Desert Nights: Falcon's Prey / The Sheikh's Virgin Bride / One Night With the Sheikh. PENNY JORDAN

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      ‘And that arouses your crusading instinct? Would it surprise you to know that women do have rights here; that they can vote or run for office?’

      ‘But they didn’t have those rights until very recently,’ Felicia responded briefly, looking away, suddenly conscious of the insolent appraisal of narrowed grey eyes.

      Raschid swung the car over, throwing her heavily against him, his arm brushing against her breasts and leaving her tingling with an awareness she had never experienced in Faisal’s arms. What was this tension that seemed to vibrate in the air whenever she was near him? Whatever it was she did not like it.

      ‘We are now entering the main souk and banking area, Miss Gordon,’ Raschid informed her. ‘I suggest that I park the car so that we can do the rest of our tour at a more leisurely pace.’

      They left the car in a huge underground car-park beneath a towering plate glass and chrome office block.

      ‘This is where we have our head office,’ Raschid explained. ‘In fact this building was one of our first ventures into the construction industry.’

      ‘But not your last,’ Felicia commented, remembering Faisal saying that the Bank had helped to finance the building of a hotel, amongst other things.

      Raschid’s hand was under her arm, a courtesy she had not expected, and she stumbled slightly as they emerged into the bright sunlight, his hard body taking the full impact of her tensed slenderness as they collided. Even that brief contact was enough to disturb her; the grey eyes cynically amused as they took in her flushed cheeks and angry eyes.

      ‘No, not our last,’ he agreed. ‘Although this particular venture was extremely profitable. As I am sure you already know, construction finance accounts for some forty per cent of our profits.’ He looked at her averted profile, and gave her another thin-lipped smile.

      ‘Am I boring you? Surely not. It is my experience that most women find the making of money almost as absorbing as the spending of it.’

      ‘Well, I’m not most women,’ Felicia replied shortly, pulling up with a start as they rounded a corner.

      The wide street in front of them was laid out with trees and flower beds, greenery and tropical colour rioting everywhere. Where once there had been barren desert, fountains played, and instead of walking beneath the scorching glare of the sun, cool shady trees spread their green cloak invitingly over the strolling shoppers.

      ‘Kuwait’s Bond Street,’ Raschid offered sardonically, as Felicia stared at the bewilderingly exotic display of precious stones in a jeweller’s window.

      ‘I have no doubt that you would far rather tour this area in Faisal’s company than mine,’ he drawled coolly, intimating that Faisal could have been persuaded to do more than merely glance disparagingly at the glittering diamond display that commanded the front of the window.

      ‘I would have preferred to. But not for the reasons you suppose,’ Felicia stressed pointedly, peering a little closer into the plate glass in the hope of finding something a little more modestly priced that she could buy for Zahra. Already she had learned of the younger girl’s love of jewellery, and she smiled a little as she contemplated her reaction to the display of gems in front of her. She gave a faint sigh. There was nothing here to suit her slender pocket, and the shops, although luxuriously expensive, were disappointingly Westernised.

      ‘What did you expect?’ Raschid asked in thinly veiled amusement when she ventured to say as much. ‘Souks in the traditional manner, complete with beggars with alms bowls? At one time the blind men of the city were employed to call the muezzin from the minarets, lest strange male eyes perceived an unveiled woman—such are the wonders of modern science that nowadays the minaret towers are fitted with loudspeakers which do the job far more effectively, and our poor are supported by the State.’

      ‘Blind men were deliberately employed for such a purpose?’

      Intrigued despite her hostility, Felicia hesitated, to turn an enquiring face up to the saturnine dark one above her.

      ‘You find such safeguarding of the modesty of our women amusing, I am sure. But not so long ago for a man to look upon the face of another’s wife was a gross insult to them both—in your country a worse crime than sleeping with one’s best friend’s wife—although I learn that nowadays such occurrences are commonplace.’

      Felicia’s face flushed.

      ‘Not in the circles in which I move,’ she denied energetically.

      Raschid’s eyebrows rose and he shrugged dismissively. ‘It matters little to me one way or the other, so you may save your protestations for other ears. Now, if you have seen enough, I suggest we return to the car.’

      ‘But I haven’t bought Zahra a present,’ Felicia began in dismay, faltering into silence as Raschid turned to stare at her.

      ‘That was why you agreed to come? What did you have in mind?’

      He looked so bored and remote that Felicia almost stamped her foot.

      ‘It isn’t what I have in mind, but what I can afford,’ she said bluntly, gesturing towards the jeweller’s window. ‘Certainly nothing in there.’

      For a moment she thought she saw his mouth curl in faint, amused condescension.

      ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘Sadeer’s is probably the most expensive jeweller’s in Kuwait, and anyway, you could not hope to rival the gifts Zahra will receive from Saud and her family.’

      ‘It isn’t a question of “rivalling”,’ Felicia stormed, furious at his lack of understanding. ‘It would be embarrassing and impolite if I had no present for her.’

      ‘Are you asking for my help?’

      Was she? She fought against a desire to tell him to go to hell and instead nodded her head mutely.

      Was that satisfaction she read in his smile? Seething, she stared across the road, not really seeing the constant stream of opulent cars flashing past.

      ‘Very well, Miss Gordon.’ He took her arm, guiding her across the road towards a narrow alley, but before they could enter it a young woman hailed them, her eyes heavily kohled and her jeans and thin cotton blouse a replica of the uniform worn by her Western sisters. Felicia judged her to be around her own age, perhaps a little younger. She had the impression that Raschid would have preferred not to acknowledge her, and yet his smile was polite enough, and he listened attentively enough while she talked in rapid Arabic.

      ‘Yasmin is the daughter of a friend of mine,’ he explained for her benefit, commanding the other girl to speak in English. ‘She was at university in England for a while. Miss Gordon is a friend of Faisal’s, Yasmin, and is staying with us for a while.’

      ‘While Faisal is in New York?’ She tossed her long, dark hair and eyed Felicia assessingly. ‘I wonder if he knows how friendly you are with his “friend” Raschid, or perhaps he no longer minds sharing.’

      She was gone before Felicia could say anything, and Raschid watched her depart in grim silence.

      ‘If you found Yasmin’s hostility strange, perhaps I should explain that she is one of the casualties of Faisal’s ability to СКАЧАТЬ