The Sheikh's Last Mistress
Autore
Rachael Thomas
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Chapter One
ZAFIR AL ASMARI WAS SCEPTICAL as he drove towards the old red-brick house, which was a stark contrast to the immaculate penthouse heâd just left in London. Was it possible the woman he was seeking really worked here? This riding school, nestled in the countryside beyond London, certainly looked as if it had seen better daysânot at all where he had imagined finding Destiny Richards. Her reputation with difficult horses had made him travel from Kezoban personally to seek her out.
He parked his black sports car and got out, unsure if he should even continue with this madness. He must have been misinformed. Destiny Richards wouldnât be working somewhere so ordinary. Nothing about the old house or tired-looking sheds gave any hint of being professional stables. He was on the point of leaving when movement inside the shed beyond the house caught his eye.
Zafir walked forward, his shoes crunching on the grit of the driveway, and, unable to contain his curiosity, looked into the building being used as the riding school. Through an open door, he could see a tall, slim young woman lunging a chestnut horse around her. Intrigued, he walked down the side of the house, intent on seeing exactly who this woman was. If she was Destiny Richards, he could settle his unease and confirm heâd done the right thing by hiring her before coming to meet her personally.
âAh, you have arrived.â A sharp female voice behind him dragged his attention from the young woman and horse. He stopped, turning abruptly to an older and somewhat overenthusiastic woman. âAre you here for the Sheikh? To see Destiny work her magic?â
Zafir narrowed his eyes. Instinct warned him of this womanâs insincerity. Her overzealous attitude jarred his nerves, but if she thought he was here for the Sheikh instead of actually being the Sheikh, then so much the better. He could ascertain if Destiny Richards did indeed possess the gift of horse whispering, something he very much hoped was true, but right now, given the surroundings, he was inclined to think heâd been misled.
âI am and I donât have time to waste. Where is Ms Richards?â
âMy daughter is in the school. This way.â She gestured with a smile which didnât reach her eyes, backing up his first impression. It didnât bode well that Destiny Richards was this womanâs daughter. First impressions counted for a lot in his culture and he was far from impressed, but had to remember this might be Majeedâs last chance.
Without another word, he made his way to the school, aware the woman was following. Quietly he entered, stood against the wooden interior wall and watched. For a while the young woman he now knew was Destiny Richards had no idea he was there and he couldnât help his gaze sweeping over her, appreciating her tall and shapely figure and how the tight-fitting jodhpurs and T-shirt clung, in a way only a hot-blooded male could, just as heâd always done before duty had brought him to heel.
Her dark hair was pulled up high on her head into a ponytail, which swayed like a dancer to an unheard tune with each move she made. She was distracting and not at all what heâd expected, especially after having just met her mother.
The horse slowed to a walk, then stopped at her calm command. Destiny waited for the horse to walk to her and, as she touched its face, Zafir could hear the sound of soothing words, seeing the obvious connection of trust the horse had with her. Then she turned round, her eyes meeting his instantly.
Despite the distance something passed between them, jolting him with its intensity. She was beautiful and, for the first time since heâd inherited the title of Sheikh of Kezoban, he felt his interest stirring, awakening everything heâd turned his back on. He pushed that thought aside. Now was not the time to be distracted by a woman, not when Royal protocol dictated he had to select a bride. As the last remaining member of his family, providing his country with an heir was paramount.
âDestiny, this man is here for the Sheikh. You know, the one we told you about.â The older womanâs voice held a hint of warning, despite her smile, and the sudden tension in the air between mother and daughter was palpable, like storm clouds about to break over a hot city.
He crossed the sandy surface towards Destiny as her mother continued to talk. He was sure he saw a flash of defiance rush across Destinyâs beautiful face as she glanced briefly at her mother before looking at him once more. Her fine brows arched in disbelief and her lips set into a firm line of disapproval. He couldnât help wondering what kissing away that disapproval would be like, confident it would be as intense as the attraction he felt for her.
