Andie Brock – The Sheikh's Wedding Contract (страница 3)
But if growing up in a palace had taught Nadia one thing, it was that there was always a way in. She just had to find it. She was about to move away to start her search when movement at one of the windows on the fourth floor caught her eye. Retreating into the shadows, even though there was no way she could be seen down here, she watched as the French windows were pushed open wide and she could just make out the silhouette of Zayed himself, framed against the light. Were these the sheikh’s private quarters? Silently, Nadia counted one, two, three, four windows from the central portico. Committing the image to memory, she felt her heart start to thud in her chest again. This was where she had to head to commit the bravest, most dangerous and possibly the stupidest act of her life. But first she had to find her way in.
* * *
Leaning on the balcony railings outside his bedroom window, Zayed breathed in the sweetly scented night air. Before him stretched the kingdom, his kingdom, spread out like a twinkling tapestry. The recently erected skyscrapers soared into the sky, the daring glass and steel monuments that pushed the boundaries of architects’ dreams and construction workers’ abilities to the limit and beyond, each one taller, more daring, more dazzling than the last. This had been his brother’s dream, to make the kingdom of Gazbiyaa a major player, not just in the Middle East, but on the world stage. But at what cost? Azeed was ruthless and determined, and Zayed suspected that had Azeed been crowned sheikh he would have stopped at nothing in his quest to make Gazbiyaa the ultimate superpower.
And that was why Zayed’s mother had broken her vow of silence on her deathbed, putting an end to Azeed’s increasingly extreme plans and precipitating the chain of events that had led to Zayed standing here now.
Through the buzz of the city traffic Zayed could hear the call to prayer, floating from the dozens of minarets that were dotted about the city landscape, dwarfed in size by their towering neighbours but still more than making their presence felt.
Turning back from the window, Zayed headed for the bathroom to take a shower. It had been a long day.
* * *
It was the azan, the call to prayer, that gave Nadia her chance. She had followed the wall round to the back of the palace, where to her dismay she saw that the gates were just as high, just as impenetrable, when a small group of young men appeared, hurrying towards her, their robes glowing white in the dusky light. Shrinking into the shadows, Nadia watched as one of them touched a keypad and the gates opened, allowing them to pass through. She had just enough time to slip in behind them before they silently slid closed again.
With her heart in her throat she kept to the shadows as she hurried towards the brightly lit palace, past the manicured lawns and rows of swaying palm trees, the vast courtyard dotted with fountains, until she was within a few hundred yards of the kitchens. Here she stopped, squatting down behind a pomegranate tree to catch her breath and try to figure out what to do next.
A solitary male voice alerted her to a palace guard talking into his mobile phone in front of the kitchen doors. The open kitchen doors. She just needed to distract him. A plan started to form in her head; she hadn’t idled away her years watching adventure movies on the television for nothing. Feeling around her feet, she found what she was looking for and, picking up the smooth pomegranate, she felt its weight in her hand. If she could just throw it somewhere away to the side of that guard, it might distract him long enough for her to slip in.
Slipping the bracelets off her wrist and discarding them, she stood up and took aim, flinging the pomegranate wildly and with all her might as hard as she could. The result was better than she could ever have imagined. By some luck the weighty fruit landed square on the bonnet of a sleek black limousine she hadn’t even noticed, and as its alarm shrieked into life the guard immediately hurried over to investigate. This was her chance. Nadia sprinted towards the open door and she was in!
Casting around her in exhilarated panic, she saw that luck was with her again and the kitchens appeared to be completely empty. Tiptoeing through one room after another, she eventually found the servants’ staircase and started to climb it with the feverish speed and blind panic born of doing something very, very dangerous.
By the time she reached the fourth floor she was almost doubled over with the exertion, but she couldn’t allow herself more than a couple of gasping breaths. She peeped out into the long corridor. All seemed quiet, though it wasn’t easy to tell over the banging of her own heartbeat and the roaring in her ears. Raising shaky hands to her temples, she tried to get her bearings, turning this way and that in an attempt to figure out where she was. Four windows from the central portico at the front. If she followed this passageway to the end, turned left and then counted the doors...
Her hand was on the doorknob now. If her calculations were right she was about to enter the bedchamber of Sheikh Zayed Al Afzal. Slowly, slowly she turned the heavy brass knob. It moved silently, readily beneath her grasp. There was no going back now. Whatever fate awaited her on the other side of this door, she knew her life would never be the same again.
* * *
Zayed was towelling himself dry when he heard a noise coming from his bedchamber next door. He froze, the towel in his hand. Someone was in there, he was sure of it. He strained his ears to listen but there was no sound now.
But a sixth sense told him that he was no longer alone. Had he locked his bedroom door? No, of course he hadn’t. Despite warnings that security was of paramount importance here, he couldn’t break the habit of a lifetime. Who, in the civilised world, locked their door before going to bed? Unless they didn’t want to be disturbed for a very different reason, of course.
Now he certainly wished he had heeded the advice. His eyes scanned the bathroom for some sort of weapon, anything he could use to defend himself, but it was hopeless. A bottle of shower gel and a loofah was about as lethal as it got. He would just have to use his wits and his own muscle. He was strong and he was fit and he knew how to disarm an attacker, especially with the element of surprise. If there was only one intruder, even if they were armed, he could do this. More than that? He would give it his best shot. Tucking the towel around his waist, he inched forward.
* * *
Creeping into the bedchamber, Nadia sucked in a breath and held it there, too terrified to let it out. In front of her was an enormous raised bed, the interior obscured by a canopy of sumptuous drapes that fell from a gilded corona above.
Was he in there? Tiptoeing closer, wincing with every silent footstep, Nadia reached forward and with a clammy hand shakily drew back the fabric a couple of inches. The bed was empty. He must be in the bathroom. The breath finally escaped from her lungs. This was it. All of her carefully laid plans had led to this point. Slipping off her sandals, she climbed into the bed as quietly as she could. Then, squirming on top of the satin sheets, she tried to arrange herself in a vaguely alluring position before lying back against the pillows with her eyes screwed shut. She was ready for her fate.
There was a noise, a sort of low animal growl, followed by a flash of muscled chest and the purposeful swing of arms through the air. And the next thing Nadia knew, she was being pinned to the bed by the considerable weight of over six feet of powerful, adrenaline-fuelled, near-naked flesh.
‘WHO ARE YOU and what do you want?’ Zayed snapped the words into Nadia’s ear, her head twisted into the pillow, a tangle of black curls obscuring the side of her face.
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe come to that. With her arms wrenched above her head, both wrists shackled by Zayed’s forceful grasp, the shock and fear that were pumping through her body were threatening to make her lose consciousness completely. Slowly, deliberately, she tried to turn her head, hoping that once Zayed saw that it was just her, Nadia, he would release her, give her a chance to explain. Although she wasn’t sure how she was going to do that.
But what she saw soon put paid to any such fanciful notions. Because the dark brown eyes that she found herself staring into, just inches away from her face, were still glittering with intent, ready to attack. Everything about his forbidding face, the clench of his jaw beneath the closely cropped beard, the dark, untidy brows drawn together in a menacing scowl, the tight line of his lips, told her she was in big trouble. He was going to kill her, wasn’t he? She was going to die. Murdered in a stranger’s bed, then chopped into small pieces and offered as tasty morsels to the palace falcons.
‘It’s only me.’ She gulped noisily, her eyes wide with panic. ‘Nadia.’ She wriggled beneath him to try to free some small part of her trapped body, any part, but the movement simply increased the contact between them and she stopped abruptly. That clenching spasm, somewhere low down where their bodies met, that had to be fear, didn’t it?