Captive for the Sheikh's Pleasure, page 5
Maggie’s response was not ladylike; she struggled, though it was to no avail. Ilyas put the goblet to her mouth and he poured. Though she fought, he was stronger. But that was not the reason she gave in—suddenly they were close, so close, and there was the ragged sound of his breathing, the feel of his hand on the back of her head, and the overwhelming sensation that Ilyas was near.
It was safer to swallow.
Ilyas felt the change too.
One moment he was fighting to get her to take a drink, the next he was fighting with himself not to kiss her. But thankfully Maggie suddenly complied and took in some of the fluid, though most of it she already wore down her neck and chest.
He was sitting on the bed, holding her, and in that brief tussle everything had changed. His grip on her loosened and Maggie was aware of her body and his in a way that she had never been before.
‘There, I’ve drunk it,’ she said, though her voice came out wrong, for even the cords in her throat were strung taut by his touch.
And he too fought for normalcy, and to remember the reason he had come in here.
He released Maggie and was about to refill the goblet but then he changed his mind, for the spilled liquid had wet the fabric of her slip, making it translucent. It clung to one of her breasts, the nipple puckered and taut. Ilyas’s voice, when he found it, was brusque. ‘I have no issue doing that hourly so, if you would prefer that I didn’t play nursemaid, I suggest you take another long drink before you sleep.’
He stalked out and she sat there with a sweet taste on her lips and feeling breathless from his touch.
And then, a beat too late, for he must have just remembered her request, she heard the sound of bells as he departed.
CHAPTER FIVE
THERE WAS A brief twilight zone when Maggie awoke.
A moment where she lay, rested by sleep, but while unaware of her surroundings.
It didn’t last.
Maggie was fully awake now, aware of her predicament but less fearful.
Clearly she wouldn’t be allowed to die of thirst in the desert!
He had taken certain care and that was reassuring to know.
She also had the truth on her side.
Maggie lay there listening to the screaming winds and stared at the tented wall that did not move. She wondered how it could be so still when clearly they were deep in the simoom.
She could hear the sounds and sizzles from a Berber kitchen and, far from lasting three weeks, Maggie doubted she could last three minutes more without food, for she was suddenly ravenous.
She pulled back the sheets and sat up, noticing that a robe had been put out for her. The fabric was a very pale willow-green crushed velvet. As soon as Maggie put on the robe she knew that she had never worn real velvet before. It felt like warm silk and though modest it clung a little to her. There were pretty slippers too that were crusted with jewels.
Her hair was damp and knotted and she ran her fingers through it more from habit than to look presentable.
The air was fragrant with spices as she headed out and she really was terribly hungry but determined not to show it.
He was seated on the floor at a low table and one of the maidens that Maggie had shooed away previously gave her a nice smile.
A little shy and embarrassed at how she had treated her, Maggie returned it.
Ilyas gestured for her to take a seat while trying not to notice just how amazing she looked. The sleep had served her well. There was colour in her cheeks and her eyes were less wary. Certainly he did his best not to notice how stunning her figure looked in the robe, or that it was a similar shade to the bikini she had worn in the photos.
Ilyas wanted her, and he was more than used to having his wants met. He had to remember that there were more important issues than that now.
And he was not one to sleep with the enemy.
‘How did you sleep?’ he enquired.
‘Terribly,’ Maggie lied.
‘You appeared unconscious when the maids checked on you.’
‘I was just resting my eyes,’ Maggie said, then she smiled, though not at him, because there was a flash of a long-ago memory of her mother saying that when Maggie would catch her dozing.
Here, in the desert, she felt as if her mother was close.
‘What time is it?’ she asked.
‘Seven,’ he said, and then nodded to the maid to remove the lids from various tajines.
The dishes all looked delectable.
‘I have been thinking about what you said,’ Ilyas told her once the maiden had left. ‘If your drink was indeed tampered with then I understand your concerns about the food and refreshments—however, you cannot go without either.’
