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The Sheikh’s dark eyes glittered dangerously, and Iseult had the feeling that not many people questioned anything he did. His jaw clenched, but he answered tightly, ‘Because I know what it’s like to have everything you know jeopardised. I’m aware this is a relatively small community, and I don’t really want to start on the wrong footing by having your neighbours reluctant to do business with me out of loyalty to your father. I also don’t see the merit in letting your father or housekeeper go when they know the lie of this land. As it is, retaining them is worth more to me than the money I’ll be paying them.’

His face hardened then, and Iseult shivered.

‘But, having said that, I’m also aware that it won’t do too much damage in the long run to bring in new staff. So, Iseult, what’s it to be? My patience is wearing very thin.’

Iseult knew she really didn’t have a choice if she didn’t want to risk her family’s security or be cast out of her own home for ever. She was aware on some dim level that yet again it was falling to her to take responsibility, but that was eclipsed by her curiosity to know more about his personal history.

Iseult had been avoiding his eyes, but now looked at him. ‘How long do you expect me to stay in Merkazad?’

His eyes flashed that warning that was already becoming familiar. ‘You will stay for as long as I wish it.’

You will stay for as long as I wish it. His words were so arrogant…so implacable—so ridiculously autocratic in this modern environment. And yet in that moment Iseult felt uncharacteristically powerless to defy him. Mentally she took a deep breath, feeling as if she was stepping into a deep, dark void. ‘Very well. I’ll travel to Al-Omar with you and Devil’s Kiss tomorrow.’

Sheikh Nadim smiled a mocking smile, and an infuriating glint of triumph lit his eyes. ‘Oh, you won’t be travelling with me. I’ll be leaving as soon as the new manager gets here in the morning. You’ll travel with the horse. And I’ll expect him to arrive in as good condition as he is right now.’

With that, as if he hadn’t just whirled through Iseult’s world like an angry tornado, ripping everything apart in its path, he flicked a glance at his expensive-looking watch and said, ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a function to attend in Dublin this evening, and a helicopter waiting to take me back to my hotel. I’ve made arrangements for Devil’s Kiss’s travel, and a plane will be ready and waiting. One of my own vets will meet you in the morning and travel with you. I trust you’ll have everything you need ready to travel tomorrow?’

Iseult cursed the fact that she couldn’t turn around and say that she had no current passport—after all, she’d never been further than England—but all she could do was nod her head and say, ‘I’ll be ready.’

Late the following morning, as Nadim’s plane took off from Dublin Airport, he looked out of the window. But the rolling green fields and the city disappearing underneath couldn’t distract him from the one face and one body that he couldn’t get out of his mind. It was as if her image had been burnt there with a brand.

Iseult O’Sullivan. A slip of a girl. He could re member the tremor that had run through her body when he’d stood so close behind her in the dining room—how his blood had boiled and he’d wanted to knock the plates out of her arms and snake an arm around her waist and pull her back against him.

His body tightened, and his mouth compressed with anger—at himself. And that anger surged when he recalled how he’d blithely told her things that he’d never discussed even with close aides. The fact that he’d lost his parents as a teenager was common knowledge if you went looking for it, but not something he ever mentioned—or the fact that he knew how it felt to have everything he’d taken for granted ripped asunder… And yet with her the words had tripped off his tongue as if he’d been injected with some kind of truth serum.

He should be leaving her here. It made sense on many levels. But what had he done? Ensured that she would be a constant presence and a thorn in his side by insisting that she come to Merkazad with the horse.

Why had he done it?

Her image, the way she’d sat so imperiously on the horse when he’d first seen her blazed into his imagination in an eloquent answer.

He thought of the way she’d stood before him so defiantly the day before, and how he’d had to struggle to remember his train of thought when his mind had melted in a haze of lust at imagining revealing her breasts, to see if she hid them as he suspected she did. He shook his head now, as if that could dislodge her image from the gnarled heat in his blood.

He reassured himself that he’d been right to insist that she come to Merkazad. He did want to ensure a smooth transition for Devil’s Kiss, and the horse was clearly attached to her. She was also wilful and independent, and had obviously grown far too used to running the business with disastrous consequences. The girl was a liability, and could do with being taught the proper way of things. He could no more leave a loose cannon like her here than he could blithely allow her father to retain complete control.

Nadim felt himself relax. He was merely protecting his new venture by keeping Iseult O’Sullivan where he could see her. He had full confidence that when he touched down on his own familiar soil—home—and saw her in his environment, the spell she’d cast over him would dissipate like the mirage of an oasis in the desert. He ruthlessly ignored the frisson of something that felt awfully like erotic anticipation when he thought of seeing her at his own stables, against the backdrop of his own rocky and austere land.

He was used to being in control of his desire for women, that was all, and she’d taken him by surprise. That was all. He’d learnt the most tragic of lessons not so long ago. Emotions and

women were a fatal mix. Since then his life had been about logic and clear reason.

He refused to believe that his life was deviating in any way from the clear and controlled lines he’d grown used to.

Iseult blinked and breathed in the warm and very foreign air. They’d arrived at a small airfield in Al-Omar just a short time before, and while the vet was checking Devil’s Kiss in the specially modified hold of the private jet Iseult had stepped out onto the tarmac, already too hot in her slim parka jacket.

It was night, so she couldn’t see much, but she felt the residue of a very hot day settle around her shoulders like a warm cloak. The sky was a dark indigo colour, and a crescent moon hung suspended on its back, as if knocked from the sideways perch she’d grown used to seeing it take all her life. Stars glittered so close and clear she felt as if she could reach out and touch one.

Just then she heard a noise, and saw a couple of sleek dark Jeeps driving across the tarmac to greet them—one with a horsebox attached. They stopped, and Iseult’s heart stopped too. Would he be here to meet her? It scared her slightly, how her heart leapt at that thought and her throat dried in anticipation.

But when the Jeeps came to a stop and she didn’t see him emerge she immediately felt silly. Of course he wouldn’t come to meet her. She was just an employee now. Some official-looking men got out of the vehicle without the horsebox and she looked to them.

Nadim hesitated before he got out of his Jeep. Iseult O’Sullivan stood on the tarmac looking unbelievably vulnerable, and even from here he could see the shadows of fatigue under her huge eyes. Her hair was back in that untidy ponytail.

She’d been cool and contained that morning when he’d come to the farm, studiously avoiding his eyes and concentrating on the new manager. Her reluctance to leave her home had been tangible. Something twisted in Nadim’s gut now, and he cursed the impulse which had led him first of all to bring her here, and now to come and collect her himself. The last thing he needed was to be feeling inordinately protective over a new employee.

He’d told himself that it made complete sense for him to meet Iseult and Devil’s Kiss himself. But his head groom Jamilah’s eloquent silence had spoken volumes when he’d told her what he was doing. She hadn’t needed to spell out that he’d never done this before—especially when she was usually the one to meet new horses and bring them to the stables.

Iseult was watching the uniformed men approach her and starting to feel very alone and very conscious of the fact that she was in a foreign land with not one person she knew anywhere near. What if they didn’t speak English? What if they weren’t expecting her? But just then she felt a prickling on the back of her neck, and heard the sound of a door opening from the other Jeep.

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