The Sheikh's Blackmailed Mistress

At least now Sam knew the likely cause of his sudden reappearance here at the oasis—as well as the reason he had been in Zuran in the first place. He must be part of the Ruler of Dhurahn’s entourage.

She had been in a total state of shock after seeing him so unexpectedly and then having him refuse to acknowledge her and walk away from her. It seemed ridiculous now that she had actually thought that somehow or other he had known she was there and come in search of her. Patently it was quite impossible—as she had since told herself. But at the time her sense of despairing anguish, coming so quickly on the heels of her earlier euphoria, had meant that it had been several minutes after he’d disappeared before she’d felt able to move. Even when she had, her heart had been thudding so heavily and uncomfortably that she had felt both sick and light-headed by the time she had reached the privacy of her tent.

Now she wasn’t even sure she could trust herself to have actually seen him—not simply created the whole incident in the way that people lost in the desert and thirsting desperately for water saw mirages of what they so longed for.

The fact that she might be late for breakfast had been the last thing on her mind as she had semi-collapsed into a chair, her body going frantic with its wild message of longing, whilst her head and her heart burned with the pain of despair and humiliation.

Initially she had been glad that the shock of seeing him had left her so weak and shaky. If not for that, she suspected that her body, in its feverish heat of desire that seemed to have turned into a life force outside her own control, would have had her making a complete fool of herself and running after him—or, just as bad, running after a mirage. It was hard to say which would have offered her more humiliation.

Sam had stayed there in the chair for a long time, trying to understand what was happening to her—and, just as importantly, why. She wasn’t the sort of person who became taken over either by an emotional or a sexual need so strong that it possessed her and threatened her self-control. How could one kiss be responsible for such a dramatic change in her personality? How could it have her indulging in ridiculous fantasies of love at first sight and soul mates?

Now she felt drained and on edge, exhausted physically and emotionally by what had happened, as weak as though she had been struck down by a powerful virus. Perhaps she had, she thought wildly. Perhaps someone somewhere had found the chemical formula that was responsible for sexual attraction and was trying it out on unsuspecting victims, causing them to suffer hallucinations.

Now she was being ridiculous, she warned herself as she followed Anne to the large tent that was used for meetings and general information announcements.

Anne, quite naturally, went to join her husband, who was seated with their colleagues, leaving Sam to find her own seat. Her heart sank when she saw that the only available space was next to James.

He gave her a superior look as she sat down next to him, and Sam realised too late that virtually everyone else in the tent was dressed formally—or at least as formally as the their desert situation would allow. The men were in long chinos and shirts, the women in sleeved tee shirts—some of them had even covered their heads.

They had been told at their original orientation meeting that although the Sheikh of Zuran did not expect them to abide by the Arab rules of dress whilst working in the desert, the other leaders might.

Had something been said to indicate that the Ruler of Dhurahn did expect them to dress more formally? Sam wondered in dismay, now acutely conscious of her own sleeveless tee shirt, and her very practical below the knee loose-fit multi-pocketed cargo pants. She had a fold-up wide brimmed canvas hat in one of the pockets, but no headscarf. It was too late now, though, to worry about her appearance. Two men were being ushered onto the slightly raised platform with its traditional Arab divans.

One of them was Sheikh Sadir, and the other…

Sam’s heart literally missed a full beat, staggered through a half-beat and then missed another—rather as though she were a boxer who had been knocked off his feet.

It couldn’t be, surely? But it was; the man accompanying Sheikh Sadir, and who he was treating with such obvious reverence, was none other than the man she had seen earlier—the man with whom she had exchanged that shockingly intimate kiss in the hotel corridor in Zuran. So he wasn’t a mirage, then. She didn’t know now whether to be glad or sorry about that.

Now, of course, she truly understood the importance of that reverent ‘Highness’ that had so shocked her earlier.

She felt James nudge her hard in her ribs, and realised that everyone was standing and lowering their heads. Somehow she managed to get to her own feet in time to hear Sheikh Sadir introducing the man as Prince Vereham al a’ Karim bin Hakar, the Ruler of Dhurahn.

The Ruler of Dhurahn—Prince Vereham al a’ Karim bin Hakar.

Not a mirage. Not a mere man at all, but a prince.

Sam recoiled in shock. This couldn’t be happening. But of course it was.

Now she knew exactly why he had turned his back on her on the path this morning. Of course he didn’t want to acknowledge her. He was the Ruler of an Arab state and she was a nobody—less than a nobody in his estimation, no doubt. What he had taken from her he had taken as carelessly as he might have plucked a fig from a tree, biting into it in his desire to enjoy its sweetness and then discarding it, his enjoyment of it over and forgotten.

