The next morning Elaheh rose before Xander. She was at work in the board room with her ministers around her. There would be no more tête-à-têtes, no more opportunities for Xander to try to break her. He might call it understanding her, but she knew the truth. He was only interested in one thing and that was nailing a deal which would benefit his country. And he was obviously prepared to soften her up in order to do it. She’d been weak yesterday; she didn’t intend to be weak again.
When Xander entered the room, he raised an eyebrow in question. He gestured toward her ministers. “Is this necessary?”
“Yes. There’s nothing more to discuss. We’ve agreed in principle, and now it’s time to move onto the next level.” She smiled coolly. “Please, feel free to summon your own ministers. The sooner we begin, the sooner we can both return home.”
Xander gave a brief nod, his mouth grim, his fingers tight around the back of his chair, betraying his displeasure. “Sure,” he said.
Elaheh nodded in triumph. She’d put him back in his place and, with their staff around them, she’d ensure the remainder of their meeting would be strictly impersonal.
And so it was. The hours passed quickly as each detail was nailed down and approved. By the end of the morning, there was nothing further to discuss.
“Thank you everyone. I think we’re finished here, now.” She rose to follow her staff when Xander spoke from behind her.
“One moment, please, Elaheh,” he said. She noticed he used her full name. Further proof, if required, that she had him where she wanted him.
She turned to him with an imperious glare. “What is it you want, Xander? Surely there’s nothing to discuss that our executives can’t deal with?”
“Yes, there is,” he said firmly. Her heart sank. It seemed he was still resisting her will. “I wish to talk with you, in private. Just for a few minutes,” he added.
She hesitated before giving him a curt nod. A few minutes she could cope with.
He opened the door for her and they walked out into the courtyard. It was almost spartan in design—unrelieved by trees, shrubs or flowers. Its simplicity dramatized its only feature—a perfect rectangular slice of water which reflected the brilliant blue of the sky. Instinctively, it seemed, he walked over to the water. She had the opposite instinct and sat on the stone seat by the door. He turned around and shook his head, as if in despair at her obstinacy. What he didn’t understand was that if she didn’t stand her ground, she’d lose the respect of every one around her. She’d learned that by watching her mother. There was no room for flexibility in this man’s world in which she lived.
“Do I have to shout across the courtyard at you?” he called out.
“No, you may stand before me if you have something to say.”
He shrugged and came and stood before her, closer than she’d have liked. She regretted requesting him to stand before her, while she sat. He had the advantage of height. She couldn’t shift away easily, not without appearing to be intimidated. And there was no way she was ever going to appear intimidated by him.
Any further thought of intimidation vanished as she watched a strange expression move over his face. He was frowning as though displeased, but he blinked and his mouth twisted as though he were unsure of himself. She relaxed. This was going to be interesting.
“I wish to apologize, Elaheh. You were correct. Roshan did ask me to soften my stance towards you. But he didn’t ask me to flirt with you, as you suggested. That was all my own, brilliant, idea.” His emphasis showed that he no longer considered it to be brilliant.
She smiled. She hadn’t thought that watching an arrogant, powerful man humble himself before her could be so entertaining. “Indeed. Far from brilliant. Insulting even, I’d go so far as to say.”
He raised an eyebrow, his expression now returned to his usual cool aloofness. “Would you?”
“Yes, I would. To flirt with a colleague could, I understand, be construed as harassment in the workplace. To flirt with a queen could, I’m quite sure, be considered disrespectful at best.”
“And at worst?”
She rose and stepped toward him, annoyingly having to tilt her chin upward to meet his direct gaze. “At worst, Xander, it would be considered treasonous.”
She held his gaze firm until he laughed. She didn’t.
“And, what, Xander do you have so amusing?”
He thrust his hands in his pockets, traces of laughter still lingering on his face as he stepped even closer to her. “You, Ela, you. You are so…” He petered out as he shook his head and his gaze roamed over her face. “So old-fashioned.”
“Old-fashioned?” It wasn’t what she’d expected him to say, not that she could ever hope to fathom the workings of his mind. “Old-fashioned?” she repeated more loudly.
“Yes! All your talk of treason and respect, it’s as if you live in the dark ages!”
