Monarch of the Sands by Sharon Kendrick

to the faraway note in her voice—and found himself ridiculously touched by her knowledge and obvious love of his country. So many people dismissed the east as just a prolific provider of oil—as if Khayarzah consisted of nothing but refineries and gilded palaces! The only thing she had got wrong was the leopard—for he’d never known anyone who had seen the elusive creatures which were reputed to live on the eastern heights. But he had no intention of telling her that. Why destroy someone’s dreams unless you had to?
    He glittered her a cool smile. ‘In that case, it seems to be that your destiny intends you to come to my country and see it for yourself.’
    It was what she’d always wanted—but the tug in her heart alerted her to an unfamiliar kind of danger. And something in Zahid’s now shuttered expression made a feeling of apprehension whisper over Frankie’s skin.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    H E DIDN’T look so urbane now.
    ‘What’s the matter, Francesca?’ questioned Zahid softly.
    The matter? Frankie stared at him. Did he mean apart from the fact that her heart was racing so fast that she felt dizzy? Or that her knees felt so weak, she was glad she was sitting down? With an effort she quashed the pervasive sense of desire which had hit her the moment he’d emerged from the concealed section situated at the back of his private jet. Because Frankie had never seen Zahid looking like
this
before.
    Just before the Gulfstream jet had landed—descending like a silver bird from the darkening blue of the desert sky—he had disappeared to change. The very act of dressing and undressing on the aircraft had seemed an unbearably intimate act and Frankie was ill prepared for the sight which greeted her on his return. Because the sleek and sophisticated royal with whom she’d breakfasted in his penthouse suite seemed to be nothing but a distant memory.
    Gone was the urbane image of the man he had been in London—the exquisitely cut Italian suit now replaced by robes of flowing white. She’d seen pictures of himin traditional dress before—but nothing on earth could have prepared her for the impact of seeing the real-life version.
    The delicate fabric hinted at the hard body beneath and the blanched colour threw his burnished skin into stark relief. Jet-dark hair was covered by a white headdress held in place by a dark and intricately knotted circlet of scarlet.
    Frankie couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. Yes, he was a king—but somehow that seemed irrelevant in the light of his blatant masculinity. He looked almost …
primitive
, she thought as she swallowed down the sudden dryness in her mouth.
Elemental.
As if he had appeared from some bygone age where men were unashamedly men, and women were …
    ‘Nervous?’ he questioned drily.
    ‘Not at all,’ she lied.
    ‘Then why are you wringing your hands so tightly together?
Relax
.’
    Frankie looked down to see that her knuckles were as white as if she’d been on a roller-coaster ride. Because hadn’t concerns plagued her during the flight from London? Perfectly legitimate concerns which made her question the wisdom of agreeing to accompany Zahid to Khayarzah.
    She would be on
his
territory—and subject to
his
whim. In close contact with a man she desired. He had assured her that he wasn’t going to seduce an old family friend—and had said it with a steely resolve that she didn’t doubt for one minute. Yet the irony was that his words had left her with a dull and aching feeling of disappointment—even though she knew they made perfect sense.
    As the plane came to a halt Frankie unclipped her seat belt. ‘I wonder how my appearance is going to go down?’ she questioned tentatively. ‘Whether your people will approve?’
    ‘I have given up trying to please everyone,’ Zahid said in a suddenly harsh tone as he remembered his early days on the throne, and how he had not known whom he could trust. The previous sheikh had been very traditional and Zahid