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‘Do you know where you’re going?’ he asked. There was no way he could leave her in the middle of Burami—she seemed entirely capable of bringing about some kind of massive accident that would be sure to bring his country to a grinding halt for months.
She raised her hand to her eyes and looked out beyond the railings. He followed the direction of her gaze and clenched his jaw. In the distance he could see his father’s sleek black motorcade making its way back to the palace and he felt the tightening of the steel bands of duty around his wrists.
‘Yes. I can see the café there on the corner. That’s the road my hotel is on. It’s a...’ She turned to look up at him. ‘It’s a nice café. If you’d...’ She shrugged as if hedging her bets as to whether to finish the sentence or not.
He looked away, hiding just how much he wanted to say yes, from both her and himself. He smiled sadly and by the time his gaze had returned to those eyes understanding had dawned in them. ‘Please take a car to your hotel. You are safe in Duratra. But perhaps Duratra is not safe from you,’ he said. It was meant to be a tease, a light exchange before he left, but it had come out differently. It had been a warning from a man who was the embodiment of his country.
Dusk descended in her eyes and for a moment it was as if she had understood. And then the smile was back in place, the one that had hypnotised all the palace staff she had encountered—and he could see why.
She nodded and he watched her walk away, just as a gust of wind pressed the white-and-green-striped dress against the back of her legs, causing an explosion of erotic thoughts until Khalif’s father’s car turned the corner and grim reality intruded.
CHAPTER TWO
FORWHATFELTlike the hundredth time that day, Star forced herself to reread the English translation of the description of how Duratra had been one of the largest academic centres during the height of the Ottoman Empire. But she just couldn’t concentrate. Instead of finding clues or traces of Catherine or the necklace within the paintings and history of this beautiful country, she was hoping to see Kal—despite being aware of how unlikely it was.
She’d gone over and over their encounter in minute detail from the moment she’d left him in the courtyard until her latest breath. Although she’d initially thought him a tourist like her, she now thought that perhaps he worked at the palace. While she’d not wanted to give Wahed a reason to ban her from the palace exhibition, she now wondered if Wahed and Kal knew each other. Not that she’d asked the security guard when she’d seen him that morning.
No, sometimes it was better not to know, because this way she could imagine him as the undercover Prince of a neighbouring kingdom, here on a top-secret mission. Perhaps he was trying to correct some great wrong and he would need her help escaping Burami and together they could ride off into the desert and...
And then she laughed out loud at herself, not noticing how she had startled the other people in the very quiet room. She had never ridden a horse and couldn’t imagine that riding bareback would be comfortable. But being in his arms? Once again, Star felt herself flush from head to toe. Looking at him had been like looking at the sun. Heat. All-consuming heat that she’d had absolutely no control over whatsoever.
No one had ever had that effect on her. She’d read about it so many times but had honestly thought it just a metaphor. She’d wondered at it, had brought out the memory of him standing there, searching her face, her eyes andwhoomph!Head to toe. Every time. Even now she felt that pink heat stain her cheeks and, lost in her own world, fanned her face, nearly taking out a large German tourist with her elbow.
As she moved further into the room, golden glints and rich magentas caught her eye and she came to stand before a tapestry that took up nearly the entire length of the room. It was exquisite in detail, despite the clear effects of age, inscriptions flowing beneath the images, and instead of fighting for space at the explanatory plaque, Star wanted to stand back. Take it in, just as it was.
She wondered whether Catherine had ever seen this, whether she had stood looking at it, searching for meaning the way that Kal seemed to have searched her eyes. She forced her mind away from him and onto the fact that she was on the second day of her search.
Time was running out for Star to prove to her sisters that she could play her part, that she could travel to the other side of the world without needing their support, protection or concern. Why couldn’t her sisters trust her when she regularly and successfully managed to take care of a class of thirty seven-year-olds?