‘It’s fine.’ Maggie sighed and tried to sound wearily magnanimous. ‘I really don’t have much choice but to eat.’
‘Quite.’
‘So I shall have breakfast.’
‘Dinner,’ he corrected. ‘It is seven in the evening, not the morning. According to the maidens you were also resting your eyes when breakfast and lunch were served.’
Oh, she was so embarrassed! She was about to make some quip about the tea he had forced on her being a sedative, but Maggie knew that had nothing to do with her sleeping for so long.
‘I trust you were comfortable, then?’ he checked. ‘Given how long you slept.’
She could hardly deny it, but instead of answering she filled a goblet and took a drink. Ilyas offered her a flat bread which Maggie took and then covered with some meat.
She took a bite. It really was delicious, spicy yet sweet, and the meat was so tender it simply melted on her tongue. It was hard to swallow, though, for she could feel his eyes on her and Maggie knew there was much to be discussed.
‘How are you involved with Suzanne?’ he asked.
‘I met her while travelling,’ Maggie told him, and decided it was time to be more honest and stop covering for Suzanne. ‘We were both rooming at the same hostel. Last night she left for Dubai. I believe she was meeting her boyfriend there.’
‘Do you know him too?’
Maggie shook her head. ‘She just said she was catching up with Glen.’
‘How long ago did you meet her?’
‘A couple of months ago. We worked at the same bar for a few weeks and then we parted ways. We caught up again here in Zayrinia but it was by chance.’
‘You’re sure of that?’
‘No,’ she admitted, for despite her mammoth sleep she had also been doing a lot of thinking. ‘I did say to her a while back that I had been hoping to come here near the end of my trip but I never gave dates. I had to save up—it’s been a working holiday,’ she explained.
‘What do you do back home?’
‘I work in a café,’ Maggie said.
‘For how long?’
‘Since I was fifteen, though I was just part time then, so...’ She did the maths. ‘Nine years.’
‘You must like it.’
‘I do. The staff are great and it’s more like...’ She hesitated. ‘Well, my boss is like family, really.’
‘Good,’ he said, and she liked it that he did.
All too often people asked why she didn’t look for something different or assumed she must be bored working there, but the truth was she was more than happy with her job. The café had been the most constant thing in her life. ‘It’s a chocolate café.’
‘A chocolate café?’ Ilyas checked.
‘Iced chocolate, hot chocolate, chocolate cake, chocolate biscuits, chocolate everything.’
‘You must be sick of chocolate?’
‘Never.’ Maggie smiled. ‘And believe me when I say I’ve tried to be.’ Then she stopped smiling. ‘Is this relevant?’
‘Not really,’ Ilyas said, and then he frowned, but at his own lapse, for usually he stayed very much on topic. Yet it was pleasant speaking to her, interesting finding out more about this rather intriguing woman. ‘You said you have worked while overseas. Doing what?’
‘More cafés.’ Maggie shrugged. ‘And a few bars. That’s where I met Suzanne.’
‘So how did you end up on my brother’s yacht?’
‘Suzanne said she had a plus-one invitation for a snorkelling trip.’
‘A snorkelling trip for tourists aboard the royal yacht?’ Ilyas’s response was wry and then he met her eyes. ‘That was sarcasm, by the way.’
‘I know that,’ Maggie responded, and then sighed. ‘And merited. I knew something was off the moment I saw it.’
‘Yet you boarded?’
‘Yes,’ Maggie said. ‘I’m trying to be less cynical.’
‘Why would you do that?’
‘Because I’m aware that it’s somewhat a fault of mine.’
‘I would call it an asset.’ And to prove his own cynicism he questioned her further. ‘So you and Hazin spent the afternoon merely talking?’
‘We’re merely talking,’ Maggie pointed out.
‘It took rather a lot of effort to get to this point.’
