Desert Sheikhs Collection: Part 1. Jane Porter

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      Darian watched her, saw the way her breasts rose and fell, outlined by the soft pink silk dress that she had changed into. She had been wearing jeans and a tee-shirt, but once the decision to fly to Maraban had been made she had opted for flowing, flattering, more feminine clothes—and she seemed to look at home in them, even here on the aircraft.

      He glanced around him. He had flown by private jet a couple of times in his life, but nothing to match this; this aircraft was a curious mixture of the very modern and the very old.

      Inside the state-of-the-art plane there were lavish silken cushions to recline on, and mint tea and and sparkling water flavoured subtly with oranges was brought to them by two very beautiful stewardesses who were unmistakably Western.

      Khalim waved his hand towards the proffered tray. ‘You would prefer whisky, perhaps? Or wine? My culture forbids the use of alcohol, but you are my guest and you must choose what you will.’

      Darian shook his head. ‘No, thanks. I never drink when I’m flying, and I’ve made it a rule always to follow the customs of wherever I happen to be.’

      ‘When in Rome?’ Khalim laughed softly.

      Darian laughed back. ‘Or when in Maraban, in this case!’

      The joke broke some of the tension and an air of ease settled down between the two men.

      The blonde stewardess offered Darian a small dish of pistachio nuts.

      ‘Thanks,’ he murmured as he took a couple, automatically registering the sideways glance she gave him, and the way that her uniform clung to her tight and luscious curves.

      As she wiggled her way out of the cabin Khalim turned to him. ‘She is very beautiful, yes?’

      ‘Very.’

      ‘Her name is Anastasia. You would like to meet her later? When we land?’

      Angrily, Darian crushed the empty shells between his fingers. ‘You offer women to your guests as you would a dish of nuts?’ he demanded. ‘Is that another of your customs?’ His voice lowered to a hiss. ‘Is that what your father did to my mother?’

      Khalim appeared unperturbed by his reaction. ‘I can assure you that Anastasia has a mind of her own, and would never deign to be offered as you would a bowl of nuts. But she is young and healthy and beautiful—is there such a crime in introducing a woman like that to a man like you? She is a strong woman.’ He paused. ‘Was your mother not similarly strong?’

      Darian nodded. It was not his way to discuss such matters, but this was an extraordinary situation, and for some reason he found himself answering Khalim, wondering if he had been deliberately provoked by him into doing so.

      ‘Yes, she was strong,’ he said. ‘Necessity made it so.’ Hard and proud and strong. Her remarkable beauty had made men flock to her, like moths to a flame, but she had rebuffed them almost coldly, as though she would never again allow herself to fall for a man.

      But how deeply had she fallen for Khalim’s father? Had it simply been a one-off? A brief passion with unexpected and unwanted consequences? And even if there was any way of ever discovering the truth did he really want to know—or was it better to let things lie?

      His golden eyes grew flinty as he gazed into the unfathomable stare of the man who it seemed was his relative, the only person connected by blood to him in the whole world.

      ‘So was that just some kind of crude test?’ he questioned softly. ‘To set me up with the stewardess? Or merely an attempt on your part to get me to talk about my mother?’

      Khalim shook his head, and now his expression looked pained. ‘Never a crude test, Darian,’ he said sincerely. ‘Though perhaps subconsciously I did wish you to speak of your mother. But my primary motive was altogether more straightforward than that. I know the appetites of men, and by your lack of interest it would appear that your appetite has already been satisfied.’ He flickered a glance over at the sleeping Lara. ‘By Lara,’ he said softly.

      Darian saw the direction of his gaze and again experienced that potent cocktail of rage and lust. He knew what Khalim wanted to know. Lara was his friend, and he would automatically wish to protect her. But it was none of Khalim’s damned business what went on between him and Lara! He would give him the bare facts, nothing more. ‘Yes, by Lara,’ he said shortly, hastily averting his eyes from her moving silk-covered breasts.

      ‘You are lovers,’ Khalim observed.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘And it is serious?’

      ‘She lied to me,’ answered Darian stonily.

      ‘She СКАЧАТЬ