Diamond in the Desert (9 page)

CHAPTER NINE

K
ARESHI
...

She was actually here. It hardly seemed possible. For all her bitter, mixed-up thoughts when it came to the man she had called Emir and must now learn to call His Majesty Sheikh Sharif al Kareshi, Britt couldn’t help but be dazzled by her first sight of the ocean of sand stretching away to a purple haze following the curve of the earth. She craned her neck, having just caught sight of the glittering capital city. It couldn’t stand in greater contrast to the desert.

Just as her thoughts of the man the world called the Black Sheikh couldn’t have stood in starker contrast to the universal approval the man enjoyed. How could he fool so many people? How could he fool her?

That last question was easily answered. Her body had done that for her, yearning for a man when it should freeze at the very thought of him—if she had any sense.

As the city came into clearer view and she saw all the amazing buildings she got a better picture of the Black Sheikh’s power and his immense wealth. It seemed incredible that she was here, and that His Majesty Sheikh Sharif had been her lover—

That she had been so easily fooled.

‘The captain has switched the seat-belt sign on.’

‘Oh, yes, thank you,’ she said glancing up, glad of the distraction. Any distraction to take her mind off that man was welcome.

Having secured her belt, she continued to stare avidly out of the window. Her life to date hadn’t allowed for much time outside Skavanga, and from what she could see from the plane Kareshi couldn’t have been more different. The thought of exploring the city and meeting new people was exciting in spite of all the other things she had to face. An ivory beach bordered the city, and beyond that lay a tranquil sea of clear bright blue, but it was the wilderness that drew her attention. The Black Sheikh was down there somewhere. His people had told her this in an attempt to put her off. They didn’t know her if they thought she would be dismayed to learn His Majesty was deep in the desert with his people. She would find him and she would confront him. She had every reason to do so, if only to learn the result of the trials on the mineral samples he had taken from the mine. She suspected he would agree to see her. His people were sure to have told him that she had been asking for him and, like Britt, the Black Sheikh flinched from nothing.

Another glance out of the window revealed a seemingly limitless carpet of umber and sienna, gold and tangerine, and over this colourful, if alien landscape the black shadow of the aircraft appeared to be creeping with deceptive stealth. The desert was a magical place and she was impatient to be travelling through it. Would she find Sheikh Sharif? The ice fields of Skavanga were apparently featureless, but that was never completely true, and where landmarks failed there was always GPS. Tracking down the ruler of Kareshi would be a challenge, but not one she couldn’t handle.

* * *

Shortly after she reached the hotel Britt received a call from Eva to say that one of their main customers for the minerals they mined had gone down, defaulting on a payment to Skavanga Mining, and leaving the company dangerously exposed. It was the last thing she needed, and her mind was already racing on what to do for the best when Eva explained that the consortium had stepped in.

‘I think you need to speak to the sheikh to find out the details.’

‘That’s my intention,’ Britt assured her sister, feeling that the consortium’s net was slowly closing over her family business.

As soon as she ended the call she tried once again to speak to a member of the sheikh’s staff to arrange an appointment as a matter of urgency. Audience with His Majesty was booked up for months in advance, some snooty official informed her. And, no, His Majesty had
certainly not
left any message for a visitor from a
mining
company. This was said as if mining were some sleazy, disreputable occupation.

So speaks a man who has probably never got his hands dirty in his life, Britt thought, pulling the phone away from her ear. She had been placing calls non-stop from her bedroom for the past two hours—to Sharif’s offices, to his palace, to the country’s administrative offices, and even to her country’s diplomatic representative in the city.

Okay. Calm down, she told herself, taking a deep breath as she paced the room. Let’s think this through. There was a number she could call, and this really was a wild card. Remembering Emir telling her about his love of horses, she stabbed in the number for His Majesty’s stables.

The voice that answered was young and female and it took Britt a couple of breaths to compute this, as her calls so far had led Britt to believe that only men worked for the sheikh and they all had tent poles up their backsides.

‘Hello,’ the pleasant female voice said again. ‘Jasmina Kareshi speaking...’

The Black Sheikh’s sister! Though Princess Jasmina sounded far too relaxed to be a princess. ‘Hello. This is Britt Skavanga speaking. I wonder if you could help me?’

