The Sheikh's Hesitant Bride (Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 7) (11 page)

Rachel glanced at Abby and saw the scowl on her now former boss' face. "I suppose that means I quit, Abby," Rachel said.

Abby shrugged. "Hope you know what you're doing, Rachel," she said.

Rachel gazed up at Zarif and smiled. "I think I do, Abby. I really do."

And, as she leaned away from him, suddenly conscious of how they must look together, Rachel was sure she could see Zarif give her a very slight nod of his head.

CHAPTER NINE

"What do you think?" Zarif asked as the car slowed on the driveway that ended at the circular plaza in front of the main entrance to Zarif's palace.
 

Rachel leaned forward and peered through the front window. All she could see was an expanse of white marble, the palace filling her entire field of vision. Surrounding the stunning building was acre upon acre of perfectly manicured lawn, green foliage, tall trees and brightly colored floral arrangements. The bright Qazhar sun made the palace seem to shimmer. "Is this where you live?" she asked her voice filled with incredulity.

He nodded casually. "It's my main residence," he said.

Rachel looked wide-eyed at him. "You mean you have others?"

Zarif shrugged. "A few scattered around Qazhar. But this is where I live when I'm in the country."

Rachel squinted at the sight before her. They had just arrived by Zarif's plane at Qazhar airport and been driven through the city, across the desert and now they were arriving at Zarif's principal residence. The last few days had flown by in a frantic haze as Rachel had hurriedly tidied up her affairs back in London. She could hardly believe she was here, in his world. London seemed like a distant dream as the car began to ease to a halt alongside the large fountain in front of the palace steps.

The limo halted, and they got out. Rachel shaded her eyes from the bright Qazhar sun. Even wearing her thinnest, lightest dress she still felt the heat on her skin. It was going to take some getting used to, she told herself. She'd never really spent much time abroad, certainly not in a place like Qazhar. From the plane, looking down on the city, planted like a vast jewel in the expanse of the desert, she had realized that she was about to enter an entirely strange, unfamiliar, even magical world.

Zarif's world.
 

Rachel watched as Zarif removed her bags from the trunk of the limo and handed then to a male servant who had dashed the steps, greeting Zarif and Rachel hastily. Zarif wore only a white shirt, dark pants, and black casual shoes. She wondered what he would look like dressed in his traditional white robes.
 

On the plane, he'd told her he often preferred to dress as custom required, and she had found herself idly wondering just what he would look like. Probably like something out of a dream, she had concluded. His dark, austere features, his tall, muscular figure would look right at home seated on the back of a white stallion racing across the broad expanse of the shimmering desert sands she had seen from the plane. He would look like something out of a tale for children, a dominant prince in search of his beloved.

Rachel waved her hand in front of her face, needing to cool her rapidly warming skin. Maybe the heat could warp someone's thinking, she concluded as she started to follow Zarif up the stairs. She walked through the front door and instantly felt a rush of relief as the cool air surrounded her body.
 

Rachel halted and gazed at the sight in front of her. Zarif looked at Rachel and smiled, noting her appreciation of the beautiful, even staggering, entrance hallway with its wide, mosaic tiled stairway curving up to the ornately decorated balcony high above. On either side, through the high, open doors she could see the interiors of glorious rooms that would have looked right at home in some kind of Hollywood movie set in an exotic desert kingdom.
 

Rachel smiled at Zarif. "Really?" she said, once again unable to control her incredulity. "You're joking, right?"

Zarif smiled back at her, looking satisfied with the impression his home had made on Rachel. "I told you it was large, didn't I?"

"But not like this," Rachel said gazing around the cavernous space in amazement.

"I'm glad you approve," he said. He took a step toward her. Why did he have to move like that? So gracefully, so elegantly, so temptingly? She couldn't help thinking that he looked somehow different here. He'd lost the hint of melancholy which she had noticed in London. It had been replaced by a brightness in his demeanor, a calmness which had been missing when she had first gotten to know him.