She was not deterred by his tone. ‘I spoke readily then because your brother didn’t kidnap me in the middle of the night.’ She sweetly smiled and then helped herself to more of the delicious food. ‘In fact, I ended up in his cabin by mistake. Or I thought I had. He was very nice about it. I wasn’t enjoying the trip and neither was he.’
‘Why?’
Maggie’s lips pursed; she did not want to reveal anything that Hazin had told her. She and Hazin were far from friends but, still, that conversation had been private and certainly not for his brother’s ears.
‘Why weren’t you enjoying yourself?’ Ilyas asked, and his interest surprised both of them.
He wanted to know, and now he really wanted to know, for colour came to her cheeks.
‘I felt like a tart,’ Maggie said. ‘And, despite what you may think of me, I’m not one.’ He just looked at her. ‘I knew I was way out of my depth and when I felt sick all of a sudden I was very happy to escape and lie down. I had no idea it was your brother’s cabin.’
‘There were cameras planted.’ Ilyas revealed some of what the messages had said. ‘Anything that happened between the two of you will be there for all to see.’
‘Then make a cup of tea and prepare for an early night,’ Maggie said. ‘We were just talking.’
She did flush a little, though, embarrassed and worried that what Hazin had said might have been captured. He had spoken about his family and, given his status, he would not want the world to know what had been said.
Of course, Ilyas misinterpreted her blush as one of guilt.
Still, no matter what had taken place between Maggie and Hazin, there was one thing he could not work out.
‘I don’t understand why they would choose you.’ He frowned.
‘Am I not to your brother’s usual taste?’ Maggie said, and then it was she who frowned. ‘They?’
‘These people work in groups. And what I said has nothing to do with looks and appeal.’ Though he could well understand if that were the case! ‘I meant I don’t understand why they would choose someone as damned defiant and argumentative as you.’
‘I’m not with you,’ Maggie said, and then she laughed. ‘Well, I get that I’m no pushover but I’m not sure what you mean about being chosen.’
‘You don’t seem to be the sort to be so readily taken in.’
‘I’m not,’ Maggie said, but then she hesitated. A tiny curl of a conversation had started unfurling in her mind and she tried to dismiss it, telling herself that she would think about it later, when she was away from the scrutiny of his gaze. But Ilyas had already noticed her hesitation.
‘Tell me.’
‘It’s nothing.’ She shook her head and then, suddenly not hungry, she pushed away the plate. ‘I’m done talking.’
If anything, Maggie felt a little sick.
So much so that she excused herself and headed back to her room and sat on the bed.
The pictures lay scattered on the floor and instead of looking at them she buried her head in her hands and let out a low moan.
Until now it had all seemed like a mistake, a misunderstanding that Maggie had been oddly confident would soon be cleared up.
It had buoyed her. In fact, the absurdity of her situation had placated her.
Now she was starting to see that she had been set up by Suzanne.
Used.
And she knew now why she had been chosen.
She heard the sound of bells and guessed that Ilyas had followed her. ‘Maggie?’
He spoke her name before he parted the curtain and Ilyas saw her sitting on the bed as if she had just been told bad news.
‘What did you just remember?’ he asked.
‘Nothing.’
‘You seem upset.’
She didn’t look at him. In fact, she gave a small derisive laugh. ‘What do you expect?’
‘You’ve remembered something.’
She had.
‘Tell me.’
Ilyas wasn’t asking merely to solve the situation. He wasn’t even asking to work out the mystery with his brother or to get his family out of trouble.
He was asking because it was clear that she was hurt.
And, in his eternal quest for information, usually he didn’t care about such matters.
Now, though, he did. And so he spoke more kindly than usual and came and sat on the bed beside her.
Maggie didn’t jump like a scalded cat, but only because his presence didn’t feel like a threat now. And though, as she sat there, she told herself to maintain her anger with him, that he did not deserve any lowering in her rage, she was starting to see that he was right to be angry about what had happened to his brother and the demands that had been made.