âI remember.â Her voice was soft and gentle, but he didnât miss the underlying note of determination. She stepped towards him, the horse moving with her, staying loyally at her side as she offered her hand in a Western handshake and smiled at him. âDestiny Richards. How can I help you?â
A smile pulled at the corners of his lips. He liked the feisty spirit she was working hard to conceal, reminding him of a young horse that would rather run free with the wind across the desert sands than be confined and controlled. Heâd had to put such ideas to one side after his father had died six years ago, his days of being the wild playboy Sheikh his father despaired of abruptly curtailed. For the first time since that day he wished he was free; the attraction for this woman was so intense all he could do was imagine taking her in his arms and kissing away her defiance.
He took her hand and the jolt of something new and exciting sizzled through him. The deep brown of her eyes, which reminded him of polished mahogany, mirrored the attraction. âForgive me for the intrusion. Your ability to work with horses that have been traumatised has come to the attention of the Sheikh of Kezoban. He has made an arrangement with the owners here for you to travel to Kezoban to work with his prized Arabian stallion, but he sent me to personally meet you before my return.â
The deceit slipped easily from him. He was preserving his sanity by omitting the truth, sure that her mother would make matters far worse for him and probably Destiny if she knew his true identity.
âI see. And if I donât wish to travel to Kezoban?â That firm edge in her voice was more pronounced now.
âThen we will have a problem. It is all arrangedâsubject to my confirmation that you are as gifted with horses as the Sheikh has been led to believe.â Zafir pressed his lips firmly together as Destinyâs spirit shone through. Would she have spoken to him in such an honest and open way if sheâd known he was the Sheikh, the man whoâd made the deal for her presence in Kezoban?
âI have to see the horse first before I commit or agree to anything.â Was that a challenge he saw glittering in those dark eyes? He liked a challenge. He raised his brows in a silent answer.
âDestiny! What are you doing?â Her motherâs shock was obvious. So too was his. Heâd almost forgotten she was there. For a few brief moments as he and Destiny had spoken, it had just been the two of them. Nothing else had existed. The exclusive contact between him and a woman was not a sensation he was accustomed to at all.
âYou may leave us.â The command in his voice was brittle as he turned his attention to the older woman, but it worked. She bowed her head very slightly in deference to him and backed away. So Destiny hadnât inherited her spirit from her mother.
âIf you will excuse me, I need to deal with this horse.â Destiny didnât wait for his consent, but walked away. He stood and watched her go, slightly unnerved by the fight for control he was experiencing, a totally new concept for him.
Determined to settle the agreement, Zafir followed at a distance as Destiny led the chestnut horse out of the school. Usually he was more than able to appreciate good horse stock, but right now his attention was riveted to the very alluring woman leading the horse. Her strong will and defiance stirred something deep inside him, something he had shut out of his life years ago.
Desire.
Why this woman? She was beautiful, but not in the glamorous way heâd liked his women before his days as Kezobanâs ruler. She had an earthy innocence about her and was far from compliant if the last minutes were anything to go by, but there was something which had connected to a forgotten and neglected part of him the second their eyes had met.
She walked the horse into a stable, shutting the door, making it clear he was to stay outside. He leant his arms on the top of the stable door, watching as she untacked the horse and brushed it down, her gently rhythmic movements appreciated by the animal as it pulled hay from the rack, munching noisily.
âSo, have I passed the test?â She paused and looked at him over the back of the horse, directly into his eyes. Again he had the distinct impression a challenge was being laid downâand he never refused a challenge.
âYes. I have seen enough.â
âBut you have not passed my test.â She angled her head slightly, her ponytail swinging gently. âI want to know exactly what is expected of me.â
Zafir could only admire her courage. Nobody challenged him. Ever. Would she have been so unguarded if she knew who he was? Briefly he was tempted to tell her, but he was enjoying this sparring so he decided to allow her to continue under the misapprehension of his identity that her mother had started. He had no wish to set her right just yet.
