‘I am disappointed that you must rush away before we’ve had a chance to discuss my proposal. Perhaps we can arrange to meet again at a more convenient time?’

She licked her dry lips and told herself she was imagining the predatory gleam in his eyes. ‘Your Highness …’ Her voice sounded strangely breathless.

‘Please call me Kadir, Lexi.’

The way he said her name, with that soft huskiness in his voice, was too intimate—as if he had stroked each syllable with his tongue.

Lexi felt as though she was drowning in his molten gaze, but a tiny part of her sanity remained and asked why she was letting him get to her. He was a notorious womaniser, and in the past when other men like him had tried to come on to her she’d had no trouble shooting them down.

Of course she would not allow herself to be seduced by the Sheikh. But she could not deny that his interest was flattering, and a salve to her wounded pride. Without conscious thought she swayed towards Kadir, bringing her mouth even closer to his. Her heart pounded and her eyelashes swept down as she waited, tense with anticipation, for him to brush his lips over hers.

Dear Reader,

Sisters often share a special bond of love and friendship—as I do with my own sister. I am fascinated by this unique relationship, and decided to write a duet featuring two sisters.

However, when I thought of Lexi, the heroine of Sheikh’s Forbidden Conquest, I realised that her relationship with her younger sister Athena was complicated because Lexi was adopted. A year later her adoptive parents had a much longed for daughter of their own, and made it clear to Lexi that they preferred Athena.

Lexi has demonstrated her bravery as an RAF pilot, flying rescue missions in Afghanistan, but sparks fly when she goes to work for Sultan Kadir Al Sulaimar in his desert kingdom of Zenhab. The cultural differences between them are just one barrier they face, and they know they must resist the sizzling chemistry that ignites whenever they are near each other!

In my second book, shy Athena wishes she was as confident as her fiery sister. Athena has been named after the Greek goddess of wisdom, but she feels she is a disappointment to her academic parents, who hoped she would follow them into a medical career.

At least her parents are pleased that she is engaged to English aristocrat Charles Fairfax. But mysterious Italian playboy Luca De Rossi has other plans for Athena!

I hope you enjoy reading about the sisters’ journeys to finding true love!

Best wishes

Chantelle

Sheikh’s Forbidden Conquest

Chantelle Shaw

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHANTELLE SHAW lives on the Kent coast, and thinks up her stories while walking on the beach. She has been married for over thirty years and has six children. Her love affair with reading and writing Harlequin Mills & Boon® began as a teenager, and her first book was published in 2006. She likes strong-willed, slightly unusual characters. Chantelle also loves gardening, walking and wine!

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For my sister Helen, with love.

Contents

Cover

Excerpt

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘WHAT LUNATIC DECIDED to go sailing in this atrocious weather?’ Lexi muttered into her headset as she piloted the coastguard rescue helicopter over the south coast of England and out across the Solent.

The narrow strait which separated the mainland from the Isle of Wight was a popular area for water sports and on a summer’s day, when the sea was calm and blue, it was an idyllic sight to watch the yachts skim across the water with their sails tugging in the breeze. But October had blown in on a series of ferocious storms that had swept away the last remnants of summer and whipped the sea into mountainous waves which crashed against the chalk cliffs, spewing foam high into the air. The white horses reared up in the glare of the helicopter’s searchlight but Lexi knew that an even greater threat lay beneath the sea’s surface, where dangerous currents eddied and swirled, ready to drag the unwary and unwise down into the depths.

She heard the co-pilot, Gavin’s response through her headphones. ‘The yacht which has made an emergency call for assistance was competing in a race. Apparently the skipper thought they would be able to run ahead of the storm, but they’ve hit a sandbank and the boat is taking in water.’

Lexi swore beneath her breath. ‘The skipper took a dangerous gamble to win a race. Jeez, I love the male ego!’

‘To be fair, the storm is stronger than the Met Office predicted,’ Gavin said. ‘The complex tidal patterns of the Solent have caught out many experienced sailors.’

‘The problem is that too many sailors don’t have enough experience and fail to appreciate how unpredictable and dangerous the sea can be, like the man on holiday with his son who we were called to assist two days ago. The boy was only ten years old. He didn’t stand a chance when their boat started to sink in rough seas.’

‘We did all we could,’ Gavin reminded her.

‘Yeah, but we couldn’t save the boy. He was just a kid with his whole life in front of him. What a bloody waste.’

Lexi struggled to bring her emotions under control and concentrated on flying the helicopter in the strong wind and driving rain. She prided herself on her professionalism. The first rule of working for the rescue service was not to allow your mind to linger on past events—even something as traumatic as the death of a child—but to move on and deal with the next incident.

‘The Mayday call confirmed that the three males on the yacht are all wearing life jackets,’ Gavin said. ‘But they’re unlikely to survive for long in these rough seas. The skipper reported that he has received a head injury, but he insisted that he wants his crewmen to be rescued first.’

‘It’s a bit late for him to be concerned for his crew now. It’s a pity he didn’t take their safety into account earlier and abort the race.’

Lexi constantly moved her gaze between the flight instrument panel and the window to scan the wild waves below. Three massive chalk stacks known as the Needles rose out of the sea like jagged teeth. The famous landmark was iconic but the strong currents around the rocks could be treacherous.

An orange glow suddenly flashed in the sky.

‘Did you see the flare?’ Gavin peered through the windscreen as Lexi took the chopper lower. A few moments later he gave another shout. ‘I’ve got a visual—on your right-hand side.’