She and Summer had decided that if there was no sign of the necklace she would return to Norfolk no matter what. From there, the sisters would decide together what to do next. If any more travel was needed, they would apply to Mr Beamish, the estate’s lawyer, and he—as stipulated in the will—would fund whatever expenses were needed during the two-month period. Well, one month and just over one week now, Star thought, doing the maths.
Thirty-eight days. Her heart began to pound in her chest. It was the bass-line that beat beneath the layer of faith and hope she held in her heart. Constant, exhausting. She hated it and needed it. Because while that deep thrum in her heart was there, so was her mother, so was the chance that she’d be able to find the necklace. That she and her sisters would be able to find the diamonds, sell the estate and access the medical treatment Mariam Soames needed...and Star wouldn’t lose her only living parent.
A flash went off, slicing through the rising panic in Star’s chest, and Wahed crossed the room to speak to the German tourist’s wife, who had clearly ignored the sign that said no photography. Before the argument could get heated, Star made her way back out of the room to one of the larger areas, looking for somewhere she could...breathe.
She was trying to find her way out when the hairs on her arms lifted and heat broke out across the back of her neck. She paused, eyes closed, just feeling her way through that moment. Her pulse thudded in her ears for such a different reason than just seconds before, and when she opened her eyes and saw a figure marching down the corridor ahead of her, her heart raced. Instead of continuing down the hallway, he cut to the left and entered the beautiful green courtyard on the other side of the large glass wall that separated the corridor from the exhibition space.
Star placed a hand gently against the glass, the smooth cold surface sucking the heat from her skin. It was one thing to bump into a man and a whole other thing to approach him. She should go back to the public area of the exhibition. She should absolutely do that.
Khalif leaned back against the wooden bench, feeling the sun on his face, eyes closed, remembering the way that Star had done something similar yesterday. Why couldn’t he get her out of his head? All the way through the council update with Reza, Duratra’s Prime Minister.
‘If I didn’t know better,’ he’d joked, ‘I’d ask who she was.’
Khalif’s grunted reply had been as non-committal as he got with his oldest friend.
All that morning he’d caught himself looking at his arm where her hand had been, remembering the way that her laugh had cut through him, recalling his last sight of her. It didn’t help that he knew she was here. Somewhere in the exhibition. It was as if his body had been in a heightened state ever since he’d reached the lower level of the palace and he bit back a curse. He was worse than an untried schoolboy, lusting over his first crush.
Until the last hour, during a meeting with the Secretary of State for His Majesty Sheikh Abbad Al Jabbal. Samira’s father had found fault with nearly every suggestion that the team had put to him. Not that Khalif could blame him. He knew they still hadn’t come up with the best way to honour their loss. When it came down to it, there certainly wasn’t arightway. There was nothing right about the deaths of his brother and sister-in-law, so why should their memorial be? Khalif braced himself against a shockwave of grief that sent out invisible ripples of incomprehension and pain, refusing to bend to it, to go under.
‘Funny meeting you here.’
Khalif’s eyes shot open and he stared at Star, standing in the centre of the courtyard as if she’d just magically appeared.
‘How did you...?’ His words trailed off as he saw the commotion gathering on the other side of the glass at the corner of the east wing. Several dark-suited guards were reaching for their weapons, ready to storm the courtyard. He threw a glare their way, wondering how on earth this English girl had slipped undetected past his usually highly efficient bodyguards. He held his hand out to stop them intruding and turned back to Star, who was still looking up at him, thankfully having missed the exchange.
‘I hope that’s okay... I just... I saw you and you looked...’ She shrugged, not quite finishing her sentence.
She looked around the space, giving him time to take in the dark blue cotton headscarf, grey floor-length skirt and white top she was wearing beneath the same denim jacket, so very different to the glitz and glamour he’d seen throughout Europe’s most fashionable destinations. But, instinctively, he knew that hers was the face he would remember in years to come. Her bangles clinked slightly as she moved forward to smell one of the plants in the giant urn in the centre of the courtyard.
