Desert Sheikhs: Monarch of the Sands / To Tame a Sheikh / Sheikh Protector. Dana Marton

so keen to find fault if that had been the case? But it wasn’t fault, she told herself fiercely. It was a legitimate opinion—and one which he had asked for.

      She clasped her hands together. ‘You’re hoping to attract an international clientele?’

      ‘Of course. It won’t work without one.’

      ‘Well, I can tell you right now, Zahid, that independent women will not tolerate being forbidden to drive. How are you proposing they get around?’

      ‘There will be taxis. Chauffeurs.’ He gave a soft laugh. ‘Show me a woman who doesn’t like having a driver—though I doubt you will be able to produce one.’

      Impatiently, she shook her head. ‘You’re missing the point. Women may like being chauffeured around but they will see the driving ban as completely unreasonable. They won’t want their liberty being curtailed.’

      ‘Then let them stay away!’

      ‘Meaning their powerful husbands might stay away, too—and then where will you be? You won’t have successful horse races if you’re playing to an empty stadium!’

      Zahid tensed. Why had he thought that bringing her out here was a good idea? It was supposed to be as a favour to her—to give her a break after the demise of her disastrous relationship. And yes, he had tailor-made a job for her, but for that he expected her unquestioning loyalty. He certainly hadn’t expected to have to endure a tirade of criticism. A nerve flickered at his temple. ‘You are perfectly entitled to your opinion, Francesca. Just don’t expect me to agree with it.’

      ‘So you only employ people who tell you what you want to hear?’ she suggested softly.

      Zahid stilled. Enough was enough! Why, he was according her all kinds of privilege and yet she could not show him even a modicum of common courtesy! He stood up.

      ‘Let’s go,’ he said abruptly.

      She knew he was angry, but she didn’t care; she was angry herself—she just wasn’t sure why. Or maybe she was and she didn’t want to admit it.

      She heard him saying something terse in his native tongue to the bodyguards who had followed them and then, having made their farewells to the various dignitaries, the two of them made their way to the car in complete silence.

      As the car pulled away Frankie stared out of the window at the startlingly clear line of the distant horizon and deep blue of the desert sky. She saw the sizzle of heat shimmering off the sand and wondered why her heart felt as if it had been plunged into ice-water.

      Beside her, Zahid simmered with unspoken rage as he drove and she was aware that she was witnessing a very royal sulk. Well, let him sulk! And did he really have to drive that fast?

      ‘You’re driving very fast, Zahid.’

      ‘And?’

      She bit back a smile at his unashamed arrogance—and yet that made her even angrier. She didn’t want to smile. She wanted to … Her fingertips strayed to her mouth.

      ‘Don’t bite your nails, Francesca.’

      ‘Why, are women forbidden to do that, as well?’

      He swallowed. She really was outrageous. Feisty and fearless and not afraid to say what was on her mind. Shifting a little, he tried in vain to dispel some of the dull ache he felt deep in his groin. He was aware of her own body language, which was making her sit so rigidly in the passenger seat, even if he hadn’t been able to detect the steadily escalating sexual tension in the air around them.

      Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her cross one slim and silk-clad leg over the other and, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t prevent himself from imagining her naked. What would her nipples be like? he wondered distractedly. Like tiny, puckered rose-buds crowning a soft and creamy breast? Or large pale pink discs which he could slowly encircle with his tongue?

      His erotic imaginings proved too much and suddenly the barriers he had erected between them came tumbling down. His fingers gripped the steering wheel as his mind and his body went to war. Who was he trying to protect by not making love to her—when she was clearly a feisty woman who had made it plain that she despised inequality?

      She didn’t want protection. She wanted him.

      And he wanted her.

      He glanced in the driving mirror to see the tail-car behind them and as he pressed down hard on the accelerator he saw it begin to retreat until it was nothing more than a tiny black dot in the distance.

      He drove with a new sense of purpose, the powerful vehicle eating up the undemanding miles of the desert road, until at last he turned left, down a small track lined with tall cacti, and Frankie was certain that she could see the distant gleam of water in the distance.

      Her forehead creased in a frown and she felt the sudden prickling of her skin. ‘Where … where are we going, Zahid?’

      He recognised that it was a loaded question—and he was careful not to be evasive as he slowed the car down. She should have the opportunity to reject him, even if he knew, deep down, that she wasn’t going to.

      ‘I have my own, private house nearby. It’s where I go to escape sometimes.’ He paused, meaningfully. ‘I thought you might like to see it.’

      Something in the silky darkness of his tone washed over her senses and Frankie’s heart began to hammer as she recognised the unmistakable desire which underpinned his question. This wasn’t a guided tour of one of his properties he was offering—his intention was made perfectly clear by the hot sparking of his black eyes.

      For a moment she felt intensely vulnerable—but the feeling quickly melted away as she recognised that this opportunity might never come again. That this was the culmination of all her dreams. She bit her lip. She had wanted Zahid for as long as she could remember—and years of wistful fantasy now stood a chance of coming true.

      ‘I’d love to see it,’ she said steadily.

      CHAPTER TEN

      THERE was no finesse. No honeyed words which preceded a leisurely and sophisticated seduction. There was barely even time to take in the surprisingly modern building—for no sooner had the door of Zahid’s private house closed behind them than he pulled Frankie into his arms. For a moment, his hands framed her face as he looked down into the wide-spaced blue eyes and the high colour which was splashed over her cheekbones.

      ‘Francesca,’ he grated. ‘God help me for doing this.’

      ‘Then God help me, too,’ she whispered.

      And then they were in each other’s arms and kissing as if it had just been invented. Only for Frankie, maybe it just had—because no kiss could ever have prepared her for this. Her arms wrapped themselves tightly around his neck and she clung to him like some kind of rampant vine while their mouths locked and their tongues played intimate little dances. With a groan, he pulled her closer into his body. She could feel the hot throb of his need pressing urgently against her and, although she should have found it daunting, it did nothing but make her wriggle her body impatiently against his.

      With an effort, he tore himself away from her and saw the dark bewilderment in her eyes.

      ‘What is it?’ she whispered.

      He shook his head. ‘Not here. Come with me. I want to do this properly.’

      Properly. It was a word steeped in both sensuality and formality and Frankie gave a shiver of anticipation as he took her hand in his and led her into a room off the main area which was dominated by an enormous bed. She was dimly aware of an extraordinary light from outside—which was quickly muted when Zahid pressed a button recessed into one of the walls and blinds floated down to blot out the day.

      ‘Now …’ Lifting his hands, he tangled his fingers in the satin spill of her dark hair and could feel the soft butt of her breasts