The Playboy Sheikh's Virgin Stable-Girl (15 page)

Wasn’t this an opportunity to banish her feelings of inferiority once and for all—to prove that she was as good as her Kaliq? And wasn’t there a wistful corner of her heart which longed for him to acknowledge that fact, too?

Eleni swallowed down her fears and nodded. In theory it would be no different from mounting a temperamental horse—you just had to adapt to the challenge it presented. She would show her royal lover that she was fit to grace his dinner table as hostess—but most of all she would prove it to herself. ‘Very well, Kaliq,’ she agreed steadily. ‘I will meet your brother.’

CHAPTER TWELVE

‘AND this is Eleni,’ Kaliq glimmered her a narrow-eyed look. ‘Eleni, I’d like you to meet the Sheikh Zakari Al’Farisi.’

Trying to quell her nerves, Eleni bobbed a deep curtsey at the tall man who had just swept into the room at Kaliq’s side, then slowly lifted her eyes to his face. For only servants were obliged to remain staring at the ground she reminded herself.

At first, it was easy to tell that the two men were brothers—they had the same glittering black eyes, the same beak-like noses and those high, autocratic cheekbones. But Zakari’s mouth was slightly fuller—and it was completely unsmiling.

His intelligent gaze raked over her and for a moment Eleni was acutely aware of what she was doing—pretending to be something she wasn’t, and thereby entering into a deception against the oldest of the Al’Farisi brothers. Was that an offence against the royal family? she wondered. And was Kaliq just using her to play her off against his brother for some reason unknown to her?

She knew that the hard-faced sheikh was betrothed to the beautiful but headstrong Princess Kalila. So he was used to mixing with women of pure royal blood, she reminded herself—and surely that meant he would see right through her? And realise that beneath all the expensive finery she wore—she was nothing but a humble stable girl?

For a moment her nerve almost failed her and she thought seriously about fleeing from the room—until she reminded herself that she was Kaliq’s lover. And surely that gave her some sort of right to be there? Why, if Calistan society was not so stupidly rigid—then she could have played hostess just by being herself. So why not try to enjoy this one opportunity you have to play Kaliq’s princess for the evening?

‘I am truly honoured to make the acquaintance of the King of Calista,’ she said softly.

Zakari frowned. ‘But I thought we were dining on our own.’

Kaliq slammed his brother an imperturbable look. ‘And I thought a little feminine company might enliven the evening—and, besides, Eleni is very discreet.’

‘Is she?’ Zakari looked at her again, more speculatively this time. ‘She is certainly very beautiful.’

This time Eleni did lower her eyelids modestly—it hid her surprise at Zakari’s comment and at least it blocked out the black glare being directed at her by her lover.

But as they sat down at the table she was aware of how different this very special finery made her feel. Why, she almost felt like a real princess tonight—for she had dressed for the part, determined to play her role with aplomb. She had worn the most delicate robes in her wardrobe—finest silk in softest rose-pink, overlaid with intricate and exquisite gold embroidery. And Kaliq had insisted on sending out for jewellery to match.

It had astonished Eleni that a few terse instructions barked down a telephone could translate into an armoured car appearing just over an hour later—with a heavily guarded man bearing velvet-lined trays of glittering gems.

‘Take your pick,’ Kaliq commanded.

Eleni’s instinct was to choose the most modest of the offerings on show—although even those must have cost a king’s ransom—but Kaliq had other ideas.

‘No. Wear these.’ And he plucked out a necklace of bright rubies and diamonds and slipped it around her neck. ‘All ice and fire—just like you, my sweet beauty.’

His words made her melt with longing and Eleni’s fingers were trembling as she clipped on the matching earrings and studded her piled-up hair with jewelled hairpins. Zahra insisted on lending her a kohl pencil and showed her how to draw a subtle dark line around her eyes. How scarily huge it made them look! When she was finally ready, Eleni looked into the mirror and barely recognised the dazzling creature who stared back at her.

‘Do I…do I look okay?’ she asked Kaliq.

‘Oh, yes…you look okay,’ he echoed, and Kaliq’s mouth twisted into a grim kind of smile. He had wondered what she might look like in make-up and finery and now he knew, and perversely he wanted to tell her to scrub the whole lot off again. ‘So okay,’ he said unevenly, ‘that I would like to remove all those fine jewels and fine clothes and take my Eleni back to bed—for while you look very good when you’re all dressed up, you look best in nothing at all.’

