Master of the Desert (9 page)

M
AYBE
it was only a few months in real time, but it felt like ten years of growing up had passed since the last time she’d flown over this turquoise sea on her way to the Gulf. At least on this occasion she was prepared, Antonia reflected, and full of determination to finish what she’d started. There would be no hitching lifts on fishing boats, or desert-island idylls—there would be no distractions at all. This time she was here on business with a track record of success behind her.

After returning home in disgrace she had cancelled her initial meeting in Sinnebar to give herself time to regroup. The wounds from her ordeal with the pirates had gradually faded, but not so the wounds in her heart, and her brother Rigo had taken some convincing before agreeing to give her a second chance. It was then Antonia had discovered that a broken heart was the best engine for change. To forget Saif, she had thrown herself into her work, and in a short space of time had managed to double the number of children they were able to help. Having picked herself up, she had gone on to open branches of her brother’s charity in Europe. Sinnebar was the next natural choice, and it was
a place she couldn’t wait to visit, though negotiations at the highest level had been necessary to arrange a visa for someone who had been deported from the country.

But this wasn’t all about work. While she was here she would find Saif and tell him about their baby. What would happen next was a little hazy at the moment, but she was sure they could come to a civilised arrangement.

She would succeed in achieving all her goals this time, Antonia determined. She had a child to protect and set an example for now—a miracle she was still getting used to. And expecting a child had only intensified Antonia’s longing to know her mother. She was more determined than ever to find out what she could about Helena’s life in Sinnebar. Finding Saif was perhaps the most important goal of all.

She’d settle for that, Antonia realised, tightening her grip on the briefcase that held all the paperwork relating to the charity. If anything, it was Saif who had given her the courage to continue this adventure, and just knowing she was in the same country as the man was enough to make her heart fly. She had a good feeling about this as she disembarked the aircraft.

He had watched her progress over the past three months, knowing she would come back to Sinnebar. She had no other option if she wanted to extend the reach of her brother’s charity. Antonia Ruggiero, daughter of Helena Ruggiero; Tuesday; Wild-child; Criminal; Cheat.

Lover…

She had bewitched him once and would never be allowed to do so again.

He thanked the immigration official on the other end of the phone for informing him that the individual under surveillance had landed, and replaced the receiver in its nest. He would see Signorina Antonia Ruggiero at the meeting in his government offices this afternoon. Antonia had no idea he would be there. He would surprise her at her appointment with his Minister of Charities.

Had it been a chance meeting on his yacht three months ago? How likely was that? He would trust no one with Helena’s blood in their veins, and the coincidence was too much for him to swallow. Antonia had come to Sinnebar, like her mother before her, to weigh up the ground before greedily scooping up whatever she could. No wonder she hadn’t been prepared to tell him her name. The charity she represented might be wholly above board—he’d had it checked out—but as far as he was concerned Helena’s heir was a cheat out to rob his people of their land. The reckless escapade on a local fishing-boat was nothing more than vanity for the indulged wild-child of an Italian industrialist with more money than sense. Antonia Ruggiero had set out to deceive him. She was a criminal with a plan to steal his people’s land—a woman who thought she could stroll back into the country and threaten him with her mother’s bequest.

Let her try. He was ready for her.

Ra’id smiled grimly as he buckled on his belt with the royal insignia emblazoned on it.

‘Signorina Antonia Ruggiero,’ a quietly spoken man announced.

As the double doors shut silently behind her, Antonia was instantly aware of an atmosphere of ceremony and
history. She could see the majestic council-chamber with its high, vaulted ceiling had been adapted to modern life with consoles and monitors positioned in the centre of a highly polished oval table, but nothing could take away from the craftsmanship around her. The gilt scrolling on the ornate plasterwork, like the exquisitely tiled floor and the artefacts decorating the room, was magnificent. Lifesized murals on the walls picked out scenes from Sinnebar’s past, while giant gold vases at least twice her height stood like sentries at the doors. The floor-to-ceiling windows allowed honeyed light to flood in, and the air was scented and streaked with sunbeams. She felt it was a privilege to be here where time was measured in millennia rather than minutes.

Air-conditioning cooled her as she walked deeper into the room, and as she drew close the dozen or so men seated round the table stood and gave her the traditional greeting.

‘Gentlemen,’ she said, dipping her head politely before taking her seat. She had dressed for the occasion in a sober, beautifully tailored suit, in a subtle shade of dove grey that was both comfortable and modest, and she was wearing hardly any make-up. Her hair was neatly tied back, and though she had already given one presentation that morning her enthusiasm for the charity project had kept her fresh and alert.

