Woman in a Sheikh's World(9)

The marriage was about duty, nothing more. The deal was clearly as  distasteful to Kalila as it was to him, but he'd made his choice and  he'd thought she had too. And if there had been a moment in his life  when he'd thought that duty and desire just might coincide, then that  was in the past.

Except that the 'past' was hoisting a bag off her shoulder and glaring  at him as if he were personally responsible for global warming and the  economic crisis.                       
       
           



       

He was a fool to have allowed her to come. To have put himself in this position.

'I'll drive.' She slung her bag into the back of the four-by-four, slim  and elegant in linen trousers and a long-sleeved shirt that shielded her  slender arms from the sun. That shiny blond fall of hair was restrained  in a tight plait that fell between her narrow shoulder blades.

Mal dragged his eyes from the lean lines of her body and focused on her  face. As always, her skin was flawless and her make-up perfect. There  were no signs that she was finding the situation stressful. And why  would she? She'd ended their relationship, hadn't she? And since that  day-that day now forged in his memory-she'd shown no regrets about that  decision.

'I'm driving.' He wanted to give himself something to focus on other than her. 'It will attract less attention.'

'The driver attracts more attention than the passenger. I will drive.'

'Are we going to argue every point?'

'That's up to you.' Her blue eyes were cool. 'If you're a tourist then  you need to look like a tourist. Good job I brought you a gift from  London.' She tossed a baseball hat at him and he caught it and read the  words on the front.

'"I love London"?'

'I tried to get a matching T-shirt but no luck. They only had small or  medium. At least you look slightly closer to "tourist" than you did five  minutes ago.' Her eyes skimmed his shoulders. It was such a brief look  that to an outsider it wouldn't have seemed significant but he was  looking for other signs and this time he found them. The slight change  in her breathing. The way she was careful to step away from him. 'Now  all you have to do is stop ordering me around.'

'I have never ordered you around. You have always done exactly as you  wanted to do.' Because he was still watching, he saw her expression  flicker.

For a moment he thought she was going to say something personal.  Possibly even admit that travelling alone together like this was far  more difficult than she'd imagined it would be. But then she gave a  careless smile.

'Good. So in that case you won't mind if I drive.' Breaking the  connection, she opened the driver's door and was about to jump inside  when he caught her arm and pulled her back to him. The contact was  minimal but that was all it took, the attraction so deep, so fierce that  he released her instantly. But it was too late because his body had  already recognised her. This close, her perfume seeped into his senses  and the scent of it was so evocative it acted like a brake to his  thinking. He couldn't remember what he'd been about to say. He couldn't  think about anything except how much he wanted her.

Her mouth was so close to his that he could feel the tiny shallow  breaths that were her attempts to draw air into her lungs. He knew that  mouth. He wanted that mouth.

Her eyes lifted to his and for one unguarded moment he saw something  there he'd never seen before. Not pain. It was so much more than pain.  Misery? Heartbreak? Fear? Even as he was struggling to name what he saw,  it was gone-as if someone had closed a blind on a window, leaving him  wondering if he'd imagined that brief glimpse into someone's strictly  guarded privacy.

She was the one who looked away first. 'Fine, you drive if it bothers  you so much.' There were many shades of emotion in her voice, but not  the one he was looking for. He heard bored. He heard amused. He didn't  hear heartbreak or pain and he assumed he'd conjured that from his own  brain.

'Avery-'

Ignoring him, she strode round to the passenger side and dragged open  the door. 'If you need to reinforce your masculinity behind the wheel,  you go right ahead. Maybe you can spear us an antelope for lunch, or  strangle us a rattlesnake with your bare hands. Whisk us up a tasty  scorpion soup?' She sprang inside, lithe and athletic, the plait of her  hair swinging across her back like a shiny golden rope. 'But drive at a  decent pace, will you? Nothing makes me madder than tentative male  drivers and you don't want to be trapped with me when I'm mad.'

