Liz Fielding - The Sheik's Unsuitable Bride

For a moment she thought he would kiss her, but he let his hand fall to his side.

‘You should get out of the sun now.’ Then, as he climbed into the car, ‘I promised Freddy that I would take him sailing tomorrow. I’ll be here at six.’

Zahir walked with Shula al-Attiyah in his mother’s garden, while their mothers gossiped and kept an eye on them. She was, just as his mother had promised, intelligent, well travelled, lively. Perfect in every respect but one. She was not Diana Metcalfe.

He sailed with Freddy the following morning and afterwards he ate a sumptuous mezza served by Hamid in the shade of the terrace with Diana and her family. Then he walked with Diana in the garden as he had walked with Shula.

He could not have said what they talked about. Only that being with her was right. That leaving her felt like tearing himself in half.

In the afternoon he met Adina al-Thani. She was the girl recommended by his sister for the beauty of her hair. It was a smooth ebony curtain of silk that hung to her waist and it was indeed beautiful.

If it had been chestnut. If curls had corkscrewed every which way, it would have been perfect.

Later, he had dinner with his father, who had just returned from the Sudan. They talked about politics. About the new airline. They did not talk about his marriage. Or the visitors occupying his house at Nadira.

But when he was leaving his father said, ‘I want you to know that I’m proud of you, my son. This country needs men like you. Men who can take the future and mould it to their own vision.’

And he wasn’t sure if that made him feel better, or worse.

The next day he was forced to remain in the capital, deal with the mountain of paperwork that was coming in from London. Have lunch with Leila al-Kassami-the one who was not beautiful but had a lovely smile-and her mother.

She, of all of them, came closest to his heart’s desire. Perhaps if the smile had been preceded by the fleeting appearance of a dimple, if she had caught her lip between her teeth to stop herself from saying the first thing that came into her head…

As they left, he saw his mother watching him with an expression close to desperation and knew that he was running out of time.

That evening he took Diana on a tour of his ‘vision’. Showed her the cottages, the central building that would provide everything a visitor could dream of. The chandlery, the marina. The island where the restaurant was nearing completion. The pavilion where people seeking somewhere different to hold a wedding could make their vows.

She stood beside him beneath the domed canopy looking up at the tiny lapis and gold tiles that looked like the sky in that moment before it went black and said, ‘It’s beautiful, Zahir.’ And then she looked at him. ‘Like something out of a fairy tale.’

‘Wait until you see the real thing…’

‘Oh, but I have…’

‘No. Tonight I’ll drive you far beyond the reach of manmade light-only there is it possible to see the heavens as God made them.’

Once darkness fell, he’d take her into the desert and, maybe, beneath the infinity of the heavens, she would be able to understand, he would be able to understand why, despite the fact that she had somehow taken possession of his heart, tomorrow he would have to redeem his promise to his mother. Do his duty as a son.

‘I will not be able to come here again during your visit,’ he said. ‘But I want to give you this gift.’

Diana heard the words. Heard more, perhaps, than he’d intended to say. Something that they had both agreed upon from the very first. That there were no fairy tales.

Z AHIRwas unusually silent on the trip out into the desert but, when he stopped the big four-wheel drive, he told Diana to close her eyes before he killed the engine. Turned off the lights.

‘Keep them closed,’ he warned, as he opened the door, letting in a blast of cold air. She heard him walk around the vehicle, then he opened the door beside her.

‘Here, take my cloak, you’ll need it,’ he said, dumping something heavy in her lap, before lifting her clear of her seat.

‘Zahir!’ she protested. ‘I’m not helpless. I can walk!’

‘Not if your eyes are closed.’ Then, ‘You might want to hold on.’

Obediently, she wrapped one arm around his neck, clutching the cloak to her with the other, while he carried her surely and safely over ground that crunched beneath his feet. Cheating a little, lifting her lids a fraction so that she could watch his face, the way his breath condensed in little clouds in the faint light from the stars.

‘Can I look now?’ she asked when he set her on her feet.

‘I’ll tell you when,’ he said, taking the cloak and wrapping it around her. Then, standing behind her, his hands on either side of her shoulders as if afraid she might fall, he said, ‘Now!’

She would have gasped if she could have caught her breath. Instead, soundlessly, she reached out, first to the sky, then back for his hand. As if he knew exactly how she would react, he was there, waiting for her, taking her hand in his.

How long they’d been standing there when the cold finally penetrated her brain, she could not have said.

‘You must be freezing,’ she said and, half turning, she opened the cloak, inviting him to share the warmth. When he hesitated, she said, ‘Come on, before I freeze too.’

He joined her, slipping his arm around her waist to bring them close enough to fit in together and they stood, wrapped up in its warmth, for the longest time, her head on his shoulder, looking at the heavens. Diana knew, just knew, that this would be the moment she would remember when she was dying.

‘I never dreamed,’ she said at last, ‘that there were so many stars.’

‘They say that if you took a handful of sand from a beach and each grain of sand was a star you can see-’

‘-the rest of the beach would represent the stars that are out of sight. I read that somewhere, but when you see it, really see it, it’s…incomprehensible.’

‘In the face of such vastness it is impossible not to feel…humble.’

‘Yes,’ she said. Then, lifting her head, turning to look at him, ‘But how great too! We’re standing here, looking up into the unimaginable vastness of space, and our imagination isn’t crushed by that; it soars!’

In the starlight she could see a frown pucker in the space between his eyes.

‘All through history we’ve looked up there and made stories, strived to know the unknowable. We’re less than grains of sand in the cosmic scheme of things, no more than the tiniest particles of dust, and yet we’re huge. Giants.’ She turned and stretched her arms up to the stars. ‘We’re the star-gatherers, Zahir! We can do anything, be anyone. Only our own fears hold us back…’ And she’d spent too many years afraid to step out of the shadows. Afraid to grab the world by the throat. Seize the dream. ‘Thank you. Thank you for showing me that…’

And then, because one dream was all she had, because they both knew that this was goodbye, she leaned into him, kissed him briefly on the lips, before saying, ‘I need to go home.’

When Diana called James Pierce it was still dark at Nadira. By the time her mother was awake, she had packed.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Home.’ Her mother looked doubtful. ‘It’s okay. According to Mr Pierce, some supermodel had a furniture-throwing fight with her boyfriend in a nightclub and they both got arrested. Our little story can’t begin to compete with that.’

‘Well, that’s good, but do you have to rush back to London? You’re on leave, anyway.’

‘There are things I have to do, but you’re all staying until Saturday. Mr Pierce is sorting flights for you. Hamid will have all the details.’