Emir promised pleasure. He promised forgetfulness. And for however short a time the prospect of that seemed preferable right now to doing battle endlessly on every front.

How would it feel to have this big man hold her and have those strong hands bring her pleasure?

She must have swayed towards him, for the next thing she knew he was holding her in front of him.

‘Why, Britt,’ he said. ‘If I’d known we could have arranged something before the meeting.’

He was blunter than she had ever been—blunter than she was prepared for—and breath shot out of her lungs as he dipped his head to brush her lips with his. Incredibly, she was instantly hungry, instantly frantic for more pressure, more intimacy, and for everything to happen fast.

He felt so good … so very good.

She wanted this. She needed it. And she forgot everything the moment his hands caressed her breasts. She wanted this—wanted him. She wanted, just for once in her life, to feel that she didn’t have to be the leader, the fighter, that just this one time she could be a woman.

About the Author

SUSAN STEPHENS was a professional singer before meeting her husband on the tiny Mediterranean island of Malta. In true Modern™ Romance style they met on Monday, became engaged on Friday, and were married three months after that. Almost thirty years and three children later, they are still in love. (Susan does not advise her children to return home one day with a similar story, as she may not take the news with the same fortitude as her own mother!)

Susan had written several non-fiction books when fate took a hand. At a charity costume ball there was an afterdinner auction. One of the lots, ‘Spend a Day with an Author’, had been donated by Mills & Boon® author Penny Jordan. Susan’s husband bought this lot, and Penny was to become not just a great friend but a wonderful mentor, who encouraged Susan to write romance.

Susan loves her family, her pets, her friends and her writing. She enjoys entertaining, travel, and going to the theatre. She reads, cooks, and plays the piano to relax, and can occasionally be found throwing herself off mountains on a pair of skis or galloping through the countryside.

Visit Susan’s website at www.susanstephens.net—she loves to hear from her readers all around the world!

If you love reading about the Skavanga family dynasty, take a look at their website:

http://www.susanstephens.com/skavanga/index.html

Recent titles by the same author:

TAMING THE LAST ACOSTA

THE MAN FROM HER WAYWARD PAST*

A TASTE OF THE UNTAMED*

THE ARGENTINIAN’S SOLACE*

*Titles linked to the Acosta Family

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

Diamond in the Desert
Susan Stephens

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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For all my wonderful readers

who love the mystery of the desert

and the romance of a sheikh.

CHAPTER ONE

MONDAY SEVEN A.M. on a cold, foggy day in London a breakfast meeting was being held by a powerful consortium set up to acquire the world’s biggest diamond mine. The group of three men was led by Sheikh Sharif al Kareshi, a leading geologist otherwise known as the Black Sheikh, thanks to his discovery of vast oil lakes beneath the desert sands of Kareshi. Concealed lighting was set at the perfect level for reading the fine print on a contract, and the surroundings were sumptuous as befitted the ruling Sheikh of Kareshi in his London home. Seated with the sheikh at the table were two men of roughly the same age, that was to say, thirty-two. One was a Spaniard, and the other owned an island off southern Italy. All three men were giants in the world of commerce, and heartbreakers in the game of life. Colossal sums of money were being bandied about. The atmosphere was tense.

‘A diamond mine beyond the Arctic circle?’ the darkly glamorous Count Roman Quisvada remarked.

‘Diamonds were discovered in the Canadian Arctic some years back,’ Sharif explained, leaning back. ‘Why not the European Arctic, my friend?’

All three men had been friends since boarding school in England, and, although they had all gone on to make individual fortunes, they were bound by friendship and trusted each other implicitly.

‘My first pass over the findings suggests this discovery by Skavanga Mining could be even larger than we suspected,’ Sharif went on, pushing some documents across the table to the other two men.

‘And I hear that Skavanga boasts three sisters who have become known as the Skavanga Diamonds, which in itself intrigues me,’ the dangerous-looking Spaniard commented as he peeled a Valencia orange with a blade as sharp as a scalpel.

‘I’ll tell you what I know, Raffa,’ the sheikh promised his friend, better known as Don Rafael de Leon, Duke of Cantalabria, a mountainous and very beautiful region of Spain.

Count Roman Quisvada also sat forward. Roman was an expert in diamonds, with laboratories that specialised in cutting and polishing high-value stones, while Raffa owned the world’s largest and most exclusive chain of high-end retail jewellers. The Black Sheikh, the Italian count, and the Spanish duke had the diamond business sewn up.

There was just one loose end, Sharif reflected, and that was a company called Skavanga Mining. Owned by the three sisters, Britt, Eva and Leila Skavanga, along with the girls’ absentee brother, Tyr, Skavanga Mining had reported the discovery of the largest diamond deposits ever recorded. He was on the point of going to Skavanga to check out these reports for himself.

While he was there he would check out Britt Skavanga, the oldest sister, who was currently running the company, Sharif mused as he drew a photograph towards him. She looked like a worthy opponent with her clear grey eyes, firm mouth and the tilt of that chin. He looked forward to meeting her. A deal with the added spice of down time in the bedroom held obvious appeal. There was no sentiment in business and he certainly wasted none on women.

‘Why do you get all the fun?’ Roman complained, frowning when Sharif told the other men about his plan.

‘There are plenty to go round,’ he reassured them dryly as the other two men studied the photographs of the sisters. Glancing at Raffa, he felt a momentary twinge of something close to apprehension. The youngest sister, whom Raffa was studying, was clearly an innocent, while Raffa was most certainly not.

‘Three good-looking women,’ Roman commented, glancing between his friends.