Lexi spotted the yacht. It had been tipped onto its side by the strong sea swell, and she could make out three figures clinging onto the rigging. She kept the helicopter hovering in position as Gavin went to the rear of the aircraft and prepared to lower the winchman, who was a paramedic, onto the stricken vessel. The buffeting wind made Lexi’s job almost impossible, but she was a highly experienced pilot and had flown Chinook helicopters over the deserts of Afghanistan. A cool head and nerves of steel had been necessary when she had been a member of the RAF and those qualities were required for her job with the coastguard rescue agency.

She spoke to the paramedic over the radio. ‘Chris, once you’re aboard the vessel, remind the crew that the coastguard agency are in charge of the rescue and everyone is to follow your orders, including the skipper. If his head injury looks serious we’ll winch him up first, whether he likes it or not. This is not the time for him to decide he wants to be a hero,’ she said sardonically.

CHAPTER TWO

THE SEARING PAIN that felt as though Kadir’s skull had been split open with an axe was the result of being hit on the head by the sail boom of the White Hawk—his brand-new racing yacht that was now residing at the bottom of the sea. However, his immediate concern was not for the loss of his boat but the welfare of his crew, who were being stretchered off the helicopter that had just landed at a hospital on the mainland.

The rescue had been dramatic—and just in time. Once Kadir had realised the yacht was sinking, everything had happened so quickly. He hadn’t had time to feel fear, but for a few seconds he had pictured himself galloping across a golden desert on his black stallion Baha’, and his heart had ached for what would become of the kingdom his father had entrusted to him.

But, like a miracle, out of the dark sky had appeared a shining light, and he had heard the distinctive whump-whump of helicopter rotor blades. Kadir had flown in a helicopter many times, and as he’d clung to the rigging of his wrecked yacht being battered by forty-foot waves he had recognised the skill and bravery of the pilot flying the coastguard rescue chopper in the worsening gale.

He knew that he and his crew had been lucky to survive. But the two young sailors who had crewed for him since the start of the race in the Canary Islands were suffering from hypothermia and were in a bad way. As Kadir watched them being wheeled across the helipad, frustration surged through him. His clothes were wet and stiff with sea salt and the wind whipping across the helipad chilled him to his bones. He lifted a hand to his throbbing head and felt a swelling the size of an egg on his temple.

The coastguard paramedic gave him a worried look. ‘Sir, please lie down on the stretcher and one of the medical staff will take you down to the A&E department so that your injuries can be treated.’

‘I’m fine; I can walk,’ Kadir said impatiently. ‘It’s my crew who I’m concerned about. I wish you had followed my instructions and rescued them first. They got too cold because they were in the sea for so long. You should have winched them up onto the helicopter before you rescued me.’

‘I was under instructions to rescue injured casualties first and it was obvious that you had sustained a possibly serious head injury,’ the paramedic explained.

‘My crew were my responsibility,’ Kadir argued. He was interrupted by another voice.

‘I hardly think you are in a position to question the professional judgement of a member of the coastguard team when it was your poor judgement in deciding to sail in atrocious weather that put your crew in danger.’

Frowning, Kadir turned towards the person who had jumped down from the helicopter cockpit. Like the other members of the rescue team, the figure was wearing a bulky jumpsuit, but as they removed their flight helmet Kadir’s confusion grew.

‘Who are you?’ he demanded.

‘Flight Captain Lexi Howard. I was in charge of the rescue operation. The helicopter crew acted under my instructions, which were to winch up injured casualties first.’

‘You’re...a woman!’

The instant the words left his lips Kadir realised he had made a crass fool of himself. There was a crowd of people standing on the helipad—medical staff and a team of firemen, who were required to be present whenever a helicopter landed at the hospital, and everyone fell silent and stared at him.

He could blame his shocked reaction to the female helicopter pilot on his recent trauma of nearly drowning, and also on the fact that—despite the new laws and policy changes he was gradually trying to introduce—gender equality was still a relatively new concept in his country, the isolated desert kingdom of Zenhab. But it was obvious from the pilot’s icy expression that any excuse Kadir might offer for his tactless comment would not be well received.

‘Full marks for observation,’ the Flight Captain said drily. ‘If the fact that I’m a woman bothers you so much I could always drop you back in the sea where I found you and your crew.’

The reminder of the two injured sailors reignited Kadir’s sense of frustration that he was not in charge of the situation. He was used to making decisions and having them obeyed without question, and he was struggling to accept that in this instance the female Flight Captain was in control. It didn’t help matters that his head felt as if it was going to explode. He gritted his teeth, fighting the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him and destroy what was left of his dignity.

‘As the yacht’s skipper, it was my duty to ensure the safety of my crew,’ he insisted. ‘I was in a better position to judge their physical condition than you were and I could see that they were both exhausted.’

‘It was my duty to ensure the safety of all the casualties in need of rescue, as well as the safety of my flight crew,’ the Flight Captain said coldly. ‘How dare you question my authority?’

How dare he? No one had ever dared to address Kadir with such insolence, least of all a woman, and certainly not in public. The knowledge that he was indebted to this self-assured young woman for saving his life made him feel emasculated. The fact that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen only made him feel worse.

In the nightclubs and casinos—the playgrounds across Europe of the rich and bored—Kadir had met countless beautiful women, and in his youth he had bedded more of them than he cared to remember. For the past decade he had lived his life in the fast lane and played hard, but at thirty-two he felt jaded. It was a long time since his curiosity had been aroused by a woman, but Flight Captain Lexi Howard intrigued him.

Beneath the floodlights on the helipad, her complexion was flawless and so fair that the skin stretched over her high, slanting cheekbones was almost translucent. Her long braid of ash-blonde hair suggested possible Nordic ancestry and the impression was further enhanced by her light blue eyes that reminded Kadir of the cool, clear skies above the Swiss Alps where he skied every winter.

