One Desert Night - By Maggie Cox Page 0,55

by books and papers, researching the history of a pair of ancient urns from Persia—you know the ones I mean?'

She saw by his raised eyebrows that he did.

'She absolutely loves the work. It's a joy to spend time with her. I've learned so much about our own family's heritage through Gina. By the way—I've arranged a special dinner tonight for your return, so we can all convene then and hear each other's news.'

'That was thoughtful of you. Right now I would like to shake off the dust of my travels, have a shower and change into some fresh clothes. I will see you this evening at dinner.' Briefly Zahir touched the side of her face, then continued on down the long corridor to his private domain.

Not hearing the soft tread on the carpeted hall floor, Gina chewed thoughtfully on her pencil as she perused the delicate urns on the plinth in front of her. She had been trying to date them. Her training and intuition led her towards believing they were two of the finest examples of some of the earliest glazed pottery in the world—probably from the Achaemenian era of the Persian Empire, she thought. Sitting back on her heels, she silently admired their incredible artistry—particularly the figures of some archers, with their still dazzling gold and silver swords.

'The inventory is keeping you very busy, I see. I fear I am working you too hard, Dr Collins.'

The gently teasing warm male voice from behind made Gina grow still. Slowly, she turned, and the imposing sight of Zahir dressed in his fine robes, dark hair shining fiercely even in the half-light of the evening, and his eyes glinting in mocking merriment, made her heart race madly. He was home. At last...she thought feverishly.

Removing the pencil she'd been absently chewing, she smiled helplessly shy—because all of a sudden it was as if she was meeting him for the first time. 'Like I told you before...it's not like work when it's a genuine passion. Did you have a good trip to Kajistan?'

On the last word Gina lowered her gaze, because she didn't really want to know if his trip had been good if 'good' meant that he'd become officially engaged to the Emir's daughter.

'If you are asking if I had a safe and uneventful journey, then the answer to that question is yes. As for the hospitality of the Emir—that lived up to its famously high standard, as always, and did not disappoint.'

Making a slow, measured approach, Zahir was suddenly in front of her. His leather boots were buffed to a mirrorshine, she noticed, and just as her eager glance travelled upwards to examine the rest of him he dropped down to his haunches, so that their gazes were level. The fine calf leather of his boots creaked a little as he lowered himself, and the arousing scents of agarwood and sandalwood made a potent assault against senses that were already under siege.

It was all Gina could do to keep her fingers laced together in her lap and not reach out to touch her.

'I'm glad that you're back safe,' she said softly.

'I confess it is good to be home again. You have a pencil smudge at the corner of your mouth. Here...' He leaned forward and gently rubbed at it.

Gina all but held her breath. 'It's a bad habit of mine, I'm afraid,' she murmured. 'Chewing the end of pencils, I mean.'

Smiling into her eyes, Zahir withdrew again. 'Those urns were two of my father's favourite pieces,' he commented, nodding his head towards them.

'Were they? Your father must have had impeccable taste, then, as well as being a bit of a historian. Was he interested in history?'

'He was, as a matter of fact. How could he not be when he lived amongst so many incredible historical treasures in this palace?'

'What was he like? Will you tell me?' Again Gina almost held her breath. As yet he had never shared with her any personal details of his family, or how the loss of his parents—particularly his father—had affected him. She knew how a son's relationship with his father and the example he'd had from his first and most important male role model shaped their future.

'He was definitely the authority figure in our home, but he was never cruel or unfair. He loved us all very much and showed it daily. He was also revered by our people. 'Trust me...' he grimaced ruefully 'he was a very hard act to follow. It devastated me