by Annie West
Tori was grateful to Ashraf. If nothing else, she welcomed this break from solo parenting. She felt better for more sleep and proper exercise. Nor did she miss the early starts, getting herself and Oliver ready each day, or dealing with Steve Bates and office politics. Her job was good, but not the workplace.
She reached the end of the pool and turned, the rhythmic strokes inviting her mind to drift to the upcoming royal reception.
It was curious that Ashraf hadn’t mentioned it. According to Azia, there’d be hundreds of guests. But not Tori. Silly to feel left out. She didn’t want to attend stuffy official events. She’d done enough of that for her father.
Except this didn’t sound stuffy. Invitees would enjoy displays by acrobats, swordsmen, riders and archers, including a feat where galloping horsemen shot flaming arrows into impossibly tiny targets.
Strange... Wouldn’t Ashraf see this as a chance to showcase his culture? To introduce her to his friends? Instead he kept her secluded like a woman in an old-fashioned harem.
Or an embarrassment he didn’t want anyone to discover.
The thought slammed into her and she swallowed water. An embarrassment? Was that how he saw her and Oliver?
Tori flicked her hair from her eyes and gasped in a lungful of air. No, Ashraf wasn’t like that.
Except the day they’d arrived he’d spoken to her like a casual acquaintance, not a lover. Anyone watching wouldn’t guess they’d been intimate. At the time she’d been grateful to him for helping her to save face before strangers. But what if he had another reason?
He’d sent her off immediately, not even introducing her to the man who’d met them. Plus he hadn’t accompanied her to the palace as she’d expected.
Despite refusing him, you still want his attention, don’t you? You want to be with him. Want him to want you.
The truth taunted her and she shied away from it.
Ashraf—hiding her?
She recalled that first day. The limo avoiding the palace’s main entrance to use the back gate. Bram hurrying her inside—to avoid curious eyes? Bram telling her that this apartment was at the rear of the palace and quiet. She’d thought that considerate, but maybe it was because she and Oliver were an embarrassment.
It fitted with what Ashraf had said about prejudice. And with what Azia had hinted.
Bile was sour on Tori’s tongue as she swam to the poolside and levered herself out. She shivered and turned to grab her towel—only to see it being held out for her.
* * *
‘Ashraf!’
Tori’s voice was harsh, as if he was the last person she’d expected. No, it was more than that. She didn’t sound surprised as much as put out. As if she didn’t wish to see him.
Impatience stirred. And a trickle of annoyance. He’d looked forward to the end of an interminable yet necessary meeting so he could enjoy a few hours with her. Didn’t he deserve a warmer welcome?
Tori should be used to his presence. Yet the pool’s underwater lights and the antique lanterns around the colonnaded courtyard revealed a face set in severe lines. And a body as arousing as ever.
Usually she smiled when he appeared, though it took her a while to relax fully. Ashraf had told himself that she needed time to adjust. But part of him—the part that had always taken for granted his ability to attract any woman he wanted—felt it like an insult.
He’d been patient. Beyond patient. He’d ignored his own needs to put hers and Oliver’s first.
Since his accession he’d put the needs of his people and his country before his own and he didn’t regret a second of it. But with Tori his altruism faltered when he looked into her wide blue eyes and felt the tug of desire in his loins. And when she stood before him in a skimpy scarlet bikini he had to pretend not to notice her sumptuous sexiness.
‘Sorry I’m late.’ The day had been difficult and he’d looked forward to her company. Clearly she didn’t feel the same. ‘I’ve already checked on Oliver. He’s fast asleep.’
Tori took the towel and hurriedly wound it round her body. Annoyance jagged him again. Didn’t she trust him? He had treated her as his honoured guest. He’d put no pressure on her for intimacy. He’d been scrupulous about giving her time and space to consider the arguments in favour of marriage.
For a man used to quick decisions and immediate follow-through his restraint had been remarkable. Yet did she appreciate it?
His mouth tightened. ‘Is something wrong?’
She tucked in the end of the towel firmly, as if daring it to slip.
Ashraf forced down his irritation. It would achieve nothing. ‘You’re frowning.’
‘Am I? No, nothing’s wrong.’
One stubborn woman resisted him. One woman whose fears he understood, which was why he’d held back rather than forcing the issue between them.
‘Shall we go in? Supper has been laid out inside.’ Hunger for food was one appetite he could satisfy.
‘Not yet.’
Tori’s tone was over-loud, her words quick. Her jaw had firmed, the way it did when she argued and when she’d masked her fear during their abduction.
Ashraf’s frustration dissipated. How could he blame her for being cautious? She was facing such major changes.
‘I have a question,’ she said.
Maybe it was about what her life would be like in Za’daq. Pleased, Ashraf nodded. ‘Go on.’
Tori crossed her arms over her chest and fire kindled in her eyes. ‘Are you ashamed of me and Oliver?’
‘Ashamed?’ The idea was outrageous.
‘Or just a little embarrassed?’
Tori’s expression morphed into a searing disapproval that would have done his father proud. Even with her moonlight-pale hair dripping rivulets down her shoulders and chest she looked strong, compelling. And angry.
