In The Sheikh's Service. Susan StephensЧитать онлайн книгу.
a submissive curtsey.
‘You two may well be working together,’ the vice chancellor said with delight, oblivious to Isla’s sudden intake of breath. ‘Isla is our prize winner, Your Majesty, and, according to the conditions of your very generous gift, Isla will be travelling to Q’Aqabi as part of her prize.’
‘Oh, really,’ Shaz murmured as if this were news to him. ‘My people organised the contest, Vice Chancellor, but be assured that we will welcome you with open arms, Ms Sinclair.’
Isla stared at the hand that Shaz was holding out in formal greeting. She remembered the touch of that hand, and she wasn’t too keen on risking the thrill of it with an audience watching.
Muscle up! She was a serious-minded woman; a scientist, a veterinary surgeon—her hand had been all sorts of places. She certainly didn’t balk at shaking Shaz’s hand, even if she knew now that it had a title attached to it.
‘Your Majesty,’ she said crisply, giving him a firm handshake.
‘Shazim,’ he prompted, still holding onto her hand. ‘If we’re going to be working together we should at least be on first-name terms, Isla.’
‘Shazim,’ she repeated politely as shock waves travelled up and down her arm. She loved the sound of his name on her lips—and knew she had to pull herself together. But not just yet...
They were still hand-locked when the vice chancellor coughed discreetly to distract them. Quickly removing her hand from Shazim’s grasp, she linked her hands safely behind her back.
‘Ms Sinclair thrives on challenge,’ the vice chancellor offered with enthusiasm, which didn’t exactly help the situation.
‘You have some interesting students, Vice Chancellor,’ His Majesty commented. ‘I’m impressed by how hard some of them, like Isla, work to pay their fees. We must talk more about grants and endowments, so that everyone who wants to can enjoy the benefit of an education here.’
‘Whatever you think,’ the vice chancellor agreed, flashing a grateful glance at Isla. ‘I know Ms Sinclair works harder than most. Apart from her day jobs, Isla holds a gym class in the evenings for the children of parents who work or study here.’
‘A gym class?’ Shazim’s eyes were alive with laughter as he stared down at her, though his face remained commendably still. ‘You must need to be supple and fit for that, I imagine, Ms Sinclair?’
‘First names, please,’ she implored sweetly with a warning flash in her glance. She didn’t want to spend the next half an hour trying to reassure the vice chancellor about her pole-dancing exploits at the club.
‘Isla runs from praise like a gazelle from a lion,’ the vice chancellor praised her with a smile.
‘A fitting comparison, Vice Chancellor,’ Shazim agreed, flashing her one final mocking look before moving on.
IT HADN’T ESCAPED Isla’s attention that His Serene Majesty was also known as the Lion of the Desert, but she was no gazelle. She was more of a doughty old warhorse, tough and thick-skinned—
A warhorse?
She was more like a mole blundering blindly about on the fringes of a royal world she knew nothing about, Isla reflected with a frown as she sank down with relief at her desk as the vice chancellor and the royal party moved on. Winning the prize of a trip to Q’Aqabi was the opportunity of a lifetime. She still couldn’t quite believe that she’d been chosen. She’d worked so hard, but had always known that it wasn’t a guarantee. The opportunity meant everything to her, and she couldn’t afford to be distracted by her attraction to Shazim. She had to concentrate on preparing to be plunged into the desert, a world that would test her like no other. She knew it bore no relation to her fantasies, and she welcomed the hardship and danger. She had never been under any illusion where her work was concerned. Working with animals wrenched her emotions this way and that, and Shazim’s project would demand every bit of skill she possessed. But if she could do anything to help, she would gladly devote her life to it.
It was hardly likely that they would work together, Isla reassured herself. The Sheikh of Q’Aqabi must have royal duties by the score—
She sprang to her feet as the official party came into view again.
‘Coffee time,’ the vice chancellor carolled with enthusiasm, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
‘You will excuse me, Vice Chancellor, I hope?’ His Majesty intoned graciously. ‘I have a wish to see my manuscripts.’
Isla’s heart beat like crazy as Shazim stared at her. He must know that she had been detailed to show him the exhibits.
The tiniest adjustment to Shazim’s glance was enough to turn his congenial exchange with the vice chancellor into something very different for her. He could seduce her with a look—if she were a different woman. Though she was surprised that the Lion of the Desert was interested in her at all.
‘Of course Isla must accompany you,’ the vice chancellor enthused. ‘You couldn’t have anyone better to accompany you, Your Majesty. I have it on good authority from the head librarian here that Isla brings order to our questing minds.’
‘Indeed?’ Shazim queried, staring at her with veiled amusement.
‘By which our vice chancellor means that I keep the catalogue here in good order,’ Isla explained primly.
Shazim’s eyes sparkled with humour as he dipped his head with approval. ‘I look forward to learning more about how you maintain such an ordered catalogue.’
As Isla led the way he noticed with interest the sassy heels. Everything about Isla Sinclair intrigued him. More than ever he got the sense of the ice maiden with a molten core. It was that heat that made him want to take her to the furthest reaches of the library, to the shadowy, dusty nooks, where no one ever strayed—
‘Your Majesty?’ she prompted him. ‘The tour?’
‘Of course. Please, lead on...’ He had become distracted watching her walk away. The high heels made her hips sway rhythmically, while her buttocks strained the seam of her skirt. Discovering that Isla was the prize winner was the worst outcome possible. A short affair could be managed discreetly, but she was coming to Q’Aqabi, not just to tour the nature reserve and veterinary facilities as part of her prize, but to offer her expertise and work there for a while. Under those circumstances, there could be no affair, short or otherwise.
‘And here we have the illuminated manuscript of the Canticle of...’
He wasn’t listening. He knew everything there was to know about the manuscript. Isla could have been spinning him any old yarn, and he’d still be enthralled. His good intentions where restraint was concerned were under pressure already. They were alone in this part of the library, the academic party having moved onto the room where refreshments had been set out. Isla was doing everything she was supposed to, with apparently no personal interest in him. She appeared so contained, when he knew that nothing could be further from the truth. She wasn’t docile or tame. Isla was like one of his wild animals, free and spirited. She was ambitious too, and just as driven to succeed as he was. His ambition to be everything he could be to his people to make up for past sins had an obvious cause, but what was driving Isla?
His gaze strayed to her shoes. There was more than a hint of the rebel about her, and he wondered how that would translate in bed.
‘I’ve got a better idea,’ he said when she paused in front of a glass cabinet housing another of his priceless illuminated manuscripts.
‘Oh?” said, turning with a frown.
‘Have dinner with me tonight.’
‘What?’ She looked at him as if dinner were another word for sex. ‘Oh, no, I don’t think—’
His