He found he could not look away from her and he felt a sudden tightness in his chest as if a fist had gripped his heart. Heat surged through his veins. He tried to convince himself that the fire inside him was a natural response after his recent brush with death, but deep in his core something hot and hungry stirred.

‘Surely you checked the Met Office shipping forecast and realised that a storm was approaching?’ Lexi glared at the yacht’s skipper, infuriated that he’d had the cheek to criticise how the rescue operation had been carried out. She guessed he was an inexperienced sailor, and his failure to respond to the worsening weather conditions had compromised the safety of his crew.

Her mind flew back to the incident the coastguard helicopter had attended two days ago and the young boy they had been unable to save. ‘Not every rescue can be successful,’ the coastguard station commander had reminded Lexi at the debriefing afterwards. ‘Part of the job is to accept that you can’t save everyone.’

Lexi’s RAF commanding officer of the Medical Emergency Rescue Team in Afghanistan had said the same thing. Many of the things she had seen, the terrible injuries received by soldiers caught in landmine explosions and sniper fire, had been harrowing, but if she had gone to pieces she wouldn’t have been able to do her job. The same was true working for the coastguard rescue. Her common sense told her she must not allow one tragedy to haunt her, but in her heart she had taken the failure to save the boy hard.

The tragedy two days ago and the incident today could have been avoided if the yacht’s skipper in each case had acted more responsibly, she thought grimly. She was tempted to tell the man standing in front of her what she thought of him, but something about him made her swallow her angry words. Despite his dishevelled appearance and the large purple swelling above his right eye, he had an aura of power about him that set him apart from other men.

He was looking at Lexi in a way that no man had looked at her for a long time. Too long—the treacherous thought slid into her head. She tried to push it away but a picture flashed into her mind of the man’s strong, tanned hands on her body, dark against pale, hard muscle pressed against soft yielding flesh.

Shocked by her wayward imagination, she narrowed her eyes to hide her thoughts as she studied him. He was sinfully attractive, with exotic olive-gold skin and over-long, thick black hair that curled at his nape and fell forward onto his brow so that he raked it back with an impatient flick of his hand. Lexi’s gaze was drawn to his dark brown eyes—liquid pools of chocolate fringed by ridiculously long, silky lashes and set beneath heavy black brows. The gleam in his eyes unsettled her, and the blatantly sensual curve of his lips made her wonder how it would feel if he pressed his mouth against hers.

She shook her head, trying to break free from the disturbing effect he had on her, praying he hadn’t noticed that she had been staring at him. She did not understand her reaction to him. It had been a long time since she had looked at a man and felt a quiver in her belly. Too long, she acknowledged ruefully.

‘You should have waited for the weather to improve, instead of putting your life and the lives of your crew at risk.’ She spoke sharply, desperate to hide her confusing awareness of the yacht’s skipper. ‘Your behaviour was irresponsible. Offshore sailing is not for inexperienced sailors.’

The man arrogantly threw back his head, drawing Lexi’s attention to his broad shoulders. She assessed him to be several inches over six feet tall.

‘I’m not a fool,’ he said curtly. ‘Of course I checked the marine forecast and I was aware of the storm. The White Hawk could easily have run ahead of the bad weather, but we must have hit something in the water that ripped the keel from the hull and resulted in the yacht capsizing.’

He broke off abruptly. Following the direction of his gaze, Lexi saw two men hurrying towards them. The helipad was strictly out of bounds to the public but, as she stepped forward to ask the men to leave, they halted in front of the White Hawk’s skipper and, to Lexi’s astonishment, bowed to him. She had learned enough Arabic during her tours of duty in the Middle East to recognise the language they spoke. After a brief conversation with the men, the skipper swung away from Lexi without giving her another glance and strode across the helipad, followed by his two companions.

‘A word of thanks for saving his life would have been nice,’ she said disgustedly, not caring if her words carried across the helipad to him. She glanced at the coastguard paramedic. ‘Did you see how those men bowed to him as if they were his servants? He actually clicked his fingers for them to follow him! Who the hell does he think he is?’

Chris gave her an amused look. ‘I take it from the way you ripped into him that you didn’t recognise him? That was His Royal Highness, Sultan Kadir Al Sulaimar of Zenhab, and I’m guessing that the men who came to collect him are his servants. Not only is he a Sultan, he was the skipper of the Zenhab Team Valiant who won the America’s Cup in the summer.’ He grinned at Lexi’s startled expression. ‘I got the feeling that he didn’t take kindly to you calling him an inexperienced sailor.’

‘I still think he was irresponsible to have sailed when he knew that a storm was coming,’ Lexi argued. ‘But I guess he couldn’t have known his yacht’s keel would fail,’ she conceded reluctantly. She knew enough about sailing to be aware that catastrophic keel failure was uncommon but not unheard of, and it was the main cause of yachts capsizing quickly, giving the crew little warning or time to radio for assistance.

She winced as she remembered how she had accused the man of being an inexperienced sailor. Now that she thought about it, he had seemed vaguely familiar, she mused as she climbed into the helicopter cockpit and prepared to take off from the helipad. During the summer there had been extensive news coverage of the famous America’s Cup yacht race held in San Francisco, when the Zenhabian Team Valiant had beaten Team USA to win the prestigious trophy. Sultan Kadir Al Sulaimar had been interviewed on live television by an overexcited female presenter who had clearly been overwhelmed by his exotic looks and undeniable charm.

Lexi told herself that it wasn’t surprising that she had failed to recognise the Sultan when he had been battered, bruised and dripping wet after being rescued from his sinking yacht. To her annoyance, she could not stop thinking about him. At the end of her shift she went back to the old coastguard cottage that had been her home for the past year but, instead of finishing packing up her belongings ready to move out, she wasted an hour looking up Sultan Kadir Al Sulaimar on her laptop.

