The Sheikh's Unsuitable Bride Part 4

'No, Zahir. Your talents lie elsewhere.'

'Maybe.'

'There's something else?'

Zahir looked across the room to where the five-year-old Jamal was watching Ameerah, entranced by the snowstorm. Then, turning back to Hanif, he said, 'He's impatient for a grandson to bear his name. Impatient with me for denying him that joy. I'm afraid I've been a disappointment to him in every aspect of my life.' He managed a smile. 'But not for much longer, it would seem. My mother has taken it upon herself to find me a bride.'

He'd antic.i.p.ated wry amus.e.m.e.nt, but Hanif was not smiling. 'Marriage is a lifelong commitment, Zahir. Not something to be entered into lightly, even to gratify your father. And the timing could be better.'

'A point I made quite forcibly. My mother's response was that if I waited until I had time, it would never happen.' He shrugged. 'Along with a lot of other stuff about being wilful, selfish...'

'She's anxious to see you settled, Zahir. You may be wilful, but you're not selfish and she knows it. You surrendered more than two precious years to watch over me. You did that for the family.'

'I did it for you, Han. For you I would surrender my life.'

That finally brought a smile to his cousin's face. 'Surrendering your life is easy, Zahir. Take it from one who's been there. It's the living of it that takes effort.'

'No one could accuse me of neglecting that duty.' He worked hard, played hard, lived hard. 'But it's time to do something to show my feelings for him. Respect his wishes.'

'If it's written, insh' Allah, whether it is your mother's wish or your own, it will happen and I wish you happy of your bride.'

'You believe in fate?'

Hanif sounded so certain, but then he'd seen for himself how fate had tossed the lovely Lucy Forrester into his cousin's arms. Who could have foreseen that in his future?

Or that the deliciously curvy and delightfully offbeat Metcalfe would be at the wheel of his car today.

'Can I borrow Ameerah for a moment? My driver found her the snowstorm when my original gift was broken. I'd like her to know that it was appreciated.'

'Her?' Hanif's brow scarcely moved. But it moved.

Diana checked her watch. It was time to go and bring the car round to the front but, as she stood up, the sitting room door burst open and a lanky, olive-skinned, dark-haired girl launched herself through it.

'Thank you!' she exclaimed dramatically. 'Thank you so much for finding me the snowstorm. I absolutely love it!'

Diana, taken aback by such an over-the-top performance, looked up, seeking a responsible adult.

What she got was Sheikh Zahir, leaning on the door frame.

Oh. Right. This was his doing...

'I'm very glad you like it, Princess Ameerah. Are you having a lovely party?'

'Oh, we're not having a party today. I had school and Mummy has to go out tonight. We're going to take all my cla.s.s out on Sat.u.r.day. We're going on a ca.n.a.l boat trip to the zoo and having a picnic. I begged Zahir to come but he said that it's up to you.'

'Me?'

'You're his driver!'

'Oh, I see.'

Diana glanced up at the man leaning casually against the door frame. His expression was giving nothing away and yet she had the strongest impression that he was making a point. Rea.s.suring her that she wouldn't be reduced to the minibus, perhaps?

'I promise,' she said, turning back to the child, 'that, whoever is driving Sheikh Zahir, he'll have absolutely no excuse not to be at your party.'

'You see!' Princess Ameerah, triumphant, swung round to face him. 'I told you it would be all right.'

'So you did.' He ruffled her curls. 'I'll see you on Sat.u.r.day, Trouble.'

She ran off, but Zahir remained. 'Whoever is driving?' he repeated.

'Jack Lumley will be back at work long before Sat.u.r.day.'

'But do I want him when you're so much more entertaining?'

Entertaining!

'Please,' she begged, 'whatever you do, don't use that word if you speak to Sadie Redford. This is my big chance and I'm doing my best to be totally efficient, one hundred per cent VIP chauffeur material. As I'm sure you've noticed, I'm not a "natural" and if you suggest that I'm "entertaining" I'll be finished.'

'I won't say a word, Metcalfe, but it's not true, you know. Natural is exactly what you are.'

She made a valiant effort to keep the groan silent. She wasn't entirely successful.

'I know what I am. Not the first driver you'd think of if you were looking for someone to take the wheel of the newest limousine in Capitol's fleet.'

'You're doing just fine.' Then, before she was overcome with grat.i.tude, 'Just promise that you won't abandon me to the dull and efficient Jack Lumley and I won't breathe a word about just how "natural" you can get to Sadie Redford.'

She swallowed. 'You wouldn't...'

'Shall we go?'

Oh...sheikh...

'I'm just going to bring the car round,' she said and, aiming for Miss Efficiency, checked her watch-anything to avoid those dark, amused eyes that were inviting her to be 'entertaining'. 'Five minutes?'

'Why don't I just come out the back way with you?' he replied, standing back and inviting her to lead the way. 'It'll save you having to drive round the block, wasting precious natural resources.'

Was there the slightest stress on the 'natural', or was she becoming paranoid?

b.u.t.toning her lip, she fought down all and every quip that sprang to her mind and neither of them said another word until she pulled up at the entrance to his hotel, where a top hatted commissionaire opened the door.

'Seven forty-five, Metcalfe,' Sheikh Zahir said as he stepped out.

'Yes, sir.'

Top Hat waved her into the parking bay reserved for the privileged few. 'You can wait there.'

Her brain was saying, Me? Really?

Maybe it was shock, or maybe her lip was so firmly b.u.t.toned up that the words couldn't escape. Instead, having managed a polite nod, she pulled over as if she'd expected nothing less.