"I want you to feel at home, Rachel," he said softly. His gaze settled on her, and she was sure she saw him glance down the length of her body. He'd done it many times during the flight on his private plane. He'd been the perfect gentleman all through the flight. The attendants on the plane had catered to their every need during the few hours it had taken travel from London.
 

Rachel smiled evenly at Zarif. "I'm sure it will be lovely."

"Just lovely?" he asked, his brow raising a fraction.
 

Rachel nodded and shrugged. "It's going to take some getting used to."

"Well, take your time," he said. He gestured with his hand. "My home is your home."

"Is that some kind of local custom?" she asked.

Zarif frowned. "Not just a custom." His gaze darkened. "I am genuinely pleased that you agreed to come here."

"You did make me an offer I could hardly refuse," she said.

"The offer was made in good faith. I hope you can take full advantage of it."

What did he mean by that? Was he talking about the prospect of starting her own business out here? Or was he hinting at something entirely different?

"I'm still trying to get my head around what it all means," she said.

Zarif's brows furrowed. "For someone with your obvious qualities, Qazhar has much to offer."

Rachel felt heat rush to her face. Was he talking about her professional qualities or something altogether more personal, more intimate? Sometimes she could never tell with Zarif. Occasionally she felt as if he was playing with her, teasing her, but not in a malicious way. At times, she felt like he was testing her, trying to uncover the things she had held back from him.

Well, he was one to do that, she told herself. He was holding back as much from Rachel as she was withholding from him. Maybe they were both still strangers to each other.
 

Rachel saw the servant carrying her bags up the staircase. "Where is he taking my stuff?"

Zarif glanced at Rachel. "A room has already been prepared for you," he explained. "I hope you'll like it. It's the most beautiful room in the palace."

Rachel tried to think how to respond to that, but the words just wouldn't come.

Zarif leaned closer. "Only the best for my most special guest."

There was that hunger again, she told herself. The same look she'd seen so many times in London. The look he had never given Abby. Not once. Rachel pushed all thoughts of her former boss completely out of her mind. Abby was history now.
 

Her former employer had tried to be awkward after Zarif had made the offer to take away one of Abby's employees. Abby and Zarif wouldn't be carrying out any business in future. Rachel was sure of that. And she had noticed that on the few occasions Zarif had even mentioned Abby during the last few days, there had been a sense of relief in his voice, almost as if that part of his past was now gone forever.

"Maybe, you'd like to see your room," Zarif said. "Then, once you've had a chance to unpack, we can have some lunch and discuss what you're going to do while you're here." He squinted at Rachel. "However long that turns out to be," he said with a mischievous lift of one dark brow.

Rachel drew in a deep, quiet breath. Why did he have to look at her like that? Didn't he understand that she was only going be a guest here for as long as it took for her to see whether there was actually a real prospect of starting a business here or not? She knew he had offered to connect her with numerous well-heeled individuals and with some professionals already in the property business in Qazhar.
 

Zarif started toward the stairs, and she followed. It felt good to walk by his side up the stairs. Their footsteps seemed to match in perfect unison. The sound of her heels sounded unnaturally loud to her ears.
 

They reached the top of the stairs and headed down a long corridor, past closed doors. She wondered just how many room this palace had. It seemed large for one man to inhabit, but maybe that was how things were done in Qazhar. She could only guess at the extent of his wealth, the riches which could enable something as amazing as this residence to be made real.
 

Because, as she walked along the corridor, close by his side, she had a sudden sense of the absolute unreality of everything that happened in the past three weeks. It seemed like only yesterday since she had met him. Barely a month had passed since he had burst into her life, taking possession of her, turning her world upside down, like no man had ever done before.

Zarif had offered to open doors for her, and for once in her life she had decided to give in to temptation and allow someone to help her, someone to expand her reach.
 

And now she was here, in a strange land, an exotic kingdom filled with promise and a future of opportunity. And uncertainty, she chided herself as they came to a partially open door.
 