It wasn’t a simple mix-up.
‘I think I’ve been set up,’ Maggie admitted. ‘I can’t check, my phone’s not working...’ She gestured to it and Ilyas picked it up and tried to turn it on. ‘Suzanne kept borrowing it.’
‘I’ll have it cleaned,’ Ilyas said, and pocketed it. ‘What else have you remembered?’
‘It’s probably nothing,’ she said, and then gave in. ‘But I don’t think so.’ Maggie was piecing it all together, even as he sat by her side. ‘I told you that Suzanne and I worked together?’
He nodded.
‘We went out for drinks a few times. I guess we became friends. Or at least I thought we had. One time, I can’t even remember exactly what we were talking about, but I said that I wanted to be home by the end of summer.’
‘Which is now.’
Maggie nodded. ‘My boss, Paul, wants me to go back to the café, but apart from that I had no real reason to rush back.’
‘What about your home?’
‘I don’t have one,’ Maggie said. ‘I just rented a room in a flat. I told Suzanne the same and that no one was really expecting me back.’
‘No one?’ he checked.
And she should possibly not be telling him this, Maggie realised, but she was starting to see that he wasn’t the enemy or the one taking advantage of her status.
That had been Suzanne.
‘My boss and my friend, Flo, know my plans.’
And he waited for her to explain further.
‘But I don’t have any family, not really. My mother was single and she died when I was seven. She lost touch with her family when she was pregnant with me—they were all in Ireland anyway.’
‘Who raised you after your mother died?’
‘I was in and out of care homes and there were a couple of foster homes but they didn’t work out. Apart from friends, there’s no one,’ Maggie admitted. ‘I guess Suzanne realised there was no one to miss me.’
She could see how it had happened now.
All those questions that Maggie had thought insensitive at the time had been Suzanne digging for information.
‘I should have listened to my instincts,’ Maggie said. ‘I knew something wasn’t right at the time. I just didn’t know what—Suzanne had me pegged as disposable.’
‘Well, she was wrong.’
The conviction in his voice had her look at him.
‘You don’t know that.’
‘I think I do,’ Ilyas said. ‘You said that you have friends?’
‘Of course,’ Maggie said, ‘not many, but...’ She didn’t really know how to explain, but she tried. ‘I don’t get close to people very easily.’
‘I heard that if, apart from family, you can count on one hand your true friends and people you have truly loved then you go to your grave a lucky man.’
‘I’m not a man.’
‘I know,’ Ilyas said, and smiled, for he certainly did! ‘Go on...’ he said, and he took her furled hand. ‘Name one.’
‘Flo,’ Maggie said immediately.
‘How did you meet?’
‘She started to come into the café when she was a nursing student. She’s a midwife now.’
‘And you’re good friends?’
Maggie nodded. ‘Very. Flo’s the best.’ And she watched as he unfurled one of her fingers.
‘Who else?’
‘Paul.’ Was it her imagination or did his hand hesitate a touch when she said Paul’s name? ‘He’s my boss,’ she explained. ‘But we get on really well.’ She watched his hand on hers as she elaborated. ‘And his wife.’
His fingers relaxed into hers. ‘I was their bridesmaid,’ she told him. ‘Though Kerry, his wife, doesn’t quite count as a finger,’ Maggie said. ‘So that’s two.’ She looked at the hand he held in his. ‘I’ve got other friends, of course, but...’
‘Two is excellent,’ he said. ‘I would hope you have many years to find the other three. I am sure that if I kept you here in the desert you would be very much missed.’
He wasn’t going to keep her, though.
Maggie knew he believed her and she knew she was safe.
‘How many fingers do you have?’ Maggie asked, but he didn’t readily respond. She was more than curious, and not just about friends, for she wondered if there was a woman in his life.
‘I don’t count people on fingers,’ Ilyas said, ‘for I will one day be king.’
