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Excitement wasn’t enought to describe her feelings. There was also apprehension. Until she saw Sharif’s expression when he saw her again, she couldn’t relax. She was prepared for anything, and was already steeling her heart—the same heart that was hammering in her ears as she wondered if Sharif would be wearing his full and splendid regalia—the flowing black robes of the desert king? Or would he be wearing a sombre tailored suit to greet a director of what he had referred to in the press as his most exciting project yet?
Exhaling shakily, she hoped the problems he had referred to in Kareshi had been resolved, because she was bringing him good news from the mine. They were ahead of schedule and there was a lot to talk about. Ready for their first business meeting, she had changed into a modest dress and jacket in a conservative shade of beige on the plane.
Her heart bounced as the steps of the citadel came into view. Somewhere inside that gigantic building Sharif was waiting.
Not inside.
And not wearing black robes, either, she realised as the limousine drew to a halt.
Sharif was dressed for riding in breeches, polo shirt and boots...breeches that moulded his lower body with obscene attention to detail...
‘Welcome to my home,’ he said, opening the car door for her.
His face was hard to read. He was smiling, but it could easily have been a smile of welcome for a business associate, newly arrived in his country. Forget business—forget everything—her heart was going crazy. ‘Thank you,’ she said demurely, stepping out.
He was just so damn sexy she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Her mind was closed to business, and her wayward body had tunnel vision and could only see one man—and that was the sexy man who knew just how to please her. There was only one swarthy, stubble-shaded face in her field of vision, and one head of unruly, thick black hair, one pair of keenly assessing eyes, one aquiline nose, one proud, smooth brow, one firm, sexy mouth—
Pull yourself together, Britt ordered herself firmly as Sharif indicated that she should mount the steps ahead of him.
There were guards in traditional robes with scimitars hanging at their sides standing sentry either side of the grand entrance doors and she felt overawed as she walked past them into the ancient citadel. Every breath she took seemed amplified and their footsteps sounded like pistol shots in the huge vaulted space. Everything was on a grand scale. It was an imposing marble-tiled hall with giant-sized stained-glass windows. There were sumptuous rugs in all the colours of the rainbow, and the beautifully ornamented furniture seemed to have been scaled for a race of giants. She felt like a mouse that had strayed into the lion’s den. The arched ceiling above her head seemed to stretch away to the heavens, and she couldn’t imagine who had built it, or how the monstrous stone pillars that supported it had been set in place.
Attendants bowed low as Sharif led her on. Even when he was dressed in riding gear, authority radiated from him. He was a natural leader without any affectation, and—
And she was going there again, Britt realised, reining her feelings in. Each time she saw Sharif she found something more to admire about him, yet his insular demeanor irritated the hell out of her too, even if she accepted that hiding his feelings must be an essential tool of kingship.
‘Do you like it?’ he said, catching her smile.
She jolted back to full attention, realising that Sharif had been watching her keenly the whole time. ‘I think it’s magnificent,’ she said as a group of men in flowing robes with curving daggers in their belts and prayer beads clicking in their hands bowed low to Sharif.
A hint of cinnamon and some other exotic spices cut the air, a timely reminder of just how far away from home she was, and how they still had quite a few issues to address. She wondered if Sharif would hand her over to some underling soon, leaving their discussions until later. She almost hoped he would to give her chance to get used to this.
‘What’s amusing you?’ he said.
‘Just taking it all in,’ she said honestly. ‘I’m a historic building fanatic,’ she admitted, thinking that a safe topic of conversation. ‘And this is one of the best I’ve seen.’
‘The main part of the citadel was built in the twelfth century—’
As he went on she realised that Sharif really did mean to be her tour guide. She had no complaints. He was an excellent teacher, as she knew only too well.
He took her into scented gardens while her heart yearned for him to a soundtrack of musical fountains.
‘We have always had some of the greatest engineers in the world in Kareshi,’ he explained.