‘Call me Jazz,’ the friendly voice on the other end of the line insisted as Jazz went on to explain that her brother had in fact been in touch some time ago to warn her that Britt was due to arrive in the country.

‘How did he find out?’ Britt exclaimed with surprise.

‘Are you serious?’ Jazz demanded.

Jazz’s upbeat nature was engaging, and as the ruler of Kareshi’s sister proceeded to tell Britt that her brother knew everything that was going on in Kareshi at least ten minutes before it happened Britt got the feeling that in different circumstances Jazz and she might have been friends.

‘As he’s not here, I’m supposed to be helping you any way I can,’ Jazz explained. ‘I can only apologise that it’s taken so long for the two of us to get in touch, but I’ve been tied up with my favourite mare at the stables while she was giving birth.’

‘Please don’t apologise,’ Britt said quickly. She was just glad to have someone sensible to talk to. ‘I hope everything went well for your horse.’

‘Perfectly,’ Jazz confirmed, adding in an amused tone, ‘I imagine it went a lot better for me and my mare than it did for you without a formal introduction to my brother’s stuffy staff.’

Diplomacy was called for, Britt concluded. ‘They did what they could,’ she said cagily.

‘I bet they did,’ Jazz agreed wryly.

This was really dangerous. Not only had she fallen for the Black Sheikh masquerading as Emir, but now she was starting to get on with his sister.

‘My brother’s in the desert,’ Jazz confirmed. ‘Let me give you the GPS—’

‘Thanks.’

Jazz proceeded to dispense GPS coordinates for a Bedouin camp in the desert as casually as if she were directing Britt to the local mall. Britt was able to draw a couple of possible conclusions from this. Sharif had not wanted his staff to know about the connection between them—possibly because as she was a woman in a recently reformed and previously male-dominated country they wouldn’t treat her too well. But at least he had entrusted the news of her arrival to Jazz. She’d give him the benefit of the doubt this one time. Just before signing off, she checked with Jazz that the car hire company she had decided on had the best vehicles for trekking in the desert.

‘It should be the best,’ Jazz exclaimed. ‘Like practically everything else in Kareshi, my brother owns it.’

Of course he did. And he thought Skavanga Mining was in the bag too. Not just an investment, but a takeover. There was no time to lose. Having promised to keep in touch with Jazz, she cut the line.

She had a moment—a fluttering heart, sweaty palms moment—when she knew it would have been far safer to deal with the Black Sheikh from a distance, preferably half a world away in Skavanga. Sharif was too confident for her liking, telling his sister about Britt’s arrival in Kareshi as if he knew all her arrangements. According to Jazz it was very likely that he did, Britt reasoned, more eager than ever to get into the desert to confront him. And this time she would definitely confine their talks to business. She might be a slow learner, but she never made the same mistake twice.

* * *

He wasn’t surprised that Britt had decided to track him down in the desert. He would have been more surprised if she had remained in Skavanga doing nothing. He admired her for not taking anything lying down. Well, almost anything, he mused, a smile hovering around his mouth. He did look forward to taking her on a bed one day.

Stretching out his naked body on the bank of silken cushions in the sleeping area of his tent, he turned his thoughts to business. Business had always been a game to him—a game he never lost, though with Britt it was different. He wanted to include her. He knew about the customer going bankrupt leaving Skavanga Mining in the lurch. He also knew there was nothing Britt could have done about it even had she been in Skavanga, though he doubted she would see it that way. He had been forced to get in touch with Tyr again to fast-track the deal, and with Britt on her way to the desert maybe he would get the chance to put her straight. He didn’t like this subterfuge Tyr had forced upon him, though he could understand the reasons for it.

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—

Famously, she had changed one on the very first day she had met Sharif. But that had been on a familiar vehicle with tools she had used before, and on a hard surface, while this was sand.

As soon as she raised the Jeep on the jack, it slipped and thumped down hard, narrowly missing her feet. Hands on her hips, she considered her options. It was a beautiful night. The sky was clear, the moon was bright, and she had parked in the shadow of a dune where she was sheltered from the wind. It was lovely—if she could just calm down. And, maybe she shouldn’t have set out half cock with only the thought of seeing Emir/Sharif again in her head. But she was where she was, and had to get on with it.