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He rose and bathed in the pool formed by an underground stream that bubbled up beside his sleeping quarters. Donning his traditional black robes, he ran impatient hands through his damp black hair. Jasmina had contacted him to say that Britt had landed safely and would soon be joining him. Not soon enough, he thought as one of the elders of the tribe gave a discreet cough from the entrance to the tent to attract his attention.
A tent was a wholly inadequate description for the luxurious pavilion in which this noble tribe had insisted on housing him, Sharif reflected as he strode in lightweight sandals across priceless rugs to greet the old man. A simple bivouac would have been enough for him, but this was a palatial marquee fitted out as if for some mythical potentate. It was in fact a priceless ancient artefact, full of antique treasures, which had been carefully collected and preserved over centuries by the wandering tribesmen who kept these sorts of tents permanently at the ready to welcome their leader.
The elder informed him that the preparations for Britt’s arrival were now in place. Sharif thanked him with no hint of his personal thoughts on his face, but it amused him to think that an experienced businesswoman like Britt had shown no compunction in attempting to throw him off stride by introducing him to a variety of Nordic delights. It remained to be seen how she would react when he turned the tables on her. How would she like being housed in the harem, for instance?
The elderly tribesman insisted on showing him round the harem tent set aside for Britt. It was a great deal more luxurious than even Sharif’s regal pavilion, though admittedly it was a little short on seating areas. The large, luxuriously appointed space was dominated by an enormous bank of silken cushions carefully arranged into the shape of a bed enclosed by billowing white silk curtains. The harem tent had one purpose and one purpose only—a thought that curved his lips in a smile, if only because Britt would soon realise where she was staying, and would be incensed. Teasing her was one of his favourite pastimes. How long was it going to take her to realise that?
Thanking his elderly guide, he ducked his head and left the tent. Pausing a moment, he soaked in the purposeful bustle of a community whose endless travels along unseen paths through a wilderness that stretched seemingly to infinity never failed to amaze him. He didn’t bring many visitors to the desert, believing the change from their soft lives in the city to the rigours of life in an encampment would be too much for them, but Britt was different. She was adventurous and curious, and would relish every moment of a challenge like this.
Spending time with his people was always a pleasure for him. It gave him a welcome break from the constant baying of the media—to see his face, to know his life, to know him. And, more importantly, it gave him the chance to live alongside his people and understand their needs. On this visit the elders had asked for more travelling schools, as well as more mobile clinics and hospitals. They would have them. He would make sure of it.
No wonder he was passionate about the diamond deal, Sharif reflected as some of the children ran up to him, clustering around a man who, in their eyes, was merely a newcomer in the camp. He hunkered down so they were all on eye level, while the children examined his prayer beads and the heavily decorated scabbard of his khanjar, the traditional Kareshi dagger that he wore at his side.
This was his joy, he realised as he watched the children’s dark, inquisitive eyes, and their busy little hands as they examined these treasures. They were the future of his country, and he would allow nothing to put a dent in the prospects of these children. He had banished his unscrupulous relatives with the express purpose of allowing Kareshi to grow and flourish, and he would support his people with whatever it took.
He was still the warrior Sheikh, Sharif reflected as the children were called away for supper. His people expected it of their leader, and it was a right that he had fought for, and that was in his blood. But he did have a softer side that he didn’t show the world, and that side of him longed for a family, and for closeness and love. He hadn’t known that as a child. He hadn’t even realised that he’d missed it until he spent more time here in the desert with his people. What he wouldn’t give to know the closeness they shared...
He stopped outside the tent they had prepared for Britt, and felt a rush of gratitude for the heritage his people had so carefully preserved. As he fingered the finely woven tassels holding back the curtains over the opening his thoughts strayed back to Britt. They had never really left her.
* * *
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t changed a tyre before—