Mal ground his teeth.

He didn't want to be trapped with her at all. It was already driving him mad.

Only the knowledge that she'd be useful once they found Kalila prevented him from making the decision to leave her behind.

He slid into the driver's seat. 'We will check the desert camp first. We should arrive there tomorrow morning.'

If she was unsettled at the thought of a night in the desert with him  then she didn't let it show. 'You could just fly there in your  helicopter.'                       
       
           



       

'Which would alert everyone to the fact that my bride has run away.' He  snapped on his seat belt and eased the vehicle onto the dusty road. 'For  obvious reasons I'm trying to avoid that. I'm trying to protect Kalila.  If possible, I don't want her father to find out. Since my helicopter  is emblazoned with the colours of the Royal Flight, using it would  hardly help me stay under the radar.'

'Yes, it's not great publicity, I can see that. The Prince and his  Runaway Bride isn't the best headline. Your PR team are going to have  fun spinning that one.' As the vehicle hit a bump she gripped her seat.  'Any time you want me to drive, just let me know.'

'We have barely been moving for five minutes. You are a terrible passenger.'

'I like to be the one in control. If I'm going to die, I want to choose  when and where. And generally, who with, but beggars can't be choosers.'

His mouth twitched. 'I'm an exceptionally good driver.'

'To be exceptionally good at something requires practice and you were virtually born in a chauffeur-driven armoured limousine.'

'I frequently drive myself unless I have work to do. I fly myself, too.  And you know it.' He gave her a sideways glance and met her glare.

'Keep your eyes on the road. You need to be in one piece when you meet up with your little virgin princess.'

'As a matter of interest, is your objection to the fact she is a virgin or a princess?'

'I don't have any objections. It was just a descriptive phrase.'

'Interesting choice of words. You don't like Kalila?'

'I like her very much.' She leaned forward and fished in her bag for a  pair of sunglasses. She slid them on, protecting her eyes from the harsh  glare of the desert sun. 'I happen to think she's perfect for you.'

'Meaning?'

'She won't ever disagree with you. Whatever you do or say, you'll always  be the one in charge and sweet Kalila will admire you and never  question whether you're right or not because it wouldn't enter her head  that you wouldn't be.'

'That could be because I am right.' He saw the smile curve her soft lips  and felt a rush of irritation. 'Kalila is a sweet-natured, compliant  young woman.'

'As I said-' she adjusted her glasses with a perfectly manicured finger '-perfect for you. Oh look! Are those gazelle?'

Dragging his eyes from those slim fingers, he followed the direction of  her gaze and watched as a small herd of slender gazelle sprinted away.  From this distance they appeared to be floating on the sand. 'Yes. You  think I am afraid to be challenged?'

'You hate to be challenged, Mal. And it happens so rarely you're  unlikely to have the opportunity to get used to it. Which is why you  always assume you're right. Isn't it unusual to see herds of gazelle  here? What type are they?' She reached into her bag for her phone so  that she could take a photograph. 'They're gorgeous. So graceful.'

'They are sand gazelle-the word gazelle comes from the Arabic ?az?l. We  support numerous conservation projects. Protecting wildlife and  preserving their natural habitat is important to us. Killing and capture  of all wildlife is illegal in Zubran. And you should stop changing the  subject.'

'I love the colour of their coats. So pale.'

'Typical of you to comment on their appearance.' His gaze flickered  briefly to the plait of blonde hair that gleamed like gold in the  sunlight. 'The sand gazelle has adapted for life in the desert. The coat  reflects the sun's rays instead of absorbing them and of course it  provides camouflage. And, by the way, I have no objection at all to  being challenged.' He knew she was trying to rile him and wondered why  she would feel the need when the atmosphere in the car was already heavy  with tension. 'My wife will be my equal.'

Her laughter was spontaneous and genuine and she was still laughing as  she slipped her phone back into her bag. 'Sorry, but you have to admit  that's funny.'