‘For three ruthless asset strippers,’ Raffa added, devouring the last piece of orange with relish. ‘I look forward to stripping the assets off this one—’

Raffa’s dark eyes blackened dangerously as Sharif gathered the photographs in. Sharif hardly realised that he was caressing the photograph of Britt Skavanga with his forefinger while denying Raffa further study of Leila, the youngest sister.

‘This could be our most promising project to date,’ the man known to the world as the Black Sheikh commented.

‘And if anyone can land this deal, Sharif can,’ Roman remarked, hoping to heal the momentary rift between his friends. He could only be thankful their interest wasn’t in the same girl.

Raffa’s laugh relaxed them all. ‘Didn’t I hear you have some interesting sexual techniques in Kareshi, Sharif? Silken ties? Chiffon blindfolds?’

Roman huffed a laugh at this. ‘I’ve heard the same thing. In the harem tents it’s said they use creams and potions to send sensation through the roof—’

‘Enough,’ Sharif rapped, raising his hands to silence his friends. ‘Can we please return to business?’

Within seconds the Skavanga girls were forgotten and the talk was all of balance sheets and financial predictions, but in one part of his mind Sharif was still thinking about a pair of cool grey eyes and a full, expressive mouth, and what could be accomplished with a little expert tutelage.

An absolute monarch, bred to a hard life in the desert, Sharif had been trained to rule and fight and argue at council with the wisest of men—women being notable by their absence, which was something he had changed as soon as he took over the country. Women in Kareshi had used to be regarded as ornaments to be pampered and spoiled and hidden away; under his rule they were expected to pull their weight. Education for all was now the law.

And who would dare to argue with the Black Sheikh? Not Britt Skavanga, that was for sure. Staring at Britt’s photograph and seeing the steely determination so similar to his own in her eyes only reinforced his intention to check out all the assets in Skavanga personally. Britt possessed the generous, giving mouth of a concubine, with the unrelenting gaze of a Viking warrior. The combination aroused him. Even the severity of the suit she was wearing intrigued him. Her breasts thrusting against the soft wool stirred his senses in a most agreeable way. He adored severe tailoring on a woman. It was a type of shorthand he had learned to read many years ago. Severe equalled repressed, or possibly a player who liked to tease. Either way, he was a huge fan.

‘Are you still with us, Sharif?’ Raffa enquired with amusement as his friend finally pushed Britt’s photograph away.

‘Yes, but not for long as I will be leaving for Skavanga in the morning, travelling in my capacity of geologist and advisor to the consortium. This will allow me to make an impartial assessment of the situation without ruffling any feathers.’

‘That’s sensible,’ Raffa agreed. ‘Talk of the Black Sheikh descending on a business would be enough to send anyone into a panic.’

‘Have you ever descended on a tasty business prospect without devouring it?’ Roman enquired, hiding his smile.

‘The fact that this mysterious figure, conjured by the press and known to the world as the Black Sheikh, has never had a photograph published will surely be an advantage to you,’ Raffa suggested.

‘I reserve judgement until we meet again when I will be in a position to tell you if the claims that have been made about the Skavanga Diamonds are true,’ Sharif said with a closing gesture.

‘We can ask for no more than that,’ his two friends agreed.

‘Well, clearly, I must be the one to meet him,’ Britt insisted as the three sisters sat round the interestingly shaped—if not very practical, thanks to the holes the designer had punched in it—blonde wood kitchen table in Britt’s sleek, minimalist, barely lived-in penthouse.

‘Clearly—why?’ Britt’s feisty middle sister, Eva, demanded. ‘Who says you have the right to take the lead in this new venture? Shouldn’t we all have a part in it? What about the equality you’re always banging on about, Britt?’

‘Britt has far more business experience than we have,’ the youngest and most mild-mannered sister, Leila, pointed out. ‘And that’s a perfectly sensible reason for Britt to be the one to meet with him,’ Leila added, sweeping anxious fingers through her tumbling blonde curls.

‘Perfectly sensible?’ Eva scoffed. ‘Britt has experience in mining iron ore and copper. But diamonds?’ Eva rolled her emerald eyes. ‘You must agree the three of us are virgins where diamonds are concerned?’

And Eva was likely to remain a virgin in every sense if she kept on like this, Britt thought, fretting like a mother over her middle sister. Eva had been a glass-half-empty type of person for as long as Britt could remember and sadly there were no dashing Petruchios in Skavanga to prevent Eva from turning into a fully-fledged shrew. ‘I’m going to deal with this—and with him,’ she said firmly.

‘You and the Black Sheikh?’ Eva said scornfully. ‘You might be a hotshot businesswoman here in Skavanga, but the sheikh’s business interests are global—and he runs a country. What on earth makes you think you can take a man like that on?’

‘I know my business,’ Britt said calmly. ‘I know our mine and I’ll be factual. I’ll be cool and I’ll be reasoned.’

‘Britt’s very good at doing stuff like this without engaging her emotions,’ Leila added.

‘Really?’ Eva mocked. ‘Whether she can or not remains to be seen.’

‘I won’t let you down,’ Britt promised, knowing her sisters’ concerns both for her and for the business had prompted this row. ‘I’ve handled difficult people in the past and I’m well prepared to meet the Black Sheikh. I realise I must handle him with kid gloves—’

‘Nice.’ Eva laughed.

Britt ignored this. ‘We would be unwise to underestimate him,’ she said. ‘The ruler of Kareshi is known as the Black Sheikh for a very good reason—’

‘Rape and pillage?’ Eva suggested scathingly.

Britt held her tongue. ‘Sheikh Sharif is one of the foremost geologists in the world.’