She had no trouble finding pictures of him, mostly taken at social events in Europe. He was invariably accompanied by a beautiful woman. Blonde, brunette or redhead, it seemed that the Sultan had no particular preference but, from the dizzying number of different women he was photographed with, it appeared that he liked variety. According to the press reports, he was a playboy with a personal fortune estimated to be in the billions. He owned a luxury chalet in St Moritz, penthouses in New York and London’s Mayfair and an English country estate where he kept racehorses.

There was some information about the country he ruled. Zenhab was an independent Arab kingdom in the Arabian Sea. Kadir had succeeded his father, Sultan Khalif Al Sulaimar, who was credited with establishing peace in Zenhab after years of fighting between rival tribal groups. But while the previous Sultan had rarely travelled abroad or courted the attention of the world’s media, his son was frequently spotted by the paparazzi at nightclubs in Paris, or at Ascot, where he owned a private box and entertained celebrities and members of the British royal family, or driving his attention-grabbing scarlet sports car around Belgravia.

In short, the spoiled Sultan was the absolute antithesis of the kind of man Lexi admired. When she had served in Afghanistan, she had met men who were brave and loyal and utterly dedicated to carrying out the missions they had been assigned even though their lives were often at risk.

The memory of how the Sultan had looked at her with a predatory gleam in his eyes slid into her mind and her stomach muscles clenched. Sexual attraction followed its own rules and ignored common sense, she thought ruefully. Or maybe it was just her body reminding her that it was perfectly normal for a twenty-nine-year-old woman to feel sexual desire.

It was over a year since she had broken up with Steven— or, to be more precise, since he’d informed her in a text message hours before their engagement party that he couldn’t marry her because he had a girlfriend and a baby daughter who he had failed to mention when he and Lexi had grown close while they had been stationed together at Camp Bastion. Rejection hurt as much at twenty-eight as it had when she had been eighteen or eight, Lexi had discovered. She had dealt with Steven’s betrayal the same way she had dealt with all the disappointments in her life, by pretending that she did not give a damn and hiding her feelings from a world that had proved too often that people were unreliable.

Perhaps the women in the newspaper photographs, clinging like limpets to the Sultan of Zenhab, had the right idea, she brooded. At least if you were a playboy’s mistress you would have no expectations that he might commit to the relationship or fall in love with you. And no doubt the sex was amazing!

As Lexi visualised Sultan Kadir Al Sulaimar’s arrogantly handsome face, heat unfurled in the pit of her stomach. She would never be tempted to sacrifice her hard-won pride and self-respect for five minutes in the sexy Sultan’s bed, she assured herself. An hour on the treadmill followed by a brisk shower left her physically spent, but when she flopped into bed she was kept awake by the memory of the sensual promise in his molten chocolate eyes.

* * *

Two days later, Lexi donned her coastguard agency uniform for the last time, checked the gold buttons on her jacket were gleaming and adjusted her cap, before she walked into the station commander’s office.

‘I’m sorry to lose you,’ Roger Norris told her. ‘You’ve done a fantastic job over the past year.’

‘I’m sorry to go,’ Lexi said honestly. ‘I’m going to miss everyone on the team, but I knew when I came here that the contract for a second helicopter pilot was only for one year.’

‘The number of rescues you have carried out has proved the need for a second rescue helicopter, but unfortunately the funding for the coastguard agency has been cut.’ Roger’s frown cleared. ‘However, I have received a piece of good news. A private donor has offered to pay for a permanent second helicopter and crew. The details will still have to be ironed out over the next few months but, if the offer goes ahead, would you be interested in resuming your role of Flight Captain?’

Lexi’s eyebrows rose. ‘I’d certainly consider it. Whoever the private donor is must be very wealthy.’

‘He’s a billionaire, by all accounts. You met him two nights ago—’ Roger chuckled ‘—although I heard from Gavin and Chris that you didn’t recognise him. In fact you’re the reason that Sultan Kadir of Zenhab has made his incredibly generous offer after you rescued him and his crewmen from his capsized yacht. He has asked to see you so that he can thank you personally. He’s staying in the Queen Mary suite at the Admiralty Hotel and requested for you to meet him there at six o’clock this evening.’

Lexi’s heart collided painfully with her ribs at the mention of the Sultan. She flushed as she recalled the shockingly erotic dreams she’d had about him for the past two nights. She was behaving like a schoolgirl with a crush on a member of a boy band, she thought disgustedly.

‘I’m afraid it won’t be possible for me to meet him,’ she told Roger. ‘I’m going to my sister’s engagement party this evening and it’s a couple of hours’ drive to Henley, where Athena’s fiancé’s parents live. Can’t Chris or Gavin go instead of me?’

Roger shook his head. ‘Chris is on duty. Gavin is at the hospital with Kate, and it looks as though her labour pains aren’t a false alarm this time. Anyway, the Sultan particularly asked to see you.

‘I’ll be honest, Lexi. It is vital that the coastguard agency secures his donation. This part of the south coast is a busy area for shipping, and the rescue service needs a second helicopter. Perhaps you could phone the hotel and arrange to meet His Highness this afternoon instead of this evening?’ Roger gave her a level look. ‘It might also be a good idea to apologise to him. I understand that you had a heated exchange of words with him the other night.’

Lexi frowned at the reminder that she had behaved less than professionally when she had argued with the skipper of the capsized yacht, unaware that he was the Sultan of Zenhab and an experienced sailor. But the coastguard commander’s words tugged on her conscience. The Sultan’s offer to make permanent funds available for a second helicopter was astonishingly generous and could mean the difference between life and death for accident victims on the south coast who needed to be urgently transferred to hospital.

