His Irresistible Darling - Sarah Randall Page 0,69
Jumal reintroduced her to the foal—Apollo—he’d bought from Matt when he flew to the stud last December.
“He’s beautiful,” she gushed, stroking down the foal’s mane as she fed a carrot him from her palm. She wasn’t only thinking about Apollo.
Jumal walked proudly from his dressing room. He was wearing the traditional white robes with a red-and-white headdress secured with a black twisted rope. She seemed to recall it was called an agal.
Pip saw him reflected in the mirror she was using while she put her earrings in. “Good lord,” she stuttered, her hand shooting to her chest as she spun around to face him. “You’re every woman’s hottest fantasy right now. Wait…wait, let me take a picture.”
His cheeks heated and he dropped his head briefly at her statement. “But I’m only interested in being yours.” He smiled cheekily, nodding at her, and stalked over to her. “Because you are mine Pippa,” he declared before bending to kiss her. He broke their embrace as they were both left breathless.
“My very own, real-life Lawrence of Arabia. For the next couple of months anyway. I may swoon,” she declared, fanning herself dramatically with her hand. “Would you catch me?”
“Always,” he promised before dropping another soft kiss to her lips. He gave her a boyish grin. “Come on,” he encouraged, taking her hand. “We’d better get going before I change my mind and take you to bed.”
They drove for about half an hour inland, deeper into the desert, the setting sun swamping the land with a warm, hazy glow. She’d chosen a light mint green, fifties-style summer dress but added a white cardigan and popped a silver wrap in her bag at Jumal’s warning that the desert would get cold later. She’d added sensible flats for the visit to the Bedouin village.
On the journey, Jumal had explained the make-up of the village and the importance of the family.
The village was made up of several tents in varying sizes but all colourfully decorated and scattered around palm trees.
“Camels!” she exclaimed excitedly, exiting the car as she pointed towards the small herd. She clapped her hands and then reached for her phone to take a photo.
“Hmm-hm,” Jumal whispered into her ear as he came up behind her and hugged her back to his chest. “How do you think we’re getting to the restaurant?”
She gasped and spun around. “Oh but I’m not really dressed for that, if I’d known—” she complained, holding the skirt of her dress out widely.
“Wait,” Jumal said, turning her in his arms. “You mean you’d happily get up on a camel and ride in the desert with me? I was joking,” he clarified, astounded.
“Are you kidding? Of course I would,” she agreed, nodding intensely and peering back over her shoulder at the animals.
Jumal seemed stupefied. He shook his head and took her hand to lead her towards one of the larger tents. “Unbelievable,” she heard him mutter not quite under his breath. “No bloody fear.”
Chapter Ten
She gingerly entered the tent, having covered her head respectfully with a silver scarf from her handbag, and was sincerely surprised by the space and luxury it offered. The smell of roasting spices and coffee was mouth-watering. At the centre was a wooden fire pit; Jumal had the mock gas version at his house. An older woman with warm eyes and deep-set wrinkles beckoned her inside and offered her a drink of tea in a small white ceramic pot, nodding appreciatively as Pip managed to thank her with some faltering Arabic. Pip caught Jumal’s gratitude at her attempt.
She was shown to a seating area with a scattering of purple, orange and red cushions. The entire floor was covered with rugs in a multitude of rustic colours, and she sat crossed-legged, happily observing as Jumal partook of the traditional hookah bubble pipe with several older men of the tribe. She loved listening to the guttural sounds of their language. A plate with freshly baked pitta from the fire pit was handed around the group, together with pots of hummus and olives. Pip munched away contentedly.
Jumal was perfectly comfortable. He sat crossed-legged on the floor, talking with the older men who seemed to look to him for advice. They listened attentively to what he had to say—not that she could understand any of it. It just seemed that way. At one point, Jumal had shocked her with his exultant laughter and wide grin as he patted one of the men on his back exuberantly. Despite the fact that he was