Sheikh's Temptation

“What reason could I possibly have for wanting to be alone with you up here in God’s country?”

He made no reply. After a minute, she opened her mouth on a slow, outraged breath.

“I don’t believe it!” Suddenly she could hardly get the words out for the rage that assailed her. When she spoke, her voice shook.

“What did you think, Arash? Did you think I maybe wanted to get you alone to make you an offer?”

She saw a muscle leap in his jaw and was sure she had hit home.

“What kind of an offer, exactly, were you envisaging? Just a brief affair, or was I going to go so far as to propose a mutually convenient marriage of wealth with an ancient title? Was that it?”

“It was not that I believed it. It was merely one possible explanation that crossed my mind.”

“You really have to be seen to be believed!”

He slowed the truck with a quick jab at the brakes and turned to her, a blaze of fury on his face.

“You deny that such a possibility has occurred to you?”

She stared at him, the words tumbling from her lips. “Yes, I deny that such a possibility has occurred to me! What gives you the right to speak to me like this?”

His eyes were dark with feeling, and a shiver ran all over her. What on earth could be coming now?

He lifted a hand from the steering wheel and his finger pointed at the end of her nose. His eyes flashed violet, and the fury in his voice now astonished her.

“What gives me the right? You give me the right, Lana. You with your quiet suggestion that I am for sale at public tender!”

Two

It had been Lana’s idea to offer a fabulous fund-raising dinner on a jet, flying guests who had paid a substantial sum for the honour overnight from London to Parvan, where they would greet the sun as it rose over magnificent Mount Shir. Then they would land at the capital to meet the Regent Prince and his wife at a palace champagne breakfast.

On board the luxuriously appointed jet, donated for the occasion by the princes of the Barakat Emirates, subscribers were also privileged to meet some of the Cup Companions….

Lana had quickly learned that Kavi’s handsome Cup Companions had a drawing power second only to Prince Kavian himself, and she included them in nearly every fund-raising event. The long-suffering Companions joked that they were no better than performing bears at such times, but uncomplainingly took their turn.

It was just chance that Arash was one of the performing bears whose turn it was to appear for that particular fund-raiser—an event scheduled to last for nearly a day, and for most of which they were, of course, all captive on the aircraft.

Sheikh Arash Durrani ibn Zahir al Khosravi never failed to please women who fantasized about the Cup Companions. His charm was rough and unstudied; he never came across as practised or polished, but he had a natural charisma that had an effect in spite—or maybe because—of a sometimes impatient tongue.

Arash was tall, dark and arrogantly, powerfully good-looking, with a firmly held mouth behind a neat curling beard. His flashing dark eyes sometimes seemed black and sometimes glowed deep violet, a colour so unusual that people couldn’t help remarking on it.

The fact that he had been wounded in the war with Kaljukistan and walked with a limp only added to his romantic glamour.

When in addition he was wearing the Companions’ traditional state dress of flowing white oriental trousers snugly cuffed around the ankle, beaded thong sandals on strong bare feet, and a rich wine-dark silk tunic surmounted by his jewelled chain of office and his war medals—well, Lana knew it was a strong female heart that could resist.

Lana’s own heart had been immunized early, so she was in no danger, but she had seen women trip over their own feet when they were still twenty paces away.

It nearly always amused her, the effect one smile from a Cup Companion could have on the donations, but it was not amusing when the Companion in question was Arash.

Probably because she didn’t like him.

She also hated having to pretend enthusiasm for him with these adoring women. Arash, whose eyes sometimes seemed to hide a deep sorrow even when he smiled, was a rich source of inspiration for dreamers. She wanted to say, Don’t go anywhere near him, he’s dangerous to know…but of course she never did.

Anyone would have been guaranteed to ask how she knew. But she had never talked about it to anyone. Not even Alinor guessed that Arash and she had a past that had affected her so deeply that she still could hardly look at a man….

“I suppose he suffered an awful lot in the war,” Lucinda Burke Taylor had said with clinical soulfulness an hour or so into the flight, and Lana knew that Lucinda had sought her out for a purpose.

It was going to be a bumpy night.

Usually Lana had no difficulty enthusing about the Companions to smitten women, and the donations went up when she did. But this woman had already married two high-profile, low-income men, and a Chinese poet-in-exile was already next in her sights. It was as obvious as the day was long that she thought of these transactions in terms of purchase. His culture and brains for her money. And she believed it an equal transaction.

If she was going to start aiming at Arash…but it wasn’t Lana’s business. Arash would have to look after himself.

“I’ve heard he’s the Grand Sheikh of his tribe now. It sounds so fascinating!”

“If you consider losing your father and older brother in the same war fascinating.”

“Oh, of course, I didn’t mean—I just meant, the whole business of being sheikh of a tribe, in this day and age! It’s just so—!”

After a struggle Lana mastered herself. “He’s very close to the prince, too. One of his closest and most trusted advisors,” she confided.

His back turned to them, Arash was talking to someone Lana had earmarked for him. She provided each Companion with his own list of three or four of the wealthiest and most charitable people at any event. They all disliked the task, but each could be counted on to speak to everyone on his list. And usually a good proportion of Arash’s targets made donations afterwards.

“And he’s not married, right?”

The gunsight eyes followed as Arash and the guest unconsciously moved closer to them. Lana gritted her teeth.

“Not married, and hasn’t got a bean,” she heard herself say flatly.

The woman’s eyes brightened at this information.

“Really?” She turned to fix her gaze on Lana, who had to consciously refrain from ducking. “Do you mean he’s—” Her voice dropped to a confidential murmur. “Is he looking for a moneyed wife?”

It would be husband number three for her, and incidentally would mean sinking the fortunes of the dissident poet, but why not? Arash’s estates were in ruins, and just because he wasn’t accepting any from Lana didn’t mean they didn’t need an injection of cash.

It wasn’t up to her to guess whether he would consider an offer or not.

“Might be worth putting your bid in,” Lana said, glad that the other woman was apparently deaf to irony.

Arash’s gaze met hers briefly across the space that divided them. He had heard some of the discussion. But instead of sending him an apologetic look, as she would have with any of the others, Lana merely raised her eyebrows in a shrug and shepherded Lucinda in his direction.

“Your Excellency…” she began, giving full weight to his title because of the impact it had on most Westerners. But the way Arash eyed her she knew he suspected her of irony.

Well, to hell with him. He knew nothing about her. If he had known her at all, he would have understood that he could take her father’s money without obligation.

“…may I present Lucinda Burke Taylor?”

Maybe Lucinda would have better luck. Maybe Arash would be more comfortable with a cash sale. Maybe that had been her mistake. She hadn’t asked for anything in return.