She had left that last meeting with a positive feeling. Many of the men the sheikh had chosen to sit on his council were family men and they had quickly come to share her passion for the concept. This meeting was the final stage before Sheikh al Maktabi put his seal of approval on the scheme. She had been assured he would, as the ruler of Sinnebar always put the interests of his people first. She
fully expected to start work on a centre for parents and children to enjoy in the next few weeks—providing the ruling sheikh would allow her to use some of his land for the project.

He had to—he must—Antonia determined. Ra’id al Maktabi famously cared about his people. How could he refuse such a simple request?

She was halfway through her summing up when the huge, arched golden doors at the far end of the room swung open. She felt a shiver of prescience and, following everyone else’s lead, she stood up.

The thought of finally meeting the formidable Sword of Vengeance was both a thrilling and terrifying moment for Antonia, but as she turned to catch her first glimpse of him the light streamed into her eyes. It made no difference. She could still sense his animal power as he strode towards her.

Tall and lithe, the ruler of Sinnebar was bearing down on her like a jungle cat, deep blue robes rustling rhythmically as he walked. At his waist a jewelled symbol flashed.

Fear rippled down Antonia’s spine. She had imagined the infamous Sword of Vengeance would be older. Sheikh Ra’id al Maktabi of Sinnebar’s reputation was built on the solid rock of dedicated service to his country, but she could see now that this was a man in the prime of life—and that for some reason he disapproved of her.

‘Signorina Ruggiero.’

‘Saif…’

The breath shot from Antonia’s lungs as His Imperial Majesty, Sheikh Ra’id al Maktabi, clasped her hand Western-style in greeting. She would have known that grip
anywhere, and the name Saif had escaped her lips before she’d had chance to think.

But now…

Antonia began to shake as a debilitating fear swept over her.

‘Water,’ she heard a man’s voice command and then someone was drawing out a chair for her and she sank back. That same someone had stopped her falling, and now he settled her into the chair, and she found herself staring down the long stretch of table into the face of a man who was both a stranger and her lover.

And the father of her unborn child.

The realisation that the father of her baby was none other than the Sword of Vengeance was a devastating emotional blow. Most things she could get around, but not this.

Any hope she’d had of finding Saif and living happily ever after had just been crushed. How could she tell this man—this formidable king—that she was carrying the heir to his throne? When would she tell him? Would he be willing to grant her a private audience—or would he find out somehow and steal her child?

He was darker than night and twice as dangerous, she thought as Ra’id al Maktabi stared coldly down the table at her. He would think her a gold-digger, or worse, if she told him about the baby, and would almost certainly demand that any child of his would be brought up in Sinnebar.

At his signal the hiss of the air-conditioning was instantly subdued to a hum. ‘Don’t let me throw you off your stride, Signorina Ruggiero,’ Saif—the man she must now think of as His Imperial Majesty, Sheikh Ra’id al Maktabi of Sinnebar—insisted evenly. ‘Please continue.’

He made a gracious gesture with his hand, but she wasn’t fooled. This was a man everyone obeyed on the instant or suffered the consequences—which would be swift and terrible, Antonia suspected.

Sipping the water they had given her, she tried desperately to collect her thoughts. It helped to think about the child inside her, the child who depended on her, and then she widened these thoughts to encompass the many children who were helped by the charity she represented, and who depended on her getting this right. ‘Gentlemen,’ she began, determined to pick up the discussion without too great a pause. ‘I do have some spare proposals with me.’ She turned to one of the ever-present servants at her elbow. ‘Would you be good enough to hand this copy to His Majesty?’ she asked politely, passing over a neatly bound folder of printed notes.

‘You make a persuasive case, Signorina Ruggiero,’ Ra’id concluded as he brought the meeting to a close. ‘I will consult with my council, but I am persuaded to allow you to open a branch of your charity in Sinnebar.’

‘There is one other point I’d like to bring up.’

The surprise around the table showed itself in a collective gasp. No one interrupted the ruling Sheikh of Sinnebar, Antonia suspected, but in this instance she had no option as there was one item on which the ruler of Sinnebar’s agreement was essential. ‘The land…’ She got no further. No one, especially not Antonia, could have predicted Ra’id’s reaction. Wily gazes dropped before the power of their sheikh. Ra’id al Maktabi hadn’t even moved, but all the men around the table had detected some subtle change
in him, and it was a change that threatened all of them—especially her, Antonia suspected.