‘It’s a shame we couldn’t find any photographs of him,’ Leila mused.

‘He’s a geologist, not a film star,’ Britt pointed out. ‘And how many Arab rulers have you seen photographs of?’

‘He’s probably so ugly he’d break the camera,’ Eva muttered. ‘I bet he’s a nerd with pebble glasses and a bristly chin.’

‘If he is he would be easier for Britt to deal with,’ Leila said hopefully.

‘A ruler who has moved his country forward and brought peace sounds like a decent man to me, so, whatever he looks like, it doesn’t matter. I just need your support. Fact: the minerals at the mine are running out and we need investment. The consortium this man heads up has the money to allow us to mine the diamonds.’

There was a silence as Britt’s sisters accepted the truth of this and she breathed a sigh of relief when they nodded their heads. Now she had a chance to rescue the mine and the town of Skavanga that was built around it. That, together with all the fresh challenges ahead of her, made her meeting with the so-called Black Sheikh seem less of a problem.

She was feeling slightly less sanguine the following day.

‘Serves you right for building up your hopes,’ Eva said as the girls gathered in Britt’s study after hearing her groan. ‘Your famous Black Sheikh can’t even be bothered to meet with you,’ Eva remarked, peering over Britt’s shoulder at the email message on the computer screen. ‘So he’s sending a representative instead,’ she scoffed, turning to throw an I-told-you-so look at Leila.

‘I’ll get some fresh coffee,’ Leila offered.

Eva’s carping was really getting on Britt’s nerves. She’d been up since dawn exchanging emails with Kareshi. It was practically noon for her, Britt reflected angrily as Leila brought the coffee in. Her sisters loved staying in the city with her, but sometimes they forgot that, while they could lounge around, she had a job to do. ‘I’m still going to meet with him. What else am I going to do?’ she demanded, swinging round to confront her sisters. ‘Do you two have any better ideas?’

Eva fell silent, while Leila gave Britt a sympathetic look as she handed her a mug of coffee. ‘I’m just sorry we’re going back home and leaving you with all this to deal with.’

‘That’s my job,’ Britt said, controlling her anger. She could never be angry with Leila. ‘Of course I’m disappointed I won’t be meeting the Black Sheikh, but all I’ve ever asked for is your support, Eva.’

‘Sorry,’ Eva muttered awkwardly. ‘I know you got landed with the company when Mum and Dad died. I’m just worried about what’s going to happen now all the commodities are running out. I do realise the mine’s sunk without the diamonds. And I know you’ll do your very best to land this deal, but I’m worried about you, Britt. This is too much on your shoulders.’

‘Stop it,’ Britt warned, giving her sister a hug. ‘Whoever the Black Sheikh sends, I can deal with him.’

‘It says that the man you’re to expect is a qualified geologist,’ Leila pointed out. ‘So at least you’ll have something in common.’ Britt’s degree was also in Geology, with a Master’s in Business Management.

‘Yes,’ Eva agreed, trying to sound as optimistic as her sister. ‘I’m sure it will be fine.’

Britt knew that both her sisters were genuinely concerned about her. They just had different ways of showing it. ‘Well, I’m excited,’ she said firmly to lift the mood. ‘When this man gets here we’re another step closer to saving the company.’

‘I wish Tyr were here to help you.’

Leila’s words made them all silent. Tyr was their long-lost brother and they rarely talked about him because it hurt too much. They couldn’t understand why he had left in the first place, much less why Tyr had never contacted them.

Britt broke the silence first. ‘Tyr would do exactly what we’re doing. He thinks the same as us. He cares about the company and the people here.’

‘Which explains why he stays away,’ Eva murmured.

‘He’s still one of us,’ Britt insisted. ‘We stick together. Remember that. The discovery of diamonds might even encourage him to return home.’

‘But Tyr isn’t motivated by money,’ Leila piped up.

Even Eva couldn’t disagree with that. Tyr was an idealist, an adventurer. Their brother was many things, but money was not his god, though Britt wished he would come home again. She missed him. Tyr had been away too long.

‘Here’s something that will make you laugh,’ Leila said in an attempt to lift the mood. Pulling the newspaper towards her, she pointed to an article in the newspaper that referred to the three sisters as the Skavanga Diamonds. ‘They haven’t tired of giving us that ridiculous nickname.’

‘It’s just so patronising,’ Eva huffed, brushing a cascade of fiery red curls away from her face.

‘I’ve been called worse things,’ Britt argued calmly.

‘Don’t be so naïve,’ Eva snapped. ‘All that article does is wave a flag in front of the nose of every fortune-hunter out there—’

‘And what’s wrong with that?’ Leila interrupted. ‘I’d just like to see a man who isn’t drunk by nine o’clock—’

This brought a shocked intake of breath from Britt and Eva, as Leila had mentioned something else they never spoke about. There had long been a rumour that their father had been drunk when he piloted the small company plane to disaster with their mother on board.

Leila flushed red as she realised her mistake. ‘I’m sorry—I’m just tired of your sniping, Eva. We really should get behind Britt.’

‘Leila’s right,’ Britt insisted. ‘It’s crucial we keep our focus and make this deal work. We certainly can’t afford to fall out between us. That article is fluff and we shouldn’t even be wasting time discussing it. If Skavanga Mining is going to have a future we have to consider every offer on the table—and so far the consortium’s is the only offer.’

‘I suppose you could always give the sheikh’s representative a proper welcome, Skavanga style,’ Eva suggested, brightening.

Leila relaxed into a smile. ‘I’m sure Britt has got a few ideas up her sleeve.’

