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Prologue
DAWN LIGHT DANCED across the ceiling, the palest of gold, the morning unusually cool for the desert kingdom of Abu Qara, as though even the land itself mourned the passing of the great Sheikh Mohamed al Habib. And it did. Of course it did. The kingdom mourned, the subjects mourned, the mountains to the east mourned, the very sky had opened up and wept only hours after the ceremony had concluded the night before.
But perhaps the person who mourned most of all was in bed beside her, Zafar al Habib, eldest son of Sheikh Mohamed, and now himself Sheikh of this great, ancient land.
Millie didn’t need to turn to look at him. She could see him imprinted in her mind, every detail of him as fresh to her as it had been four years ago when they’d first met, when she’d fallen headlong into love with him.
Despite the years that had passed, the heartbreak that had shattered between them, they’d fallen into one another’s arms the night before as though nothing had changed.
No, not quite nothing. Four years ago, there’d been hope and pleasure, lightness and want, the joy of discovery. Last night had been all about need. Their grief had been palpable and she’d known how to assuage it – at least temporarily. They were a tangle of sheets now, limbs, and need still there.
At last, when she could fight the compulsion no longer, she turned to face him, and her heart gave a thunderous clap against her ribs.
Zafar al Habib, the new Sheikh of Abu Qara, was gone. In his place, there was a single piece of paper, dark penmanship scored across it in confident script. With fingers that trembled slightly, she reached for the note, a lump forming in her throat even before the words appeared on the page – for she knew what they’d say. The gist, at least.
I have early morning appointments. It was nice to see you again. Safe travels back to the UK, Amelia.
She collapsed against the pillow and foolish, hot tears filled her eyes, reminding her of all the heartbreak she’d suffered at this man’s hands in the past, all the pain that came from loving someone who’d never love her back. I could never love someone like you, Amelia. It’s impossible. She shivered now as she recalled the intense coldness in his beautiful eyes, coldness that underscored how little she meant to him.
He had never loved her. He’d never cared for her. Last night shouldn’t have happened, but it had been beyond her control, beyond her rational thoughts. It had been primal, instinctive, as though the hand of fate had pushed them together, drawing them to one another without words and explanations.
Only now that Zafar was gone, Millie realised how foolish she’d been. Despite everything that had happened between them, somehow, her heart had wrenched open, the smallest, tiniest crack: just enough to recognise the dangers there – the danger of loving him all over again, of needing him just as much as ever. Surely she wouldn’t be stupid enough to make that mistake anew?