She gritted her teeth. “For your information, Xander, I do. My life and that of my people haven’t changed for centuries.”
“Then you need to change. Really. You need to move into the twenty-first century before you get left behind.”
She pursed her lips as she tried to control her anger. “And that, Xander, is exactly what I am trying to do. That is why I’m here, wasting my time trying to talk to you.”
“But that’s just it, Ela. You’re not trying hard enough. You don’t even look modern.”
“I wear a traditional abaya and hijab and I’m proud of it.”
“Of course. I don’t mean that. I mean how you hold yourself, as if you have a ramrod stuck up your—”
“You can stop right there!”
He tilted his head to one side. He didn’t appear in the least bit fazed. “Ela,” he said more gently. “I don’t mean to insult you, really I don’t. I think you’re…” He opened his mouth a few times as if about to say something, before sighing as if he couldn’t think of the correct word. “A force to be reckoned with. But, sometimes, you can move mountains more effectively with a little charm, a little softness, a little… understanding.”
“Understanding,” she repeated. He didn’t appear to hear the intense, white-hot anger which edged the word.
“Exactly. You need to understand people around you, rather than try to annihilate them.”
“And you, Xander, need to stop telling me what to do. It’s because of people like you—people who want to command me, people who want to control me, men who wish to bend me to their will, that I have to be what I have become.” She hadn’t realized her voice had trailed off into barely concealed distress until she saw it reflected in his face. She’d revealed too much. Again.
“I’m sorry, Ela. I truly am. I suspect that it’s not you I should suggest be more understanding, but me.”
His words reached out to her and connected with her like a life-line, the kind that had never been extended to her before. As the silence between them lengthened, that connection strengthened, too.
He gave a quick shake to his head. “I have no idea what you’ve been through.” He took her trembling hand between his. “But, I promise you this, and”—he smiled ruefully—“no one has asked me to say this. If you wish to educate me, if you wish to tell me anything, anything at all, I’m here for you.”
“Why? You obviously don’t like me.”
His brow furrowed. “That’s not true.”
“That’s how it appears. You even find the idea of flirting with me distasteful.”
“I didn’t say that. I merely said it was a bad idea. But, believe me, Ela, if we were two ordinary people, I’d flirt with you so hard, that you wouldn’t have any option but to fall in love with me.”
He took her hand and kissed it. He’d released it before she could remonstrate. But, as she felt its devastating effect travel throughout her body, she thought that maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t have remonstrated at all.
“But we’re not,” he continued. “So all we can do is to stop antagonizing each other. I’m not so bad, you know. And I know, for sure now, that you are far more complicated than I first thought.” His gaze tracked around her face and he traced her cheek lightly with his finger. “Maybe both of us have created masks behind which we can hide. But you know, I suspect you’re as beautiful without your mask as you are with it.”
She couldn’t seem to prevent herself from swaying under the sensory explosion created by his touch to her cheek and to her hand. Her gaze dipped to his lips which opened and, for one long moment, she thought he was about to kiss her. For some reason the thought didn’t make her move away. She lifted her eyes to his once more and found his gaze, too, had lowered to her lips. Instinctively she licked them. And then, as if an electric shock had zapped through him he dropped his hands and stepped away. He gave her a quick smile. “I apologize. I got carried away. For a moment I forgot…”
She nodded, not wanting him to finish, not wanting him to utter the words which were also on her lips. For a moment they’d both forgotten that they hated each other.
Suddenly the sound of a helicopter approaching filled the air with its low thrum. It rapidly brought her back to her senses.
“I have to leave,” she said. “I must go,” she added, as if she were trying to persuade herself. She backed away and then took half a dozen steps before stopping abruptly. She had to tell him, because he was right. She turned and he was still standing in the same position, watching her. “You’re right. We should both drop the masks when we are with each other, because I don’t think they’re necessary any longer. I think—no, I know—I can trust you.”
He nodded. “You can. And I feel I can trust you. We’re both new monarchs after all.”
“And we’re both products of our strange childhoods.”
“Damaged orphans thrust into positions of great power. A strange combination.”
She smiled and nodded. “And maybe, it’s a combination that can only be understood by someone in the same position.”
“Indeed.”