‘It’s not my sleeve you need to worry about,’ Britt commented dryly, relieved that they were all the best of friends again.

‘Just promise me you won’t do anything you’ll regret,’ Leila said, remembering to worry.

‘I won’t regret it at the time,’ Britt promised dryly. ‘Unless he truly is a boffin with pebble glasses—in which case I’ll just have to put a paper bag over his head.’

‘Don’t become overconfident,’ Eva warned.

‘I’m not worried. If he proves difficult I’ll cut a hole in the ice and send him swimming. That will soon cool his ardour—’

‘Why stop there?’ Eva added. ‘Don’t forget the birch twig switches. You can always give him a good thrashing. That’ll sort him out.’

‘I’ll certainly consider it—’

‘Tell me you’re joking?’ Leila begged.

Thankfully, Britt’s younger sister missed the look Britt and Eva exchanged.

CHAPTER TWO

BRITT WAS UNUSUALLY nervous. The breakfast meeting with the Black Sheikh’s representative had been arranged for nine and it was already twenty past when she rushed through the doors of Skavanga Mining and tore up the stairs. It wasn’t as if she was unused to business meetings, but this one was different for a number of reasons, not least of which was the fact that her car had blown a tyre on the way to the office. Changing a tyre was an energetic exercise at the best of times, enough to get her heart racing, but the circumstances of this meeting had made her anxious without that, because so much depended on it—

‘I’ll show myself in,’ she said as a secretary glanced up in surprise.

Pausing outside the door to the boardroom, she took a moment to compose herself. Eva was right in that when their parents were killed Britt had been the only person qualified to take over the company and care for her two younger sisters. Their brother was … Well, Tyr was a maverick—a mercenary, for all they knew. He had been a regular soldier at one time, and no one knew where he was now. It was up to her to cut this deal; there was no one else. The man inside the boardroom could save the company if he gave a green light to the consortium. And she was late, an embarrassment that put her firmly on the back foot.

Back foot?

Forget that, Britt concluded as the imposing figure standing silhouetted against the light by the window turned to face her. The man was dressed conventionally in a dark, beautifully tailored business suit, when somehow she had imagined her visitor would be wearing flowing robes. This man needed no props to appear exotic. His proud, dark face, the thick black hair, which he wore carelessly swept back, and his watchful eyes were all the exotic ingredients required to complete a stunning picture. Far from the bristly nerd, he was heart-stoppingly good-looking, and it took all she’d got to keep her feet marching steadily across the room towards him.

‘Ms Skavanga?’

The deep, faintly accented voice ran shivers through every part of her. It was the voice of a master, a lover, a man who expected nothing less than to be obeyed.

Oh, get over it, Britt told herself impatiently. It was the voice of a man and he was tall, dark and handsome. So what? She had a company to run.

‘Britt Skavanga,’ she said firmly, advancing to meet him with her hand outstretched. ‘I’m sorry, you have me at a disadvantage,’ she added, explaining that all she had been told was that His Majesty Sheikh Sharif al Kareshi would be sending his most trusted aide.

‘For these preliminary discussions that is correct,’ he said, taking hold of her hand in a grip that was controlled yet deadly.

His touch stunned her. It might have been disappointingly brief, but it was as if it held some electrical charge that shot fire through her veins.

She wanted him.

Just like that she wanted him?

She was a highly sexed woman, but she had never experienced such an instant, strong attraction to any man before.

‘So,’ she said, lifting her chin as she made a determined effort to pitch her voice at a level suitable for the importance of the business to be carried out between them, ‘what may I call you?’

‘Emir,’ he replied, more aloof than ever.

‘Just Emir?’ she said.

‘It’s enough.’ He shrugged, discarding her wild fantasy about him at a stroke.

‘Shall we make a start?’ He looked her up and down with all the cool detachment of a buyer weighing up a mare brought to market. ‘Have you had some sort of accident, Ms Skavanga?’

‘Please, call me Britt.’ She had completely forgotten about the tyre until he brought it up, and now all she could think was what a wreck she must look. She clearly wasn’t making an impression as an on-top-of-things businesswoman, that was for sure.

‘Would you like to take a moment?’ Emir enquired as she smoothed her hair self-consciously.

‘No, thank you,’ she said, matching his cool. She wasn’t about to hand over the initiative this early in the game. ‘I’ve kept you waiting long enough. A tyre blew on my way to the office,’ she explained.

‘And you changed it?’

She frowned. ‘Why wouldn’t I? I didn’t want to waste time changing my clothes.’

‘Thank you for the consideration.’ Emir dipped his head in a small bow, allowing her to admire his thick, wavy hair, though his ironic expression suggested that Emir believed a woman’s place was somewhere fragrant and sheltered where she could bake and quake until her hunter returned.

Was he married?

She glanced at his ring-free hands, and remembered to thank him when he pulled out a chair. She couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. She was used to fending for herself, though it was nice to meet a gentleman, even if she suspected that beneath his velvet charm Emir was ruthless and would use every setback she experienced to his advantage.

No problem. She wasn’t about to give him an inch.

‘Please,’ she said, indicating a place that put the wide expanse of the boardroom table between them.

He had the grace of a big cat, she registered as he sat down. Emir was dark and mysterious compared to the blond giants in Skavanga she was used to. He was big and exuded power like some soft-pawed predator.

She had to be on guard at all times or he would win this game before she even knew it had been lost. Business was all that mattered now—though it was hard to concentrate when the flow of energy between them had grown.