The robed serving staff provided by the Ruler of Zuran were coming round in pairs, one carrying a tray of coffee cups, the other a tray of coffee and small sweet pastries.

Up above them on the dais, the Ruler of Dhurahn was also being served with coffee. Sam watched as the sleeve of the gold-embroidered black robe he was wearing over an immaculate crisp white full-length Arab shirt was swept back, to reveal a lean brown hand and a muscular forearm. Beads of sweat pierced her forehead and her upper lip. She felt sick and shaky. It was because she hadn’t eaten any breakfast, she tried to reassure herself. But she knew deep down that wasn’t the reason at all.

‘We’ll see a bit more action now that he’s here,’ James told her, helping himself to several of the small pastries with relish. ‘Word has it that he’s got his own reasons for being here, and that he’s the kind to make sure he gets what he wants.’

Yes, he was very definitely that kind, Sam agreed mentally. And if he had wanted her…Stop that, she warned herself. Whatever foolish fantasies she might have entertained before—and they had been foolish—there could be no question of her continuing to entertain them now that she knew who he was.

He was standing up to speak, addressing them in unaccented crisply clear English as he reaffirmed what the cartographers amongst the team had already been told: namely, that the purpose of the exercise in which they ere involved was not either to reassess or challenge the validity of already existing borders but to study the effect of the desert itself on those borders.

‘Curious that he seems so keen to warn us that we aren’t to question the existing borders, don’t you think?’ James asked Sam sotto voce, under cover of eating yet another pastry.

‘Not really,’ Sam denied. ‘After all, we were told right from the start why we are here and all he’s doing is reaffirming that.’

She didn’t want to have to listen to James, and she certainly didn’t want him obstructing her view of the Prince And yet what was the point in her pathetic and painful desire to watch and listen to him, like an obsessed teenager fantasising about some out-of-reach pop idol?

Sheikh Sadir was now announcing that they were all to be presented to the Ruler of Dhurahn. Obediently everyone was shuffling out of their chairs to form a long line, going up to the dais being introduced.

‘Here—hold this for me a minute, will you?’

Before she could stop him James had thrust the sticky crumb-filled plate from which he had been eating his pastries towards her, before standing up and leaving her holding it.

Sam looked yearningly towards the rear exit to the tent. She was closer to it than she was to the dais. It would be easy enough for her to slip away and avoid the formal introduction. But of course it was impossible for her to do that. Apart from anything else it would be a grave breach of protocol, and indeed almost an insult to the Ruler.

She looked with distaste at the plate she was still clutching and then, feeling a bit guilty, bent down to slip it beneath the nearest chair before filing into the queue behind James.

It would be her turn next. So far Sam had managed successfully to avoid looking directly at the new Ruler, but that hadn’t stopped her heart thumping as heavily as though someone were wielding it like a sledgehammer, and now her palms were clammy with nervous perspiration. She was uncomfortably conscious of her bare shoulders and her casual attire. Would he think she had chosen to dress like this deliberately, as some kind of statement, or even worse in an attempt to lay claim to some kind of privileged status?

James was bowing his head. Sam heard him laugh, and then to her horror he turned to her and announced cheerfully,’ If you’ll take my advice, Prince, you’ll keep an eye on my fellow cartographer here. She’s already been checking up on the source of your river. The next thing you know she’ll probably be challenging your borders as well. Trust a woman to want to meddle, eh?’

Sam could feel herself shaking with a mixture of disbelief and furious outrage at James’s wholly unprofessional and untruthful allegations. With a few supposedly casual words he had painted a picture of her for the man who was now in charge of their venture that could only mark her out as a troublemaker, determined to ignore the guidelines they had been given from the start—guidelines which the man now staring very hard and very coldly at her had only just repeated.

The words That’s not true hovered on her tongue, only to be choked back. Any kind of protest or argument from her now would only make her position worse.

Ignoring James, she made a determinedly low obeisance to the Prince and said quietly, ‘Highness, I am aware, of course, of the purpose of our being here, and I thank you and the other Rulers for granting us the opportunity to work here. It is a unique opportunity and a privilege to be permitted to learn something of the mystery of the desert.’

Without waiting to see what kind of reaction her words were receiving Sam backed away, waiting until her place in front of the Ruler of Dhurahn had been taken by someone else before straightening up ready to turn round. But before she did so she couldn’t prevent her gaze from seeking his. She wanted to look at him as the woman she had been in the hotel corridor, and him to be the man who had looked back at her with such fierce, sensual hunger.