At The Sheikh's Command. Kate Walker

pushed her, but either way it was only just in time. Somehow she was on the other side of the door, and with it firmly closed behind her. And in the library she heard the other door open and her father’s voice apologising for being so long.

      ‘Not at all…’

      This time, Malik’s accented voice came clearly through the heavy wood that separated them. Cool and clear and totally unperturbed as if nothing had happened and he had simply been standing there, waiting for his host’s return.

      ‘I had plenty to think about. Plenty to occupy me while I waited. I never noticed the time at all.’

      It was already turning dusk outside. Under cover of the gathering darkness, Abbie swiftly tidied herself up, adjusted her appearance. The wretched apron was ruined, torn beyond repair, so she pulled it off, crumpling it into a bundle and stuffing it out of sight behind a couple of plant pots. She would come back and retrieve it later tonight, when no one was likely to see her.

      Later tonight. Tonight. The word hit home to her as she hurried along the shadowy path, heading for the kitchen door.

      Tonight. Come to me tonight…and we can finish what we started.

      He had been so sure, so confident that she would not refuse him. He would be waiting for her at eight, just as he had said.

      Would she be there?

      Even as the question entered her head, Abbie knew that the answer would push it straight out again, giving her no time to think. Not that she needed any.

      Of course she would be there. She had no other choice. No alternative.

      It was dangerous. It was crazy. It was probably the most stupid thing she would ever do—but how could she ever live with herself if she didn’t do it? How could she leave this stunning man, this devastating meeting, only half known, his lovemaking only half completed? The ache in her body, an ache that felt like a bruise right into her soul, told her that she couldn’t. She just couldn’t leave things like this.

      The Europa at eight…

      Malik’s confident voice rang inside her head.

      He was so sure that she would be there.

      Her footsteps slowed, coming to a halt in the darkness, and her fingers crept up to her mouth, pressing against her lips, thinking back, remembering how it had felt to have Malik’s kiss on her mouth. His caresses on her yearning body.

      The Europa at eight…

      And she would be there. Of course she would be there. How could she ever live with herself if she wasn’t?

      CHAPTER FOUR

      THE huge gilt clock in the foyer of the Europa hotel was striking the half hour as Abbie made her way to the reception desk.

      She was exactly half an hour late—deliberately so. She had fully intended that Malik should have to wait for her. Or at least she had once she had finally decided that she was coming here tonight. Because the confidence of that first decision hadn’t lasted. She had barely got inside the house, closing the kitchen door and leaning back against it, before the doubts had assailed her.

      How could she have ever been so stupid? she had asked herself. What was she thinking of, planning to go to him—to take him up on his invitation?

      His invitation to seduction.

      No, it hadn’t been an invitation. It was an order—a command from a man used to giving commands to everyone every day. Giving them and having people jump to obey them as soon as he spoke. He probably didn’t even have to ask most of the time, just click his fingers and he would be obeyed.

      And was she going to jump to do his bidding too?

      Not on her life!

      No, she told herself as she made her way through to the hall again. His Royal High and Mightiness the Arrogant Sheikh Malik bin Rashid Al’Qaim could snap his fingers all he liked. She wasn’t going to be at his beck and call just because…

      Just because he was the most devastatingly attractive, the most shockingly sexy man she had ever met in her life.

      Her footsteps slowed, turned, drawn by some invisible force, some powerful magnetism, taking her towards the library in spite of the resistance she tried to impose on them. The door was tightly shut, the sounds of the voices inside the room muffled, their words impossible to make out. But she knew when Malik was speaking She had only heard a few hundred words from that erotic voice but already it seemed to be imprinted on her mind so that she recognised it instantly.

      And wanted to hear it again.

      And again.

      She wanted to hear it tell her to call him ‘Just Malik’. To hear him say that she was beautiful, that he wanted her… She wanted to hear that glorious voice whisper to her in the darkness, giving her words of love, of caring, of hunger.

      Tonight. Come to me tonight…and we can finish what we started.

      Oh, dear God, she just wanted to listen to that voice all night—every night—for the rest of her life.

      But was that enough to base her future on? Surely she was totally unwise—crazy!—to go to him.

      But, oh! How she wanted to.

      ‘Can I help you, madam?’

      The receptionist’s question broke into her thoughts and dragged her back to the present. To the moment she had been worrying about from the point she had set out on this wild assignation.

      ‘Come to me,’ Malik had said, and he’d told her the name of the hotel, but he hadn’t given her any further information than that. She had never visited someone so important, someone royal before. Surely there would be security checks at the very least.

      ‘My name is Abbie…’ she began hesitantly and was intensely relieved to see the woman’s face break into a smile.

      ‘Of course. We are expecting you. Would you please come this way?’

      A few moments later, whizzing upwards in the express lift that went only to Malik’s suite, Abbie couldn’t believe how easy it had been. She had merely given her name and everyone had jumped into action, informing the penthouse suite that she was here, checking her identity, escorting her to the lift. There she had been handed over to the care of a tall, dark and deeply polite security guard who now stood, strong legs planted firmly on the floor, deep-set eyes alert and watchful, on the opposite side of the lift.

      Just at that moment it slowed to a halt and the doors slid open silently. Her companion gave a small bow.

      ‘After you, madam,’ he said as he stood back to allow her to precede him.

      This must be what it was like all the time if you were a sheikh, Abbie reflected as she stepped out on to thick, soft pile carpeting in a rich royal blue. To have people whose only job was to follow your instructions, to do as they were told, to do as you asked. Once again Sheikh Malik had snapped his fingers and everyone had jumped to do his bidding.

      If she had been nervous before, then now her stomach felt as if a million desperate butterflies were beating frantic wings against her ribcage, sending waves of unease up into her throat. She struggled for breath as she headed into the small foyer where a smooth, pale wooden door barred her way. Another security guard stood beside it, firmly at attention, arms by his sides, the smooth fitting of his tailored jacket very slightly marred by an ominous-looking bulge at his waistband.

      Abbie swallowed hard at just the thought of being this close to a gun, forcing herself to smile nervously into the guard’s dark, set face. But her attempt at a polite greeting was ignored as, with another of those small, stiff bows, he reached to open the door and hold it for her.

      ‘Th-thank you!’

      Her legs seeming to have only the strength of cotton wool, Abbie stumbled into the room, her personal security guard following close behind her. From behind, she heard