Teresa Southwick - The Sheikh Who Claimed Her - Master of the Desert / The Sheikh's Reluctant Bride / Accidentally the Sheikh's Wife

‘Arid desert? What will you do with it—offer camel rides?’

‘That’s cruel and unnecessary, Ra’id, especially with the prospect of you opening a branch of my brother’s charity here in Sinnebar.’

‘Only if I head up the ruling council of that charity.’

‘Is there anything you don’t rule?’

There was one thing—or rather one person—Ra’id reflected as Antonia pursued her argument. He had forgotten how persistent she could be. How irritating.

How desirable …

He watched her closely, noticing how her gaze softened when she spotted some ancient artefact, or when she stared dreamily into the middle distance as she formulated her plan, only for that gaze to harden and grow anxious when he’d mentioned the drawbacks to the old fort she had inherited. Would she fight for it? Remembering the girl who had swum through a storm to reach land, he had no doubt she would. Although she could only find the idea of visiting an ancient citadel where her mother had spent her last few months in Sinnebar incarcerated intimidating, rather as if the ancient building had the potential to become Antonia’s prison too.

She had not yet broken free from her safe cocoon at home, though she badly wanted to, he concluded. So what was holding her back? Was it him? Was she frightened of him? Or was Antonia more frightened by the secret she was hiding from him?

As if sensing the way his thoughts were turning, she met his gaze, and that briefest of stares told him all he needed to know.

When Ra’id took a step closer Antonia’s throat closed, and her gaze fixed on the jewelled belt on his robe. The rampant lion worked in gold thread clutching a very large sapphire in its deadly paws was exactly as she had pictured it, and she though it a perfect illustration of his power. But she had a small child sheltering inside her, and was responsible for other children who couldn’t help themselves. She had to ignore her own fears and press on. ‘If the old fort is habitable, I could live there myself and supervise the renovations.’

‘Are you mad?’ Ra’id thundered.

Mad? Yes, and very frightened, at the thought of taking a baby into the desert—a baby who hadn’t even been born yet. But if she turned around and went home she felt sure she would never be allowed back into Sinnebar and everything she had set out to achieve would fail. ‘According to those documents you showed me, I am entitled—’

‘You are entitled to nothing without my permission,’ Ra’id assured her in a deadly quiet voice.

He was very close to her, and his intoxicating scent was scrambling her brain. She had to forget everything they had ever been to each other. Ra’id must know she hadn’t changed or weakened just because he was a king, and that she was as determined as she had ever been to carry all her plans through. ‘So the rule of law means nothing in Sinnebar?’ she challenged boldly.

She might not have spoken for all the good it did her. ‘I will pay you for the land,’ Ra’id told her coolly. ‘Money is no object. Name your price.’

Her body shook with a tremor of revulsion. ‘I don’t have a price,’ she said fiercely, searching for some semblance of the man she had known in Ra’id’s eyes.

‘I will buy the land from you,’ he explained as if he thought her mind had failed her.

‘It isn’t for sale.’

This was truly a man she didn’t know, Antonia thought as Ra’id’s eyes narrowed. This fearsome ruler of Sinnebar bore not the slightest resemblance to the tender lover she had spent one glorious day and night with three months ago. This man was hard and brutal, and he didn’t have a heart—or, if he did, it was as cold as the gleaming sapphire on his belt. Ra’id al Maktabi was a warrior forged from steel; a man she considered had nothing to offer the child she already loved so deeply and completely. But, with a mission to complete, she could allow no time for sentiment. ‘Before I leave for the property I have inherited,’ she said firmly, ‘I would like to see my mother’s room.’

The silence crackled with tension as they faced each other. Both of them were rigid with resolve. Ra’id was clearly astonished that anyone would challenge his authority, while Antonia was equally determined not to back down. It was an impasse from which there seemed no escape until, to her surprise, a faint smile tugged at his lips.

‘I see no reason why you should not be taken to see Helena’s room,’ he said.

‘By you?’ Antonia demanded, feeling her confidence seep away.

‘Who better to show you round? I am more than happy to take you to see your mother’s room,’ he said. ‘And tomorrow morning I will take you into the desert to see your land.’

Even as Antonia’s eyes widened and her lips parted with surprise, she wondered why she felt so sure that the granting of a wish had never carried greater danger. It wasn’t just the thought of taking her unborn child into dangerous territory, she realised, but the very real threat radiating from Ra’id. Then she reasoned that the desert was not an environment to enter lightly, especially now she was pregnant, and who better to guide her than Ra’id?

But if she hoped to soften him …

Hope springs eternal, Antonia remembered, gazing up into Ra’id’s cold eyes. But he held the key to turning her dream for the charity into reality. The old fort could only live again with Ra’id’s water supply, and that was one dream she wasn’t letting go of. And how better to find the chance to tell him the news about their baby than spending time with him?

No, she had no option. If she was to have a chance of success she must be as committed to her purpose as Ra’id was to his.

‘Your mother’s room?’ he prompted.

‘I’m ready,’ she said.

HE COULD feel Antonia’s suppressed excitement as he led the way down gilded corridors to the east wing of the palace, where the shutters had remained drawn for years, and the rooms were neglected and cast in shade. He could feel her fear and apprehension too. He could feel everything Antonia was feeling in the same unspoken transfer of energy he’d felt between them on the desert island, when he had been Saif and Antonia had gone by the name he’d given her. But there had been a change in Antonia since then. She had matured. She might have trembled at her first sight of him, but the flame of purpose had returned to her gaze. This wasn’t the adolescent who had ransacked his yacht to claim her piece of bread and cheese, but a woman who would not easily be dismissed. Perhaps the sight of her mother’s room would change that, he mused as they reached the door.

Antonia could hardly believe she was really here, within touching distance of her mother’s room. It was hard to catch her breath when Ra’id halted outside the golden door. The workmanship on the jewel-studded panelling was more fabulous than anything she could have imagined. ‘Is it real gold?’ she asked naively as she admired the intricate workmanship.

‘Everything you see that looks like gold is gold,’ Ra’id informed her with no emotion in his voice. ‘Shall we go in?’

‘Oh, yes please!’ she exclaimed, hardly daring to blink in case she missed anything. Her sense of anticipation was indescribable, and she put all thoughts of Ra’id knowing something she didn’t—something unpleasant, maybe—out of her mind.

‘Could we turn on a light?’ she asked, hesitating on the threshold.

‘Certainly.’ Reaching past her, Ra’id switched on a cobweb-strewn chandelier. Even now he made her tingle, Antonia felt, touching her cheek as she walked deeper into the room.

Whatever she had expected after seeing that golden door, it was not this shadowy interior, with sheets draped over the furniture and dust motes floating in stagnant air. But what affected her most was the atmosphere of abandonment, she realised, slowly turning full circle. It was as if the walls were soaked through with loneliness and sadness. Her first impression was that this was not the happy nest of a pretty girl, but a prison, a cage—a gilded cage for the discarded mistress of a ruler who had tired of her and moved on. But her mother hadn’t moved on, Antonia thought sadly as she trailed her fingertips across the yellowing cover of a fashion magazine. She thought that the saddest artefact of all. ‘It doesn’t look as if this room has been touched since my mother left for Italy,’ she said, rallying determinedly as she turned to speak to Ra’id.