She nodded, turned and briskly walked away. They were still wary of each other, she knew that, and maybe they’d always be so, but their relationship had shifted from one of combative offense, to one in which they could work together. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it would be better.
And it had been better. Much better than she’d imagined. Over the weeks which had passed since they’d returned to their respective countries, Elaheh had been in daily contact with Xander. And, instead of sparking off each other, they’d worked together to progress their plans. And, more than that, at the end of each video call, they were beginning to share information—personal information.
Elaheh’s mind was full of the conversation she’d had with Xander as she switched off the computer screen and allowed her eyes to adjust to the reduced lighting of her bedroom. She sat for a few moments in the dark and remembered how Xander’s eyes lit up when he smiled. His lips, she realized now, only ever quirked a little at the corners. The brief movement was gone before you knew it. But the expression in his eyes remained, not only in his eyes, but in the feeling it stirred within her. She frowned as she tried to understand what exactly that feeling was. Warming, was the word she settled on. The heat in his eyes warmed her to her soul… and everywhere else.
She drew in a deep, steadying breath, rose from her chair and wrapped her light robe more closely around her. She walked to the french windows which opened onto a wide balcony a story higher than the lush garden below her window. Her room was at the same level as the tops of the trees and the flowers of the trailing plants whose perfume filled the air. The scent of the flowers, the heat of the night air and the expression in Xander’s eyes filled her mind and her body, sending pinpricks of goosebumps over her skin and making her breath somehow hard to catch. Her reaction to him had annoyed her at first. It still did, except now it not only annoyed her but she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
She leaned over the balcony’s railing and allowed her mind to drift like she never allowed it to do during the day. Xander made her aware of every inch of her body. Her skin tingled as his gaze swept over her, as if he tickled her with a feather, stimulating her skin and sending flutters of sensation through her body to her nerve endings. She flexed her hands as she felt the tingles in her fingers.
Ridiculous. She wanted nothing to undermine her willpower, nothing to make her body needy. She only wanted one thing from men—and that was obedience. The same applied to a husband. She bit her lip when the familiar flutter of panic ran through her at the thought of a husband. She was putting it off, she knew. Despite urgings from her prime vizier, she’d been delaying the matter. The thought of lying with a man scared her to the core. But then she remembered how she felt when Xander looked at her—the flutter in her stomach, the shortness of her breath.
She gripped the rail and mentally shook herself. She needed to get herself out of this ridiculous state of mind. She turned her back on the verdant garden and went back inside her room.
Suddenly she stopped and frowned. Something was different.
“Hello?” she asked tentatively, looking into the shadows. Had someone entered her room? She glanced at the door. It was locked. The key was still there. That left the bathroom. She walked quietly over, opened the door and put on the light. Bright light flooded the room.
She frowned and flicked on the light in her bedroom. A quick scan revealed no one and nothing out of place. Then why had the fine hairs on her arms lifted? Why did she feel queasy and why were her legs trembling? It was a flight or fight reaction as adrenalin coursed through her veins, triggered by some invisible foe.
Her thoughts tumbled with speed as she went over her movements. She’d only stepped out onto the balcony for a few moments, not long enough for someone to enter the room. And they couldn’t besides, because she’d locked it.
She was going crazy. Nothing was different. And yet still she had a prickled sense up her spine that something was wrong. Something had shifted in the room. Her mother used to say that she had a sixth sense about these things. It wasn’t something she liked and she’d done her best to ignore it, but now she couldn’t.
She sighed and sat on the bed and rubbed her eyes. She put her head in her hands and then she saw it out of the corner of her eye. A piece of paper was neatly folded and placed on her pillow. She froze and the sickly chill returned. It hadn’t been there when she’d first entered the room a few hours ago. She’d have noticed because she’d slipped off her watch and placed it beside the bed, beside where the piece of thick cream paper now lay like a serpent, coiled and ready to strike.
If it hadn’t been there when she’d entered her room, how had it gotten there?
Her mind raced over what she’d done since she’d retired to her bedroom. She’d been about to shower and undress when the call had come from Xander. She looked at the small alcove where she’d talked with him. She’d have easily seen if someone had entered the room, but the door was locked and no one had passed through it. But… Her gaze rested on the french windows, still open to the night air. It was always the first thing she did when she entered the room—opened them wide to allow in the air. Hot or cool, she hated being cooped up without fresh air. After opening them, she’d gone directly to the computer where she’d sat, with her back to the open windows.