Chemistry, she mused. And no wonder when Emir radiated danger. The dark business suit moulded his athletic frame to perfection, while the crisp white shirt set off his bronzed skin, and a grey silk tie provided a reassuring sober touch—to those who might be fooled. She wasn’t one of them. Emir might as well have been dressed in flowing robes with an unsheathed scimitar at his side, for seductive exoticism flowed from him.

She looked away quickly when his black gaze found hers and held it. Damn! She could feel her cheeks blazing. She quickly buried her attention in the documents in front of her.

Britt’s apparent devotion to her work amused him. He’d felt the same spark between them that she had, and there was always the same outcome to that. He generally relied on the first few minutes of any meeting to assess people. Body language told him so much. Up to now Skavanga had not impressed him. It was a grey place with an air of dejection that permeated both the company and the town. He didn’t need the report in front of him to tell him that the mineral deposits were running out, he could smell failure in the air. And however good this woman was at running the business—and she must be good to keep a failing company alive for so long—she couldn’t sell thin air. Britt needed to mine those diamonds in order to keep her company alive, and to do that she needed the consortium he headed up to back her.

The town might be grey, but Britt Skavanga was anything but. She exceeded his expectations. There was a vivid private world behind those serious dove grey eyes, and it was a world he intended to enter as soon as he could.

‘You will relate our dealings verbatim to His Majesty?’ she said as they began the meeting.

‘Of course. His Majesty greets you as a friend and hopes that all future dealings between us will bring mutual respect as well as great benefit to both our countries.’

He had not anticipated her sharp intake of breath, or the darkening of her eyes as he made the traditional Kareshi greeting, touching his chest, his mouth and finally his brow. He amended his original assessment of Britt to that of a simmering volcano waiting to explode.

She recovered quickly. ‘Please tell His Majesty that I welcome his interest in Skavanga Mining, and may I also welcome you as his envoy.’

Nicely done. She was cool. He’d give her that. His senses roared as she held his gaze. The only woman he knew who would do that was his sister, Jasmina, and she was a troublesome minx.

As Britt continued to lay out her vision of the future for Skavanga Mining he thought there was a touching innocence about her, even in the way she thought she would have any say once the consortium took over. Her capable hands were neatly manicured, the nails short and unpainted, and she wore very little make-up. There was no artifice about her. What you saw was what you got with Britt Skavanga—except for the fire in her eyes, and he guessed very few had seen that blaze into an inferno.

‘You must find the prospect of mining the icy wastes quite daunting after what you’re used to in the desert,’ she was saying.

He returned reluctantly to business. ‘On the contrary. There is a lot in Skavanga that reminds me of the vastness and variety of my desert home. It is a variety only obvious to those who see it, of course.’ As much as he wanted this new venture to go ahead, he wanted Britt Skavanga even more.

As hard as she tried to concentrate, her body was making it impossible to think, but then her body seemed tuned to Emir’s. She even found herself leaning towards him, and had to make herself sit back. Even then his heat curled around her. His face was stern, which she loved, and his scent, spicy and warm, sandalwood, maybe, it was a reminder of the exotic world he came from. Her sisters had already teased her mercilessly about Kareshi supposedly being at the forefront of the erotic arts. She had pretended not to listen to such nonsense, especially when they insisted that the people of Kareshi had a potion they used to heighten sensation. But she’d heard them. And now she was wondering if anything they’d said could be true—

‘Ms Skavanga?’

She jerked alert as Emir spoke her name. ‘I beg your pardon. My mind was just—’

‘Wandering? Or examining the facts?’ he said with amusement.

‘Yes—’

‘Yes? Which is it?’

She couldn’t even remember the question. The blood rush to her cheeks was furious and hot, while Emir just raised a brow and his mouth curved slightly.

‘Are you ready to continue?’ he said.

‘Absolutely,’ she confirmed, sitting up straight. She was mad for this man—crazy for him. No way could she think straight until the tension had been released.

‘There are some amendments I want to discuss,’ he said, frowning slightly as he glanced up at her.

She turned with relief to the documents in front of her.

‘I need more time,’ she said.

‘Really?’ Emir queried softly.

She swallowed deep when she saw the look in his eyes. ‘I don’t think we should rush anything—’

‘I don’t think we should close any doors, either.’

Were they still talking about business? Shaking herself round, she explained that she wouldn’t be making any decisions on behalf of the other shareholders yet.

‘And I need to take samples from the mine before I can involve the consortium in such a large investment,’ Emir pointed out.

He only had to speak for alarm bells to go off in every part of her body, making it impossible to think about anything other than long, moonlit nights in the desert. Not once since taking over at Skavanga Mining had she ever been so distracted during a meeting. It didn’t help that she had thought the Black Sheikh’s trusted envoy would be some greybeard with a courtly air.

‘Here is your copy of my projections,’ she said, forcing her mind back to business before closing her file to signify the end of the meeting.

‘I have my own projections, thank you.’

She bridled at that before reminding herself that just a murmur from the Black Sheikh could rock a government, and that his envoy was hardly going to be a pushover when it came to negotiations.

‘Before we finish, there’s just one here on the second page,’ he said, leaning towards her.

‘I see it,’ she said, stiffening as she tried to close her mind to Emir’s intoxicating scent. And those powerful hands … the suppleness in his fingers … the strength in his wrists …

He caught her staring and she started blushing again. This was ridiculous. She was acting like a teenager on her first date.

Exhaling shakily, she sat back in the chair determined to recover the situation, but Emir was on a roll.

‘You seem to have missed something here,’ he said, pointing to another paragraph.

She never missed anything. She was meticulous in all her business dealings. But sure enough, Emir had found one tiny thing she had overlooked.

‘And this clause can go,’ he said, removing it with a strike of his pen.