She stood up. ‘I suppose I could stop off at the Admiralty Hotel and meet him before I drive to the party,’ she said reluctantly.

‘Good. And Lexi, be nice to him.’

She turned in the doorway and gave Roger a puzzled look. ‘I’m always nice, aren’t I?’

‘Certainly—’ the commander smiled ‘—but you can be intimidating. You have an outstanding war record and demonstrated your exceptional bravery, both in the RAF and as a civilian rescue pilot. Sometimes people, men especially, are in awe of you.’

Lexi visualised the Sultan of Zenhab’s haughty features and gave a snort. She couldn’t imagine His High and Mightiness had ever felt intimidated.

Driving back to the cottage, Roger’s comment played on her mind. Did people really find her intimidating? She had always been a popular member of her RAF squadron and, since coming to work for the coastguard agency, she had quickly established her place in the team. The guys treated her as one of them, yet she sensed a faint reservation in their attitude. She had thought it was because she was the only female rescue pilot. But it had been the same when she had been at boarding school. She’d got on well with the other girls but she had never made close friendships.

She telephoned the Admiralty Hotel, and when a vague-sounding receptionist told her that the Sultan was unavailable to take her call she left a message explaining that she could meet him at five o’clock rather than six.

The rest of the day was spent packing up her car with bags and boxes. Closing the door of the cottage for the last time, she felt an unexpected pang. After ten years in the RAF, constantly moving to wherever in the world her squadron was deployed, she had enjoyed making the cottage into a home—even though it had not been the home she had imagined she would share with Steven.

He had talked about them buying a house together. They had even visited an estate agent to discuss the kind of property they wanted, Lexi remembered. Just for a while she had bought into the daydream of a happy marriage, children—a family that was truly her own and a sense of belonging, after a lifetime of feeling that she did not belong anywhere. She should have guessed it was too good to be true. Steven’s betrayal had reminded her of the sense of rejection she had felt when her parents had made it obvious that they preferred their own daughter, Athena, who had been born to them a year after they had adopted Lexi.

At five minutes to five, Lexi walked across the foyer of the Admiralty Hotel, praying that she would not slip in her stiletto heels on the polished marble floor. Usually she lived in jeans and running trainers, but because she was on a tight schedule she had changed into a black silk jersey dress that was suitable for a cocktail party and wouldn’t crease while she was sitting in the car.

The hotel receptionist looked flustered as she dealt with a coach party of tourists who had just arrived. Lexi checked in the lounge and bar, but there was no sign of the Sultan. She glanced at her watch and decided she would have to take charge of the situation. Abandoning the idea of trying to catch the receptionist’s attention, she walked over to the lift and asked a porter for directions to the Queen Mary suite.

CHAPTER THREE

KADIR WALKED INTO his hotel suite and took a moment to appreciate the rare luxury of being completely alone. At the royal palace in Zenhab he was always surrounded by courtiers and government ministers, and a retinue of staff and security personnel accompanied him when he visited his various homes in Europe. Even while he had been staying here in a tiny village on the south coast of England he’d given in to pressure from his chief adviser and brought two security guards with him, as well as his private secretary and his manservant Walif, who, despite his seventy-one years, insisted on serving the Sultan as he had served Kadir’s father.

Since his yachting accident two days ago, his staff had driven him mad with their concern for his well-being and, fond as he was of Walif, he had struggled to control his irritation when the manservant had flapped around him like a mother hen. Earlier today, Kadir’s patience had finally snapped and he had sent everyone to his house in Windsor to wait for him.

The sense of freedom reminded him of how he felt when he raced his stallion Baha’ across the desert with the cool wind whipping his face and a million stars studding the purple sky. Free from Walif’s anxious concern for his health, he had spent two hours working out in the hotel gym.

The swelling above his eyebrow had almost disappeared, he noted, glancing in the bathroom mirror before he stepped into the shower cubicle. He had been lucky that the blow to his head from the sail boom had not knocked him unconscious, and even luckier that he had escaped from the capsized yacht with his life. Although it had not been luck, but the skill and bravery of the coastguard rescue crew, and especially the Flight Captain who had flown the helicopter in atrocious weather conditions.

Kadir pictured Lexi Howard’s face. Her delicate features—the finely arched brows, defined cheekbones and perfect Cupid’s bow lips—reminded him of the exquisite porcelain figurines in his grandmother’s collection, which were displayed in a glass cabinet at Montgomery Manor. But the Flight Captain’s fragile appearance was deceptive. He frowned, remembering her sharp voice and the dismissive way she had flicked her frosty blue eyes over him.

Immediately after he had been rescued from his doomed yacht, Kadir’s pride had stung worse than his cracked skull. But now, with his equilibrium restored, he found Ms Howard’s attitude refreshing. It had been a novelty to meet a woman who did not fawn on him or flirt with him. Too often he had found it too easy to persuade women into his bed. When he had been younger he had enjoyed being spoiled for choice, but a life without challenge was boring.

Lexi Howard was definitely a challenge. Desire kicked in Kadir’s groin as he thought of the cool blonde beauty. He imagined teasing her mouth open with his tongue and tasting her. How long would it take to break through her reserve until she responded to him? he wondered, picturing her creamy complexion suffused with the rosy flush of sexual arousal.

Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the shower wall and visualised the icy, uptight Flight Captain melting beneath his hands. Slowly, he slid his hand down his body and stretched his fingers around his erection. He pictured Lexi Howard’s capable hands on him, caressing him, stroking him lightly and then not so lightly...gripping him hard...

With a groan, he gave in to temptation and the urgent demands of his arousal. The cords in his neck stood out as he tipped his head back and the fire inside him became a furnace. His release came swiftly, awarding him momentary satisfaction that felt somehow incomplete.