But when he spoke Ra’id’s voice was perfectly calm. ‘We have a number of matters to discuss, Signorina Ruggiero,’ he agreed pleasantly.

Was she the only person in the room to hear the edge of menace in that voice? Antonia wondered. But wasn’t this the opportunity she’d been hoping for? She could tell Ra’id about their child. It might come as a bombshell to him, but she had to believe he would be as happy as she was when he got used to the idea.

Ra’id’s smallest emphasis on the word
we
had been enough to dismiss the council, who rose as one and, having bowed low to their sheikh, acknowledged her briefly before leaving the room.

S
HE
was alone with Ra’id. Even the servants had vanished. Now there was just echoing silence and the most powerful man in the Gulf—a man whose unwavering gaze was now fixed on her. This was no susceptible lover who would be thrilled to hear about a baby, but a hard man of the desert—a warrior who would stop at nothing to protect his people, a man without the luxury of a heart. She would have to be honest with him. She would explain first about the charity, and when the business part of the meeting was over she would tell him her most important news. She had to draw on her courage and remember the meeting earlier that day. The men who reported to the sheikh had all been broadly in agreement with her plan—subject, of course, to their sheikh’s approval.

But had she made herself clear enough to Ra’id? Antonia wondered when he continued to stare at her as if she had unwittingly committed some terrible sin. Opening her hands in appeal, she pressed on. ‘It goes without saying that the charity will stand all the expense incurred in building this facility, and we’ll be happy to pay the going rate for the land.’

‘The going rate?’

His reaction terrified her. Springing to his feet, Ra’id cast a long shadow over the table as he leaned his balled up fists upon it. It was almost a relief when he straightened up and turned his back on her to walk some paces away.

But what had she done? She could not remember feeling quite so threatened, and any thought she might have had of talking about their child had vanished. In fact, glancing at the door, she realised her primary concern now was to protect her child from this man she didn’t feel as if she knew at all.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’

She shrank back as Ra’id spun on his heels to confront her when she started collecting up her things. ‘I can see it’s not convenient for you to see me right now.’

‘When will there be a better time?’ he said, cutting her off at the door.

‘Ra’id, please…’ Tears were threatening, and she hated herself for the weakness, knowing this was a man who would not care to see her cry.

‘Ra’id, please,’
he mimicked cruelly. ‘What is it this time, Tuesday? Are you here for a pay-off—or would you like a little more action first?’

‘Ra’id, don’t,’ she begged, turning her face from his stinging scorn. ‘I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. Please, let me go.’

‘Not until we’ve discussed this land that seems to mean so much to you.’ His voice was harsh and cruel, and his touch was unrelenting as he steered her back to the table. ‘Sit down,’ he said, indicating the seat next to his. ‘You’ve seen this, of course?’

As she shakily sank onto the chair, he pushed a sheaf of documents in front of her. ‘No. What are they?’

‘I have copies,’ he said, when she didn’t even know what he was talking about.

She glanced at the title on the topmost sheet. ‘I don’t understand—this is a deed of land granted by your father to my mother.’

‘Well done,’ he said derisively. ‘One of your best performances to date. You almost have me fooled.’

Antonia shook her head in bewilderment. ‘I’m trying to make sense of this. I’m sorry if I’m not as quick as you…’

‘Take your time.’ His voice was full of disdain.

‘You knew my mother?’ Antonia glanced up in confusion, and then her gaze returned to her mother’s name as if just reading it could somehow protect her.

‘It would be hard for me not to know my father’s concubine.’

‘What?’ The room began to spin. She had heard Ra’id, and yet her mind refused to accept what he’d said to her. Pushing her chair back, she stumbled awkwardly away from the table. ‘I don’t understand what you’re saying,’ she admitted in a voice turned dry and faint.

‘You don’t?’ Ra’id’s hard face mirrored his disbelief. ‘Let me stop your performance before you get started. And understand this, Antonia—I have no interest in learning how dear your mother was to you, or how much you meant to each other—let alone how passionately she wanted you to have this land in Sinnebar.’

‘Land?’ Antonia demanded with amazement. ‘What land?’

‘Oh, please,’ Ra’id said, shaking his head. ‘Can’t you
do better than that? You will never rise from the ranks of the chorus to become a full-blown leading lady if you can’t put on a better act.’