Zarif paused and smiled at Rachel. "Ready?" he asked softly. She could hear the barely disguised eagerness in his voice. He was enjoying all of this so much, she thought. He was almost like a child showing off his precious possessions. But there was still a part of him that she sensed he was holding back. She couldn't put her finger on it, but it was almost as if he wanted to withhold some last part of himself.
 

Zarif pushed the door open and gestured for Rachel to enter. She stepped into a wonderland, a huge expanse of a room, gleaming white marble floors, high ceilings, whirling fans, expensive looking furnishings. The entire space was cooled by the sweeping draught of air which drifted in from the wide open doors leading to the balcony. She saw her bags had been placed in the large bedroom. Through the open doors to that room, she could see the huge expanse of the bed. Rachel wrenched her gaze away from that sight.

Rachel took a few steps into the middle of the room, running a hand along the length of the back of a sofa. Sunshine streamed into the room, transforming it into a brightly lit space. She'd never been in a room quite like it.
 

Rachel turned to Zarif and saw the wide grin on his face. "Oh, Zarif, it's too much. Too big. Just for me?"

"It's the smallest room in the palace?"

"Really?" she asked incredulously.

Zarif laughed and shook his head. "Of course not. I'm only joking. It's what the architects call the princess suite."

Rachel looked at him, aghast. "Princess?"

Zarif nodded. "I told you. Only the best for my most special guest."

Rachel waved a dismissive hand at him. "Don't embarrass me, Zarif."

He came to her, closer now, and she saw that look in his eyes. The one that always made something flutter treacherously in her middle.

"You shouldn't feel embarrassed at all, Rachel." He ran his gaze down the length of her figure and once again she felt something quiver deep inside herself. "If you ask me, you look completely at home already in this place."

Rachel rolled her eyes at Zarif. "What did we agree on the plane, Zarif?"

He cocked his head to one side. "I know. I know. We agreed this whole trip would be a trial. I made you an offer, and I'll honor it to the letter. There'll be plenty of opportunities to meet with the people I told you about."

Rachel sighed. "Business."

Zarif eased a little closer to her. "I was hoping a little more than business. Just like in London. Only this time we don't have to keep things so secret."

Rachel shifted away from him. She lowered her eyes, feeling his gaze burning into her, awaiting a reply, although they had talked about this a few times already in the last few days.
 

What could she say? She knew this whole visit had enormous risks attached to it. Not just for her, but for him also. She'd tried to fool herself into believing that she had come here only to make the most of a new chapter in her life. A professional chapter.

Who was she trying to fool!
 

She had come here to test herself, find out if everything she'd experienced in London with this incredible man had been a delusion, a dangerous temptation with which she had foolishly toyed. Now that she was here, it felt suddenly all too real. She wondered if she'd acted recklessly agreeing to come here. Perhaps. But, Zarif had already changed the way she looked at her entire life. Their encounters in London had reminded her of just how many barriers she had erected in her own life. He had tempted her into thinking she could undo the damage she had done to herself, that she could fix her life somehow.

Maybe she was crazy, she thought as she took a few steps toward the invitingly open doors, feeling the cool breeze scented with a delicious mixture of the cultivated gardens that surrounded the palace and the distant, burning hot sands of the desert. She knew he was following her slowly as she stepped out onto the balcony. Looking down at the flowers, Rachel felt suddenly like one those delicate blossoms, strangely vulnerable, even if protected and guarded against the harsh dangers of the faraway desert.

She sensed him by her side and glanced at him. Zarif's gaze was fixed on the bright, golden sands in the distance. "It's beautiful," he said quietly.

"The desert?" she asked.

He nodded. "Timeless. Beautiful." His voice softened, becoming wistful and distant. "I don't know why I even left," he said, "I must have been mad." A shadow seemed to creep across his features. She wondered what he was thinking of, where his mind had gone to.