âYou will travel to Kezoban where you will work with Majeed, the Sheikhâs prized stallion.â
She looked at him, her brown eyes regarding him warily as she resumed brushing the horse. Zafir didnât appreciate the look of mistrust in those deliciously dark eyes, but he had no option other than to wait patiently for her responseâand waiting was something he was not used to.
âWhat is the problem with the stallion?â She glanced briefly at him as she finished with the horse and came to the stable door.
Zafir stood back to allow her out, shocked that already her question was dragging up the past. He knew that would have to happen if he ever stood a chance of soothing Majeedâs tortured spirit, but he hadnât expected it to be so soon. Neither had he envisaged being under her scrutiny.
âThe stallion was involved in a tragic accident which claimed the life of the Sheikhâs sister.â He was strangely detached as he spoke of his sister, referring to that night as if it hadnât really happened. Despite this temporary reprieve from guilt, he knew it didnât lessen the blame heâd set firmly at his own feet. He was the one Tabinah had been running from, the one who had made her unhappy. The knowledge of that would never leave him.
* * *
Destiny looked at the handsome man who seemed somehow unsuited to the jeans which hugged his long legs and the light blue shirt, open at the neck, giving her a tantalising view of dark hair against olive skin. She already knew him to be a man of the desert and, despite his casual clothes, she could just imagine him in white robes. He had a raw essence of power about him and was handsome enough to melt her vulnerable heart. But from the upright stance of his body and the regal tilt of his chin, she knew he was also very much used to giving ordersâand having them obeyed.
Well, she wasnât about to be ordered around by anyone. Sheâd had enough of being the one who always had to give in to the demands of others. Her stepmother had gone too far this time, accepting the job before sheâd even spoken to her. Everything was about money for her, never the person and least of all the horse involved.
Her stepmother was as cold as her father and equally controlling, which only reinforced Destinyâs need to escape them. She couldnât stay here any longer. The stables might be entwined with precious childhood memories of her mother and the few short years of happiness before her death, but she had to leave. Just as her younger sister, Milly, had done. And she had to do it before her stepmother completely obliterated those happy memories.
âIâm very sorry about the situation the Sheikh is in, but I cannot help.â She kept her gaze locked with his, trying to meet his aura of power with determination, wanting to convey the message that she would not be controlledânot any more.
His eyes, as black as onyx, narrowed with irritation and his jaw clenched beneath the dark trimmed beard, so precise it was barely more than stubble. âThat is not the arrangement I have come to with Mrs Richards. She assured me you would be available to travel to Kezoban immediately.â
The words fired out at her but she stood her ground, adamant she would not to be ordered around be either this superior man or her stepmother.
âFirstly, I am her stepdaughter and, secondly, she had no right to make any such arrangement without consulting me. Not even with a wealthy Sheikh. So I suggest you look elsewhere for the help you require.â
She moved towards him, intending to walk past him and away, wanting only to turn her back on this man who exuded a potent mix of masculinity and sexuality which terrified yet enthralled her. His eyes, full of fiery intensity, met hers as she came level with him, but it was the enticing aura of this powerful man as she came closeâtoo closeâthat made her step falter. It became impossible to do anything other than stand and look directly into his handsome face.
Her stomach somersaulted and, like a teenager in the throes of a first love, her heart skipped a beat. Not that she knew anything about first love, having shied away from all that, using horses as her shield. She was angry with her stepmother and not at all affected by this exotic man. She reminded herself of that fact, but struggled as his gaze continued to hold hers.
âThe deal is agreed, Miss Richards. You will travel to Kezoban in two days.â The control in his voice, the hardened words and the command he exuded made anything other than looking up at him impossible, even though she wanted to get as far away from the effect he was having on her as possible. The anger glittering in the blackness of his eyes reminded her of the night sky, full of stars.
For the last sixteen years, since her stepmother had become a permanent feature in her and her younger sisterâs lives, sheâd done her stepmotherâs and fatherâs bidding, putting aside all of her dreams and aspirations. Sheâd wanted to be there for Milly as she grew up but more recently it had become all about helping Milly set herself up in London and escape their fatherâs oppressive control. Now that Milly was settled and happy it was time she did the same.
