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Iseult nodded again, her mouth twisted. ‘The rooms are more than comfortable. I thought I’d be lucky to get the corner of a stable beside Devil’s Kiss.’
Sheikh Nadim tutted and stood away from the wall. Immediately Iseult felt threatened. ‘Such an imagination. All my staff are taken care of, Iseult. I don’t believe in the outdated view that stablehands are little better than skivvies.’
His obvious implication that that was all she was made Iseult’s back straighten with innate pride. It was a long time since anyone had considered her just a stablehand. Her chin came up. ‘You don’t have to remind me of my place, Sheikh. I’m not exactly in a position to demand the right to keep training Devil’s Kiss.’
When Iseult answered back, with that defiant little chin-tilt, Nadim had a split second of realising how inappropriate it had been to come here like this, on the pretext of seeing how she had settled in. He should have been content with the call he’d put in to Jamilah earlier, when he’d found that she was doing the grand tour with Iseult, even if at that moment Iseult had been in a changing room in a shop in town, trying on clothes. But when he’d driven through the main gate just a short while before he’d found himself instinctively turning towards the stables, unable to ignore the impulse to see her.
His jaw tightened and the self-recrimination running through him made his voice harsh. ‘No, you don’t have that right. We’ve yet to see you work. There are staff who’ve been here for a year and haven’t earned the right to work under Pierre. And I won’t have you dragging Jamilah off on shopping errands again. She’s far too busy and valuable to the running of this place.’
The unfairness of his accusation made Iseult gasp. ‘I didn’t even want to go shopping. Jamilah saw that my clothes weren’t suitable and kindly insisted on taking me, and I’m glad she did. Who knows when I might have got out? I’m well aware I’m just here on sufferance, because you have some idea that I’d do more damage than good back at home.’
Nadim fought the intense urge he had to stride over and haul Iseult against his too hot body, and quell her words in a very carnal way. He couldn’t believe she was so effortlessly making his blood pressure zoom sky wards within just minutes of seeing her again. He’d followed some rebel impulse to see her for himself and now this. There were plenty of foreign staff at his stables, and he’d never concerned himself about how they were settling in.
Sexual tension was so immediate and taut between them it could have been cut with a knife, and any hope Nadim might have had that bringing Iseult O’Sullivan here would diminish her effect on him was laughable. Despite being busy all day today, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind.
In two quick strides he stood right in front of her, and saw how her eyes widened and a dark flush stained those alabaster cheeks. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides to stop himself from reaching out to loosen her hair and see it spread across her shoulders.
Wanting Iseult was completely inappropriate and unwelcome. He didn’t sleep with staff, and she was a world away from the type of woman he would normally go for…
He gritted out, ‘It’s Nadim. No one here calls me Sheikh. And you are as free as anyone el
se to explore Merkazad on your days off. Jamilah has all the information you’ll need on getting around.’
So abruptly that Iseult swayed on her feet Nadim turned and was gone again, taking his intense forcefield of energy with him and leaving a vacuum behind. Iseult sank down into a chair behind her. For a second there she’d had the overwhelming feeling that he was going to kiss her. Even now her mouth tingled in anticipation. She touched it lightly with her fingers and it felt sensitive to the touch. Her skin prickled all over, and down lower between her legs a pulse throbbed disconcertingly.
As abruptly as Nadim had left, Iseult stood and fled back to her rooms, shutting herself inside. Remembering the intensity of Nadim’s eyes just now, she prayed that he wouldn’t feel he had to check up on her again. Because evidently when he came within three feet of her she turned into someone else. Someone who couldn’t control her tongue and who was reduced to a mass of heated desires.
To Iseult’s intense disappointment her prayers were answered, and for the next two weeks she saw no sign of Nadim. She settled into a routine at the stables, and heard Jamilah say in conversation with others that Nadim was in Europe.
As much as that should have comforted her, it didn’t. Despite everything, Iseult couldn’t stop thinking about Nadim, and that hot intensity she’d felt between them the last time she’d seen him. Every minute of every day people referred to him in hushed, awed and reverent tones. But not one person had a bad word to say about him. And his knowledge and impeccable instinct when it came to horses was apparent all around her.
She wondered why it was that he was only just beginning to make a name for himself, when the stables and the stud had been in operation since his father’s time. Jamilah had been uncharacteristically tight-lipped when Iseult had asked, and Iseult hadn’t pursued it.
When Iseult had finished at the stables one day, after Nadim had been gone a fortnight, she walked over to the training grounds, where one of Pierre’s assistants was supervising the exercising of Devil’s Kiss. The assistant explained that Pierre had also gone to Europe for a few days.
One of the other trainers, a man called Alain, came over, looking seriously disgruntled. In the course of the conversation between the two men, it transpired that a yearling was proving difficult to break in.
Feeling curious, Iseult asked Alain, ‘Can I have a look at him?’
The trainer shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Be my guest. I was hoping to have good news for Pierre when he returned, and at least have the bit between his teeth, but it looks like only Nadim or Pierre will be able to tame this one.’
Iseult wandered over to a fenced-in area and saw the yearling. Her well-practised eye assessed him in an instant, and she felt a deep sense of satisfaction run through her. Also a deeply ingrained instinct. She could work with this yearling. She knew she could.
She took the bridle and bit off the fence, where Alain had left them after his fruitless attempt. She was barely aware of the small crowd gathering as she climbed up and sat on the fence, just watching the horse for a long time. When she felt the time was right she slid down and into the enclosure, slowly starting to walk around, going in ever-decreasing circles closer and closer to the horse. She was unaware of the alarmed look passing between Alain and the other trainer.
She was unaware of anything but the horse. She always got like this when she was breaking in a horse. It was a silent communication that hummed between them, and she had no idea where it came from. She gently crooned words that her grandfather had used to use—old Gaelic words.
She was close enough to the horse now to touch him, and he stood still. Recognising her. With infinite gentleness and patience Iseult put the bridle over his head and the bit into his mouth. It was only when she realised the whispers had ceased that she looked up and became aware that everyone had scattered.
There was just one person standing there now: Nadim, with his face as dark as thunder, hands on lean hips.
Iseult’s heart went out of control, as if she’d received a shot of adrenalin. She gulped guiltily, taking in the fact that he looked gorgeous after an absence of over two weeks. He was wearing jeans, and a T-shirt that moulded across his chest and showed off his taut musculature and broad shoulders.
Iseult took the bridle off the yearling again and patted him down, then walked back to the fence on shaky legs. The minute she had slipped out through the gate and closed it Nadim strode over and took her arm in a tight grip.
‘Wait a second,’ she protested. ‘You’re not even giving me a chance to—’
He silenced her with a thunderous look. ‘Not a word. Jamilah’s office now.’ Nadim all but threw Iseult into his Jeep and drove the short distance to the main stables, tension crackling between them. Iseult was tight-lipped, with arms crossed.