But pleasuring himself was his only option, after the decision he had taken six months ago when his future bride had turned twenty-one and under Zenhabian law had become of marriageable age. Out of respect for Haleema, Kadir had ended his affairs with his European mistresses.

In the ten years that he had been Sultan of Zenhab he had been careful to avoid personal scandal in his desert kingdom, and had earned the support and respect of the population. It had been suggested to him by some of his advisers that monogamy was not a requirement of his arranged marriage as long as he was discreet, but he had every intention of fulfilling his role of husband to the best of his ability, to honour the promise he had made to his father.

Kadir had only been sixteen when Sultan Khalif had suffered a stroke that had left him a prisoner in his body—unable to walk, and with limited speech. Under Zenhabian law, the Sultan’s brother had been made an interim ruler until the rightful heir came of age. But when Kadir had turned twenty-one, Jamal had been reluctant to hand over the Crown to his nephew, and he’d had support from tribal leaders in the mountain territories.

In order to claim the Crown from his uncle, Kadir had been forced to agree to marry the daughter of Jamal’s strongest ally, Sheikh Rashid bin Al-Hassan. At the time he had signed the agreement, Haleema had been a child of eleven. But now she was twenty-one and, since the death of Sheikh Rashid two months ago, Kadir had come under increasing pressure from his uncle to set a date for his wedding. He knew he could not put if off for much longer. Haleema’s family would consider a lengthy delay to be an insult to the princess of the mountain tribes, and Jamal—the most poisonous snake in Zenhab—would waste no time stirring up trouble that could threaten the stability of the country.

For the sake of Zenhab and for the love he felt for his father, Kadir would honour his duty. But there was a part of him that rebelled against the old ways of his kingdom. He had been educated in England and at university he had felt envious of his peers, who were free to live their lives without the burden of responsibility that had always been his destiny.

He had never even seen his future bride, but that would soon change. On his return to Zenhab he would travel to the mountains to meet Haleema’s brother Omar, the new leader of the northern tribes, and begin formal proceedings for his marriage. He might even be permitted to meet Haleema, but according to the old customs he would not have an opportunity to be alone with her until she became his wife.

Kadir’s thoughts turned once again to Flight Captain Lexi Howard. She had proved when she had rescued him and his crew that she was a highly skilled pilot, hence his decision to offer her a job as his private pilot in Zenhab. He knew it might be viewed as controversial to appoint a woman in what was considered by traditionalists to be a male role, but he fervently believed that his kingdom needed to modernise and accept that women were equal to men. The helicopter he had recently purchased would allow him to travel to Haleema’s home in the mountainous northern territories more easily. And with that last thought of Haleema, his future had been decided for him ten years ago, he felt a sense that prison bars were closing around him.

Abruptly he switched off the shower, dried himself and pulled on a pair of trousers. Midway through shaving, he heard a knock on the door of the suite, which he ignored, forgetting that he had sent his staff away. Three impatient raps followed, and he cursed as the razor slipped in his hand and the blade nicked his chin. Grabbing a towel, he strode out of the bathroom and across the sitting room to fling open the door.

‘Ms Howard! This is a surprise!’

Lexi frowned. ‘Is it? I left a message with reception saying that I would be here at five.’

Kadir recalled that the phone had rung as he’d been on his way out of the door to go to the gym, but he hadn’t bothered to answer it. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t receive any message,’ he murmured.

How could his smile be so wickedly sexy? Lexi jerked her eyes from the sensual curve of his mouth and tried to ignore the fact that Sultan Kadir Al Sulaimar was half naked and had obviously just taken a shower. Droplets of water clung to the whorls of black hairs that grew thickly on his chest.

When she had rescued him, his body had been hidden beneath a bulky waterproof sailing suit. But now Lexi was faced with rippling muscles, gleaming olive-gold skin, broad, satin-smooth shoulders and his tight-as-a-drum abdomen.

Her eyes were drawn to the fuzz of black hairs that arrowed down from his navel and disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers, which sat low on his hips. Her mouth suddenly felt dry. She lifted her gaze back to his face and her stomach swooped when she discovered that he was even more gorgeous than she remembered from their first meeting.

The combination of his lean, chiselled features and deep-set dark eyes was mesmerising. His mouth was full-lipped, and curved into a sultry smile that sent a tingle through Lexi’s body. Her breath seemed to be trapped somewhere between her lungs and her throat. She needed to say something, anything to break the prickling silence that became more intense with every passing second so that she was sure he must be able to hear the loud thud of her heart.

She said the first thing that came into her head. ‘You’re bleeding...on your chin. No, closer to your lip...’ She pointed, trying to direct him as he lifted the towel he was holding and pressed it against his face.

‘I started shaving when I was fourteen. You’d think I’d be better at it by now,’ he said ruefully. He thrust the towel at her. ‘Will you play nurse?’

His voice was as sexy as his smile—deep and rich, caressing her senses and conjuring up images in her mind that were shockingly inappropriate.

‘I should go,’ she muttered. ‘This is obviously not a convenient time...’ Not when her heart was beating painfully fast. Lexi did not understand why he affected her so strongly. For ten years she had worked in a predominantly male environment and had met her fair share of good-looking men. But none like him, whispered a voice inside her head. Even his title—Sultan of Zenhab—was exotic and made her think of a desert oasis beneath a starry sky, a tent draped with silks, and him, naked, his bronzed, muscular body sprawled on satin cushions and his dark eyes gleaming as he beckoned to her to come to him.

Lexi swallowed. What on earth was the matter with her? She felt as though her body was on fire.

‘You’re not bothered by the sight of blood, are you?’

