The Sheikh's Convenient Virgin. Trish Morey

afraid I only brought two cups.’

      He swung his hand around in a sweeping arc that could only emphasise the leanness in his body, the sheer latent strength. ‘As you can see, there are only two of us.’

      ‘But Nobilah?’ Frantically her eyes scanned the pool area.

      ‘Has gone to organise the staff,’ he finished.

      She took a step towards the house. ‘Then I should help her.’

      ‘No.’ His hand whipped out and caught her forearm, arresting her mid-turn. ‘Not just yet. I wanted the opportunity to talk to you.’

      She looked up at him, her hazel eyes wide with what looked almost like panic, her lips still parted with surprise. Underneath his hand her skin felt smooth and warm, and his thumb picked up the race of her pulse through her slender limb.

      Then her chin kicked up on a swallow. ‘If it’s about leaving tomorrow, I already know.’ She looked down at his hand. ‘So, if you’ll kindly take your hand away…’

      He didn’t. Not right away. He let it linger long enough to drink in more of the touch of her skin, long enough to tell her that he was the one who would decide what and where. As she would soon come to know.

      Finally he let her go, and she clutched her arms around her as if she was cold. But he knew from her touch that she wasn’t cold. Far from it.

      ‘Walk with me,’ he said, ‘and tell me what you think you know.’

      Her eyes sparked at the implication, but she said nothing, merely falling into step alongside him as he set off along the path that threaded through the palms around the perimeter. She walked with a slight limp, he noticed, a limp she was working hard at disguising.

      For a moment he wondered if he was acting too rashly and there might be some pressing medical reason why he would be foolish to take this woman as his wife, but if Kamil had not listed it amongst his concerns, as surely he would have, then it must be a detail of no consequence. Beside him the woman gave a small sigh of resignation.

      ‘Just that the household is returning to Jamalbad tomorrow and that everyone will be leaving.’

      ‘You’re not sorry? I believe from Kamil that your contract has two weeks to run?’

      ‘I will miss Nobilah.’

      He nodded, liking the way this conversation was developing. ‘As my mother seems to like you.’

      She smiled in return, transforming her features to dazzling. ‘I love hearing Nobilah’s stories of life in Jamalbad. I don’t know.’ She shrugged. ‘It just all sounds so exotic.’

      She looked up at him, her eyes bright and her smile wide, until, as suddenly as if she’d flicked a switch, her eyes clouded over and she let her smile slide away.

      ‘Anyway,’ she continued, looking ahead once more, the prim miss back in control, ‘I will miss her.’

      He waited a stride or two before answering, taking his time to appreciate the slightly irregular sway of her hips as they walked together. It was good. Even the way she moved pleased him. ‘That will not be necessary,’ he told her.

      He heard the rapid intake of air that preceded her words. ‘Look, it may not be necessary, as you put it, but I do like your mother. I’ve enjoyed her company immensely, whether you believe me or not.’

      Her sudden outburst took him by surprise. So the meek-looking girl had some spirit after all? That might be a drawback if it meant she would not fall in with his plans, but then again it might make this a more interesting exercise than he’d imagined. Right now, though, he could do without getting her off-side.

      ‘You misunderstand me,’ he soothed. ‘I do not doubt your affection for my mother. I am saying merely that you will have no reason to miss her.’

      ‘What are you saying?’

      ‘That you are traveling to Jamalbad with us.’

      ‘Me?’

      ‘You are needed in Jamalbad.’

      ‘As Nobilah’s companion?’

      He looked down at her. He would have to remember to thank his mother—she had made his job so much easier. ‘Fatima will be at least six weeks regaining her strength following her surgery.’

      ‘So you’ll be extending my contract?’

      ‘In a matter of speaking. I promise you it will be worth your while.’

      Something about the way he said that managed to pierce the bubble of enthusiasm she’d been feeling at the news.

      Jamalbad—she’d loved the very thought of the place since Nobilah had first mentioned it. The earth buildings looking as if they’d emerged fully formed from the surrounding sands, the white shell-encrusted palace walls glistening in the midday sun, the jewel colours of the women’s robes. The thought of seeing it for herself had been nothing short of a dream, and now she was being offered a chance to make that dream come true. And yet something about the offer seemed almost too good to be true.

      Something didn’t feel right.

      ‘Surely there are plenty of women in Jamalbad who could perform the role of Nobilah’s companion?’

      ‘I have no doubt of that. Would that stop you from going?’

      ‘Well, no, but—’

      ‘Then perhaps you have had a better offer?’

      ‘No, it’s not that.’

      ‘Then it is settled.’ He smiled. ‘Come,’ he said, directing her back to the table, where the tea sat waiting, ‘have tea with me.’

      Morgan wavered. She wasn’t sure she wanted to have tea with him. Especially now she felt she was being railroaded into going to Jamalbad—which was crazy when visiting Jamalbad was something she wanted to do. But tomorrow?

      She almost never acted on impulse. That was her twin sister Tegan’s department. Gutsy Tegan, who’d come home from her aid work in Somalia and agreed to swap places with Morgan for a week while she attended a wedding in Fiji. Gutsy Tegan, who’d had no choice but to stay on for two months after Morgan’s broken leg and surgery. Gutsy Tegan, who’d fallen in love with Morgan’s boss from hell and turned him into the perfect husband.

      Tegan would jump at such an opportunity, she knew. But Morgan had always been the quiet one. The sensible one. She hauled in a breath, only to find it tinged with the rich scent of the man beside her—sandalwood, exotic spices, musk—an alluring mix that seemed to latch into her senses and beckon to her.

      But tomorrow?

      ‘It’s just not as simple as that,’ she said at last.

      ‘It’s not?’ he asked ingenuously, with a shrug. ‘It is only tea.’

      Exasperated, she slipped into a chair when it was clear he was not going to take no for an answer. Without asking he picked up the delicate teapot and, with an unexpected sensuality of movement, tilted the pot to pour tea into her cup. It was there in the curve of his fingers around the teapot. It was there in the steady pour of tea into her cup, in the heady scent of spices in the heated steam. It was there in the unwavering way he met her gaze with those golden eyes that seemed to see right inside her.

      She cleared her throat, hoping it might go some way to clearing her mind. ‘I didn’t actually mean the tea. I’m talking about going to Jamalbad with you…I mean with Nobilah.’

      ‘I know what you meant. But you’ve already said that you don’t have a better offer. You yourself said you love what Nobilah has already told you about Jamalbad. I am offering you the chance to go there and see it for yourself. Why should you have any reason to turn down this opportunity?’ He paused, his cup almost to that sensuous slash of mouth. ‘Unless there is a man?’ He shrugged. ‘A boyfriend, perhaps?’