Milly had left home earlier in the year and there was no one to protect now, no one to look out for but herself. She was free to do what she wanted. Now this man, with his high-handed attitude, thought he could waltz in and more or less demand she go to a desert country because it was what his Sheikh wanted. Surely the Sheikh had enough money to hire the top professionals in the field.
Could this man, this bizarre offer to travel to a desert kingdom she knew nothing about, be her opportunity of escape?
Her love of horses had been all-consuming as sheâd grown up, leaving no room for any other kind of love and giving her the perfect excuse to escape from reality. Could she use her ability to connect with horses as her means of escape?
âI donât care what deal you have made. I will not go.â The words flew from her lips as the oppression of living under her fatherâs strict rule surfaced. Going to an unknown country at the request of another equally controlling man was not something sheâd planned for herself. All she wanted was to get away and as tempting as this offer was, it wasnât what she needed. She would find another way to gain her financial independence and ultimately her freedom.
âMajeed is a majestic creature. He wants only to please.â His words cut through her thoughts, tugging at those emotional heartstrings she always had for an animal. âIt is as if he knows the woman who rode him into the desert and fell from his back was the Sheikhâs sister, as if he blames himself.â
Destiny looked up at him, her interest captured as she imagined the horse, but she couldnât be drawn into this manâs problems. She had her own to solve.
âShe died.â The words were hard and short, the pain within them tugging at her sentimental heart. He must genuinely love the horse and want to serve his master.
âIâm sorry for the Sheikhâs loss, but really I cannot help.â Still she clung firmly to her refusal.
âThe horse is living in torment. He is unapproachable, almost impossible to handle and a danger to himself and others. It has been a year since the accident. Many have tried to calm his troubled spirit. You are the Sheikhâs last hope and if you cannot help Majeed there is only one other option.â
She drew in a sharp breath as the implications of his words hit her. He could stand there all day and argue about the deal heâd made with her stepmother and she wouldnât care, wouldnât back down. But as soon as heâd talked of the stallion, the compassion in his voice showing he at least cared about the horse and its fate, she knew she would go. But she wasnât about to let this man know that yet, not when she had her own deal to strike, one that would finally set her free from a life she would never have chosen for herself.
âWhat are the terms of the agreement you have made?â She continued to stand glaring up him, the injustice of her situation filling her with the kind of courage which had evaded her for many years.
âThe arrangement is that you will travel to Kezoban for a minimum of two months, to work with the stallion. A substantial amount of money has already been agreed.â His tone remained as commanding as ever, but something in his expression softened slightly. Was it possible a hard man such as this could soften? No, she must be mistaken. He was as dominating and controlling as her father. She might be about to use him as a chance to escape her fatherâs iron rule, but she was under no illusions: this man was the epitome of supremacy. Her terms needed to be laid firmly down.
âThis substantial amount of money has been agreed with my stepmother, no doubt.â Destiny tried to keep the icy coldness from her voice as she thought of the woman who had replaced her mother. She knew now that her father had never been happy and loving, as sheâd thought when she was a young child. That had all been pretence. The day her mother had died, everything changed. Heâd stopped pretending. Heâd become cold and mercenary, finally meeting his match in his new wife. Now he was allowing her stepmother to use his daughterâs gift to extract money from the Sheikh of a far-off desert kingdom.
âIt has, yes. To cover your absence here. You are a valued member of her team.â The manâs words remained gentle and coaxing, maybe because he sensed her impending agreement. But his chosen words made her want to laugh out loud. Her stepmother did not value her, always reminding her she was nothing, just a stable girl. It was the money such a deal would generate she valued.
But Destiny couldnât let him know that his Sheikhâs offer was going to be her way out, her chance to finally to do what she wanted in life and travel. If she could help the Sheikhâs stallion in the process, all the better. It was, after all, something she was good at.
