Read Shamed in the Sands for Free Online Page B

the Sultan and none of the other stuff mattered.
    Buttoning up the jacket of his suit, he stepped out onto the honey-coloured gravel of the forecourt and in the distance he could see a long line of similar limousines already parked. The turreted palace gleamed red-gold in the light of the setting sun, like something out of an upmarket Disney film. Gabe wondered how long it had taken to build this impressive citadel—an unmistakeable symbol of beauty and power, set in an oasis of formal and surprisingly green gardens.
    The evening air was thick with the scent of roses and soft with the sound of running water from the stream which traversed the palace grounds. In the distance, he could see soaring mountain peaks topped with snow and, closer, the circular and steady flight of what looked like a bird of prey.
    That waswhat he should be thinking about, he reminded himself grimly. Not a woman who had made him feel slightly...
    He frowned.
    Used?
    Had she?
    ‘Gabe! Here you are at last. May I welcome you to my home?’
    An accented voice broke into his thoughts. Gabe turned to find the Sultan standing on the steps to greet him. A tall and imposing figure, he was framed by the dramatic arches of the palace entrance behind him. His robes and headdress were pure white and the starkness of his appearance was broken only by the luminosity of his olive skin. For a moment, a distant memory floated across Gabe’s mind before it disappeared again, like a butterfly on a summer’s day.
    Gabe smiled. ‘Your Most Imperial Highness,’ he said. ‘I am most honoured to be invited to your palace.’
    ‘The honour is all mine,’ said the Sultan, stepping forward to shake him warmly by the hand. ‘How was London when you left?’
    ‘Rainy,’ said Gabe.
    ‘Of course it was.’ The two men exchanged a wry look.
    Gabe had first met the Sultan at the marriage of one of his own employees. At the time, Sara Williams had been working as a ‘creative’ at his advertising agency before she’d ruffled a few feathers by bringing her rather complicated love-life into the office.
    During that rather surreal wedding day in the nearby country of Dhi’ban, the Sultan had told Gabe that he knew of his formidable reputation and asked if he would help bring Qurhah into the twenty-first century by helping change its image. Initially, Gabe had been reluctant to accept such a potentially tricky commission, but it had provided a challenge, in a life where fresh challenges were rare.
    And he had timed it to coincide with an anniversary which always filled him with guilt and regret.
    ‘You are comfortable at your hotel?’ asked the Sultan.
    For a moment, Gabe felt erotic recall trickle down his spine. ‘It’s perfect,’ he said. ‘One of the most beautiful buildings I’ve ever stayed in.’
    ‘Thank you. But you will find our royal palace more beautiful still.’ The Sultan made a sweeping gesture with his hand. ‘Now come inside and let me show you a little Qurhahian hospitality.’
    Gabe followed the monarch through the long corridors of the palace, made cool by the soft breeze which floated in from the central courtyard. Past bowing ranks of servants, they walked—overlooked by portraits of hawk-faced kings from ages gone by, all of whom bore a striking resemblance to his host.
    It was more than a little dazzling but the room which they entered defied all expectation. Tall and as impressive as a cathedral, the high-ceilinged chamber was vaulted with the soft gleam of gold and the glitter of precious gems. People stood chatting and sipping their drinks, but the moment the Sultan entered everyone grew silent and bowed their heads in homage.
    What must it be like to have that kind of power over people? wondered Gabe as he was introduced first to the Sultan’s emissary and then to a whole stream of officials—all of them men. Some of them—mainly the older generation—were clearly suspicious of a foreigner who had been brought in to tamper with