She licked her lips and walked over to the doors and looked out. Whoever had placed the letter on her pillow must have entered the room from the balcony. She looked around but saw no evidence of entry. Then she looked down the long drop to the garden below but it was too dark to see anything. She went inside, grabbed her phone and switched on the torchlight. With a trembling hand she shone it onto a tree, whose branches reached over the balcony. Immediately she saw a broken branch. Cautiously she took a step closer. The bark had been worn away in two places, as if something of pressure had rubbed against them. She shone the light to the ground, and her fledgling thoughts were confirmed. The undergrowth was trampled and there were two clear indentations in the springy grass to show where a ladder had been placed.
Terror filled her. She withdrew immediately and closed the french doors. With fumbling hands she pulled the curtains together and leaned back against them and closed her eyes. Her quarters and the garden lay at the center of a heavily guarded palace. No one could enter it without authority, without being known to the guards. That meant only one thing—whoever had left the message was known to the guards and, most likely, to her. The guards had either allowed the person to enter, or else they’d been dismissed. Either way, she was vulnerable.
With trembling hands she opened the letter.
I will take you to my bed, with or without your consent, because you need me as much as I need you, my love.
It was far more explicit than the other notes she’d received. The trembling in her hands carried on to the rest of her and she had to sit down to fight the weakness and nausea. Someone had been in her room and left a threat to rape her. But not any someone, someone who must be within her elite cadre of officials.
She picked up the phone and a voice answered, asking how they could help. She froze. Was it him? She cleared her throat and said that it was her mistake. She’d be retiring now, and no one was needed.
Who could she trust?
With a start, she turned to the computer. There was only one man who wanted nothing personal from her, which made him trustworthy. Xander wanted nothing from her and he was outside her ring of people she could not trust.
She turned on the radio so no one could hear her and quietly tapped in his contact details, her eyes scanning the room as she typed. It took him a long time to answer and when he did, she didn’t recognize him for a moment. Gone were the sharp clothes and western suit, his shirt was half-undone, revealing a chest which was hairier and more muscly than Elaheh had imagined. She was surprised at herself for imagining anything. Then the paper in her hand scrunched, reminding her of why she’d called him.
“Xander,” she said her voice hoarse. “I have no one else I can turn to.”
Xander listened to Elaheh—her voice hoarse with fear, her face white. He could see her hand was shaking as she shifted her hair away from her face. Two things struck him. One, her hair—it was lustrous and beautiful, and loose. He’d never seen it loose before. If she did take off her hijab, her hair was always pulled back sleekly from her face into a tight knot as if she were scared of letting anything out of her control. It always pulled at her skin which was already tight, making it tighter, and her almond eyes lifted a little at the corners. It was like a mask. But that mask had dropped now and it had an electrifying effect on him.
Then she spoke and her usually firm and clear voice was shaky. He forgot his instant attraction and focused on her panicked eyes.
“What’s happened?” he asked, seating himself at the computer, all attention.
She pushed her hair from her face again and poked her head forward to the computer, her eyes large as they searched his. They were all he could see and he saw in them far more of the real Ela than he’d ever seen before. It caused a jolt which created a seismic shift in him. “I…” Her voice caught and so did his heart.
“Take a deep breath,” he instructed gently.
To his surprise she did as he said. “Right.” She nodded her head, opening her eyes wide as she struggled to take control. “I finished talking to you, went outside briefly, and then came back to my bed, and there was a note there which wasn’t there before I spoke to you. Someone had lain a note on my pillow while I was talking to you.”
He frowned. “And you’re sure it wasn’t there before our call?”
She bit her lip and shook her head. “Definitely not. I took off my watch and picked up my robe which lay across the pillow. I would have noticed it then. My sheets are black silk, the note was white.”
He was momentarily distracted by the thought of her lying upon black sheets. He hadn’t imagined her sleeping against black sheets. It suggested a sensuality which she hid so effectively he’d only suspected it was there. “Okay. So it was placed there when we were on our call.”
“I had my back to the bed.”
“Was the door locked?”
