Carol Marinelli - Captive For The Sheikh's Pleasure

Ilyas knew that some of the tour operators ignored warnings. It was an ongoing issue but not one that concerned him now.

‘I am sure she is calling our bluff but we have a team investigating.’ Ilyas dismissed him but then he wavered. His father had made it exceptionally clear that Hazin was on his final warning.

If there was the slightest truth behind this threat, the results for Hazin would be dire indeed.

‘Bring this Suzanne to me.’

‘Here?’ Mahmoud was aghast. ‘If the king gets wind—’

‘Not here,’ Ilyas interrupted. ‘Have her taken to the desert abode. I shall speak with her there.’

‘You could well find yourself stranded.’

Ilyas was more than used to the tricks of the desert and always enjoyed his time there. He drew on it for strength and wisdom, and the thought of being stranded didn’t trouble him in the least.

‘Perhaps this Suzanne should have considered that before firing off her threats.’

Ilyas flicked his hand to tell Mahmoud to get to work and carry out his orders and then he went to reach for the rope above to select his concubine. His hand halted midway as he changed his mind and instead rose from the table and walked over to the running water, where he rinsed off.

He would deal with this impossible woman first, and then he would select from the harem.

CHAPTER THREE

MAGGIE DIDN’T WANT to admit it.

Even to herself.

But, after all the effort to get here, the much-awaited star-gazing trip wasn’t all she had hoped it would be.

Unlike everything else she had experienced here in Zayrinia, the trip to the desert had proved more than a little touristy.

In truth, the journey deep into the desert had taken less than an hour and that allowed for all the time it had taken to mount and dismount from their camels.

‘At the wishes of the Bedouins,’ one of the guides explained, ‘we are forbidden from going any further.’

A couple complained rather loudly but the guide explained that there was nothing that could be done.

Yet.

‘We have put in several formal requests for the law to be changed,’ he said. ‘The final decision rests with the king.’

Having lined up and been served dinner, the group had sat on rugs by a huge fire and watched belly dancers as the sun had started to set.

But as the sun dimmed, so too did the hopes of a night of stargazing. The sky was overcast and the visibility was low due to the gathering sandstorm in the east.

It was still rather spectacular, though.

The sand and dust carried by the wind turned the tiny new moon pale crimson and Maggie watched, awestruck, as it drifted behind and then peeked out of the huge rolling clouds.

The tales around the campfire were interesting too, and the guide used his hands as he told expressive tales.

‘Beneath the palace there is a river where, to this day, the water runs red. It marks the spot where a young prince was denied marriage to his lover and died of a broken heart.’ Maggie was wide-eyed.

‘Since then,’ the guide told them, ‘the crown prince does not court. Love is for lesser mortals. A king must think only with his head.’

‘Does the water really run red?’ asked a woman to the side of Maggie, but the guide had moved on to another tale.

‘The palace is built on the ruins of what once was a harem,’ he explained. ‘The concubines feasted and rested until summoned by a bell. There were many wild and decadent times but it was considered far safer than allowing a virile prince loose in the land with his heart. It is said that the winds that are heard at night are, in fact, the sounds of debauchery carrying across time...’

And the winds were starting to gather.

The campfire tales were halted and the guides gathered in a confab. Maggie guessed they were deciding if the trip should simply be cancelled. But then the annoying couple loudly pointed out that in the event of adverse weather conditions a full refund would be given.

The tour would go ahead!

People were soon being guided to their designated sleeping areas but Maggie continued to stand by the fire. Beyond it was a huge canyon and atop that the outline of the palace. She thought of days long gone and the stories of long-dead royals who were given everything except for love.

Even without stars, Zayrinia, Maggie decided, was beautiful beyond words.

‘Suzanne!’

Maggie only turned when the name was called for a third time and only because of the impatient tone, but then she realised the summons was aimed at her.

Ah, yes, for tonight, she was Suzanne.

The organiser waved her over and gestured to the area that would be Maggie’s home until sunrise.

It was a small, tented area, with a simple mattress where she could either lie and continue to view the night sky or, as was strongly suggested, she could pull the canopy over.

Maggie nodded and thanked him. Refusing to give in just yet, she kept the canopy open, and kicking off her shoes bedded down for what remained of the night.

There appeared not a single star in the sky.

To her left, the couple who had argued about everything were now complaining about the hard mattress and there was a man snoring to her right.

Of all the many highlights of her year, Zayrinia had become her favourite. She had instantly felt somehow drawn to the land.

That in itself was rare for Maggie.

She had learnt not to get attached to people, let alone locations, yet there was something about Zayrinia that entranced her.

It really did, Maggie thought as she gazed up at the dark, heavy sky.

While there wasn’t a star to be seen, the clouds billowed and raced so swiftly it was as if the sky had been placed on fast forward, and soon the sounds of her fellow tourists were drowned out by the cries of the wind whistling through distant canyons.

It really had been the most amazing year. One that Maggie would never have embarked on had it not been for her mother.

It wasn’t the lack of stars that had tears pool in her eyes, or the knowledge that her trip was drawing to a close.

The threat of tears was reserved for the very reason she was here.

Maggie missed her mother so much.

Erin Delaney had fallen pregnant when she was just seventeen and Maggie had never known her father.

Even though she had been a single, teenage mum, Erin had given her daughter a very happy childhood.

Still now, when Maggie felt alone or scared, thoughts of innocent, happy times would come to mind.

Maggie lay there remembering a time they had come from the baker’s and had got caught in the rain. They had ducked under the awnings of a shop that had, though Maggie hadn’t really understood then, been a travel agent.

‘You need to see the world, Maggie,’ her mother had said as they’d looked at a huge map in the window.

‘I like it here.’

‘I know you do, but there’s a whole world outside London. I was going to go travelling and see it for myself...’

‘But you had me instead.’

‘You’re the best mistake I ever made!’ Erin smiled. ‘But seriously, Maggie, you make sure you see the world. I’m saving up hard and next year we’re going to Paris.’

They hadn’t got there, though.

After a short, hard-fought battle with cancer, Erin had passed away. She’d had little money but she had left a small sum for Maggie to inherit when she turned twenty-one and it had been accompanied by a letter. In it Erin had told her daughter that she had been and still was deeply loved. Erin had said that she hoped Maggie would consider spreading her wings and taking in this wonderful world in a way that she had not.

The money had been enough to cover the airfare, but it had taken Maggie two years to save up enough to take the trip.