The Sheikh's Reward

‘You made it happen,’ he assured her, ‘and you will make it happen again.’

‘No, it was chance. You should stop now. Take it while you have it.’

His smile said that it was for petty men to worry about such things. Princes controlled their own fate. Under his hypnotic glance Fran found herself believing it.

‘Put it on for me again,’ he said. ‘All of it.’

Dazed, she piled up all his winnings and went to put them on—on—

‘I can’t decide,’ she said frantically.

‘What day of the month is your birthday?’

‘The twenty-third.’

‘Red or black? Choose.’

‘Black,’ she said recklessly.

‘Then black twenty-three it is.’

She watched in agony as the wheel began to spin.

‘Don’t look,’ he said, smiling. ‘Look only at me, and let the little gods of the tables take care of the matter.’

‘Can you make them do your pleasure as well?’ she whispered.

‘I can make anyone and anything do my pleasure,’ he said simply.

The wheel stopped.

Black twenty-three.

A prickle went up Fran’s spine. This was eerie. Ali saw her startled look and laughed.

‘Witchcraft,’ he said. ‘And you are the most beautiful witch of all.’

‘I—I don’t believe it,’ she stammered. ‘It can’t happen like that.’

‘It happened because you are magic. And I can’t resist magic.’

On the words he dropped his head and laid his lips against her palm. Instantly Fran felt as though she was being scorched, although the touch of his lips was teasingly soft. The sensation started in her skin and swiftly pervaded her. She had a sense of alarm and would have snatched her hand back, but she remembered in time that such gaucheness wouldn’t fit the role she was playing. She smiled, hoping she looked as though such tributes happened every day.

The croupier pushed over the winnings. ‘I’ll take them,’ Ali announced.

A man standing behind his chair counted up and wrote the total on a piece of paper. Fran gasped as she saw it.

While the man went to cash the chips Ali rose and drew Fran away from the table. ‘Now we will dine together,’ he announced.

Fran hesitated. Ancient female wisdom told her that it wasn’t clever to accept such an abrupt invitation from a man she’d known barely half an hour. But she was in pursuit of a story, and she wouldn’t succeed by refusing the first real break she’d been given. Besides, a restaurant was public enough.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Joey, his jaw dropping. She gave him a wink and swept out on Ali’s arm.

His Rolls-Royce was waiting outside, the chauffeur already standing with the door open. Ali handed her gallantly inside. The chauffeur got in and started the car without waiting for instructions.

When they were moving Ali turned to her, smiling mischievously, and reached into his pockets. From one he produced a necklace of priceless pearls, from the other, a diamond necklace.

‘Which?’ he asked.

‘Whi—?’

‘One of them is yours. Take your pick.’

She gaped. He carried such things around with him, in his pockets?

Feeling as though she’d been transported to another planet, she said, ‘I’ll take the diamonds.’ The voice didn’t sound like her own.

‘Turn your neck so that I can remove that gold pendant,’ he commanded. ‘The man who gives you such trumpery baubles doesn’t know how to value you.’

His fingers brushed her neck, and she took a shuddering, uncontrollable breath. This wasn’t how the evening was supposed to go. She’d come prepared to analyse Sheikh Ali, to dislike and despise him. But she hadn’t come prepared to be overwhelmed by him. It had simply happened.

She felt the chill on her flesh as he draped a king’s ransom in diamonds about her neck. His fingertips brushed against her nape and she had to struggle not to tremble at that soft, devastating impact. Then there was another sensation, so light that she couldn’t be sure of it. Had he kissed the back of her neck or not? How dared he? If he had…

‘They were made for you,’ he declared, turning her to face him. ‘No woman has ever looked better in diamonds.’

‘And you speak from a wide experience?’ she said demurely.

He laughed, neither offended nor ashamed. ‘Wider than you can imagine,’ he assured her. ‘But tonight none of the others exist. There is only you in the world. Now tell me your name.’

‘My name—’ She had a sudden inspiration. ‘My name is Diamond.’

His eyes lit up. ‘You have wit. Excellent. That will do for now. Before the night is over you will tell me your real name.’

He held her left hand in both of his and studied the fingers.

‘No rings,’ he observed. ‘You are neither married nor promised, unless you are one of those modern women who scorn to tell the world that you belong to a man. Or maybe you scorn to let yourself belong?’

‘I belong to no man,’ she said. ‘I belong to myself, and no man will ever own me.’

‘Then you have never known love. When you do, you’ll find that your aloof ideas mean nothing. When you love, you will give, and it must be all of yourself, or the gift means nothing.’

‘And who do you belong to?’ she demanded with spirit.

He laughed. ‘That is quite another matter. But I could say that I belong to a million people.’ Kamar had a population of one million. ‘No part of my life is entirely my own. Even my heart is not mine to give. Tell me about the little man with you. I wondered if he might have been your lover.’

‘Would that have made any difference to you?’

‘None at all, since he made no effort to protect you from me. A man who cannot hold onto his woman is no man.’