Hot Arabian Nights. Marguerite Kaye

have no hesitation in using your royal command to forget that you are a prince in my defence. Your case will be thrown out of court.’

      Not for the first time, Azhar was startled into laughter. ‘I doubt it somehow, since the court answers to me, but I must commend you most sincerely, madam, for so effectively implementing my royal command.’

      Julia dropped a small curtsy. ‘Thank you.’

      She did not retract her words, and she did not apologise for them. Unpalatable as some of her thoughts might be, he could trust her to speak her mind, which was exactly what he needed from her. ‘How long would it take you, do you think, to complete your work here?’

      She shook her head, confused by the sudden change in subject. ‘I don’t know. I was almost finished. Perhaps a month, if I can locate the right specimens.’

      A month. A month was more than sufficient to put any qualms he had to rest. Kamal lacked experience, perhaps judgement also. He was weak, he had always been weak, but that was because he had never been required to be strong. A month would give Azhar ample opportunity to assess the state of the kingdom, to address his brother’s weaknesses and provide him with some guidance, thus ensuring that he could leave Qaryma in safe hands and with a clear conscience.

      Though another month was a long time to be away from his business empire. He had left his agent to keep it ticking over, but he had never granted the man more than cursory authority. Azhar loved the cut and thrust of bargaining and barter. He loved the risks and the danger in some of the far-flung places he travelled to. He loved the thrill when a deal paid off, and he even relished the deals that did not, for the challenges they created. He loved it all, that life far from here, bounded only by his own ambition. He would miss it, but it would survive without him for another month. One more month, that was all it would take, he was sure of it. Then he would claim his freedom, escape this gilded cage, and in the process, help Julia to claim her freedom too. It was a most excellent plan.

      ‘A month,’ Azhar said, smiling at her. ‘Excellent. We are agreed, then?’

      ‘Agreed as to what?’ she asked blankly.

      Azhar was not a man given to indecision. One of the keys to his success in business was his ability to act quickly. Yet his instincts this morning had been not to act hastily and to buy himself some time. The relief of understanding why, and of coming up with a strategy to achieve it, was immense. Though in his excitement, he realised, he hadn’t actually explained himself. ‘That you will stay here as my honoured guest,’ he elucidated. ‘With unfettered access both to the gardens and the kingdom at large, you should be able to gather all the specimens you need. Further, that you will allow me to be your personal guide.’

      Julia’s jaw dropped. ‘But how can you—I mean, won’t you be far too busy being a prince? The people will expect...’

      ‘I will leave Kamal in charge temporarily. Escorting you around Qaryma will allow me to become reacquainted with both my kingdom and my people, while at the same time allowing you to document our flora.’

      ‘That is a very generous and, I have to say, most unexpected offer, Azhar. I can’t imagine why you would wish to devote so much time to me when you have many much more important matters to occupy your time.’

      She meant it, too. What kind of a man had her husband been, to be so unappreciative of his wife! ‘It will be a very useful exercise, not to say educational experience, for me to view my—this kingdom through your eyes. All I ask in return is that you share your insights with me in your own inimitable way.’

      ‘Even if they are not complimentary?’

      ‘Especially if they are not complimentary.’ She was frowning again. He wished she would not put quite so much effort into evaluating his words. There were some questions he would prefer she did not ask. ‘What do you think, do we have a bargain, Julia?’

      But Julia was not to be harried into agreeing anything. ‘For a successful trader, it seems to me you are sealing a very one-sided bargain. As far as I can see, the profit would be all mine.’

      ‘Not when one factors in the value of your delightful company.’

      She laughed, but shook her head. ‘I’m serious. You realise you are offering me far beyond what I could have achieved with only Hanif as a guide? To my knowledge, this desert is further south than any Western botanist has travelled. It will ensure Daniel’s book is quite unique.’

      Not an objective he had in mind, or even cared to achieve, but Azhar held his tongue. ‘Then you will have discharged your pledge to him with added interest,’ he said instead.

      His reward was a beaming smile. ‘You really do understand. Thank you, Azhar. Thank you very much.’ Julia’s smile turned mischievous. ‘I am extremely grateful, and in return I promise that I will endeavour to be as rude, as critical, and as honestly disrespectful of this beautiful kingdom and its ruler as I can possibly manage. In my own particular way, of course.’

       Chapter Four

      Julia rubbed her eyes, pushed back the bedsheets and sat up. The divan was positioned on a central podium under an elaborate fretwork canopy supported by four intricately carved wooden pillars. Her bedchamber was ostentatiously decorated, the walls covered in embossed panels depicting delightful scenes of lush vegetation, colourful birds and other exotic animals. The stained-glass window set into the centre of the sloping roof filtered a soft, dappled light into the room, the colours dancing on the pale marble floor, which was deliciously cool under her feet. It was very early, but she was far too excited to sleep, for today she was to leave the palace with Azhar for the first time.

      He had sent word last night, confirming what they had agreed two days ago in the garden. He must have briefed the body of elders he referred to as Council yesterday on his proposed plan of action. She found it somewhat baffling that someone as manifestly self-reliant as Azhar would permit another to make decisions on his behalf, even if the person concerned was his brother, who had apparently been in temporary power throughout the period of their father’s illness. It seemed odd that the dying Sheikh had not sent for his heir sooner. They had been estranged, Azhar had said. Meaning, he could not—or would not—return to Qaryma while his father, the King, lived? He had expected to be disinherited, that much he had admitted. Had he then assumed that his brother would inherit? It was a reasonable enough assumption. She knew of many examples among the English aristocracy where second sons fell heir for all sorts of reasons. And Azhar’s brother, would he too have assumed that he would become King? Julia knew nothing of the laws and customs of this kingdom, but it was likely, surely, that he would think so, especially since Azhar had been absent for so very long.

      Ten years. So much would have changed in the intervening period. She supposed it did make sense for Azhar to take time to take stock before assuming power. It would also allow time for his brother to become accustomed to the idea of having to step down. Julia grimaced. It was unfair of her to judge, given she’d been in the man’s company only a matter of moments, but she had taken an instant dislike to Kamal. He did not appear to her to be a man who would take kindly to being effectively deposed. The whole situation read like a fairy tale, the handsome Prince returning after ten years in the wilderness to oust his evil brother from the throne. Not that Kamal really was evil. Just a little repellent.

      Julia smiled to herself. It wasn’t like her to let her imagination run riot. But then again, she wasn’t exactly in the habit of waking up in a private suite in a royal palace. She had never, in all her travels, nor even in books, seen anything so opulent. Or so beautiful. Padding across the bedchamber, she slid back the door which led to her sitting room. With triple aspect floor-to-ceiling windows, the glass panes set in delicate wrought-iron frames, light flooded in and made it the perfect place for her to work.

      The sketch books, charcoals, pencils and watercolour paints which Azhar had miraculously sourced for her yesterday, were set on the table. It was extremely thoughtful of him to take the time to do so, when he had much more weighty matters to attend to. She