His words, as usual, disarmed and alarmed her. Words meant nothing. And Kaliq saying something like my Eleni was simply a term of possession, nothing more.

During the meal, Eleni ate sparingly of the lavish feast provided—her stomach was too fluttery with nerves for her to have any real appetite—but to her surprise she found she was able to hold her own while talking to King Zakari. They spoke of horses, and the great literature of Calistan. And she found herself discussing new falcon-rearing methods and the impact they would have on one of Calista’s favourite sports.

‘So just who are you, Eleni?’ Zakari asked eventually—pushing away his half-eaten dish of pomegranate sorbet.

Kaliq glowered—for hadn’t his brother already spent much of the meal monopolising Eleni? And hadn’t she been allowing him to do so with an enthusiasm which was completely inappropriate? ‘I wasn’t aware that you had come to talk about my guest,’ Kaliq snapped.

‘And I wasn’t aware that you were so unusually sensitive about your guest’s welfare,’ returned Zakari.

‘So are you here to pass the time of day, or is there a reason behind your visit?’ demanded Kaliq hotly.

The brothers’ eyes met in a moment of silent, sibling battle before Zakari shrugged. ‘It is true. I have come to England in search of jewels which are alleged to have been stolen from our royal palaces many years ago. But in truth, I am weary of jewels and their significance to our islands.’ His voice dropped and he shot Eleni another quick glance before continuing. ‘When I was at the king’s funeral—I discovered that one half of the Stefani diamond is missing.’

Kaliq gave a low laugh. ‘So what? There are enough diamonds in both kingdoms not to miss one, surely—no matter how magnificent.’

‘I don’t think you understand the significance, Kaliq,’ said Zakari slowly. ‘The Coronation of the new King of Aristo cannot take place until the missing half of the Stefani diamond has been found.’

Kaliq’s eyes narrowed. ‘And the implication to that is…what?’ he questioned softly.

‘I shall not rest until I find it,’ declared Zakari fervently. ‘It shall fall to my hand to discover it—not Sebastian! And then my greatest wish shall be achieved—for with the discovery of that precious jewel I shall reunite the two halves of the Stefani diamond and I shall reunite the islands in the name of our beloved stepmother, Queen Anya.’

Eleni blinked. This was highly confidential information from the lips of the king himself! And it was at that moment she knew she could no longer intrude on their conversation—not now that it seemed to have taken a dramatic and highly personal twist, judging by their sombre expressions.

She had no place here at this table any more. She and Kaliq had succeeded in their little game and Zakari had been comfortable enough to spend the evening dining with her—oblivious to her real and lowly position in life. Suddenly, she felt more than a little disturbed. What on earth had been the point of taking part in such an unnecessary deception? She rose from the table, ignoring Kaliq’s sudden look of query.

‘Please excuse me,’ she said quietly. ‘You both have important matters of State to discuss and it is not for me to intrude on them. I bid you good evening, Sheikh Zakari, and am honoured to have made your acquaintance,’ she said, and bent low in another formal curtsey.

‘The honour was indeed mine,’ murmured Zakari as he rose to his feet and bowed.

Clutching a fold of her gown between thumb and forefinger, Eleni left the room with her head held high, but as she closed the great wooden doors behind her she heard the unmistakable words which Zakari uttered.

‘She’s your lover, isn’t she?’

There was a pause. ‘You think I would have someone that beautiful staying in my house and not bed her?’ Kaliq was saying.

Zakari’s tone was thoughtful. ‘But there is something you’re not telling me.’

Eleni knew that to listen was wrong—but was there another woman in the world who would not have done the same under the circumstances?

Kaliq laughed. ‘You won’t believe me if I do!’ And then he lowered his voice and began to speak.

She heard the words ‘stable girl’ and something else and Zakari’s small exclamation of disbelief. Eleni leaned against the door and salt tears welled up and blurred her vision as she tried to blot out Kaliq’s hateful and boastful tone. Her eyes closed. How he must be laughing at her now. How could he? How could he?

