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

And, though Ra’id could never be called weak, he was his father’s son, Antonia acknowledged, and that was the type of heartless individual she was dealing with. He couldn’t even look at her without self-loathing, because she represented his one and only failing. Antonia was Ra’id’s one breach of duty, and now she must be punished and driven away. Whatever was waiting for her at the fort, she suspected it was something Ra’id believed would end her quest once and for all and send her flying back to Rome in a panic. In one last act of cruelty, he was determined to be there to see her reaction for himself.

He drove his stallion hard. The horse was well-named Tonnerre, which meant thunder in French. When they galloped from yielding sand to a firmer path leading directly to the mountains, Tonnerre’s hooves struck sparks off the moonlit track.

Then the horse smelled water and it took all Ra’id’s riding skills to persuade the stallion to slow. When Ra’id mastered him, the stallion consented to walk, whinnying and snorting his disapproval. Ra’id loosened the reins, allowing Tonnerre to amble the last half-mile or so to cool him down.

When finally they reached the icy spring that emerged at the foot of the cliff, he sprang down, and, murmuring praise into one alert velvet ear, he removed Tonnerre’s tack and allowed the horse to go free.

Free …

Something he would never be, Ra’id reflected as he leaned against cold, black granite watching his mount suck in water. He had chosen this path, though he would never be free from the ache in his heart. He thought of Antonia, asleep in bed, and had to wonder how one young girl could affect him so deeply. There was no future for them, and she was nothing but trouble. He had decided that the best course of action was to show her what awaited her in the desert, and then she would be pleased to go home, where he hoped she would fight some other cause.

Unwinding the black howlis from his face, he shrugged off his robe and dived into a pool turned frigid by snow-melt from the mountains. His last image before he sank deep was not that of a young girl sighing with passion in his arms but of an aircraft soaring into the flawless Arabian sky, as it carried Antonia and her foolish fantasies back to Rome.

By the time dawn peeped through the shutters, Antonia had drawn up a plan. She would use her own money to convert the citadel she had inherited without having to take anything from the charity’s resources. She could only hope Ra’id might want to contribute his expertise and that of others around him to the project. Without their help, it could just be her best stab at an Arabian retreat, and she wanted it to be authentic down to the last detail. But before she could do any of that she must persuade Ra’id to give her the precious water supply.

She would have to appeal to his better nature and hope he had one, Antonia concluded, drying her hair after her shower. Startled by the sound of approaching hooves, she put down her brush and crossed to the window. Her apartment was on one of the highest floors of the palace, and she could see Ra’id returning to the stables. She knew it was him before she even focused on the man springing down from the ferocious-looking stallion. Even severe black robes only added to Ra’id’s glittering majesty, but it was his barbaric vigour that had called to her before she saw him.

She shrank back. He stared directly at her. Could he feel her too? It was as if he knew she was looking at him as surely as if she had called to him.

Pulling further back inside the room, she grabbed a steadying breath. She was right to think there was some invisible link between them, and wrong to believe it was fading when it had grown.

SO NEITHER of them had slept, Ra’id noted, carrying the image of Antonia’s unusually pale face with him into his private quarters. There had been dark circles under her eyes and her face had been tense. Had she finally accepted there was no point in her staying on in Sinnebar? Would she return home without a fuss? And, if she did, how would that make him feel?

He showered fast before dressing in workmanlike robes, prior to striding at a brisk pace to the breakfast room where he had arranged to meet her. She was standing by the buffet table dressed in a safari suit, seeming uncertain while a manservant was doing his job well, trying to tempt her with morsels of food from the wide selection.

Everyone stood and bowed to him. Antonia looked troubled when she turned. ‘Ra’id,’ she said, causing a murmur of surprise by using his first name.

No one addressed him that way. In time he might have forgotten what his first name was, if it weren’t for Antonia and his brother, he reflected wryly.

Desire for her swept over him as their gazes met and held. But he had closed his heart to her, he reminded himself sternly, to protect her from a ruthless king.

‘You had a good night, I trust?’ he said, taking the plate out of her hands and choosing some delicacies for her himself.

‘No. Did you?’

Would he ever get used to her bluntness? He saw hurt and disappointment mixed with the defiance in her eyes. She had expected him to come to her, he realised. However deep the rift between them, she thought they could get over it and pick up where they had left off. ‘I rode out,’ he said briskly. ‘Is there anything else you want from here?’ He scanned the buffet.

‘No, thank you. Did you ride all night?’ she asked innocently. ‘Did you have things on your mind, Ra’id?’ The look she gave him was fast and accusatory.

‘No. Should I?’

She raised a faint smile. ‘I guess not.’

Now her cheeks were flushed and her breath was coming faster, as if her heart couldn’t keep pace with her emotions. He turned away, effectively dismissing her, but he carried with him her fresh, clean scent and innocent appearance. That and the appeal in her eyes had almost melted him, he realised, but thankfully he was ruled by his head and not his heart, so it was easy for him to walk away.

He had almost reached the door when he realised she was at his elbow. He glanced down. ‘Yes?’

‘I can’t wait to see the citadel,’ she said, as if this was a holiday for her and he was her tour guide.

He made a brief hum of acknowledgement, before sweeping on his way.

‘What about your breakfast?’ she demanded catching hold of his sleeve.

He looked down at her incredulously, ignoring the collective gasp.

She seemed unaware of it. ‘Aren’t you going to eat anything, Ra’id?’

His look hardened. ‘I have more important things on my mind.’

‘So you don’t feel like eating either?’ she said, actually tightening her fingers on his sleeve so the fabric was crushed.

‘On the contrary—but I will eat in private.’ He shook her off.

‘Of course. I forgot,’ she snapped. ‘In your ivory tower.’

‘Will you excuse me?’ he murmured, ignoring the barb. Whether she would or not, he was going to the stables to make sure their horses were ready for them to leave at once.

She shouldn’t have annoyed him. She ate breakfast, if only for the baby’s sake, and returned to her room to get ready to leave. If Ra’id took her to see the citadel, which was by no means certain now, it would be no magnanimous concession on his part, but another opportunity to rub her nose in the fact that her dream of a fun-filled castle to be used to such good effect by the charity was a naive and frivolous plan. One which without Ra’id’s water supply would fail utterly.

But she was going to call Ra’id’s bluff. She refused to be put off by his threatening manner. She would go into the desert. Whatever it took she would find the water she needed somewhere, and then she would renovate the ancient building and make it live again.