flight?
Eleni wondered what had happened to make his attitude change so suddenly—but then the engines began to make a huge sound like the roaring of a thousand thunderstorms and she was too preoccupied to care.
And when she had shakily made her way down the aircraft steps, a big shiny black car was waiting to whisk them through narrow little roads which Kaliq called ‘lanes’ and which were lined with the thickest and greenest hedges that Eleni had ever seen. It all looked so lush and so beautiful that some of her trepidation dissolved. What had her teacher at school told her? That life was there to be experienced and enjoyed. So what was the point of worrying about what might happen? It hadn’t happened yet.
‘You like what you see?’ he queried as he heard her soft sigh.
She turned to him, her eyes were shining. ‘Oh, yes, Highness!’
‘We are going to my house in Surrey,’ he said, wondering if she knew just how potent that kind of un-feigned enthusiasm could be. No, of course not. She was a simple girl from the country—and a virgin—so what would she know of men’s desires? ‘I thought that you might find London a little overwhelming—and this is much closer to the stables we are going to visit.’
‘You…you own a house in England?’ Eleni questioned uncertainly.
‘I do.’
‘So you mean, this is where you live when you are not in Calista?’
‘Oh, I stay here when I’m in England and feel a hankering for the countryside,’ he said dismissively. ‘But I also keep a place in New York, an apartment in Milan and a villa in the South of France.’
‘So many homes!’
Her tone seemed to imply puzzlement rather than admiration and Kaliq’s mouth twisted into an odd kind of smile. At least nobody could ever accuse her of being a gold-digger! ‘Staying in hotels is beset with difficulties,’ he explained, without stopping to ask himself why he was bothering to offer his stable girl some kind of explanation for his conduct. ‘It means I have to rely on someone else’s security arrangements.’
‘Oh, I see,’ said Eleni slowly, remembering that time at her father’s when he had made her taste his pomegranate juice first, in case it was poisoned. When he was talking to her like this it was almost foolishly easy to forget that he was a prince—and to some, perhaps, a target. ‘But I do not notice any bodyguards, Highness.’
‘There is a car ahead of us and one behind—but they are discreet because that is how I like it. And sometimes I prefer not to have any at all…when their presence would inhibit me,’ he added, with a glitter in his black eyes which Eleni did not understand. ‘But my estate here is so well guarded that I have a certain kind of freedom when I am here. Now look over there,’ he instructed softly. ‘For we have arrived.’
Nothing could have prepared Eleni for that first sight of the sheikh’s English home. His palace in Calista was splendid—so lavish and rich and sumptuous—but this was different and so totally outside her experience that for a moment it completely overwhelmed her.
‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, her fingers fluttering to her lips as she stared in disbelief.
‘What do you think of it?’
The house rose up from a lawn of impossible greenness—a stately building of bricks as warm and as red as a desert sunset. There were stone steps leading up to a huge door flanked by carved pillars. And everywhere she looked, she could see flowers dancing—they had frilly trumpets and were coloured saffron.
‘It’s…it is beautiful, Highness. Truly beautiful.’
Ridiculously, her comment pleased him—for he sensed it came from the heart rather than because it would be what he was expecting to hear. And for a man who spent his life having his moods gauged and his wishes judged it was as refreshing as the summer rain. ‘Why, thank you,’ he said gravely.
‘And look at the flowers—I have never seen quite so many in one
Eleni wondered what had happened to make his attitude change so suddenly—but then the engines began to make a huge sound like the roaring of a thousand thunderstorms and she was too preoccupied to care.
And when she had shakily made her way down the aircraft steps, a big shiny black car was waiting to whisk them through narrow little roads which Kaliq called ‘lanes’ and which were lined with the thickest and greenest hedges that Eleni had ever seen. It all looked so lush and so beautiful that some of her trepidation dissolved. What had her teacher at school told her? That life was there to be experienced and enjoyed. So what was the point of worrying about what might happen? It hadn’t happened yet.
‘You like what you see?’ he queried as he heard her soft sigh.
She turned to him, her eyes were shining. ‘Oh, yes, Highness!’
‘We are going to my house in Surrey,’ he said, wondering if she knew just how potent that kind of un-feigned enthusiasm could be. No, of course not. She was a simple girl from the country—and a virgin—so what would she know of men’s desires? ‘I thought that you might find London a little overwhelming—and this is much closer to the stables we are going to visit.’
‘You…you own a house in England?’ Eleni questioned uncertainly.
‘I do.’
‘So you mean, this is where you live when you are not in Calista?’
‘Oh, I stay here when I’m in England and feel a hankering for the countryside,’ he said dismissively. ‘But I also keep a place in New York, an apartment in Milan and a villa in the South of France.’
‘So many homes!’
Her tone seemed to imply puzzlement rather than admiration and Kaliq’s mouth twisted into an odd kind of smile. At least nobody could ever accuse her of being a gold-digger! ‘Staying in hotels is beset with difficulties,’ he explained, without stopping to ask himself why he was bothering to offer his stable girl some kind of explanation for his conduct. ‘It means I have to rely on someone else’s security arrangements.’
‘Oh, I see,’ said Eleni slowly, remembering that time at her father’s when he had made her taste his pomegranate juice first, in case it was poisoned. When he was talking to her like this it was almost foolishly easy to forget that he was a prince—and to some, perhaps, a target. ‘But I do not notice any bodyguards, Highness.’
‘There is a car ahead of us and one behind—but they are discreet because that is how I like it. And sometimes I prefer not to have any at all…when their presence would inhibit me,’ he added, with a glitter in his black eyes which Eleni did not understand. ‘But my estate here is so well guarded that I have a certain kind of freedom when I am here. Now look over there,’ he instructed softly. ‘For we have arrived.’
Nothing could have prepared Eleni for that first sight of the sheikh’s English home. His palace in Calista was splendid—so lavish and rich and sumptuous—but this was different and so totally outside her experience that for a moment it completely overwhelmed her.
‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, her fingers fluttering to her lips as she stared in disbelief.
‘What do you think of it?’
The house rose up from a lawn of impossible greenness—a stately building of bricks as warm and as red as a desert sunset. There were stone steps leading up to a huge door flanked by carved pillars. And everywhere she looked, she could see flowers dancing—they had frilly trumpets and were coloured saffron.
‘It’s…it is beautiful, Highness. Truly beautiful.’
Ridiculously, her comment pleased him—for he sensed it came from the heart rather than because it would be what he was expecting to hear. And for a man who spent his life having his moods gauged and his wishes judged it was as refreshing as the summer rain. ‘Why, thank you,’ he said gravely.
‘And look at the flowers—I have never seen quite so many in one
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