‘Now, just a minute—’ She stared aghast as Emir deconstructed her carefully drawn-up plan. ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘That clause does not go, and neither does anything else without further discussion, and this part of the meeting is over.’

He sat back in his chair as she stood up, which explained why she wasn’t ready for him moving in front of her to stand in her way.

‘You seem upset,’ he said. ‘And I don’t want the first part of our meeting to end badly.’

‘Bringing in investors is a big step for me to take—’

‘Britt—’

Emir’s touch on her skin was like an incendiary device, but the fact that his hand was on her arm at all was an outrage. ‘Let me go,’ she warned softly, but they both heard the shake in her voice. And surely Emir could feel her trembling beneath his touch. He must feel the heated awareness in her skin.

He murmured something in his own language. It might as well have been a spell. She turned to look at him, not keen to go anywhere suddenly.

‘It seems to me we have a timing problem, Britt. But there is a solution, if you will allow me to take it?’

Emir’s eyes were dark and amused. At first she thought she must have misunderstood him, but there was no mistake, and the solution he was proposing had been in her mind for some time. But surely no civilised businessman would be willing to enter into such a risky entanglement within an hour of meeting her?

As Emir’s hand grazed her chin she moved into his embrace, allowing him to turn her face up to his. This was no meeting between business colleagues. This was a meeting between a man and woman who were hot for each other, and the man was a warrior of the desert.

Emir promised pleasure. He also promised a chance to forget, and, for however short a time, the prospect of that seemed preferable at this moment to doing battle endlessly on every front. How would it feel to have this big man hold her and bring her pleasure? She must have swayed towards him, for the next thing she knew he was holding her in front of him.

‘Why, Britt,’ he said with amusement. ‘If I’d known how badly you wanted this I’m sure we could have arranged something before the meeting.’

Emir’s blunt approach should have shocked her—annoyed her—but instead it made her want him all the more, and as he brushed her lips with his she found herself instantly hungry, instantly frantic, for more pressure, more intimacy, and for everything to happen fast.

But Emir was even more experienced than she had realised, and now he took pleasure in subjecting her to an agonising delay. As the clock ticked, the tension built and he held her stare with his knowing and faintly amused look. She guessed Emir knew everything about arousal, and could only hope it wouldn’t be long before he decided she had suffered enough. She voiced a cry of relief when he cupped her face in his warm, slightly roughened hands, and another when her patience was rewarded by a kiss that began lightly and then brutally mimicked the act her body so desperately craved.

It was in no way subjugation by a powerful man, but the meeting of eager mates, a fierce coupling between two people who knew exactly what they wanted from each other, and as Emir pressed her back against the boardroom table and set about removing her clothes she gasped in triumph and began ripping at his.

He tossed her jacket aside. She loosened his tie and dragged it off, letting it drop onto the floor. As he ripped her blouse open she battled with the buttons on his shirt. She exclaimed with pleased surprise when he lifted her and she clung to him as he stripped off her tights and her briefs. Suddenly it was all about seeing who could rid themselves of any barriers first. She was mindless sensation—hot flesh brushing, touching, cleaving, in a tangle of limbs and hectic breathing, while Emir remained calm and strong, and certain. He felt so good beneath her hands … so very good—

Too good! You have never felt like this about a man before—

Danger! This man can change your life—

You won’t walk away from this with a smile on your face—

Using sheer force of will, she closed off her annoying inner voice. She wanted this. She needed it. This was her every fantasy come true. Even now as Emir took time to protect them both she saw no reason not to follow her most basic instinct. Why shouldn’t she? Emir was—

Emir was enormous. He was entirely built to scale. Was she ready for this?

He made her forget everything the moment he caressed her breasts. Moaning, she rested back and let him do what he wanted with her. Just this once she wanted to feel that she didn’t have to lead or fight. Just this once she could be the woman she had always dreamed of being—the woman who was with a man who knew how to please her.

And I wonder what he thinks about you—

To hell with what he thinks about me, she raged silently.

To hell with you, don’t you mean?

CHAPTER THREE

BRITT WAS BEAUTIFUL and willing and he had needs. Willing? She was a wild cat with a body that was strong and firm, yet voluptuous. Her breasts were incredible, up-tilted and full, and he took his time to weigh them appreciatively, smiling when she groaned with pleasure as he circled her nipples very lightly with his thumbnails. She was so responsive, so eager that her nipples had tightened and were thrusting towards him, pink and impertinent, and clearly in need of more attention. He aimed to please. Kissing her neck, he travelled down, part of him already regretting that they had wasted so much time. She shuddered with desire as he blazed a trail through the dust she had collected when she changed her tyre. ‘You’re clean now,’ he said, smiling into her lust-dazed eyes.

She laughed down low in her throat in a way he found really sexy, and then weakened against him as she waited for him to continue his sensory assault.

‘Shall I take the edge off your hunger?’ he offered.

‘Yours too,’ she insisted huskily.

‘If that’s what you want, you tell me what you’d like.’

Her gaze flicked up and her cheeks flushed pink. She wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not.

‘I’m serious,’ he said quietly.

‘Please—’

As she appealed to him he decided that the time he had allowed for this visit to Skavanga wouldn’t be enough. He ran his fingers lightly over her beautiful breasts before moving on to trace the swell of her belly. Lifting her skirt, he nudged her thighs apart. She made it easy for him, so he repaid her gesture by delicately exploring the heated flesh at the apex of her thighs. When she whimpered with pleasure it was all he could do to hold back. So much for his much-vaunted self-control, he mused, as Britt thrust her hips towards him, trying for more contact. He wanted nothing more than to take her now. Clutching his arms, she tilted herself back against the table, moaning with need. Opening her legs a little more for him, she showed him a very different woman from the one in the starchy photograph he had examined in London, but this was the woman he had suspected Britt was hiding all along.

