The Sheikh Who Claimed Her: Master of the Desert / The Sheikh's Reluctant Bride / Accidentally the Sheikh's Wife. Teresa SouthwickЧитать онлайн книгу.
was on her way down the companionway to get the blanket when Saif asked if she would do him a favour. ‘Anything,’ she called back, knowing this was no more than the truth.
‘Take this down with you when you go, will you?’ He’d lashed the wheel, and, peeling off his top, tossed it to her. She was determined to keep her gaze firmly averted from the body she loved—the body that had loved her so expertly.
‘You’ll find a cream robe hanging in what to you would be the front of the boat,’ he told her.
‘And you want me to bring it to you?’ she asked. She caught the still-warm top he tossed to her, resisting the impulse to bring it to her face and drag in his scent.
‘If you wouldn’t mind?’
Then, like a spotlight on the star of a production, the sun caught him full on the chest and her mind went numb. She stared at Saif’s tattoo. It occurred to her then that she hadn’t seen him stripped to the waist in daylight—something that certainly put her moral code in question.
But right now her moral code wasn’t uppermost in her mind. She had done her homework before setting out for Sinnebar, and knew what the tattoo over Saif’s heart represented. The snarling lion with the sapphire tightly grasped between its paws was the ruling sheikh’s insignia. Anyone could see the symbol online, where it was emblazoned on everything from the royal standard to the coin of His Imperial Majesty’s realm. It was said that Sheikh Ra’id al Maktabi of Sinnebar—acknowledged as the most powerful ruler in the Gulf—had chosen the lion as his personal symbol to reflect the power he wielded. It was also rumoured in the wider world that the clarity of the cold, blue sapphire reflected Ra’id al Maktabi’s calculating mind and his love-proof heart. So now it seemed that the man she had dreamed of falling in love with, the man she had had so brief an affair with, either had serious connections with or was closely related to a royal family reputed to have no finer feelings beyond the call of duty, which they took very seriously indeed.
Or …
Antonia didn’t even dare to contemplate this last possibility.
‘Are you feeling ill?’ Saif demanded when she groaned.
She stared at him, wondering why she hadn’t seen it before—the regal poise, the air of command, the confidence of kings. ‘A little dizzy,’ she confessed, turning her back on him before she gave herself away. ‘Maybe I’m suffering from delayed sea-sickness.’ It was a lie, and a weak one at that, but it was all she had.
‘Well, take care as you go down the steps,’ Saif advised. ‘Sit down for a while. Put your head between your knees and take some deep breaths.’
It would take more than a few deep breaths to blank out what she’d seen.
But Saif couldn’t be the ruling sheikh, Antonia decided. Where were his bodyguards, his attendants, his warships off the coast? It was time to stop panicking and start thinking clearly. With that tattoo, he must have some connection with the court, so that was good news. She might have a chance to ask him about her mother before she disembarked.
Nursing this little bud of hope, she went below. She couldn’t pretend she wasn’t excited by the chance to root around while Saif was busy up on deck. Who knew what she might find?
She found the cashmere blanket and not much else of interest. Saif’s personal quarters were bare to the point of austerity. She found the robe exactly where he had said it would be, but, far from being some fabulous luxury garment that a ruling sheikh might wear, it was a simple cream linen dishdash of the type that could be purchased on any market stall.
That imagination of hers would get her into trouble one day, Antonia warned herself, collecting up a pair of traditional thonged sandals. There wasn’t so much as a headdress, or a golden agal to hold that headdress in place, let alone a fancy robe. Saif was simply a patriot who chose to wear his leader’s insignia over his heart. The fearsome ruling sheikh of Sinnebar, known to the world as the Sword of Vengeance, he was most definitely not.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ANTONIA was standing at Saif’s side as he edged the giant yacht into its mooring at the marina in Sinnebar. She was covered from head to toe in the blanket. Her choice; her last defiant act. The ache in her chest at the thought of leaving him was so severe she felt physically sick. She hadn’t expected parting from him to hurt like this, though neither of them had ever been under any illusion that their time together was anything more than a fantasy that would end the moment they docked. So she only had herself to blame for feeling this way, Antonia reflected as Saif called to the men on the shore to catch the ropes. Saif was her fantasy; she had never been his.
Grow up, Antonia told herself fiercely, biting back tears. Was this the girl who had set out from Rome with such determination? So, dealing with life outside the cocoon was sometimes tricky and often tough—get over it. She had that one day to remember, didn’t she? And one day with Saif had turned out to be the best day of her life.
To avoid breaking down, she focused her mind on the stunning panorama beyond the harbour. Everything about Sinnebar gripped her. It was Saif’s homeland, and a place where her mother had lived. So many impressions hit her at once: perhaps most significantly of all, the desert—stretching vast and silent beyond this billionaires’ marina, as far as the eye could see.
The desert …
She felt a frisson of expectation just thinking about the desert. It had always been her dream to go beyond the silken veil and uncover the secrets there.
Well, she had the longed-for chance now, though it hardly seemed possible that she was staring up at jagged purple mountains, or the unfathomable desert. In the opposite direction were the gleaming white spires of an internationally renowned capital city. Immediately in front were low-lying white buildings. They lined the pristine dock, and all the paved areas were equally well maintained. Even the road was newly surfaced. There were colourful gardens and water displays, which she took to be a sure sign of wealth in the desert, and guessed that each entry point to Sinnebar would have similarly high standards so that the visitor’s first impression could only be good.
She was a little surprised to see the number of security guards on duty, but then reasoned that it must be quite an event when one of the multi-million-dollar yachts came home to roost. If you had never seen a man like Saif climbing the yard arm to secure a sail, you would definitely want to add that to your scrapbook of memories. Saif had not yet put on his robe, and was balancing on what looked to Antonia like a narrow pole suspended at a dizzying height above the deck. She worried about him; she couldn’t help herself. But he wasn’t hers to worry about, she reminded herself, and some other woman would share his life.
She turned her face away so Saif couldn’t see the distress in her eyes when he sprang down onto the deck. By the time he had taken the robe she was holding out for him and slipped it over his head, she was under control again. She wouldn’t break down now, not now, not so close to the end of this journey. She turned her attention instead to the waiting ambulance, and noticed there was a low-slung limousine parked next to it. She guessed that was waiting for Saif.
Impressive.
So he was a wealthy man who drove around with blacked-out windows—so what? He could have been the lowliest member of the crew and she wouldn’t have felt any different about him. Both vehicles were surrounded by security guards, but she’d be an important witness in the piracy trial, Antonia reasoned, so there would have to be precautions taken for her safety. She looked at Saif, who was greeting the paramedic. To her eyes Saif couldn’t have looked more magnificent if he had been wearing the silken robes of her imagination. Even in plain linen he had the bearing of a king. It wasn’t just that he was tall and imposing, or incredibly good-looking. He had such an easy manner—with everyone except her, she realised ruefully. She was apparently invisible now. In spite of everything she had so forcefully told herself, she yearned for a sign from Saif that said she meant something to him.
She would wait a long time for that, Antonia concluded as Saif brought