Emma Darcy: Australia: In Bed with a Sheikh!

She swallowed hard, trying to rid herself of the constriction in her throat. “Can’t you give, too, Tareq?”

“Perhaps.”

“You were once kind to me,” she pleaded.

“And I’ll be kind to you again, though you may not appreciate the form it comes in.”

“What do you mean?”

“A bargain, Sarah. You want me to give your father another chance. I want something in return.”

She literally quaked. He was still fiddling with her hair, winding curls around his fingers, tying her to him. It took all her willpower to force out the words, “What is it you want?”

“For the length of time it takes for your father to prove he can be trusted to do his best by my horses, you will stay with me. Let us say…you will be a hostage to his conscientious efforts to redeem himself.”

Dear God! He did mean to tie her to him! Sarah tried to rally her wits out of their state of shock. “You mean…like a prisoner.”

“No need to be so grim. You can be my travelling companion…my social secretary…”

Euphemisms for current mistress? Or was her imagination running riot, along with her hormones?

“Staying with me should not be a hardship,” he assured her. “I’ll pay you a generous salary for your devoted service.”

“Like what?” Sarah’s mind was spinning, unable to decide what was real or unreal. How devoted was the service to be?

“What did your father pay you for all the hours you gave to his family?”

She flushed. “It’s my family, too.”

“Two years of unpaid labour, Sarah? Two years of putting your life on hold with nothing to show at the end of it?”

“Is there a price on love, Tareq?”

“Oh, yes.” A taunting twist of his mouth mocked her naivety. “There’s always a price. You’ve been paying it. And you’d pay more. So make up your mind as to where it’s best paid, Sarah. You continue to give yourself to your family with potential ruin on their doorstep, or you give yourself to me, securing the second chance you’ve been pleading for.”

“Why does it have to be this way?” she cried. Why did he want her with him?

“It’s a question of trust,” he answered, a relentless beat in his voice. “I don’t trust your father. He betrayed the confidence I placed in him. If you trust him to come good on another chance, you have nothing to fear from this bargain and a lot to gain.”

That was the crux of it. Testing her trust in the trust she was asking him to give. She saw the hard ruthlessness in his eyes and knew there was no mercy in him. If he didn’t get the performance he wanted, he would extract compensation, one way or another.

Her mind was in chaos. What if her father didn’t pull himself together and apply himself to fulfilling Tareq’s expectations? On the other hand, having stared ruin in the face, surely the prospect of being handed another chance would sober him up. Sarah didn’t—couldn’t—place much store in his caring for what might happen to her, but his love for his other children had always been much in evidence.

And the plain truth was, they didn’t need her so much as they needed each other. She’d only ever been an extra, waiting in the wings to be called on. Now that Jessie was capable of managing herself, there was no real reason to stay. The best she could do for them was to give them the chance Tareq was offering.

His hand slid from her hair and travelled around her jawline to cup her chin. “Tit for tat, Sarah. I risk my horses. You risk yourself. Is it a deal?”

A two-way gamble. Put like that, his proposition was understandable. Reasonable. But it was difficult to hang on to reason, swamped as she was by the sexual current coursing from the touch of his hand, sensitising her skin and making a mash of her insides. She didn’t feel safe with him.

Yet without him, Jessie and the twins wouldn’t be safe. Innocent victims. As she had been. Sarah couldn’t let that happen. She stared into the diamond-hard blue eyes of Tareq al-Khaima and willed him to be honourable.

“All right. I’ll do it,” she said decisively.

The flash of satisfaction she saw curled her stomach.

Could she trust him to keep his word?

There was no guarantee.

Only risk.

TAREQ WAS NOT slow in acting on Sarah’s decision. There was no time given for second thoughts. He moved straight to the telephone, leaving Sarah to listen as he set up his side of the bargain.

“Peter, call Drew Hillyard. Tell him his daughter, Sarah, is here with me. Due to her special pleading, I am inclined to change my decision and leave my horses with him.”

This apparently evoked some expostulation from his trouble-shooter. Whatever was said made no difference to Tareq. He calmly resumed speaking.

“I’m sure you’ll think of a way to put an effective stop to that. Just get Hillyard here, Peter. As soon as possible. We’ll hear him out first, then move to break the link. From both sides.”

Another pause. Sarah wondered what link they were talking about.

“Sarah has agreed to act as surety. She’ll be coming with me when I fly out tonight. You’ll have to stay behind and wrap this up, Peter.”

Tonight! Sarah moved shakily to an armchair and sat down, dizzied by the speed at which her life was about to change. She stared out the window at the view of the city. Where would she be this time tomorrow?

“Tell Hillyard to bring his wife with him. Best to get everything settled in one hit.”

The receiver clicked down.

“Sarah, have you eaten anything this morning?”

She turned blankly to the man who would direct everything she did from now on. He frowned at her, picked up the telephone again and proceeded to order a selection of croissants, muffins, and a platter of cheese and fruit. Having finished with room service, he considered her thoughtfully.

“You’re not going faint on me, are you, Sarah?” he asked. “You’ve stood up bravely so far.”

Brave words, Miss Hillyard… She wondered what Peter Larsen thought of her now. Trouble. Definitely trouble. For some reason the thought gave her satisfaction.

A spark of pride made her answer, “I’m not getting cold feet if that’s what’s worrying you.”

“Good!” He moved purposefully to the kitchenette beyond the dining suite. “Coffee or tea?”

Surprised at his intention to serve her, she asked, “Shouldn’t I be doing that?”

He laughed, a soft ripple of private amusement. “I’m being kind. Which do you prefer?”

No point in arguing. “Coffee, thank you. With milk.”

She watched him make it and bring it to her, noting he seemed more relaxed. Her own tension had eased, whether from the release of having carried through her purpose, or from the weird sense of having her fate taken out of her hands, she didn’t know. Maybe she was suffering some aftermath from the shock of hard decision-making. Whatever the reason, she felt oddly detached, even when Tareq came close, placing her coffee on the low table in front of her and settling on the sofa nearby.

“You said we’d be flying out tonight. Where are we going?” she asked, trying to get some bearings on what would be her new life.

“The U.S.”

She’d never been there. It might have been an exciting prospect under normal circumstances, but she seemed to be anaesthetised to all feeling at the moment. Shock, she decided. She’d been bombarded by the unexpected and driven to accept it. Recovery time was obviously needed.

She sipped her coffee. Tareq watched her, not with the highpowered intensity she had found so disturbing. It was more a clinical observation. It didn’t touch her inner self. Since he appeared disposed to answer questions, she tried to think of what she needed to ask.