Lucy Gordon: The Sheikh’s Reward

She struggled to clear her mind, but it persisted in lingering on the curve of his mouth, which was wide and flexible and made for kisses. It was smiling at her now in a special way that started a glow inside her.

And when she forced her attention away from his mouth his eyes were lying in wait to tease and entice her. There was a wicked promise in them and it was tempting to speculate what would happen to a woman who called that promise in. Of course, that could never be herself. She was here on serious business. But some lucky woman…

She pulled herself together.

‘You have a lovely home,’ she said, sounding slightly forced.

‘Yes, it’s beautiful,’ he agreed. ‘But I’m not sure it could be called a home. I have many dwellings, but I spend so little time in each one that-’ He finished with a shrug.

‘None of them is home?’ Fran asked.

He gave a rueful smile. ‘I feel like a small boy saying this, but wherever my mother is feels like my home. In her presence there is warmth and graciousness, and a sense of calm benevolence. You would like her very much.’

‘I’m sure I should. She sounds like a great lady. Does she live in Kamar all the time?’

‘Mostly. Sometimes she travels, but she doesn’t care for flying. And-’ he looked a little self-conscious ‘-she doesn’t approve of some of my pleasures, so-’

‘You mean like going to the casino?’ Fran supplied, laughing.

‘And other small indulgences,’ he said outrageously. ‘But mostly the casino. She says a man should have better things to do with his time.’

‘She’s right,’ Fran said immediately.

‘But how could I have spent this evening better than in meeting you?’

‘You’re not going to start telling me it was fate again, are you?’

‘Have you suddenly become a cynic? What about all that Arabian folklore you used to enjoy? Didn’t it teach you to believe in magic?’

‘Well,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘it taught me to want to believe in magic, and that’s almost the same thing. Sometimes, when life was very dull, I’d dream that a flying carpet was going to come through the window and carry me off to the land where genies came out of lamps and magicians cast their spells in clouds of coloured smoke.’

‘And the magic prince?’ he teased.

‘He came out of the smoke, of course. But he always vanished in the smoke again, and the dream ended.’

‘But you never stopped hoping for the flying carpet,’ Ali said gently. ‘You pretend to be very sensible and grown-up, but in your heart you’re sure that one day it will come.’

She blushed a little. It was disconcerting to have him read her thoughts so well.

‘I think that for you,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘the carpet will come.’

‘I don’t believe in magic,’ she said, with a little shake of her head.

‘But what do you call magic? When I saw you standing there tonight, that was magic far more potent than casting spells. And from that moment everything went well with me.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘Do you know how much your witchcraft made me win? One hundred thousand. Look.’

Ali reached into his inside pocket, drew out a cheque book and calmly proceeded to write out a cheque for the full amount.

‘What are you doing?’ Fran gasped.

‘I am giving you what is rightfully yours. You won this. Do with it as you will.’

He signed it with a flourish, then looked up at her, his eyes teasing. ‘Who shall I make it out to? Come, admit defeat. Now you will have to tell me your name.’

‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ she mused. She raised the glass, letting her eyes flirt with him over the rim. ‘I’d be very foolish to give in right this minute, wouldn’t I?’

‘But I must have a name to put on the cheque.’

She shrugged.

‘Without a name I can’t give it to you.’

‘Then keep it,’ she said with an elegant gesture. ‘I didn’t ask you for anything.’

His eyes showed his admiration. ‘You’re not afraid to play for high stakes.’

‘But I’m not playing for anything,’ she said with a laugh. ‘I’ve lived very happily without wealth and I can go on doing so.’

He cast a wry glance at her neck which wore a fortune in diamonds. Without hesitation Fran removed the necklace and set it beside him. ‘Just so that there’s no misunderstanding,’ she said. ‘I seek nothing from you. Nothing at all.’

It wasn’t strictly true, but what she wanted from him would have to be told at another time, and another place. And then she would call the shots.

Their eyes held for a moment. His held bemusement that she should take their duel right up to the line. Finally there was a glimmer of respect.

With a shrug that mirrored the ones he’d given at the gaming tables, he pushed the cheque over to her, with the name still blank. Then he rose to his feet and made as if to fasten the necklace back in place. But Fran prevented him.

‘You keep that. I’ll keep this,’ she said, indicating the cheque. ‘After all, I don’t want to be greedy, do I?’

Ali returned to his place opposite her and raised her hand to his lips, watching her all the time with eyes that were heavy, yet curiously alert. They were always alert, she realised, no matter what he was saying.

‘Not many women can claim they’ve bested me,’ he confessed. ‘But I see you’re used to playing games, and very good at it. I like that. It intrigues me. But what intrigues me even more is that smile you’re giving me.’

‘Smiles can convey so much more than words, don’t you think?’ she asked innocently.

‘But what is conveyed without words can so easily be denied. Is that what you’re doing, Diamond? Protecting yourself against the moment when you’ll want to deny what is passing between us?’

It was like being naked, she thought, alarmed. He saw too much.

To divert his attention from the dangerous point she put the cheque in her purse. ‘It would be very hard to deny that that has passed between us,’ she observed.

‘How true. I was sure a sharp wit lurked behind those innocent eyes.’

‘You don’t trust me, do you?’ she asked impulsively.

‘Not an inch. But we’re equally matched, for I have the strangest feeling that you do not trust me.’

Fran’s wide-eyed stare was a masterpiece of innocence. ‘How could anyone doubt Your Highness’s probity, rectitude, virtue, morality, righteousness-?’

He laughed until he almost choked, his eyes alight with real amusement, and he kissed her hand again, not seductively this time, but with a kind of vigorous triumph, as though he’d just seen his best hope romp past the winning post.

‘What man could resist you?’ he asked. ‘Certainly I cannot. But stop calling me “Your highness”. My name is Ali.’

‘And mine is-Diamond.’

‘I wonder. I begin to think I shall call you Scheherazade, for your wit, which is beyond the wit of all other women.’

‘I’m cleverer than quite a few men too,’ she riposted, and couldn’t resist adding, ‘You wait and see.’

He nodded. ‘The waiting is half the pleasure. Will she say yes or no? And if she says no will her voice contain a secret invitation nonetheless?’

‘I can’t believe you ever have that problem. Don’t tell me that any woman denies you.’

He shrugged. ‘A man can have all the women in the world, yet not the one he wants. If that one denies him, what are all the others?’

Fran regarded him with wry amusement, not fooled by this. The words were humble but the tone was arrogant. Implicit was the fact that no woman refused him, but he felt it was polite to pretend otherwise.

‘I’d have thought all the others were a good deal,’ she said. ‘They’d leave him no time for pining.’