‘You’re quite clinical about this, aren’t you?’ Britt panted in a rare moment of lucidity as he watched her pleasure.

Duty could do that to a man. He never let himself go. Growing up the second son of the third wife had hardly been to his advantage as a youth. He had been forced to watch the cruelty inflicted on his people by those closer to the throne than he was on a daily basis. So, yes, he was cold. He’d had to be to overthrow tyrants that were also his relatives. There was no room now in his life for anything other than the most basic human appetite.

‘Don’t make me wait,’ Britt was begging him.

She needn’t worry. His preference at this moment was to please her.

This was insane. Emir was cold, detached—and the sexiest thing on two legs. He was frighteningly distant, but she was lost in an erotic haze of his making. She needed more—more pressure, more contact—more of him. The more aloof he was, the more her body cried out to him. The ache he’d set up inside her was unbearable. She had to have more of his skilful touches—

An excited cry escaped her throat when she felt the insistent thrust of his erection against her belly. She rubbed herself shamelessly against it, sobbing with pleasure as each delicious contraction of her nerve endings gave some small indication of what was to come. Emir’s hard, warrior frame was even more powerful than she had imagined, and yet he used his hands so delicately in a way that drove her crazy for him. Lacing her fingers through his thick black hair, she dragged him close. He responded by cupping the back of her head to keep her in place as he dipped down and plundered her mouth. Sweeping the table clear, he lifted her and balanced her on the edge. Moving between her legs, he forced them apart with the width of his body. ‘Wrap your legs around me,’ he commanded, pushing them wider still.

She had never obeyed a man’s instructions in her life, but she rushed to obey these. Resting her hands flat on the table behind her, she arched her spine, thrusting her breasts forward, while Emir reared over her, magnificent and erect.

Like a stallion on the point of servicing a mare?

With far more consideration than that—

Are you sure?

She was sure that any more delay would send her crazy. She was also sure that Emir knew exactly what he was doing.

‘Tell me what you want, Britt,’ he demanded fiercely.

‘You know what I want,’ she said.

‘But you must tell me,’ he said in low, cruel voice.

Her throat dried. The harsher he got, the more arousing she found it. No one had ever pushed her boundaries like this before. And she had thought herself liberal where sex was concerned? She was a novice compared to Emir.

She had also thought herself emotion-free, Britt realised, but knew deep in her heart that something had changed inside her. Even when she plumbed the depths of Emir’s cold black eyes she wanted to be the one to draw a response from him—she wanted to learn more about him, and in every way.

‘Say it,’ he instructed.

Her face blazed red. No one spoke to her like that—no one told her what to do. But her body liked what was happening, and was responding with enthusiasm. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, please.’ And then she told him exactly what she wanted him to do to her without sparing a single lurid detail.

Now he was pleased. Now she got through to him. Now he almost smiled.

‘I think I can manage that,’ he said dryly. ‘My only concern is that we may not have sufficient time to work our way through your rather extensive wish list.’

On this occasion, she thought. ‘Perhaps another time,’ she said, matching him for dispassion. But then she glanced at the door. How could she have forgotten that it was still unlocked? Just as she was thinking she must do something about it, Emir touched her in a way that made it impossible for her to move.

‘Don’t you like the risk?’ he said, reading her easily.

She looked at him, and suddenly she loved the risk.

‘Hold me,’ he said softly. ‘Use me—take what you need.’

She hesitated, another first for her. No one had ever given her this freedom. She moved to do as he said and found it took two hands to enclose him.

‘I’m waiting,’ he said.

With those dangerous eyes watching her, she made a pass. Loving it, she made a second, firmer stroke—

Taking control, Emir caught the tip inside her. She gasped and would have pulled away, but he cupped her buttocks firmly in his strong hands and drew her slowly on to him. ‘What are you afraid of?’ he said, staring deep into her eyes. ‘You know I won’t hurt you.’

She didn’t know him at all, but for some reason she trusted him. ‘I’m just—’

‘Hungry,’ he said. ‘I know.’

A sound of sheer pleasure trembled from her throat. She had played games with boys before, she realised, but Emir was a man, and a man like no other man.

‘Am I enough for you?’ he mocked.

She lifted her chin. ‘What do you think?’

He told her exactly what he thought, and while she was still gasping with shock and lust he kissed her, and before she could recover he thrust inside her deeply to the hilt. For a moment she was incapable of thinking or doing, and even breathing was suspended. This wasn’t pleasure, this was an addiction. She could never get enough of this—or of him. The sensation of being completely inhabited while being played by a master was a very short road to release.

‘No,’ he said sharply, stopping her. ‘I’ll tell you when. Look at me, Britt,’ he said fiercely.

On the promise of pleasure she stared into Emir’s molten gaze. She would obey him. She would pay whatever price it took for this to continue.

He was pleased with her. Britt was more responsive than even he had guessed. She was a strong woman who made him want to pleasure her. He loved the challenge that was Britt Skavanga. He loved her fire. He loved her cries of pleasure and the soft little whimpers she made when he thrust repeatedly into her. What had started as a basic function to clear his head had become an exercise in pleasuring Britt.

‘Now,’ he whispered fiercely.