The amusement in his voice pulled her back from her erotic fantasy. Thank goodness he couldn’t possibly have known what she had been thinking. His question jolted her mind back to her experiences of a real desert—the dry, unforgiving landscape, clouds of choking sand stirred up by the downdraught of the Chinook’s rotor blades, the screams of wounded men, the smell of blood and dust and vomit.

‘No, blood doesn’t worry me,’ she told him calmly, in control once more. The cut near to his bottom lip was still bleeding. She pressed the corner of the towel against his face and somehow, without her being aware that either of them had moved, she found herself inside his suite and he shut the door.

She immediately became conscious of how close they were standing. His warm breath whispered across her cheek and the mingled scents of soap, his spicy cologne and something more subtle—the sensual musk of maleness—stirred her senses. Her breasts brushed against his bare chest and the contact with his body sent a ripple of awareness through her.

Panic was an unfamiliar emotion for Lexi, but she was shaken by her reaction to the Sultan. She lifted the towel to see if the cut had stopped bleeding and saw that her hand was trembling. In Afghanistan, when she had flown behind enemy lines to pick up casualties, her nerves had been as steady as her hands on the helicopter’s control stick. Why did this pampered playboy prince who had probably never done a day’s work in his life disturb her?

Thankfully, the cut on his chin had closed up. She handed him the towel and stepped back from him. ‘You’ll live. I’m sure legions of women will be relieved,’ she said drily.

His smile remained fixed, but Lexi sensed a sudden stillness in him that made her think of a panther about to pounce on its hapless prey. She reminded herself that the playboy was also a powerful Sultan who had kept peace in Zenhab despite the often volatile situation in other parts of the Middle East.

‘Your sailing accident was widely reported in the press, Your Highness,’ she murmured. In fact the tabloids had only carried a paragraph or two about his capsized yacht and had been more interested in reporting stories of his affairs with supermodels and actresses.

It wasn’t as if she was in the least bit interested in a promiscuous womaniser, Lexi thought. She had only agreed to meet the Sultan because Roger Norris had asked her to.

‘I understand that your yacht has been retrieved from where it sank in the Solent and it was discovered that the keel had been ripped from the hull.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m afraid I was rather hasty the other night when I jumped to the conclusion that you had ignored the reports of an approaching storm. I...apologise if my attitude was less than professional.’

Kadir just managed to stop himself from laughing out loud at Lexi Howard’s grudging apology. She had spoken politely, but he sensed her reluctance to be here. It was obvious that she had been sent to see him, and it was easy to guess the real reason for her visit. Her next words confirmed his suspicion.

‘Roger Norris explained that you have made a very generous offer to finance a second rescue helicopter.’

Kadir idly wondered if the coastguard commander had told Lexi to dress up for their meeting and perhaps try to persuade him to donate even more funds. Catching the cool expression in her eyes, he dismissed the idea. No one would dare tell Lexi Howard what to do—which made her choice of outfit interesting.

He ran his eyes over her, noting how the stretchy fabric of her dress moulded her toned figure and emphasised the shape of her firm breasts. The dress stopped at mid-thigh-level and below the hemline her slender legs, sheathed in sheer black hose, looked even longer with the addition of three-inch stiletto heels. Recalling his erotic fantasies about her while he’d been in the shower, Kadir felt the simmering heat in his gut burn hotter.

‘The least I can do is to make a contribution to the rescue agency responsible for saving my life and the lives of my crew,’ he said abruptly. ‘I must also apologise, Captain Howard, for not thanking you for your skill and bravery after the rescue the other night. I am conscious that I owe you a huge debt of gratitude.’

‘I was simply doing my job,’ she muttered.

‘I understand from Roger Norris that you no longer work for the coastguard agency.’

‘My contract was only for a year. Although, if there is to be a second rescue helicopter, I might get my job back.’

‘But you don’t have another job to go to at the moment?’ Kadir knew he was staring at Lexi but he could not help himself. She was so damned beautiful! He cleared his throat. ‘I asked you to meet me because I have a proposition I want to discuss with you.’

‘What kind of proposition?’ The gleam of sexual interest in his eyes, and memories of the stories in the newspapers about his playboy lifestyle, sent Lexi’s imagination into overdrive.

Kadir was irritated that Lexi obviously believed the garbage which had been written about him in the tabloids. But she was not nearly as composed as she would like him to think. Her breathing was shallow and the downwards sweep of her long eyelashes was too late to hide her dilated pupils. He roamed his eyes over her in a slow, deliberate appraisal, and was rewarded when the hard points of her nipples became clearly discernible beneath her clingy dress.

Suddenly he understood, and a feeling of satisfaction swept through him. He had seen her scornful expression when she’d referred to the reports of his alleged playboy lifestyle. Most of the stories about his private life, which had been printed alongside the news of his yachting accident, were either rehashed from years ago or greatly exaggerated. Kadir had felt no inclination to defend himself to Lexi, but he’d been annoyed by her readiness to judge him.

Now, as he watched her cross her arms defensively over her breasts, he realised that the waves of antagonism she had been sending out were a frantic attempt to disguise the fact that she was attracted to him. Perhaps she hoped that her frosty attitude disguised her sexual awareness of him, but Kadir knew—just as he always knew when a woman was interested in him. He had played the game of chasing women who wanted to be caught too often, he thought cynically.

But this time the rules were different. When he returned to Zenhab he would honour the promise he had made to his father and marry the bride who had been chosen for him. Although he desired the Flight Captain, he had no intention of actually catching her. But Lexi did not know that!

‘Why don’t we sit down,’ he murmured, ‘and make ourselves comfortable?’