âI will, of course, have expenses to cover.â She knew she would never see any form of payment from her stepmother or the business; creating her own expenses was the only way to enable her to return to England and start a new life with money of her own. âDouble the original payment should be sufficientâand paid to me.â
âNaturally.â Was that a hint of sarcasm in his deep voice? His dark eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion and she thought sheâd gone too far.
âI would need to see the horse first.â She kept her tone brisk, her gaze fixed on his handsome face, hardly able to believe he was accepting the conditions she was attaching to the agreement.
âIn that case, my private jet will be at your disposal to fly you to Kezoban as soon as you are ready.â A smile of satisfaction touched his lips and those intensely dark eyes held hers, sending that spark rushing through her again, but she pushed the sensation aside, wanting only to ignore it.
âYour private jet?â Surely an aide to a Sheikh wouldnât have his own private jet? He must have meant the Sheikhâs jet, but such details were insignificant now. Her much longed for escape from the ties of her fatherâs rule were on the horizon and excitement fizzed inside her so much that she couldnât help but smile up at this strikingly handsome stranger whoâd somehow turned her world upside down.
* * *
Zafir was on the verge of confessing that he was the Sheikh, that heâd allowed her to continue with her assumption that he was merely an aide sent to ascertain her ability, but, despite the brightness of her smile, the suspicion in her voice as sheâd questioned his last words held him back. He couldnât risk her turning down his offer, not when his most precious horse still lived the nightmare of the night his sister had died. Everything in his life had spiralled out of control after that night and it was beyond time to put it right.
The marriage heâd known for years heâd have to make was looming, but Tabinahâs death last year had put even more pressure on him to do his duty. And he would, once Majeed was healed. Only then could he put the nightmare of his sisterâs unhappiness at the marriage heâd arranged for her aside and fulfil his duty to make his own arranged marriage.
âMy apologyâthe Sheikhâs private jet.â His words were sharp but, lost in her own thoughts, she didnât notice. âDo we have a deal, Miss Richards?â
He pushed down the guilt and shame of the night his sister had fled the palace. He would do anything to turn back the clock to the day heâd all but ordered Tabinah to do her duty and marry the man heâd selected for her. He hadnât been a brother to his younger sister, hadnât known how desperately unhappy she was. Heâd just been the ruler of Kezoban, unaware sheâd hated him, wanting only to shut him out of her life. The guilt that heâd made her so unhappy would always remain with him, even as he tried to piece his life together again, but soothing the tortured spirit of his stallion Majeed would help him finally put that night in the past.
He looked at Destiny, her soft brown eyes full of compassion, despite her bravado in standing up to him. Not only was he sure she possessed the gift to heal Majeed, he was certain she had the kindness in her heart the horse needed, unlike the others who had tried and failed.
âYes, we do. I can be ready to leave in two days.â
Zafir offered his hand, wanting to seal the deal and return to his homeland. The dark-haired woman whoâd captured his attention in more ways than one took his hand and the warmth from hers spread through him. It was as if their spirits were joining, recognising one another on an as yet undiscovered level. She looked up at him and the same confusion which consumed him blazed in her eyes.
Did she feel the pull of attraction too? Did she feel the connection, as if they knew one another, knew that they were fated to cross paths?
He pushed the thought aside. He didnât have the luxury of choosing his path through life, and this woman, whilst the kind of distraction he would have sought once, was not what he needed nowâor ever again.
She intrigued him in a way no woman had ever done and, after the tragedy of the last twelve months, he liked the way she made him feel as her eyes met his. She was as spirited as a stallion and yet as nervous as a young filly foal. Today sheâd been bold and fearless addressing him, but what would she be like once in Kezoban? Would she still have that feisty spark when she knew he was the Sheikh?
âVery well. I will return and prepare for your arrival.â
âAnd if I feel that I am unable to help the stallion?â Her hesitation lingered in the air. âCan I leave?â
âYou will not be a prisoner, Miss Richards. You will be the Sheikhâs honoured guest and may leave whenever you wish.â