It wasn't, after all, personal, she reminded herself. The honour was being bestowed on her pa.s.senger. On the car, even. On her Capitol uniform. It had absolutely nothing to do with her.

She called Sadie to rea.s.sure her that everything was still going according to plan and updated her on the traffic situation. Then she climbed out, walked around the car, duster in hand, checking for the slightest smear on the immaculate dark red paintwork, the gleaming chrome.

A couple of other chauffeurs nodded, pa.s.sed the time of day, admiring her car, querying its handling, apparently accepting that, despite the missing chromosome, if someone had entrusted her with such a beast, she was one of them.

Maybe, she thought, she was the only one who was stopping that from being a fact. Living down to her image-single mother, relying on her parents for a roof over her head, help with childcare-rather than living up to her aspirations.

Maybe she'd become so used to hearing what she couldn't do, how limited her options were, that she'd begun to believe it.

Even the dream of owning her own taxi-where, as a teenager, she'd dreamed of owning a fleet of them, all pink, all with women drivers-had been reduced to little more than a family joke.

Next year you'll be driving your own taxi, Di...

Ho, ho, ho.

CHAPTER THREE.

SUMMONED by the commissionaire, Diana was waiting at the kerb as Sheikh Zahir emerged from the hotel. This time he was not alone, but accompanied by a chisel-featured younger man blessed with the kind of cheekbones that could slice cheese.

Since he was the one carrying the laptop, he was, presumably, like her, a member of the 'bag-carrying' cla.s.ses. Although, by the cut of his suit-and his hair-he outranked her by a considerable distance.

There was no mishap this time, probably because Top Hat was on hand to do the honours with the door and no one-not even a small boy-would have dared get in the way of his impressive figure.

The minute her pa.s.sengers were settled she eased smoothly into the traffic, heading for the South Bank, managing, for once in her life, to remain 'politely anonymous'.

She had barely finished congratulating herself on this rare accomplishment when Sheikh Zahir said, 'Metcalfe, this is James Pierce. He's the man who makes everything work for me. You may, on occasion, be required to ferry him to appointments.'

'Sir,' she said, taking his tone from him. She was doing really well until, waiting for the lights to change, she made the mistake of glancing in the mirror and looking straight into his eyes. They did not match his voice. And his expression suggested that he wasn't fooled for a minute by her lapse into formality and her traitorous mouth let her down and smiled at him.

A mistake.

James Pierce, alerted by her response to the fact that she was not Jack Lumley, said, 'This is outrageous.' And he was looking at her when he said it.

Actually it couldn't just be the voice.

She didn't have one of those cut-gla.s.s BBC accents, but her mother had been a stickler for good diction and, apart from the occasional lapse, her speech could not, by any stretch of the imagination, be described as 'outrageous'.

It had to be the dimple, something she should have grown out of, along with the puppy fat. It was an embarra.s.sment for anyone who expected to be taken seriously. Treated as a grown-up. Old enough to have a driving licence, let alone be behind the wheel of a limousine.

'When I made the booking with Capitol Cars I specifically requested...'

'Jack Lumley is sick,' Sheikh Zahir said, cutting him short.

'I'll call Sadie. She must have someone else available.'

Diana couldn't see James Pierce in the mirror, but from the moment he'd opened his mouth she did not like him and he wasn't doing one thing to change her mind.

His superior suit went with his att.i.tude. She might be dumb enough to believe that they were on the same side, but he wasn't buying it. But then a man 'who makes everything work' for a billionaire sheikh probably wasn't.

'Why would we need someone else?' Sheikh Zahir intervened. 'Metcalfe is a-'

Please, please not 'natural' she begged silently, as the lights began to change and she had no choice but to check the mirror. He was still looking at her. Only his eyes changed, the rest of his face remained grave; the smile, she realised, was for her alone.

'-thoroughly competent driver.'

He knew, she thought. He knew exactly what she was thinking and he was teasing her, making her complicit in an intimate conspiracy against the stuffed shirt.

Without warning a warmth, starting somewhere around her abdomen, seeped through every cell of her body until she felt her cheeks begin to flush.

Fortunately, Sheikh Zahir had turned away.

'Don't tell me you're one of those dinosaurs who feel emasculated when driven by a woman, James,' he said, teasing him a little too.

'No...' His reply was unconvincing. 'No, of course not.'

'I'm very glad to hear that. As a lawyer, even if your field is corporate law, I know you wouldn't want to give Metcalfe an excuse to sue the pants off you for s.e.xual discrimination.'

'I just thought-'

'I know what you thought, James, but as you are well aware, it's not a problem.'

He didn't wait for an answer, but immediately turned his attention to business, launching into some complex legal question regarding a lease.

It was an example she'd be wise to follow, she decided. Flirting through the rear-view mirror with a pa.s.senger was definitely not the action of a 'thoroughly, competent driver'. Quite the contrary.

Someone who was entertaining now...

Oh, stop it!

At the entrance to the Riverside Gallery, she climbed out and opened the door, keeping her eyes front and centre.

James Pierce stepped out of the car and walked past her without a word or a look. The word 'miffed' crossed her mind-one of her mother's favourite words to describe someone who'd had their nose put out of joint.

Sheikh Zahir paused and, realising that she was grinning, she swiftly straightened her face.

'What will you do until you pick us up, Metcalfe?'

'I've got a book,' she said quickly. Her message-competent chauffeurs were used to waiting around. They were ready for it.

Not actually true-the kind of jobs she was usually a.s.signed didn't leave a lot of spare time to catch up on her reading-but he was just being polite and she'd make sure she had one with her tomorrow. Always a.s.suming there was a tomorrow.