Desert Justice. Valerie Parv
is what I require?”
“We’ll let Sheikh Markaz be the judge.”
In the meantime, anything could be happening to Natalie. Held fast in the giant’s grip, Simone could only hope that she’d distracted Business Suit long enough to let the other woman get away.
Not sure if she should feel reassured to be in the company of a man built like a tank, or worried that he might be escorting her deeper into trouble, she had little choice but to trot at his side, taking two steps to every one of his.
They were almost back at the main monument where a group of officials, the sheikh an imposing figure in their midst, clustered beside the royal marquee. She must have been running in circles. “Do you know what the ring means?” she asked, gulping air.
Fayed wasn’t even breathing hard. “Sheikh Markaz will tell you what he wishes you to know.”
Remembering the electrifying look the sheikh had given her when their eyes met for the merest moment, she balked. He was the ruler of the whole country. She didn’t want to meet him looking as if she’d been dragged through a hedge. Not because of any feminine need to dazzle him, but because she didn’t want to give him a bad impression of Australian womanhood. Or so she told herself. “At least give me a few seconds to make myself presentable.”
“You will not cause any more trouble.” It wasn’t a question.
“Considering that my options comprise going with you, or dealing with Natalie’s attacker, I don’t have much choice.”
“Good.”
Crazy though it seemed, she was warming to this mountain of a man. His voice might sound like the earth itself opening up, and he had strange ideas of how to treat a lady, but his devotion to the sheikh was encouraging. Fayed would keep her safe for as long as his boss wished it.
The bodyguard steered her into a shaded area between two columns, but didn’t take his eyes off her as she brushed sand off her clothing and tucked her blouse back into her skirt. The sun visor was lost among the ruins, but she carried her shoulder bag slung across her body, so her purse had survived the ordeal.
Retrieving a comb and compact, she did what she could to tidy her hair, and blotted her streaming face. “Right, let’s meet His Highness,” she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.
Fayed appropriated her arm again. “You will not make any untoward moves, and you will speak only when the sheikh speaks to you.”
She could imagine the outcome if she made any move Fayed interpreted as threatening to his boss. “Count on it.”
The moment’s respite had allowed her to catch her breath so she wasn’t panting too obviously when Fayed led her to where the sheikh was holding court. She’d hate him to think she was breathing heavily on his account.
Fayed carved his way through the group until he reached the sheikh’s side where he made a salaam, the graceful hand gesture encompassing head and heart accompanied by a bow from the neck. “Your Highness, this is Simone Hayes, from Australia. I think you will be interested in what she has to say.”
He bent and whispered a few words in the sheikh’s ear, too low for Simone to hear. It was enough to bring a look of anger to the sheikh’s face, and he snapped out what sounded like an instruction in return. She saw Fayed nod then approach a pair of the sheikh’s soldiers and speak to them in turn.
The moment Fayed brought Simone Hayes to Markaz, he had the renewed sense of electricity arcing between them, as if she were more than an overexcited tourist who’d disrupted his inspection. He told himself he’d had a long morning dealing with his normal duties, the bomb threat at the airport, and now this visit. He was tired. He should have left Simone to the guards instead of sending Fayed after her.
But he owed the man his life a couple of times over, and trusted his judgment. What Fayed had already told the sheikh had shaken him. If his friend believed Simone’s story was worth hearing, then it was.
“Excuse us for a few moments,” he said now to the director of Al-Qasr, who’d been telling him more about the restoration work. The man regarded her curiously, but salaamed and moved away to join another group, leaving the sheikh and Simone in a small island of clear space.
Markaz was aware of Fayed returning to his side. “Would you get Miss Hayes a drink?” the sheikh asked him. “Coffee or something cold?”
Simone brushed a hand across her brow. “Cold, thank you.”
Fayed gestured to a passing waiter, who presented a tray of ice-frosted glasses to her with alacrity. The young woman accepted some sparkling water and drank half of it right away. Markaz felt a flash of envy for the straw between her parted lips. Such beautiful lips, sensuously full and rosy without any sign of artificial enhancement.
In an effort to stop staring at her mouth, he drained the bitter coffee in his thimble-sized cup, passing his hand over it to stop the waiter refilling it. He’d already drunk two cups out of politeness.
The woman lifted her head and smiled at him, her sea-foam eyes brilliant. “Thank you, Your Highness, I was thirsty,” she said, earning a frown from Fayed.
Sometimes his bodyguard was more of a stickler for protocol than Markaz himself, he thought. “Even at this time of year, the heat can be challenging if you’re not accustomed to it.”
She nodded. “Coming from Australia I should be, but I hadn’t planned on being chased all over Al-Qasr.”
The sheikh’s surprised look went to his bodyguard. His orders hadn’t extended to hounding her. “By Fayed?”
“No, by another man. Fayed rescued me from him.”
The gingerly way his friend was moving suggested there was more to the story, but now wasn’t the time to go into details. He would get them from Fayed later. “Who was chasing you?”
She cast a nervous glance around as if her pursuer might still be in the vicinity. “The man I saw abducting Natalie.”
At hearing his ex-wife’s name from this woman’s lips, slivers of ice pierced Markaz. Fayed had already told him she had been seen here, and he had dispatched men to investigate at Markaz’s request. Suddenly the ring Simone had tried to pass to him over the barricades assumed a more sinister importance. Could it contain the information he’d been told Natalie would deliver to him at Al-Qasr?
He masked his concern. “What is your involvement with Natalie?”
“She was feeling ill so I helped her back to the parking lot. As I was leaving her, I saw a man force her into the car. I tried to help, but he got away. I decided to approach you.”
He felt his gaze harden. “How did you know to come to me?”
“Natalie said your life was in danger, and gave me this for you.” Shifting the glass to her left hand, she fumbled in the pocket of her skirt.
But the sheikh closed his hand over hers. “Not here. Join us for lunch inside the marquee.”
Simone’s hand was still in her pocket, but the sheikh’s touch seemed to burn through the light fabric of her skirt. She was imagining it, just as she’d imagined his gaze fixated on her mouth, she assured herself.
She took her hand out of her pocket and pressed the palm against her thigh. “I’m hardly dressed for this company.”
He took her hand and lifted it close to his mouth, his lips whispering over the back of it. “You would be an ornament to any occasion just as you are.”
In a flash she worked out what he was doing. Sheikh Markhaz was reputed to have a roving eye. He certainly didn’t remain with any one woman for long. He was creating the impression that Simone had attracted his interest, so no one would be surprised if he kept her at his side.
Knowing his attention was an act didn’t stop her pulse from racing. It was all she could do not to