Was he bragging about how he had broken in his little stable girl—taken her virginity and then schooled her in the art of love-making, just as you would school a newly broken horse? Showing off to his older brother as if she was some kind of amusing diversion! But what had she expected? What an utter fool she had been to imagine that there had been some kind of special bond between her and Kaliq. She had only believed that because it was what she wanted to believe, and not because it was true.

And what would the powerful Zakari think of his brother’s behaviour? Because Kaliq had not only bedded someone completely unsuited to a royal sheikh, but had allowed her to entertain his powerful brother—and surely that was an almighty risk for him to have taken?

And then it hit her so hard that she wondered how she could have been so stupid not to have thought of it before.

Of course it was a risk, she realised. For wasn’t that the motivation behind all Kaliq’s behaviour? Because risk made the mundane tolerable, didn’t it—as well as providing excitement for the jaded appetite of a rich and powerful man?

Hurt and pain and betrayal clutched at her heart like a cold vise and in her bedroom she wanted to tear the dazzling jewellery from her neck but dared not mishandle it for fear it would break. And so it was with trembling fingers that she carefully removed the necklace, earrings and clips and replaced them in the velvet-lined box. Never had the temporary nature of her situation been driven home so starkly as when she took off those borrowed gemstones. Then she hung up her clothes and slipped into a silken robe—because she was damned if she would wait naked in the bed for her sheikh like some sacrificial lamb.

Her heart was pounding as she heard the distant slamming of the heavy front door, the sound of footsteps approaching her bedroom. Drawing in a deep breath, she waited to see if he would knock—but of course he didn’t. Why should he show her any courtesy, when deep down she was nothing more than a servant in his eyes, no matter how priceless the jewels he gave her to wear nor how easily she could fool his brother into thinking otherwise?

Kaliq entered the room, his lips curving into a speculative smile as he saw her standing—robed—by the writing desk. Her long hair tumbled down to her waist in a dark, silken cloud and the rich satin clung like melted butter to her slender curves. His voice dipped into a caress even as he felt the sing of blood in his veins as he observed her. ‘You aren’t tired?’

‘Should I be?’

His eyes narrowed as something unfamiliar in her tone alerted him to the fact that all was not well. ‘The dinner must have been something of an endurance for you.’

She turned round then, her green eyes full of hurt. ‘You think so?’ she whispered. ‘Perhaps it was a triumph that I managed to endure it without disgracing myself? Without picking up a chicken bone and gnawing at it like an animal! No doubt you are amazed you could trust your stable girl to behave herself in the most daunting of circumstances—or that your brother should deign to sit down and share a meal with me in the first place.’

A nerve began to flicker at Kaliq’s temple as he felt the first steal of anger. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Eleni,’ he said steadily. ‘My brother liked you very much.’

‘Until you told him who I was?’ she said flatly.

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ he questioned icily.

‘You’ve…you’ve told him who I really am, haven’t you, Kaliq?’

There was a pause. ‘And if I have?’

For some reason Eleni wanted to scream—and yet reason was playing no part in this great swirling mass of emotions which now made her heart feel as if someone were tearing at it with their jagged fingernails.

‘And wh-what exactly did you tell him?’ she questioned shakily. ‘That I was your adaptable little stable girl who you schooled and then dressed up like a glittering puppet so that she could fool the world and the royal family into thinking she was more than she really is?’

‘What I told him is my business!’ he flared back. ‘And certainly not yours to question. How dare you speak to me in this manner?’

But Eleni ignored the dark note in his voice—some force far stronger than common sense driving her on to say her piece. ‘Because I’m angry,’ she answered. ‘And because I’m hurt. We’re lovers, Kaliq—and that should make us equal, but of course it doesn’t! And I’m not talking about the differences in our circumstances, but real equality. Because if we were truly equal, then I should have the freedom to tell you what’s on my mind—even if you don’t agree with it.’

‘And just what exactly is on your mind?’ he questioned dangerously.

Eleni heard the abrasive edge to his voice and some tiny corner of her heart urged her to stop now, before it was too late. Before she said something irrevocable which he would never be able to forgive. Before things changed for ever.

But hadn’t they changed anyway, all on their own? The way things always did change, because nothing in life ever stayed the same. The flowers in the desert which bloomed and died were just different versions of their own small lives. Her brief and beautiful affair with the prince was almost over; she had known that the sands of time were running out on it almost from the moment it had first begun and she must accept that.