Monarch of the Sands by Sharon Kendrick Page B

the long-standing family friend who had always been kind to her, but the leader of a desert kingdom. He was in charge, she realised—and he radiated an impressive kind of power.
    Swallowed up by advisors and aides, she watched as solemn-looking men bowed and began briefing him in his native tongue. Someone handed him a sheaf of papers and then a phone began to ring and was passed to him. He seemed to have forgotten that she was there—for he barely raised his dark head as she left the gilded chamber.
    A young girl of about seventeen called Fayruz had been assigned to look after her, and as Frankie was led along a marbled corridor lined with blue and gold mosaic she wondered how on earth she was going to be able to communicate with her. But to her surprise, it transpired that Fayruz spoke good—if slightly tentative—English.
    ‘I learn it at school,’ she said shyly, in response to Frankie’s question. ‘It is my best subject—which is why I have been brought in to assist you while you are here.’
    ‘You’re at school still?’
    ‘Oh, yes,’ Fayruz offered shyly.
    ‘And then what—university, I suppose?’
    There was a pause. ‘In my country, women are not encouraged to go to university.’
    Frankie frowned. ‘You’re kidding?’
    Fayruz shook her head. ‘It’s thought women make better mothers than scholars.’ She gave a small sigh and then shrugged her shoulders. ‘I will unpack for you now.’
    ‘No, honestly—I can do that for myself,’ said Frankie, shaking her head in slight disbelief. Women
not encouraged to go to university
? This was much worse than she had imagined.
    ‘Then let me draw a bath for you,’ said Fayruz eagerly. ‘Please. You must be hot after your long journey and the Sheikh will be displeased if I do not show you Khayarzahian hospitality.’
    Frankie nodded, recognising that she must learn to adapt to a different way of living, to graciously accept a slower pace and help when it was offered. And wouldn’tit be good to freshen up and relax before dinner? ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly. ‘That would be lovely.’
    Lovely turned out to be something of an understatement—because when Fayruz called to say that the bath was ready, Frankie could hardly believe her eyes. A wide, square bath—big as a child’s swimming pool—was filled with warm, rose-scented water on which floated fresh petals.
    After the servant had gone, Frankie stripped off her clothes and slowly submerged herself in its scented depths, the silky water lapping over her. This was heaven. Bliss. She closed her eyes. The closest she’d ever come to pure indulgence. Lulled by the warm water and the total silence, she relaxed for a while before reluctantly climbing out of the cooling water to get ready for dinner.
    Skimming her fingers over the row of silk outfits which now hung in the wardrobe, she picked a long dress of pure white. People often wore white in desert countries, didn’t they? And Zahid had been robed in white earlier …
    She’d just finished dressing when Fayruz tapped at the door and led her through a maze of intricate corridors to what was described as the ‘small’ dining room—but this proved to be yet another understatement. It was bigger than any dining room she’d ever seen and decorated lavishly in gold and lapis lazuli. Intricately tooled hanging lamps filled the room with a soft radiance and the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood wafted through the air. The table itself was low and, instead of chairs, there were brocade cushions heaped around it.
    At that moment, Zahid swept into the room—a small, accompanying retinue of stern-faced men walking closebehind him. Across the exotic room, their eyes met, and Frankie felt a sizzle of awareness warming her skin, beneath the silk gown.
    ‘Hello, Zahid,’ she said softly.
    Lulled by the soft familiarity of her voice, Zahid slowly let his gaze travel over her. She was wearing white—pure and virginal white—and he felt his body