‘This is no act,’ she protested, feeling as if a vice were closing around her chest. ‘I had no idea my mother even knew your father, let alone that she was his mistress.’

‘That’s a polite name for it.’

‘Stop, Ra’id—please, stop it!’ Holding out her hand as if to fend him off, she willed him to stop heaping insults on top of the confusion inside her. Then it occurred to her that as her heart had just been ripped in two he couldn’t do any more harm.

She returned quietly to the table where she sat down and scrutinised the documents. She had inherited land in Sinnebar and a property from her mother. She couldn’t have been more surprised. The news that Helena had been the late sheikh’s mistress on top of this…

But Ra’id gave her no chance to recover. ‘Do you still pretend you know nothing of this?’

‘Nothing—I swear.’ It was hard to take in the facts. Not only had her young mother been the late sheikh’s mistress, but Helena had been paid off when the sheikh had tired of her with this gift of land. It was clear the late sheikh had thought nothing of this valuable gift of territory within Sinnebar, while Ra’id viewed it quite differently. Ra’id was the highly principled conservator of a kingdom and guardian of his people, and no greater sin could have been committed as far as he was concerned. She could understand his resentment. She had inherited a parcel of his people’s land. It was a gift that had been passed from Helena to Antonia, who was not the daughter of the late
sheikh but Antonio Ruggiero, the man who had rescued her mother from this life of…

She had no idea what her mother’s life had been like, Antonia realised with a sharp pang of regret. Raising her gaze to meet Ra’id’s hard, uncompromising stare, she knew she’d get no pity from him. But he still dazzled her, unreachable as he was. He was like a dark force framed in light, and one she must soften if her proposal for the charity was to succeed.

‘I will use the land for the good of your people,’ she said, feeling her strength and her courage return as a plan began to take shape in her mind.

‘You can only do that with my permission.’

‘But you will—’ She had sprung up too quickly, and now she was paying the price. ‘You must,’ she said weakly, clutching the table for support.

‘Are you ill?’ Ra’id demanded, observing her keenly.

‘No, I’m not ill,’ she managed, instantly protective of her baby. Ra’id’s child was a royal baby and could be stolen away from her by the stroke of his pen. She had to be cautious now.

‘A drink of water, perhaps?’ he suggested.

Antonia nodded, glad of the reprieve, and also relieved that even in his darkest rage Ra’id still had some flicker of humanity left in him. She sucked in a deep, steadying breath as he poured some water for her. Pregnancy might have weakened her, but what it couldn’t do was lessen her resolve, and she would not fail for want of defending herself against Ra’id’s unfair accusations.

‘This doesn’t change anything,’ he said, handing her the glass of water. ‘You have your mother’s blood in you.’

‘As you have your father’s,’ she flashed back. Ra’id might frighten her, but she was no doormat to be insulted by anyone. She wouldn’t give up, her gaze plainly told him; she didn’t know how to. This was her last chance to find out about her mother, to build a branch of the charity here and make it thrive. ‘It would be a tragic mistake if you allowed your feelings for me to impact negatively on what we can achieve together with the charity.’

His expression remained unchanged. It was as hostile as ever. It wouldn’t be so easy this time to build a bridge between them, Antonia realised, but she was as determined to push her proposals for the charity through as she was determined that her child would know its mother. Ra’id might be all ruthless, barbaric force, while she only had a dream to sustain her, but she had a store of stubbornness she hadn’t even begun to draw on yet. ‘I’ll need planning permission.’

‘To do what?’ he demanded.

‘Having read through this document, I see there’s an old fort on the land I have inherited.’ Ignoring his darkening expression, she went on. ‘I shall restore that.’

‘So you persist in this fantasy?’ he interrupted.

‘Obviously I would consult you first where any changes were concerned,’ Antonia rushed on, determined he would hear her.

‘You should know the land your mother left you lacks its own water supply.’

She made the mistake of staring into his eyes in confusion, only to see that the mockery she expected was mixed with slumbering passion in his gaze. ‘You’re enjoying this,’ she said faintly, shocked to think that Ra’id could still want
to bed his prey when he was so obviously relishing this opportunity to destroy her.

‘The water course is on the wrong side of your border—and, unfortunately, you have no access to it.’

‘Unless you permit it?’ she guessed.

‘And I won’t permit it.’ Ra’id’s dark gaze glittered with triumph.

‘So my land is…?’

‘Worthless,’ Ra’id confirmed.

