him a warning that if there was any more trouble I would imprison the lot of them for life. We were just about to make our return home when he pulled out a pistol and started firing.'
'You could have been killed!'
'Yes, but I wasn't.' He rubbed a weary hand across his eyes. 'Please do not fear for my safety so much, little sister. I would hate to think that you were fretting every time I set foot outside the palace walls!'
'But somebody shot you, Zahir. Do your wounds hurt badly?'
Seeing the loving concern on her dear face, Zahir retrieved his sense of humour. 'Not badly. They're inconvenient, more than anything.'
'What do you mean?'
A stirring image of Gina fleshed out nicely in his mind—one in which she was wearing only her bathrobe, her golden hair all mussed and sexy, her cheeks flushed from a steamy bath and the scent of exotic oils clinging to her exquisitely soft skin. Straight away the thought acted as a flaming torch, igniting his blood.
His ensuing smile was almost painful. 'I only mean that I will probably not be as active as I would like for the next few days.'
'What about the man who shot you? What happened to him?'
'Right now he is languishing in a prison cell in the city. He was taken there last night by my guards.'
Farida patted down the silk hijab that covered her hair, neck and shoulders, and looked perturbed. 'There is no chance that one of his men will try and seek revenge and hurt you again, Zahir?'
'If they dare, my punishment will ensure they will never pick up a firearm or a weapon again. Not in this lifetime!'
But even as he contemplated such a repugnant reality, a wave of doubt and concern rolled through him. Had he made a huge error in judgement, thinking that he could reason with such a lawless band? Now wasn't the time to consider such a disturbing notion—not when Farida was so clearly worried and upset.
He laid his arm reassuringly round his sister's slender shoulders. 'The palace is a steadfast fortress that has stood the test of time. No amateur trigger-happy fool is going to get at me here. They would be crazy to even try. Now, enough talk about that. Let us discuss more pleasant things, hmm? What are you planning on doing with yourself this day?'
They were walking back along the shaded pathway, and the balmy agarwood scented air seemed to ease Zahir's troubled mind with its rich and mysterious fragrance as they walked.
'I hope to spend some time with Gina Collins, actually.'
'You have met Dr Collins?' Stopping dead in his tracks, Zahir stared at his sister in surprise.
'Yes, I have met her, and I like her very much. She said something rather wonderful to me about Azhar that gave me great comfort. I don't have many girlfriends around my own age, so it's very nice to have someone like Gina staying at the palace for a while. As you have employed her to make an inventory of some of the more important family artefacts, I thought I might be able to assist her? What do you think?'
The little speech she had just made was so surprising, so unexpected, that it took Zahir a few moments to digest it properly. It was the first time since Farida had been so tragically widowed that she'd shown even the slightest interest in anything other than her own misery. If Gina had been able to effect such a dramatic change—even in the short time she'd been here—what else might her presence be able to achieve? Zahir's mind raced with something that felt very much like hope.
'I am sure that if I speak with her on your behalf she would be only too happy to have your help. Do you by any chance know where she is now?'
'I was just about to go and look for her.'
'Let me do that. Why don't you stay out here for a little while in the shade and relax? When I've discussed your suggestion with Dr Collins I will send Jamal to come and fetch you, okay?'
'She is very pretty brother…don't you think?'
She is beautiful beyond imagining, his mind answered immediately. But Zahir curbed the words that hovered on his tongue for something a little more measured. After all, he didn't think it wise to alert Farida to his deepening interest in Gina—or the fact that he had asked her to become his mistress!
'Yes,' He allowed the briefest smile to