She nodded. “I always lock it.”
“Is there any other way in?”
She glanced anxiously toward the now closed window, and nodded. “The only other way someone could have got in is from the balcony. The doors were open to the night. I’m on the first story, but there are trees and climbers.” She glanced at the note she’d dropped on the table in front of her. “Whoever placed the note there, must have climbed in while I was talking to you.”
“Is the door locked now?”
She nodded again. “Both doors.”
“Right. So, what does the note say?’
He listened as she re-read the note twice. But he didn’t need to hear it a second time to understand what was in the mind of the man—for there could be no doubt that it was a man—who wrote it.
“So,” she said, after he was silent for a couple of seconds. “What do you think?”
“The same as you, I imagine. If the man who wrote that could enter your room, unseen, then you are in danger and you need to get out of there as soon as possible. Who have you told?”
“No one.” She blinked. “Only a few people would be able to enter my chamber. And those few people are the people closest to me. There is no one else I can trust.”
“You can trust me.” The words escaped his lips before he’d thought them through. But as he played them back in his mind while he registered the shock and relief which showed on her face, he knew he was correct. She could trust him. And he was probably the only one.
She nodded. “I know. I thought of you straight away. We may have had our differences, but I feel I can trust you—even, perhaps, because of our differences, I feel I can trust you. You are an outsider, with nothing to gain by hurting me.”
He winced at the thought of anyone wanting to hurt this woman who was more vulnerable than he’d ever imagined.
“So, I trust you,” she continued. “And that’s why I called you. Because I don’t know what to do. I’m at risk from the very people who are charged with protecting me. And I’m scared. Really scared,” she said in a husky undertone which tore at his heart. She didn’t need to have added those words because he could see it in her eyes.
“You’re probably only at risk from one of those people,” he reminded her gently. “But until you know which one, you’ll have to treat everyone with suspicion. And,” he said, leaning close, echoing her stance, trying to reassure her before he dropped the bombshell, “you’ll have to leave. You’re not safe there, Ela.”
She swallowed and then the unsureness dropped away and she sat back in her chair, her beautiful lips a straight line of intent. “You’re right. But how?”
“Silently, without anyone knowing.”
“In disguise?”
“Can you do that?”
She looked at him with a level and fiery gaze. He was relieved to see the stroppy Ela return.
“Of course. I’ve spent my life in the desert with my people, with only me and my horse. I know how to be ordinary, to fit in, believe it or not.”
He didn’t, but he had no choice but to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Good. How will you leave?”
She nodded toward the window. “The same way the message was left. Through the window. No one would imagine I’d do that. I can climb down the tree—as a child I always did.”
“Is that how you believe the intruder gained access?”
“No. It’s not strong enough. I believe he used a ladder. I could see the marks it made. I can use the same tree except I’ll drop down into the outer garden.”
“Good. Leave quickly, Elaheh. No delays.”
“But where shall I go?”
“To me. You’ll come to me. And I’ll keep you safe until we can work out who is trying to—” He hesitated, not wanting to say the word.
“Rape me,” she said coldly. “Rape is control and someone wants to do both to me. And I cannot protect myself physically. All I have to rely on is my mind and that won’t protect me from this threat. You’re right, I have to leave.”
“You said once you’re a good horsewoman?”
She nodded. “Of course. I was raised on a horse in the desert.”
“Then I suggest you get yourself to the stables, saddle up a horse and ride out toward the mountains, toward me.”
“It is too far.”
“I’ll meet you on your way there.”
“There is no village, no oasis, nothing…”
“I will be there.”
She opened her mouth to speak but no word came out. But he knew what she was thinking for once, her thoughts were clear in her eyes.
“I promise,” he continued. “The important thing is for you to get out of there. You’re trapped, a sitting target. Will you come?”
She gave one brief, sharp nod. “I have no choice. I’ll change, gather some supplies and water and slip out to the stables and take my horse.”
“Can you do it without being seen?”
“I think so. I have no choice but to try.”
“Keep on the ancient Bedouin trail toward the mountains and I’ll find you in a few hours.”
“You’d better be there.” It was the last thing she said and he almost chuckled at the return of her assertive self. And for the first time since his instinctive offer to rescue her, he wondered what he was letting himself in for.