‘But not to me,’ Antonia insisted, remembering her plans. ‘The land is not worthless to me.’

‘Arid desert? What will you do with it—offer camel rides?’

‘That’s cruel and unnecessary, Ra’id, especially with the prospect of you opening a branch of my brother’s charity here in Sinnebar.’

‘Only if I head up the ruling council of that charity.’

‘Is there anything you don’t rule?’

There was one thing—or rather one person—Ra’id reflected as Antonia pursued her argument. He had forgotten how persistent she could be. How irritating.

How desirable…

He watched her closely, noticing how her gaze softened when she spotted some ancient artefact, or when she stared dreamily into the middle distance as she formulated her plan, only for that gaze to harden and grow anxious when he’d mentioned the drawbacks to the old fort she had inherited. Would she fight for it? Remembering the girl who had swum through a storm to reach land, he had no doubt she would. Although she could only find the idea of visiting an ancient citadel where her mother had spent her last few months in Sinnebar incarcerated intimidating, rather as if
the ancient building had the potential to become Antonia’s prison too.

She had not yet broken free from her safe cocoon at home, though she badly wanted to, he concluded. So what was holding her back? Was it him? Was she frightened of him? Or was Antonia more frightened by the secret she was hiding from him?

As if sensing the way his thoughts were turning, she met his gaze, and that briefest of stares told him all he needed to know.

When Ra’id took a step closer Antonia’s throat closed, and her gaze fixed on the jewelled belt on his robe. The rampant lion worked in gold thread clutching a very large sapphire in its deadly paws was exactly as she had pictured it, and she though it a perfect illustration of his power. But she had a small child sheltering inside her, and was responsible for other children who couldn’t help themselves. She had to ignore her own fears and press on. ‘If the old fort is habitable, I could live there myself and supervise the renovations.’

‘Are you mad?’ Ra’id thundered.

Mad? Yes, and very frightened, at the thought of taking a baby into the desert—a baby who hadn’t even been born yet. But if she turned around and went home she felt sure she would never be allowed back into Sinnebar and everything she had set out to achieve would fail. ‘According to those documents you showed me, I am entitled—’

‘You are entitled to nothing without my permission,’ Ra’id assured her in a deadly quiet voice.

He was very close to her, and his intoxicating scent was scrambling her brain. She had to forget everything they had ever been to each other. Ra’id must know she hadn’t
changed or weakened just because he was a king, and that she was as determined as she had ever been to carry all her plans through. ‘So the rule of law means nothing in Sinnebar?’ she challenged boldly.

She might not have spoken for all the good it did her. ‘I will pay you for the land,’ Ra’id told her coolly. ‘Money is no object. Name your price.’

Her body shook with a tremor of revulsion. ‘I don’t have a price,’ she said fiercely, searching for some semblance of the man she had known in Ra’id’s eyes.

‘I will
buy
the land from you,’ he explained as if he thought her mind had failed her.

‘It isn’t for sale.’

This was truly a man she didn’t know, Antonia thought as Ra’id’s eyes narrowed. This fearsome ruler of Sinnebar bore not the slightest resemblance to the tender lover she had spent one glorious day and night with three months ago. This man was hard and brutal, and he didn’t have a heart—or, if he did, it was as cold as the gleaming sapphire on his belt. Ra’id al Maktabi was a warrior forged from steel; a man she considered had nothing to offer the child she already loved so deeply and completely. But, with a mission to complete, she could allow no time for sentiment. ‘Before I leave for the property I have inherited,’ she said firmly, ‘I would like to see my mother’s room.’

The silence crackled with tension as they faced each other. Both of them were rigid with resolve. Ra’id was clearly astonished that anyone would challenge his authority, while Antonia was equally determined not to back down. It was an impasse from which there seemed no escape until, to her surprise, a faint smile tugged at his lips.

‘I see no reason why you should not be taken to see Helena’s room,’ he said.

‘By you?’ Antonia demanded, feeling her confidence seep away.

‘Who better to show you round? I am more than happy to take you to see your mother’s room,’ he said. ‘And tomorrow morning I will take you into the desert to see your land.’

Even as Antonia’s eyes widened and her lips parted with surprise, she wondered why she felt so sure that the granting of a wish had never carried greater danger. It wasn’t just the thought of taking her unborn child into dangerous territory, she realised, but the very real threat radiating from Ra’id. Then she reasoned that the desert was not an environment to enter lightly, especially now she was pregnant, and who better to guide her than Ra’id?