wider world.
A pity her exposure hadn’t been more carefully supervised.
Zahir frowned. Had she been wild for the hedonistic pleasures Paris offered or had she been seduced by them? He remembered the husky voice inviting her to bed the other morning, and the blatant lust in that pseudo-intellectual’s face at the club. There’d be no shortage of people eager to introduce Soraya to life’s seamier pleasures.
Heat trickled through his belly. What had Hussein been thinking, letting her loose in Paris without a chaperone? Without someone to guide and protect her, had she been easy prey?
Yet, even as he thought it, Zahir
knew
he was wrong. Soraya Karim was no easy victim. Beneath the feminine sway of hips and that delicious pout of a mouth was a will of iron. Look at how she’d managed to get her own way over delaying her return to Bakhara. Whatever she’d done, she’d done with her eyes wide-open.
The heat in his gut twisted in a sickening swirl.
He vowed he at least wouldn’t succumb to her blandishments.
Ahead Soraya glimpsed spires amidst a dark swathe of green. As they approached, her breath hitched at the sheer fairy-tale beauty of the chateau below them. Pale grey, almost white in the bright sunlight, it boasted an abundance of towers capped with conical slate roofs. The windows were large and mullioned, reflecting the sun glinting off the moat that surrounded it. An arched bridge led across to vast lawns and ornamental gardens. The whole was enclosed by a forest that isolated it from everything else. Like an enchanted world.
She sighed. It was so beautiful, so different from anything she’d seen either in Paris or at home. No wonder Lisle had told her she couldn’t miss the Loire Valley! She’d said it would appeal to the dreamer in her.
Just the place for Prince Charming to appear and spirit her away on his milk-white stallion.
Her smile twisted. She wasn’t in the market for a rescuingprince. She’d never yearned for romance, not after weathering the destructive aftermath of her parents’ disastrous love match.
Besides, one prince was enough in any girl’s life.
More than enough.
She wrapped her arms around herself as a chill invaded her bones.
Try as she might, nothing could take her mind off the fact that in a few short weeks she’d be at the Emir’s court, preparing for her wedding—to give herself to a stranger.
Dread carved a hollow in her chest, leaving a yawning hole where she’d once nurtured fledgling dreams. Not earth-shattering dreams, just the chance to make her own choices. To build a career she loved and live as she chose.
Right now they seemed as likely as flying to the moon.
It was only as the thud of the helicopter’s rotors died that she realised they’d landed. Bewildered, she looked out to see they were between the forest and the river. In front of them rose the exquisite chateau she’d admired from the air.
Soraya tried to dredge up her enthusiasm for the fanciful architecture, the elegant embellishments, the beautiful symmetry. But the cold, hard fact of her looming future marred her appreciation.
She fumbled for her seatbelt, annoyed with herself. She should be making the most of every moment, of each new place and experience. Yet here she was doing what she’d vowed not to do—dwelling on what she couldn’t change.
‘Let me.’ Zahir’s warm fingers tangled with hers and she stiffened.
There had to be a scientific explanation for the pulse of energy that sparked under her skin whenever he touched her. Once it had been surprising—twice, too much of a coincidence. Now she found it … disturbing.
‘Thank you.’ She scrambled out of the door before he could come around and help. Her knees felt ridiculously weak but she put that down to the after-effects of her first chopper flight.She went forward to thank Marc. He’d been friendly and so patient with her questions.
She’d barely thanked him when Zahir loomed beside her.
‘This way.’ He
A pity her exposure hadn’t been more carefully supervised.
Zahir frowned. Had she been wild for the hedonistic pleasures Paris offered or had she been seduced by them? He remembered the husky voice inviting her to bed the other morning, and the blatant lust in that pseudo-intellectual’s face at the club. There’d be no shortage of people eager to introduce Soraya to life’s seamier pleasures.
Heat trickled through his belly. What had Hussein been thinking, letting her loose in Paris without a chaperone? Without someone to guide and protect her, had she been easy prey?
Yet, even as he thought it, Zahir
knew
he was wrong. Soraya Karim was no easy victim. Beneath the feminine sway of hips and that delicious pout of a mouth was a will of iron. Look at how she’d managed to get her own way over delaying her return to Bakhara. Whatever she’d done, she’d done with her eyes wide-open.
The heat in his gut twisted in a sickening swirl.
He vowed he at least wouldn’t succumb to her blandishments.
Ahead Soraya glimpsed spires amidst a dark swathe of green. As they approached, her breath hitched at the sheer fairy-tale beauty of the chateau below them. Pale grey, almost white in the bright sunlight, it boasted an abundance of towers capped with conical slate roofs. The windows were large and mullioned, reflecting the sun glinting off the moat that surrounded it. An arched bridge led across to vast lawns and ornamental gardens. The whole was enclosed by a forest that isolated it from everything else. Like an enchanted world.
She sighed. It was so beautiful, so different from anything she’d seen either in Paris or at home. No wonder Lisle had told her she couldn’t miss the Loire Valley! She’d said it would appeal to the dreamer in her.
Just the place for Prince Charming to appear and spirit her away on his milk-white stallion.
Her smile twisted. She wasn’t in the market for a rescuingprince. She’d never yearned for romance, not after weathering the destructive aftermath of her parents’ disastrous love match.
Besides, one prince was enough in any girl’s life.
More than enough.
She wrapped her arms around herself as a chill invaded her bones.
Try as she might, nothing could take her mind off the fact that in a few short weeks she’d be at the Emir’s court, preparing for her wedding—to give herself to a stranger.
Dread carved a hollow in her chest, leaving a yawning hole where she’d once nurtured fledgling dreams. Not earth-shattering dreams, just the chance to make her own choices. To build a career she loved and live as she chose.
Right now they seemed as likely as flying to the moon.
It was only as the thud of the helicopter’s rotors died that she realised they’d landed. Bewildered, she looked out to see they were between the forest and the river. In front of them rose the exquisite chateau she’d admired from the air.
Soraya tried to dredge up her enthusiasm for the fanciful architecture, the elegant embellishments, the beautiful symmetry. But the cold, hard fact of her looming future marred her appreciation.
She fumbled for her seatbelt, annoyed with herself. She should be making the most of every moment, of each new place and experience. Yet here she was doing what she’d vowed not to do—dwelling on what she couldn’t change.
‘Let me.’ Zahir’s warm fingers tangled with hers and she stiffened.
There had to be a scientific explanation for the pulse of energy that sparked under her skin whenever he touched her. Once it had been surprising—twice, too much of a coincidence. Now she found it … disturbing.
‘Thank you.’ She scrambled out of the door before he could come around and help. Her knees felt ridiculously weak but she put that down to the after-effects of her first chopper flight.She went forward to thank Marc. He’d been friendly and so patient with her questions.
She’d barely thanked him when Zahir loomed beside her.
‘This way.’ He
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