He held her firmly as she rocked into orgasm with a release so violent he trusted his strength more than the boardroom table and held her close, though he could do nothing about the noise she was making, which would probably travel to the next town, and so he smothered it with a kiss. When he let her go, she gasped and called his name. He held her safe, cushioning her against the hard edge of the table with his hands as he soothed her down. Withdrawing carefully, he steadied Britt on her feet before releasing her. Smoothing the hair back from her flushed, damp brow, he stared into her dazed eyes, waiting until he was sure she had recovered. The one thing he had not expected was to feel an ache of longing in his chest. He had not expected to feel anything.

‘Wow,’ she whispered, her voice muffled against his naked chest.

He liked the feeling of Britt resting on him and was in no hurry to move away. If she had been anyone else the next move would have been simple. He would have taken her back to Kareshi with him. But she was too much like him. There would be no diamond mine, no town, no Skavanga Mining, without Britt. Just as he belonged in Kareshi, she was tied here. But still he felt a stab of regret that he couldn’t have this exciting woman. ‘Are you okay?’ he murmured as she stirred.

She lifted her chin to look at him, and as she did this she drew herself up and drew her emotions in. As she pulled herself together he could almost see her forcing herself to get over whatever it was she had briefly felt for him.

‘There are two bathrooms,’ she informed him briskly. ‘You can use the one directly off the boardroom. I have my own en suite attached to my office. We will reconvene this meeting in fifteen minutes.’

A smile of incredulity and, yes, admiration curved his lips as he watched her go. She walked across the room with her head held high like a queen. It might have seemed ridiculous had anyone else tried it, but Britt Skavanga could pull it off.

He showered down quickly in the bathroom she had told him about, and was both surprised and pleased by the quality of the amenities until he remembered that Britt had a hand in everything here. There were high-quality towels on heated rails, as well as shampoo, along with all the bits and pieces that contributed to making a freshen-up session pleasurable. Britt hadn’t forgotten anything—at which point a bolt of very masculine suspicion punched him in the guts. Had she done this before? And if so, how many times?

And why should he care?

He returned to the boardroom to find Britt had arrived before him. She looked composed. She looked as if nothing had happened between them. She looked as she might have looked at the start of the meeting if she hadn’t been forced to change a tyre first. She also looked very alone to him, seated beneath the portraits of her forebears, and once again he got the strongest sense that duty ruled Britt every bit as much as it ruled him.

They both imagined they were privileged and, yes, each was powerful in their own way, but neither of them could choose what they wanted out of life, because the choices had already been made for them.

She hated herself, hated herself for what she had done. Losing control like that. She hadn’t even been able to meet her sex-sated reflection in the bathroom mirror. She had weakened with Emir in a way she must never weaken again. She put it down to a moment of madness before she closed her heart. But as her mind flashed back to what they’d done, and the remembered feeling of being close to him, for however short a time, she desperately wanted more—

She would just have to exercise more control—

‘Is something distracting you, Britt?’ Emir demanded, jolting her back to the present.

‘Should there be something?’ she said in a voice that held no hint that Emir was the only distraction.

‘No,’ he said without expression.

They deserved each other, she thought. But she was curious all the same. Did he really feel nothing? Didn’t his body throb with pleasurable awareness as hers did? Didn’t he want more? Didn’t he yearn to know more about her as she longed to know more about him? Or was she nothing more than an entertainment between coffee breaks for Emir?

And rumour had it she was the hardest of the Skavanga Diamonds?

What a laugh!

Tears of shame were pricking her eyes. She could never make a mistake like this again—

‘Hay fever,’ she explained briskly when Emir glanced suspiciously at her.

‘In Skavanga?’ he said, glancing outside at the icy scene.

‘We have pollen,’ she said coldly, moving on.

She wasn’t sure how she got to the end of the second half of their meeting, but she did. There was too much hanging on the outcome for her to spoil the deal with a clouded mind. So far so good, Britt concluded, wrapping everything up with a carefully rehearsed closing statement. At least she could tell her sisters that she hadn’t been forced to concede anything vital, and that Emir was prepared to move on to the next stage, which would involve a visit to the mine.

‘I’m looking forward to that,’ he said.

There was nothing in his eyes for her. The rest of Emir’s visit would be purely about business—

And why should it be anything else?

She hated herself for the weakness, but she had expected something—some outward sign that their passionate encounter had made an impression on him … but apparently not.

‘Is that everything?’ Emir said as he gathered up his papers. ‘I imagine you want to make an early start in the morning if we’re going to the mine.’

The mine was miles away from anywhere. The only logical place for them to stay was the old cabin Britt’s great-grandfather had built. It was isolated—there were no other people around. Doing a quick risk-assessment of the likely outcome, knowing the passion they shared, she knew she would be far better off arranging for one of her lieutenants to take him…

But Emir would see that as cowardice. And was she frightened of him? Could she even entrust the task of taking him to the mine to anyone else? She should be there. And maybe getting him out of her system once and for all would allow her to sharpen up and concentrate on what really mattered again.

‘I would like to make an early start,’ she said, ‘though I must warn you there are no luxury facilities at the cabin. It’s pretty basic.’ Somehow, what Emir thought about the cabin that meant so much to her mattered to her, Britt realised. It mattered a lot.

Emir seemed unconcerned. ‘Apart from the difference in temperature, the Arctic is another wilderness like the desert.’

‘My great-grandfather built the cabin. It’s very old–’

‘You’re fortunate to have something so special and permanent to remember him by.’

Yes, she was, and the fact that Emir knew this meant a lot to her.

They stared at each other until she forced herself to look away. This was not the time to be inventing imaginary bonds between them. Better she remembered Eva’s words about a true Nordic welcome to contain this warrior of the desert. It would be interesting to discover if Emir was still so confident after a brush with ice and fire.

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