She wasn’t the only one. ‘Where did you get such an idea?’
‘You’re not answering the question.’
Her hands went to her hips, pulling the towel down to reveal more of her breasts. Ashraf dragged his attention back to her face and her perplexing words.
‘That’s ridiculous. Who suggested that?’ If one of his political enemies had been bothering Tori he’d—
‘No one. I’m able to think for myself.’
Ashraf frowned. ‘But you can’t think that.’
Surely his actions showed that he respected her? He’d gone out of his way to ease her into this new world. It was true he’d rushed her back to Za’daq because he couldn’t afford more time out of the country right now, and because instinct had demanded he keep her and his son close. But otherwise he’d been the acme of consideration.
‘You haven’t answered me.’
That rounded chin tilted and Ashraf felt an urge to angle it even higher, so he could slam his mouth down on hers. He’d stop her insults and take out his frustrations as he ravished her mouth, then moved on to ravishing her body.
‘I’m neither ashamed nor embarrassed about you and Oliver.’ He held her haughty stare with one of his own and watched her eyebrows twitch in confusion. ‘What gave you such an idea?’
Tori held herself stiffly. She clearly didn’t believe him.
The realisation ground through him like glass grating beneath his heel. Except he felt it inside—as if his windpipe and belly were lined with shards. No one, not even those vultures waiting for him to fail as Sheikh, had ever accused him of untruth. Ashraf’s hackles rose.
‘It’s the way we live here in the palace...alone, not mixing with other people.’
‘I understood that you and Azia had been out together for the last three days?’
The fire in Tori’s eyes flickered. She hadn’t expected him to know about that. He breathed deep, biting back the impulse to tell her it had been his suggestion that Bram’s wife visit her.
‘Yes, we
have. But if it weren’t for her Oliver and I would be isolated here. Except for your visits late in the day.’
Ashraf stared. In other words, his presence counted for nothing. The hours he carved out of his packed schedule weren’t appreciated. He wasn’t appreciated.
Fleetingly Ashraf felt something dark and hurtful—a whispered memory of all those times when he’d tried to please his father and failed. But that boy was long gone. Ashraf had moulded himself into a man who would never be needy.
‘Is that all?’
She must have heard a trace of suppressed anger in his tone for her hands slipped from her waist and she wrapped her arms around herself. Yet still she held his gaze.
‘No. There are other things. The way we were hurried off from the airport without being introduced to anyone except Bram. Even when we got here Bram hurried us inside so fast that I wonder if he was worried we’d be seen. We always use the back entrance, and this apartment is at the rear of the palace. Is it because you don’t want anyone knowing about us?’
Ashraf opened his mouth to respond but she hurried on.
‘You spoke about marrying because of people’s prejudice when your father believed you were illegitimate. You’re worried about what other people think. And...’ she sucked in a quick breath ‘... I’m obviously not good enough to attend your big celebration next week.’
He stared down into her flushed face, torn between fury at the insult and regret that Tori should believe that for a second. His hands clenched so tight the blood was restricted and his fingers tingled. He flexed them and shoved them in his pockets.
‘First, Bram probably hurried you inside because he was worried about you coping with the heat—especially when you were tired from a long journey. Second, I didn’t introduce you to the man who met our plane because his sole purpose in being there was to find out about you so he could make trouble. He’s the Minister for the Interior, one of my father’s oldest cronies, and he’s devoted to the idea of unseating me from the throne. Call me prejudiced, but I didn’t want him to be the first Za’daqi you met.’
Ashraf rocked back on his feet, forcing further explanations through clenched teeth.
‘As for you being at the rear of the palace—that was intentional. Because I believed you needed rest. And I thought you’d appreciate some peace while you acclimatised and thought through your options for the future.’
So much for her appreciating his efforts on her behalf!
‘You haven’t been isolated. I moved out of the royal suite to be near you and Oliver.’ He nodded to the windows on the side of the courtyard adjoining her rooms. ‘I’ve spent every night since you arrived right next door. If you care to check, there’s a concealed door between the suites. The staff have instructions to wake me if you call for assistance in the night.’
‘I... I had no idea!’ Tori’s eyes rounded. ‘Why didn’t you say?’
‘Foolishly, I thought you might feel pressured. As if I were encroaching by wanting to help out if Oliver had teething pains.’
Strange how he missed those night-time sessions, pacing the floor with a fractious baby. But holding his son in his arms, knowing he was building a bond that would last a lifetime, had stirred new and incredibly strong emotions.
Those hours in Tori’s home, watching her feed Oliver, doing what he could to ease the burden, had held an intimacy and significance against which everything else paled. Even his royal responsibilities couldn’t eclipse that.
Tori unwrapped her arms and the towel slid off, revealing her bikini-clad body, but she didn’t notice. She stared as if she’d never seen him before.
‘And I haven’t introduced you to people at court yet because I respect your wish for privacy. You insisted this was a private visit, to test the waters. You know—’ his voice ground low ‘—that I want to introduce you as my future bride.’
Ashraf’s lungs tightened again at all her unjust accusations.
