One Desert Night - By Maggie Cox Page 0,19

of cucumber and wedges of dazzling red tomato to his lips and take a large bite. When he'd chewed and swallowed the food, Gina smiled. 'You've certainly got a healthy appetite.'

'That's true. But then I need to eat a lot to keep the old grey cells replenished!' he joked, grinning back at her.

This morning he was dressed in a wildly patterned Hawaiian-style loose shirt, which probably wouldn't have looked out of place on the beaches of Majorca or Corfu but it definitely made him look eccentric. All he needed to top the outfit off was a knotted folded handkerchief on his head.

'Are you ready to present your notes on the jewel to His Highness?' he asked her.

'Ready as I'll ever be.'

Gina's mouth tightened. Just the thought of sitting in front of Zahir to discuss that amazing jewel with its heartrending prophecy was akin to the prospect of walking across a bed of hot coals. She'd never been so nervous or so mentally under siege. Perhaps she shouldn't take its so personally that he now scorned the legend of marrying for love, but God help her she did.

After absenting himself for a while, Jamal reappeared on the terrace. 'After breakfast you are both summoned to see His Highness. I will wait here to escort you.'

Nervously scanning the food that yet again she'd barely touched, Gina met the far-seeing gaze of Zahir's personal servant and forced a scant smile as her insides churned and apprehension dried her mouth. 'Thank you.'

With a polite bow, and his hands behind his back, Jamal moved away to stand by the wall and wait.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE Sheikh of Kabuyadir's office was enormous almost like a small ballroom, with its marble floor and exotic octagonal brass lamps with little coloured windows hanging down from the rafters of the high ceiling. A desk was definitely present. How could they ignore the six-foot-long burnished table that stood in the centre, with carved and cushioned antique chairs surrounding it? But Gina's eye was immediately drawn to the circle of colourful patterned cushions round a hand-woven blue, red and gold rug, to the right of the impressive desk, where Zahir sat, chin in his hands, crossed-legged and thoughtful.

He wore another broad leather belt round his long hooded black robe, and this one had an attachment that crossed over his chest and shoulder. It looked as if it might have accommodated a hunting knife or scimitar at some point, but right then the slim holster was empty. The image of Zahir as a brave ancient warrior was never far away, it seemed—at least to Gina. For three long years his striking visage had fuelled her fantasies and stoked her longing for him to an inferno at times—especially when she reflected on what she had lost by letting him go.

As they approached Jake gave a respectful nod, and under Jamal's hawk-like stare Gina did the same.

'You have breakfasted well, I trust?' Zahir's questioning dark gaze encompassed both of them, but definitely lingered longer on her.

'Very well indeed, thank you.' This from an enthusiastic Jake.

'That is a nice shirt, Dr Rivers. Very…shall we say colourful?'

'I'm glad that you like it, Your Highness.'

'Sit down, please. We should make a start on the matter of the jewel.' Sweeping an extravagant hand round the circle of floor cushions, Zahir was suddenly all business.

His lightly mocking comment about Jake's shirt woke Gina to the unsettling fact that he had a sense of humour. Seating herself on the cushion the furthest in distance from their host, she spied a gleam which might have been amusement in the depths of his hypnotically brown eyes. It made her self-conscious and uncomfortable as she opened the slim leather document holder on her lap and carefully withdrew her notes. A couple of feet away from her, Jake did the same.

'I will start with you, Dr Rivers, if I may? Tell me what your historical research says about the jewel.'

Jake's enthusiastic report was followed by some intense discussion between the two men. Gina took the opportunity to observe Zahir at her leisure starting with his voice. It was undoubtedly strong, yet he kept it modulated, varying the tone from time to time as his gaze focused unwaveringly on her colleague, and managing to give not the slightest indication of his private thoughts about what was being discussed at any time.

Now and again Jake shifted a little nervously—as if overwhelmed by where he was and who was quizzing him—but by and large he gave a good account