Marguerite Kaye - Hot Arabian Nights

But Julia was not to be harried into agreeing anything. ‘For a successful trader, it seems to me you are sealing a very one-sided bargain. As far as I can see, the profit would be all mine.’

‘Not when one factors in the value of your delightful company.’

She laughed, but shook her head. ‘I’m serious. You realise you are offering me far beyond what I could have achieved with only Hanif as a guide? To my knowledge, this desert is further south than any Western botanist has travelled. It will ensure Daniel’s book is quite unique.’

Not an objective he had in mind, or even cared to achieve, but Azhar held his tongue. ‘Then you will have discharged your pledge to him with added interest,’ he said instead.

His reward was a beaming smile. ‘You really do understand. Thank you, Azhar. Thank you very much.’ Julia’s smile turned mischievous. ‘I am extremely grateful, and in return I promise that I will endeavour to be as rude, as critical, and as honestly disrespectful of this beautiful kingdom and its ruler as I can possibly manage. In my own particular way, of course.’

Chapter Four

Julia rubbed her eyes, pushed back the bedsheets and sat up. The divan was positioned on a central podium under an elaborate fretwork canopy supported by four intricately carved wooden pillars. Her bedchamber was ostentatiously decorated, the walls covered in embossed panels depicting delightful scenes of lush vegetation, colourful birds and other exotic animals. The stained-glass window set into the centre of the sloping roof filtered a soft, dappled light into the room, the colours dancing on the pale marble floor, which was deliciously cool under her feet. It was very early, but she was far too excited to sleep, for today she was to leave the palace with Azhar for the first time.

He had sent word last night, confirming what they had agreed two days ago in the garden. He must have briefed the body of elders he referred to as Council yesterday on his proposed plan of action. She found it somewhat baffling that someone as manifestly self-reliant as Azhar would permit another to make decisions on his behalf, even if the person concerned was his brother, who had apparently been in temporary power throughout the period of their father’s illness. It seemed odd that the dying Sheikh had not sent for his heir sooner. They had been estranged, Azhar had said. Meaning, he could not—or would not—return to Qaryma while his father, the King, lived? He had expected to be disinherited, that much he had admitted. Had he then assumed that his brother would inherit? It was a reasonable enough assumption. She knew of many examples among the English aristocracy where second sons fell heir for all sorts of reasons. And Azhar’s brother, would he too have assumed that he would become King? Julia knew nothing of the laws and customs of this kingdom, but it was likely, surely, that he would think so, especially since Azhar had been absent for so very long.

Ten years. So much would have changed in the intervening period. She supposed it did make sense for Azhar to take time to take stock before assuming power. It would also allow time for his brother to become accustomed to the idea of having to step down. Julia grimaced. It was unfair of her to judge, given she’d been in the man’s company only a matter of moments, but she had taken an instant dislike to Kamal. He did not appear to her to be a man who would take kindly to being effectively deposed. The whole situation read like a fairy tale, the handsome Prince returning after ten years in the wilderness to oust his evil brother from the throne. Not that Kamal really was evil. Just a little repellent.

Julia smiled to herself. It wasn’t like her to let her imagination run riot. But then again, she wasn’t exactly in the habit of waking up in a private suite in a royal palace. She had never, in all her travels, nor even in books, seen anything so opulent. Or so beautiful. Padding across the bedchamber, she slid back the door which led to her sitting room. With triple aspect floor-to-ceiling windows, the glass panes set in delicate wrought-iron frames, light flooded in and made it the perfect place for her to work.

The sketch books, charcoals, pencils and watercolour paints which Azhar had miraculously sourced for her yesterday, were set on the table. It was extremely thoughtful of him to take the time to do so, when he had much more weighty matters to attend to. She had spent the whole morning sketching in the garden, retiring to this delightful salon to escape the worst of the afternoon heat and add splashes of colour to her outline drawings. She couldn’t quite believe her good fortune. To have been rescued by a prince, taken to his magical castle and given her heart’s desire! Julia smiled to herself. This might feel like a fairy tale, but she was hardly fairy-tale-princess material. Azhar however, was very much a prince. An extremely attractive, thoughtful prince, who might well think her unusual and extraordinary, but who was going to disappear from her life in a month’s time. She had better not get too used to his charming company and his delightful smile and that way he had, of encouraging confidences from her that she would not normally give.

But on the other hand, provided she did remember this was a moment—or a month—out of time, it meant a whole month to enjoy all this. She curled her toes into the luxurious pile of the rug, woven in vibrant jewel-like colours, which covered the floor. An enormous three-sided couch sat in the conservatory-like windowed recess, strewn with cushions decorated with gold tassels, worked in the most intricate of silk embroidery. Further seating was provided by larger cushions and several low gilded chairs, which were set around the table. The windows were draped in long, pale voile curtains which protected the room from the heat, though the room itself faced north. Above her, the ceiling was also ornately worked, a lattice of cornicing in gold, crimson and emerald.

Pulling back the gauzy curtains, she gazed out at the view of the courtyard beyond, as enraptured today as she had been for each of the last three mornings. Unable to resist the allure of the early light, she opened the latch on one of the long windows and stepped outside.

The courtyard was enclosed by three walls, the fourth formed by the room from which she had entered it, and was thus completely private. It was hot already, though the air had that damp, salty taste of early morning. The sun was still low, the pale blue sky decorated with a few stray puffy pink clouds. A lemon tree grew in one corner, a wooden bench forming a crescent around its trunk. A long rectangular pool ran from the step down from the windows right up to the perimeter wall. Tall, precisely trained jasmine shrubs stood sentry-like in ceramic tubs on either side of the pool. The scent from the delicate white flowers was heady as Julia brushed her fingers along the dew-tipped leaves. Two steps led down into the pool, which was lined with iridescent turquoise tiles. Lifting the hem of her nightgown, Julia dabbed her toes in the cool water, shivering with pleasure as it lapped against her skin, up to her calves, then her knees as she went down the steps. She was about to give in to the temptation to immerse herself completely, when a noise from the terrace startled her.

Julia waded out of the pool, the hem of her nightgown flapping around her wet ankles. The maidservant bowed her head, though not quickly enough for Julia to miss the quickly suppressed smile. ‘Good morning, Aisha,’ Julia said in Arabic, clasping her hands and bowing in the customary greeting.

The maid smiled shyly, ushering her to the table, which had been set for breakfast.

‘Shukran,’ Julia said. ‘Thank you, Aisha.’ Seating herself on a large cushion, she forced herself to wait to be served, knowing that to help herself would be a huge breach of etiquette. The coffee poured from the tall silver pot into the delicate china cup was thick and dark and sweet. There were pastries filled with candied fruit and nuts, dusted with sugar powder; a thick yoghurt swirled with honey; and melon, peaches and fruit Julia had never seen before, delicately carved into flower shapes, served with orange water.