Lexi swallowed as she watched the Sultan lower himself onto the sofa. He stretched his arms along the back, drawing her attention to his bare torso. His broad shoulders gleamed like burnished copper in the golden autumn sunshine slanting through the window, and his chest and forearms were covered in a fine mat of silky black hairs that accentuated his raw masculinity.

Conscious that her heart was thudding uncomfortably fast, she made a show of checking her watch. ‘I really must be going. I expect you want to finish getting dressed,’ she said pointedly, ‘and I have to be somewhere at seven-thirty, and I want to hit the motorway before the evening traffic builds up.’

‘Do you have a date this evening? And there I was thinking you had worn that very sexy dress especially to meet me,’ Kadir drawled.

Lexi flushed. ‘It is not a sexy dress,’ she said tightly. ‘It’s a cocktail dress suitable for a cocktail party to celebrate my sister’s engagement.’ The idea that the Sultan assumed she’d dressed up for him was infuriating but, to her shame, she felt a frisson of awareness shoot through her when his dark eyes gleamed with a hard brilliance.

‘Surely you don’t have to leave just yet if the party doesn’t start for another two hours?’ To Lexi’s consternation, he sprang up from the sofa and walked over to her, moving with the speed and grace of a jungle cat. He was too close and towered over her so that she had to tilt her head to meet his intent gaze. Heat radiated from his body, or maybe the heat came from her, making her feel flushed and flustered and acutely aware of her femininity.

Desperate to hide the effect he had on her, she launched into an explanation. ‘The journey to Henley-on-Thames, which is where my sister’s fiancé’s parents live, will take over an hour, and I daren’t risk being late and upsetting Lady Fairfax.’

Lexi frowned as she recalled how tense her sister had sounded on the phone. Athena had confided her worry that Charles’s parents did not approve of their son’s choice of bride because they had hoped he would marry someone with a similar aristocratic pedigree to the Fairfaxes. ‘The engagement party is my chance to prove that I can be a good wife to Charlie and a sophisticated hostess when he invites business clients to dinner,’ Athena had said earnestly.

Lexi had struggled to picture her accident-prone sister as a sophisticated hostess, but she had kept her doubts that Charles Fairfax was the right man for Athena to herself.

Her thoughts scattered when Sultan Kadir spoke. His deep, dark voice curled around her like a lover’s caress. She caught her breath as he lifted his hand and brushed the back of his knuckles oh-so-lightly down her cheek. It was a blatant invasion of her personal space but her feet seemed to be rooted to the floor and she could not step away from him.

‘I am disappointed that you must rush away before we’ve had a chance to discuss my proposal. Perhaps we can arrange to meet again at a more convenient time?’

She licked her dry lips and told herself she was imagining the predatory gleam in his eyes. ‘Your Highness...’ Her voice sounded strangely breathless.

‘Please call me Kadir, Lexi.’

The way he said her name, with that soft huskiness in his voice, was too intimate, as if he had stroked each syllable with his tongue.

Lexi felt as though she was drowning in his molten gaze, but a tiny part of her sanity remained and asked why she was letting him get to her. He was a notorious womaniser, and in the past when other men like him had tried to come on to her she’d had no trouble shooting them down.

Of course she would not allow herself to be seduced by the Sultan, she assured herself. But she could not deny that his interest was flattering and a salve to her wounded pride after Steven’s betrayal. Without conscious thought, she swayed towards Kadir, bringing her mouth even closer to his. Her heart pounded and her eyelashes swept down as she waited, tense with anticipation, for him to brush his lips over hers.

‘You’ve been a long time in the shower. I’ve been getting bored waiting for you.’

Lexi froze and jerked her head towards the petulant female voice. Shock slithered like an ice cube down her spine when she saw a woman standing in the doorway that connected the sitting room and bedroom. Through the open door she could see a big bed with rumpled sheets. The woman—girl—was no more than seventeen. Lexi recognised she was Tania Stewart, daughter of the local yacht club president Derek Stewart, who also owned the Admiralty Hotel.

Tania frowned at Lexi. ‘What are you doing here?’ She turned her wide-eyed gaze to the Sultan and allowed the sheet that was draped around her body to slip down, revealing her bare breasts. ‘Don’t keep me waiting any longer, Kadir,’ she murmured in a sex kitten voice that somehow emphasised how painfully young she was.

‘Go and put some clothes on, Tania.’ In contrast, Kadir spoke in a clipped tone that was as coldly regal as his expression, Lexi noted, when she looked at him.

She instantly grasped the situation—it didn’t take a genius to work out what was going on—and she felt sick at her stupidity. How could she have almost been taken in by the playboy prince’s charisma? It stung her pride to realise that she had no more sense than the silly girl who had just crawled out of his bed.

She glanced at Tania and back to Kadir. The reason he was half undressed in the afternoon was now abundantly clear and she supposed she should be thankful that he had pulled on a pair of trousers before he’d opened the door to her.

‘Forgive me, Your Highness, for not staying around to discuss your proposition, but I’m not into threesomes,’ she said, her voice as biting as a nuclear winter.

His only response was to lift his eyebrows as if he found her reaction amusing.

Lexi’s temper simmered. She looked at Tania, who had at least draped the sheet more strategically around her naked body, and back at Kadir. ‘You bastard. She’s just a kid. Is that how you get your kicks?’

His eyes glittered with anger, but Lexi did not give him a chance to speak. She despised him, and at that moment she despised herself for her weakness. Dear heaven, she had actually wanted him to kiss her! Even now, as she wheeled away from him and marched across the room, her legs trembled and she had to fight the urge to turn her head and look at him one last time, to imprint his outrageously gorgeous facial features on her mind. Pride prevailed and she walked out of the door, closing it with a decisive snap behind her.

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