between its paws was the ruling sheikh's insignia.  Anyone could see the symbol online, where it was emblazoned on  everything from the royal standard to the coin of His Imperial Majesty's  realm. It was said that Sheikh Ra'id al Maktabi of  Sinnebar-acknowledged as the most powerful ruler in the Gulf-had chosen  the lion as his personal symbol to reflect the power he wielded. It was  also rumoured in the wider world that the clarity of the cold, blue  sapphire reflected Ra'id al Maktabi's calculating mind and his  love-proof heart. So now it seemed that the man she had dreamed of  falling in love with, the man she had had so brief an affair with,  either had serious connections with or was closely related to a royal  family reputed to have no finer feelings beyond the call of duty, which  they took very seriously indeed.                       
       
           



       

Or …

Antonia didn't even dare to contemplate this last possibility.

'Are you feeling ill?' Saif demanded when she groaned.

She stared at him, wondering why she hadn't seen it before-the regal  poise, the air of command, the confidence of kings. 'A little dizzy,'  she confessed, turning her back on him before she gave herself away.  'Maybe I'm suffering from delayed sea-sickness.' It was a lie, and a  weak one at that, but it was all she had.

'Well, take care as you go down the steps,' Saif advised. 'Sit down for a  while. Put your head between your knees and take some deep breaths.'

It would take more than a few deep breaths to blank out what she'd seen.

But Saif couldn't be the ruling sheikh, Antonia decided. Where were his  bodyguards, his attendants, his warships off the coast? It was time to  stop panicking and start thinking clearly. With that tattoo, he must  have some connection with the court, so that was good news. She might  have a chance to ask him about her mother before she disembarked.

Nursing this little bud of hope, she went below. She couldn't pretend  she wasn't excited by the chance to root around while Saif was busy up  on deck. Who knew what she might find?

She found the cashmere blanket and not much else of interest. Saif's  personal quarters were bare to the point of austerity. She found the  robe exactly where he had said it would be, but, far from being some  fabulous luxury garment that a ruling sheikh might wear, it was a simple  cream linen dishdash of the type that could be purchased on any market  stall.

That imagination of hers would get her into trouble one day, Antonia  warned herself, collecting up a pair of traditional thonged sandals.  There wasn't so much as a headdress, or a golden agal to hold that  headdress in place, let alone a fancy robe. Saif was simply a patriot  who chose to wear his leader's insignia over his heart. The fearsome  ruling sheikh of Sinnebar, known to the world as the Sword of Vengeance,  he was most definitely not.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ANTONIA was standing at Saif's side as he edged the giant yacht into its  mooring at the marina in Sinnebar. She was covered from head to toe in  the blanket. Her choice; her last defiant act. The ache in her chest at  the thought of leaving him was so severe she felt physically sick. She  hadn't expected parting from him to hurt like this, though neither of  them had ever been under any illusion that their time together was  anything more than a fantasy that would end the moment they docked. So  she only had herself to blame for feeling this way, Antonia reflected as  Saif called to the men on the shore to catch the ropes. Saif was her  fantasy; she had never been his.

Grow up, Antonia told herself fiercely, biting back tears. Was this the  girl who had set out from Rome with such determination? So, dealing with  life outside the cocoon was sometimes tricky and often tough-get over  it. She had that one day to remember, didn't she? And one day with Saif  had turned out to be the best day of her life.

To avoid breaking down, she focused her mind on the stunning panorama  beyond the harbour. Everything about Sinnebar gripped her. It was Saif's  homeland, and a place where her mother had lived. So many impressions  hit her at once: perhaps most significantly of all, the  desert-stretching vast and silent beyond this billionaires' marina, as  far as the eye could see.

The desert …

She felt a frisson of expectation just thinking about the desert. It had  always been her dream to go beyond the silken veil and uncover the  secrets there.

Well, she had the longed-for chance now, though it hardly seemed  possible that she was staring up at jagged purple mountains, or the  unfathomable desert. In the opposite direction were the gleaming white  spires of an internationally renowned capital city. Immediately in front  were low-lying white buildings. They lined the pristine dock, and all  the paved areas were equally well maintained. Even the road was newly  surfaced. There were colourful gardens and water displays, which she  took to be a sure sign of wealth in the desert, and guessed that each  entry point to Sinnebar would have similarly high standards so that the  visitor's first impression could only be good.                       
       
           



       

She was a little surprised to see the number of security guards on duty,  but then reasoned that it must be quite an event when one of the  multi-million-dollar yachts came home to roost. If you had never seen a  man like Saif climbing the yard arm to secure a sail, you would  definitely want to add that to your scrapbook of memories. Saif had not  yet put on his robe, and was balancing on what looked to Antonia like a  narrow pole suspended at a dizzying height above the deck. She worried  about him; she couldn't help herself. But he wasn't hers to worry about,  she reminded herself, and some other woman would share his life.

She turned her face away so Saif couldn't see the distress in her eyes  when he sprang down onto the deck. By the time he had taken the robe she  was holding out for him and slipped it over his head, she was under  control again. She wouldn't break down now, not now, not so close to the  end of this journey. She turned her attention instead to the waiting  ambulance, and noticed there was a lowslung limousine parked next to it.  She guessed that was waiting for Saif.