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“It is unwise to interfere in matters you don’t comprehend, Miss O’Connell.”
“Take me to your king.”
“That is why I’ve come. His highness wishes to see you.”
“It’s a damned good thing he does.”
“My lord does not like his women to use rough language.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not his woman. Where is he?”
“He waits for me to bring you to him.”
God, the man was insufferable! Almost as arrogant as Qasim but then,
Qasim probably wouldn’t employ him otherwise. They started toward the Great Hall. Halfway there, Megan swept past the aide. Walking behind him, even if he were leading her somewhere, infuriated her.
She could hardly wait to confront Qasim. She’d tell the mighty Pooh-Bah what she thought of him, his harem, his servants and his country. Then she’d give him a choice. Put her to work or send her home. She’d be damned if she’d spend another day feeling useless while he did who knew what…
While he took a woman with long black hair to his bed.
They reached the Great Hall. Megan started toward the stairs. Hakim stepped in front of her.
“My lord waits for you outside.”
“Your lord,” Megan mimicked coldly.
Hakim’s eyes flashed as she brushed past him. The guards at the huge entrance doors flung the doors wide. Megan stepped out into the sunlight, clattered down the steps…and stopped.
A Humvee stood in the curved driveway, engine purring, rear door open. Qasim stood next to it, Qasim dressed in white linen trousers and a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled back, so beautiful, so desert-fierce with the sun beating down on his dark head that she felt her bones turn liquid.
A smile curved his lips as she started down the steps, and she remembered how those lips had felt against hers, how the hand he held out had felt against her breast the last time they’d been together.
“Megan,” he said, and the truth shot through her quicksilver, the realization that part of her anger, all of it, lay in knowing that he hadn’t come to her, come for her, and in knowing now that it was because he had someone else.
How could she have hidden that truth from herself? How could she want a man like him?
Her heart turned to stone. She’d never been a fool for a man and she’d be damned if she’d start now.
She took a breath, let it out and took another. Then, smiling, she went down the steps. When she reached him, she put her hand in his. He started to raise it to his lips but she remembered that scene a little while ago, the woman a breath from him, her hands against his mouth, and she pulled her hand down and gave him a vigorous handshake.
“Sheikh Qasim,” she said politely. “It’s good to see you. I’d started to think you’d changed your mind about working with me.”
One dark eyebrow rose in a questioning arch. “Certainly not. In fact…” He motioned to the open door of the Hummer. “We’re on our way to our first meeting this morning.”
“I’m glad to hear it, but you might have done me the courtesy of telling me so in advance.”
“My apologies,” he said, climbing into the Hummer after her. He closed the door, tapped lightly on a glass partition that separated them from the driver and the vehicle shifted gears and started forward. “I’ve been busy.”
“Yes. So I noticed.”
He looked at her. “Sorry?”
“Nothing.” She looked down at her skirt and smoothed it over her knees. “I want to talk about the rooms you’ve given me.”
“Aren’t they to your liking?”
“No, they’re not. They’re very handsome, but I resent being kept prisoner.”