‘I am not and never will be ashamed of either you or our son.’ He paused, giving her time to absorb that. ‘Yes, I’ve faced prejudice because of my father’s attitude. No, I don’t want Oliver to suffer anything like that. But I’m not afraid of public opinion.’ He barely restrained his bitter laughter. ‘I’ve lived with scandal so long I’m used to it. Most of the time it’s in the minds of others rather than based on something I’ve actually done.’
Deliberately he moved into her personal space, leaning so close that her evocative scent blurred his senses.
‘I want to marry you to give Oliver the best start in life. Not because I’m scared of tittle-tattle.’
‘Ashraf, I—’
‘And you haven’t received a written invitation to the reception because I wanted to invite you myself. It’s a perfect chance for you to see something of my culture, meet people and enjoy yourself. I wanted to give you time to rest and acclimatise before mentioning it.’
He’d been sure his painfully patient approach would bear fruit. That Tori would see the wisdom of his proposal and accept. It appeared patience wasn’t working.
Tori blinked up at him. Finally she cleared her throat, moistening her lips in an unconsciously provocative movement that, to Ashraf’s annoyance, shot a bolt of lust through him.
Even angry, he wanted this woman. Even after she’d questioned his honour and tested his patience to the limit.
Eyes the colour of a soft spring sky met his. ‘I’m sorry, Ashraf. I got it completely wrong.’
‘You did.’
Indignation still ran like a living current under his skin, heating his blood. This woman drove him crazy. She fought him over things that were, in his opinion, patently obvious, yet at other times was so reasonable it surprised him. Like accepting his need to see Oliver immediately and to be involved in his life.
And it wasn’t just her contrary reasoning that exasperated him. Her ability to ignore the rampant attraction between them was unprecedented and provoking. While he, damn it, was distracted by the sight of those lush breasts rising and falling beneath the skimpy triangles of fabric. And the gleaming abundance of slick, pale skin.
‘I should be thanking you, not accusing you.’
She lifted her hand to his sleeve. Ashraf stilled. Her touch was light, barely there, yet he felt it acutely.
‘It’s no excuse but, nice as it is to relax, I feel dislocated, cut off from work and home. I’ve overreacted. Can you forgive me?’
A huff of laughter escaped Ashraf. ‘I don’t suppose you feel chastened enough to marry me?’
Her eyes widened, as if he’d suggested something shockingly debauched instead of honouring her with a proposal that would make her a queen and the envy of half the women in Za’daq.
The anger that her apology had quenched spiked anew. Impatience surged.
‘Is that a no?’
He turned his hand, capturing hers. His fingers encircled her wrist and he detected the wild pulse hammering there. Was she really so timid? Or was that arousal?
Ashraf was tired of tiptoeing around Tori’s doubts. Tired of waiting. Tired of holding back.
‘In that case, this will have to do.’
He tugged her close and she fell flush against him, her breasts to his torso, her other palm on his chest. To steady herself or to push him away?
Ashraf didn’t wait to find out. In the same instant he roped his other arm around her slick body, lowered his head and kissed her full on the lips.
CHAPTER NINE
TORI SAW THOSE mesmerising eyes glitter and knew a moment of sharp, shocking anticipation.
Not dismay. Not even a second of doubt. Just anticipation.
It thrilled through her like an electric current, making all the fine hairs on her body lift and her breath seize. Then Ashraf’s mouth was on hers, hard and demanding rather than coaxing.
She didn’t need coaxing. Tori was prim
ed and ready for his kiss. Had been from the moment he’d walked back into her life and some primitive part of her had hummed with excitement and want.
She wanted him so badly.
Relief was profound as she finally gave in to what she’d secretly craved. In this moment she didn’t need to reason, or argue, or try to unknot the tangle of her mixed emotions. All she needed to do was feel.
She loved the taste of him, the heat and extraordinary maleness of him, hard and unrelenting. From that first instant there’d been no coercion. Just a demand that she was eager to meet. It had always been like this with him.
Her lips softened beneath his, inviting him in, all but begging him for more. He took up her offer and a shudder racked her as his tongue plunged deep, swirling against hers, exploring with a thoroughness that mixed determination and expertise. It was like tumbling through bright starlight, ceding control to this man whom she knew would never let her fall.
Ashraf scooped her closer, his hard frame solid muscle against her wet body. Tori clung tight, one hand clutching his robe, the other slipping from his grasp to slide up the back of his neck.
She heard a muffled grunt of approval as her fingers channelled through thick hair to splay possessively over the back of his head.
Her tongue danced with his, hunger cresting as she went up on her toes, trying to meld herself to him. His taste, his scent, his mouth were achingly familiar, as if it was just a few days since they’d made love.
Had they kissed like this in the desert? Surely not. Then they’d been strangers. Ashraf didn’t feel like a stranger now. Remarkable to think they’d been together such a short time, for it seemed they knew each other at some deep level beyond words. He was the man who filled her thoughts and dreams. Who had done so since that night together. He was the one man who’d woken her dormant libido after the rigours and exhaustion of pregnancy and motherhood.
The one man she needed as she’d never before needed anyone.
