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It was astonishing—and Caitlin’s lips flopped open. When it came to family, it had only ever been her and Cameron. He had never grown up in the bosom of a big, extended clan, with aunts and cousins and grandparents—perhaps that was what made him such a contained child. But there was no such containment now. He went to Kadir automatically and held up his hand to the Sheikh, who curled his olive-dark fingers around it. Almost jealously, Caitlin watched as they moved around the room in perfect symmetry, achingly aware of the physical similarities between them as they stopped in front of the largest portrait of all. Had she deliberately blinded herself to the parallels between them, because it had been less painful that way?
‘Do you see that man on the horse...the man with the crown on his head? That is your great-grandfather.’
‘Is it?’
‘Indeed it is. He was a very famous warrior and also a great scholar. And you see those tall mountains behind him, with snow on them? They are the high mountain ranges of Xulhabi, where sometimes you can see snow leopards, if you are quiet enough and look carefully enough.’
‘Can I look for them?’
‘I certainly hope so.’
‘Kadir—’
Caitlin had opened her mouth to protest. She wanted to tell him to tread carefully. Not to promise things which might never happen and fill a small boy’s head with tales of snow leopards and warriors—but Kadir acted as if she hadn’t spoken. As if she had suddenly acquired invisibility.
‘Tell me, Cameron, do you play chess?’ he was saying.
Cameron shook his head. ‘I don’t know what that is!’
‘It’s a game. A game with kings and queens and knights. It is a game of strategy and plotting—both of which are very necessary if you wish to get on in the world and which I will teach you.’
‘Now?’
Kadir smiled. ‘No, not now. Now I think it is time for you to have something to drink, for you must be thirsty after your long journey and we have a lot to do this afternoon.’
As if on cue—which Caitlin supposed it was—the double doors opened and a beautiful young woman appeared, with Morag following close behind, looking curiously unfazed by this unexpected turn of events. The moment Cameron spotted his childhood nanny, he gave a squeal of pleasure, running straight into her waiting arms as she scooped him up.
‘Morag, Morag! I’m going to learn how to play chest!’
‘Chess,’ corrected Morag affectionately as she ruffled his hair.
‘My daddy is going to teach me how to play!’
‘Is he now?’
Morag looked across the room at Caitlin, a complicit look which obviously didn’t escape Kadir’s notice, for he drew his shoulders back and appeared to grow even more statuesque.
‘Morag, why don’t you and Cameron go with Armina?’ he suggested evenly. ‘I think she might have some Xulhabian candy for you to try with your drink. Have you ever eaten chocolate flavoured with rose petals and passionfruit?’
The sound of Cameron’s whooped delight would usually have warmed Caitlin’s heart, but her abiding emotion was one of vulnerability as he went off with Morag without a backward glance, leaving her alone with the man she was terrified of being alone with, for all kinds of reasons.
Not just because he had bonded with his son with an ease she hadn’t been expecting. Or because his interaction with Cameron had left her feeling strangely excluded. No, it was more basic than that. It was the discovery that she was far from immune to him, even after all this time.
She still wanted him. She still ached for him. Still lusted for his lips hard on hers and his arms tightly around her, making her feel as if she’d found a place she’d been searching for all her life.
Without doing a single thing, Kadir Al Marara was making her feel things she’d thought had died a long time ago.
Today he was wearing soft robes the colour of mercury—their bright, silvery hue contrasting with the darkness of his hair and making his eyes appear as impenetrable as a night without stars. Outwardly modest, the outfit covered his body from neck to foot, but no material in the world could have disguised the undeniable power of the muscular body which lay beneath. With an effort, she forced herself to meet his black eyes, though the faint spark she read in them suggested he was perfectly aware of what lay behind her silent scrutiny.
She cleared her throat. ‘I thought the meeting went very well.’
‘I thought so, too. Though perhaps you were hoping for a different outcome,’ he mused. ‘For Cameron to take an instant dislike to me and refuse to see me again, perhaps?’
She shook her head. ‘Of course not.’
‘Really?’ His dark brows shot upwards. ‘Wouldn’t it be easier all round if that were the case?’
She wasn’t going to argue with that—how could she, when just having him this close was sending her senses into a spin, so that she couldn’t think straight? For a moment she stared down at the rug, trying to concentrate on the precise patterns of cobalt and claret. Knowing it was wrong to feel like this and trying like mad to put a brake on her emotions. But when she looked up again she encountered a steely gleam of comprehension in the depths of his black eyes.
