The Prince's Passion

chapter 3

Amber smoothed the sun block over her warm skin and lay back against the padded cushion that covered the wrought iron lounger in the sunniest spot of her little garden.  It was a surprisingly hot day for early May and she felt the welcome heat from the sun seep into her bones as she arranged her elegant limbs to ensure an even tan. The full curves of her golden breasts were encased in two triangles of white lycra joined by a single gold metal ring which matched those on either side of the co-ordinating bikini briefs she was wearing. Liberally coated in sunscreen she was in no danger of burning so she closed her eyes behind her tortoiseshell sunglasses and tried to relax. 

Amber had woken at dawn still curled up in the armchair of her bedroom, her limbs stiff and cold, her mind filled with the erotic images of Tarek Al Rashid’s particular brand of  love-making. A hot shower had blasted away the strain caused by lack of sleep followed by a mug of strong coffee. It had still been early so she had sat on the cosy over stuffed sofa in the seating area of her kitchen and turned on the large plasma screen mounted on the wall in front of her.  As head of media relations Amber needed to be ahead of the game on all aspects of world news and she tried to focus on a story about the effect of international oil prices on the world economy before giving up all hope of a normal lazy Sunday.  She had no plans for the day, some friends had mentioned getting together for a picnic in Hyde Park but Amber was not in the mood for company – she looked out to see that it was turning into a beautiful day and decided that she was going to take advantage of the sunshine and spend the day in the garden. 

Tarek pulled up in the space left by the departing four-wheel drive, the fluid lines of the black Ferrari moving smoothly into the kerb.  He had dismissed Ibrahim, his valet cum bodyguard and chosen to drive himself; a freedom he rarely enjoyed in Mahran.  Through his rear view mirror he could see the anonymous saloon car filled with two agents from the Mahranese Secret Service, which had pulled up behind him.  Security, he knew was an unavoidable part of his life, so Tarek chose to incorporate and accept the restrictions imposed, unlike the twins who merely ignored them. Indeed the turnover of agents assigned to Karim and Ali’s security detail rotated with alarming frequency as even the younger agents struggled to keep up with their daredevil ways. Today Tarek was in no mood for humouring anyone, he had shamelessly coerced Amber’s address out of Aristide and a quick call to the Mahranese Embassy’s intelligence officer had obtained her unlisted home phone and mobile numbers. Thus armed Tarek swung his long, denim clad legs out of the low slung sports car and turned to look at the row of elegant terraced houses as the car door shut behind him with a luxurious sounding clunk. He moved purposefully along the street until he was in front of the door to Amber’s house.

He was about to ring the doorbell when something made him pause; his brother’s light hearted banter in the early hours of that morning had cut him keenly. He had never considered his behaviour toward the women in his life as anything but fair, he was faithful while the liaison lasted and then coolly extricated himself when he felt his lover was starting to inveigle a more permanent commitment.  Tarek had never been in love and he intended to keep it that way, he didn’t need messy emotions clouding his judgement however his honour had never ever been called into question before and Tarek Al Rashid was nothing if he was not honourable. He had decided he would present himself at Amber Hamilton’s house, apologise for his behaviour last night and then leave; at least that was what he had told himself repeatedly on the drive from Mayfair to Chelsea. Who was he kidding? Tarek just wanted to see Amber again and he was prepared to use any justification at his disposal. Apologies did not come easily to a man as proudly arrogant as Tarek Al Rashid, unaccustomed as he was to being in the wrong. He grimaced, as a glimpse of the doubt he was experiencing swept over his handsome features and then disappeared behind a mask of regal indifference. For God’s sake, he was the heir to the throne of Mahran and he was standing on Amber’s doorstep, nervous as a teenager on his first date.  Angry at his own weakness, Tarek jabbed the innocent doorbell with more force than was necessary, waited and then jabbed it again and again…and again.