Hot Arabian Nights. Marguerite Kaye

nor immune to feelings.’

      Azhar smiled faintly. ‘Only immune to certain feelings. Is it possible for you to ignore the fact that I am a prince?’

      ‘You’re not only a prince but a crown prince.’ Julia wrinkled her brow. ‘And a sheikh, you said. While your brother—he is also a prince and a sheikh? It is very confusing.’

      ‘Not half so confusing or complicated as your British system is, as far as I understand it—or don’t,’ Azhar said. ‘Sheikh is simply an honorary title given to a man of influence and high rank. As the King’s sons Kamal and I are Princes. As the first born I am Crown Prince. And as the person my father chose to implement his will when he was no longer able, Kamal is also Regent.’

      ‘So you wish me to forget that you are a sheikh and a prince and a crown prince and soon to be King? That is a lot to forget,’ Julia said ruefully. ‘Will I be permitted to speak my mind without worrying about being cast in a dungeon?’

      Azhar’s smile broadened. ‘I doubt even the threat of a dungeon would prevent you from speaking your mind. You are a most extraordinary woman.’

      ‘Singular and now extraordinary. I am flattered.’

      ‘To speak the truth is not flattery. I have never met anyone like you.’

      ‘If you speak any more of these truths, I shall leave Qaryma with a swollen head.’

      ‘For a woman who has travelled alone halfway across the world, who has taken on a task which would have sent almost anyone else—man or woman—running in the opposite direction, who has dealt with being robbed, and drugged, and carried off by a complete stranger to a remote kingdom she’s never even heard of, you have a remarkably low opinion of yourself. Your husband has a lot to answer for since I suspect it was he who gave you your low expectations.’

      ‘Don’t you think that it is rather that my husband expected a lot of me?’

      ‘Your husband certainly made a lot of assumptions. Whether he thought through the implications of what he demanded from you on his deathbed...’

      ‘No, he didn’t. That is very obvious to me now.’ Julia rested her hands on the terrace parapet, gazing out into the garden. ‘The other night, the things I said about Daniel—I hadn’t given voice to them before. I hadn’t even realised I’d harboured some of those thoughts. I must have sounded quite—uncaring. I’m not. I did care for Daniel. I respected him, and I did love him. I think he loved me too, in his own way, only not as much as he loved his work. His precious book. Which I do resent a little.’ She grimaced. ‘More than a little. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.’

      ‘Perhaps because we met under such unusual circumstances.’

      ‘Perhaps. Certainly all of this, you, the palace, the city, it feels quite unreal. Perhaps it is because our paths have crossed only fleetingly.’

      ‘Perhaps.’ Azhar joined her at the parapet. ‘Julia, are you quite set on returning to the desert to finish your task?’

      ‘Of course I am. It’s what I came here for,’ she replied, perplexed that he should have thought to ask such a question. ‘Oh, are you concerned that I’ll outstay my welcome? You need have no such fear. I know I behaved inappropriately last night, clinging to your sleeve and—and—but I very much appreciate that your time is precious. All I require are a few camels and a guide, and I’ll be on my way. If you would be so good as to exchange some of my banknotes for local coin, I can purchase all that I need. My notes are for imperial pounds, obviously, but as a trader, I am sure it will be easy enough for you to reuse them in a business transaction. I will need drawing materials too, and watercolours. And some clothes. I am determined to purchase something more suitable to wear. But I am sure all of that can be done in a matter of a day, maybe two, so—’ She broke off, for she was beginning to sound as if she protested far too much. ‘So you see,’ she concluded lamely, ‘I won’t be a burden to you for much longer.’

      ‘You are not a burden to me, as you put it. I am not at all concerned that you will outstay your welcome. On the contrary, you are welcome to remain here in the palace for as long as necessary.’

      ‘Thank you, but I really couldn’t—my plants, and drawings, and then there’s the issue of my travel papers.’

      ‘Your papers are hardly an issue. Obviously, I have the authority to grant you permission to remain here for as long as you require.’

      ‘Obviously.’ Julia rolled her eyes. ‘I forgot.’

      ‘You forgot,’ Azhar repeated, an arrested look on his face. ‘Good! I hope you can continue to forget my status. Can you do that, do you think? No, wait, don’t answer yet. Come with me. I have a proposition for you.’

      * * *

      It was not at all what he’d had in mind when he summoned her to the garden, but the idea forming in his head made a great deal of sense. Azhar led Julia down from the terrace on to one of the winding paths through the lime grove. ‘This is the largest of the palace gardens, but there are numerous others. In addition to the extraordinary irrigation system you mentioned, I am sure we have any number of plants unique to this part of the desert. I do not pretend to your expertise, but I could arrange for you to talk to our Head Gardener.’

      ‘I don’t speak Arabic, Azhar, and...’

      He waved his hand dismissively. ‘A translator could be arranged.’

      They were at the boundary wall, looking hundreds of feet down to the swathe of green which was the Al-Qaryma oasis. The view was more stunning than Azhar remembered. He turned to see his own wonder reflected on Julia’s face. Water almost turquoise blue, green so vibrant it was emerald, neat fields of crops, fruit trees, and then, as if someone had drawn an invisible wall, the sharp delineation which marked the start of the desert, the sands palest gold and silver in the late morning light, smooth and flat before giving way to rising dunes, rocky outposts.

      ‘It is terrifyingly beautiful,’ Julia said softly.

      ‘Terrifying?’

      ‘Nature at its most beautiful and most lethal. It is like standing on the edge of one of those lakes in Switzerland, so blue and so calm and so deep and so dangerous. You have the overwhelming urge to plunge in, even though you know the cold will kill you. This desert—your desert—it makes me want to walk into it and keep walking. You probably think I’m being ridiculously fanciful.’

      ‘No. I would not have put it in those words, but they are exactly how I feel about Qaryma. Terrifyingly beautiful.’

      ‘You have missed it, haven’t you? Despite what you said, I think you have missed it dreadfully.’

      It was true that once upon a time this land and these people had been precious to him. He had loved this kingdom that he had been born and raised to rule, had never questioned his duty or his ultimate destiny. Until he had left, and taken his destiny into his own hands. He had turned his back and hardened his heart. It would be folly to let loose his hold on that hard-won protective shield, a shield which guarded his equally hard-won independence. ‘No,’ Azhar said firmly, ‘I have not missed it.’

      Julia looked sceptical. ‘I find that very difficult to believe. Look at all this,’ she said. ‘It is utterly beautiful and all of it is yours.’

      ‘I have been to many places in the world just as beautiful.’

      ‘As have I, but only Cornwall is my home, Azhar. What is so wrong in admitting to an emotional attachment to the place you were born and raised, which is an integral part of you?’

      Her words, echoing his own thoughts made him uncomfortable. ‘I have no home,’ Azhar said stubbornly.

      ‘You do now, Your Highness.’

      It was her tone as much as her words that made his hackles rise. ‘How dare you...?’

      ‘...point out the truth to you, a prince?’ Julia folded