Liz Fielding: Chosen as the Sheikh's Wife

'Go for the Prime Minister,' Sarah urged. 'If you can get him down here I'd really like a word with him about local schools.'

Violet simply regarded him with reproachful eyes, and he understood instantly that it had been a mistake to offer such people to vouch for his honour. As heir to a country with whom they wanted to do business, she knew they wouldn't hesitate to put his needs before that of some ordinary girl.

'Maybe you'd have more trust in the Englishwoman who was my son's nanny?' he offered.

'Why his nanny? Why not his mother?' she asked.

Inwardly, he flinched at the directness of her question. Outwardly, he allowed nothing to show.

'My son and his mother both died when he was no higher than my knee,' he replied.

Behind him, her friend caught her breath, and for a moment he thought he had Violet, too. It gave him no satisfaction. On the contrary, it felt like a tacky play for sympathy, something he neither deserved nor wanted, when all he wanted was her trust.

He was a diplomat, well used to dealing with awkward situations, using words to make things happen, and yet, confronted by this young woman wearing nothing but a shabby bathrobe, he appeared to have lost control of the situation. Of his thoughts. Of something more. Something that he didn't want to think about…

'I'm sorry,' she said. Her eyes were soft with genuine sympathy but her gaze was direct and, standing straight and tall, steel in her backbone, she said it again. 'I'm sorry, Sheikh Fayad al Kuwani. Take the Blood of Tariq to your grandfather, but I must stay here. I have to pack up the house. Clear everything…'

Without warning the steel buckled, and for the second time she grabbed for a chair as if, suddenly, the shock of what had just happened, the realisation of what was ahead, had drained the fight from her.

He caught her, lowered her into it, filled a glass with water and held it while she took a sip. Held it until her long, slender fingers stopped shaking sufficiently for her to take it safely.

'Stupid… Stupid…' she said.

'Don't be so hard on yourself. Your friend is not the only one who has had a shock, Princess.'

'Don't…' She shook her head. 'Don't call me that. It isn't right.'

'It is not only right, it is your heritage,' he said. And it was true. She did not need silk, jewels. It was in her manner, her bearing, some edge to her character…' Come to Ras al Kawi and you will see for yourself,' he urged.

'I can't. Truly. There's just too much to do here'

'Her grandmother used a dodgy equity release-scheme to raise some money on the house years ago,' Sarah explained. 'Before they were properly regulated. Now she's dead it's all theirs. Lock, stock and rotting floorboard. They want her out by the end of the month.'

So, it was as he'd been told. Violet Hamilton was without fortune, homeless, and yet she did not ask for money for the khanjar , nor grab at an invitation to be feted as a princess.

'Where will you go?' he asked.

'It depends how much she gets for the khanjar ' Sarah replied, meaningfully.

'Stop it, Sarah. It's not mine to sell.' Then, gathering herself, 'If you'll excuse me, Sheikh Fayad, I have things to do.'

She meant it, he realised. Was immovable.

He wasn't used to being refused anything, wasn't prepared to accept defeat now, but continuing to press the matter would only intensify her resistance.

'Very well. If you insist on staying, I have no choice but to accept your decision.' He took a pen from his pocket. 'Give me the card.'

For a moment she looked as if she might resist, but then fished it out of her pocket.

He wrote a number on the back and returned it to her. 'I have to go now, but I will arrange for your door to be repaired. Someone will come before the end of the day. And if you should change your mind about coming to Ras al Kawi, you can reach me on that number day or night.' He handed it to her. Looked directly into her eyes. 'While I have a breath in my body my family will be at your command, Violet Hamilton. All you have to do is call.' Then he picked up the khanjar , bowed, slightly, and said, 'Princess… Sarah…'before turning and walking out through the still wide open front door.

Curious neighbours had gathered, but, looking neither to left nor right, he stepped into his car and, as it sped away from the kerb, began to make a series of phone calls.

'He might at least have said thank you,' Violet said, as the front door closed behind him. 'He just walked away, didn't look back.'

'They don't. It's their way. But they never forget a debt. And that "breath in my body" pledge is not meaningless. You will be paid one way or another.'

'I don't want to be paid,' she said, shaking her head. 'I'm just glad to be rid of the thing. Then, unable to help herself, she asked, 'What's it like, Sarah? Have you been there? Ras al Kawi?'

'We were next door in Ras al Hajar. The ruler there has an English wife. Did you know that? She used to

be a foreign correspondent.' She sighed. 'Terrific place to live.' Then, 'Ras al Kawi is less developed, and the old Emir is a bit of a recluse. I always wanted to go there. It's mountainous, and has the most fabulous coastline.'

'It sounds lovely.'

'You're wishing you hadn't been so quick to turn him down now?'

'No. No, of course not.'

Sarah laughed, clearly not believing her. 'Violet, sweetheart, you remember me saying that you should be careful not to get swept off your feet by the first good-looking man that came your way?'

'I remember.' Not that she'd needed telling. With a father like hers, trust in the male did not come easily. Then, managing a grin, 'Did I do good?'

'Oh, you were faultless. You had the heir to a sheikhdom wanting to treat you like a princess and you were ice.' She shook her head as she got to her feet. 'No need to worry about you losing your head. If you can resist such a killer combination of cheekbones and tragedy you'll probably die an old maid.'

Sarah was joking. If only she knew… 'Are you saying I should have gone with him? Just like that?'

'You said you wanted a life.'

'I did. I do. But I was thinking of starting on the nursery slopes and working up to dangerous. Going with Sheikh Fayad would be like taking a ski-run down Mount Everest.' Then, because she might be regretting it just a little bit, and would rather not think about quite how much, 'That guy at the library keeps asking me out.'

'Really? Not so much nursery slopes as totally flat, then. You do know that he never goes anywhere without his mother?'

'I had heard she was a touch…possessive,' Violet replied, laughing despite everything. 'But just think how safe I'd be.'

'Oh, please. I didn't expect you to take me that literally. Life doesn't start small and build up in carefully managed steps to exciting. Exciting is so rare that you have to grab it when you get the chance. You've got a lot of catching up to do, and even if you did live to regret it at least you would have lived.'

'You've changed your tune!' Then, with those dangerously attractive blade-edged cheekbones of Sheikh Fayad, his thick dark hair, broad shoulders still a vivid memory, Violet said, 'So, to recap. Your advice is now to forget safe, go for excitement. Got it.' Then, 'So shall I pick up Molly from playgroup for you? Since you have to wait in for the doctor.'

Sarah laughed. 'Okay, I'll stop nagging. But you can't leave the house. In case you hadn't noticed, your back door is hanging off its hinges.'

'There's nothing to steal,' Violet pointed out, and propped it back in place. 'There. From the outside it'll look solid enough.'

Sarah went home to wait for the doctor. Violet dressed, then swiftly gathered up the scattered contents of the Gladstone bag, stuffing everything back inside, before returning it into the wardrobe.