by Annie West
Was he trying to prove they could build a relationship based on more than sex?
She could only admire Ashraf’s self-control. Hers frayed dangerously. Each day she fell further under the spell of this place and this man. And while Oliver settled into life in the palace she discovered so much in Za’daq to like.
Ashraf took her to the old parts of the city, with quaint buildings, narrow streets and hidden courtyards. They went to a vast covered market that sold everything from carpets and brassware to jewellery, perfumes and spices in all the colours of a desert sunset. Then to a dazzling art gallery, and a technology park where they visited fascinating new enterprises, and public gardens filled with families enjoying the green space. They drove out to a spectacular gorge where a rare breed of eagles nested and the scenery stole her breath as they watched the sun sink.
Tori met nomads in a desert encampment, traders, teachers and so many others who made her feel welcome. Wherever they went people were respectful but friendly, and gradually her nervousness about being in Ashraf’s country eased.
He took her to a horse-trading bazaar on the edge of the city. Breeders had come from throughout the country and beyond, and the event had a holiday atmosphere. There was a great open-air feast and dashing displays of horsemanship. Tori watched in surprise when Ashraf agreed to take part, unable to take her eyes off him. He had the grace of a natural athlete, and when he rode it was like watching a centaur, man and horse moving as one.
It was late as they returned to the palace. The limousine’s privacy screen was up, separating them from the driver, and Tori wished Ashraf would reach for her. She missed his touch. Missed the intimacy they’d shared. Her resolve to keep her distance was bleeding away like water in the desert sands and a new sort of tension filled her.
She turned to him, sucking in a sustaining breath as her pulse quickened. ‘It was kind of you to give me such a lovely present but I really can’t accept—’
‘Of course you can. I watched your reaction when you saw that mare. It was love at first sight.’
Tori wrinkled her brow. If she didn’t know better she’d say that Ashraf sounded envious. It was a bizarre thought that she hurriedly put aside.
‘She’s beautiful.’
It was true that Tori had fallen for an Arab mare being sold at the bazaar, but if she’d thought for a moment Ashraf would buy it for her she’d never have let her gaze linger on the gorgeous animal. She loved riding, but hadn’t had a chance to indulge her passion for years, and it just wasn’t practical now.
‘But she needs someone who’ll care for her full-time. I may not be here—’
Ashraf raised his hand and Tori was struck by the sudden austerity of his features. He looked handsome yet remote. More distant even than a week ago, when they’d argued after that glorious night together. When he’d believed she’d marry him because she’d gone to bed with him.
‘She’s yours, Tori. No strings attached. If you accept my offer and live here she’ll be stabled at the palace. If you return to Australia she’ll be shipped to you and I’ll arrange stabling.’
It was the first time Ashraf had spoken of her possibly remaining in Australia. Instead of welcoming it as a sign that he’d finally seen reason Tori felt her stomach drop like a weight through a trapdoor.
She swallowed hard, trying to understand her reaction. Surely that wasn’t disappointment she felt?
Increasingly she felt she clung to her determination not to marry out of obstinacy rather than anything else. But to marry without love—
The sound of her phone interrupted her agitated thoughts. Frowning, she fished it from her bag. She’d kept in contact with her friends via social media while in Za’daq. She wasn’t expecting any calls.
‘Victoria? Are you there?’
The familiar voice cut through her thoughts like shrapnel through flesh. He hadn’t even waited for her to speak and that tone, the way he said her name, told her he wasn’t happy.
Her lips flattened as she sat straighter. ‘Hello, Dad. I’m afraid I can’t talk. I’m—’
But it took more than that to stop Jack Nilsson. ‘What are you playing at? Why did I find out from a bunch of diplomats that you’re living with the King of Za’daq? I had to read it in the diplomatic post reports. The press there are already speculating about you and it won’t be long before the media here gets hold of the story. Then what am I supposed to say?’
His voice grew more strident with every word and Tori shut her eyes, cringing at his tone despite the years she’d spent telling herself she wasn’t responsible for his bad temper. She leaned back into the corner of the wide seat. She knew how her father’s voice carried, especially when he was annoyed.
She shot a sideways glance to Ashraf and found him regarding her steadily. No polite fiction that he couldn’t hear her every word. For a second she thought of simply hanging up—but her father would ring back, more incensed than ever.
‘I told you Oliver and I were coming here.’
‘But not to the bloody palace! You didn’t even mention you knew the King, or that you were in a relationship. Are you trying to make me look like a laughing-stock?’
‘Hardly.’ The word was snapped out and actually succeeded in stopping the acid flow. ‘I wasn’t thinking about you when I agreed to come here.’ She had been thinking of Oliver.
‘You should have thought of me! You know there’s an election looming. If I’d known you had such personal connections there, we could have pressed for exclusive rights in that Za’daqi mining exploration project...’
The rest of his words faded into a blur as nausea rose. Her father had discovered she was the guest of a stranger on the far side of the world and his first thought was what he’d say to the press. His second was whether he could trade on her intimate relationship for commercial and thereby political gain.
Tori swallowed convulsively, fighting back bile. She should be used to her father’s ways but sometimes he outdid himself in callous self-interest. There’d been not a word about how she was, or Oliver. How did he still have the power to hurt her even now?
‘Dad, I can’t talk privately.’
‘Why? Aren’t you alone? Is he there?’
Tori opened her mouth to say goodbye when a hand reached for the phone.
‘If I may...?’ Ashraf couched it as a question but there was no mistaking it for anything other than a command.
For a second she hovered on the brink of cutting the connection. Then she shrugged. Fine. The two alpha males could battle it out between them.
But as she listened to Ashraf’s smooth voice she realised her father had met his match. Ashraf was gracious but firm, making it clear that their relationship was private, assuring her father that she and Oliver were safe and with every amenity at their disposal.
Her father’s tone changed from blustering to friendly, almost eager. Tori rolled her eyes. He thought to use this situation for personal advantage. The idea made her queasy.
* * *
Ashraf ended the call and handed her the phone. ‘He’s concerned about you.’
‘Concerned about me?’ She shook her head, her expression disbelieving. ‘He’s never been concerned about me—except to make sure I don’t embarrass him publicly.’
Ashraf inclined his head. Tori’s words confirmed his impression of the man.
‘You don’t like him?’
Nor did Ashraf. Her blustering father had turned slyly obsequious, talking about building stronger links between their countries. His concern for Tori and Oliver had been surface-deep.
‘He’s hard to like.’
‘Go on.’ He’d been curious about her relationship with her father, but hadn’t pressed for details since he and Tori had other priorities. Maybe knowing more about it might help him understand her better.
‘I’d rather not.’
Ashraf considered her steadily. ‘I prefer to be prepared. He mentioned negotiating a marriage settlement.’
She goggled at him. ‘He didn’t? That’s outrageous! I never mentioned marriage to him and nor did you.’
Ashraf shrugged. ‘Nevertheless... I have a feeling he’ll be calling my office again soon.’ Not that he anticipated any difficulty in dealing with one whose motives were so transparent.
Tori sank back, rubbing her forehead, the picture of distress. ‘I’m sorry.’ She shook her head. ‘I never—’
He reached out, capturing her hand, relishing its fit against his as he closed his fingers round hers. ‘You’ve nothing to be sorry about, Tori.’
She met his eyes and sighed. She looked so upset Ashraf almost told her it didn’t matter, that they didn’t need to discuss this, but instinct told him it was important.
He waited patiently as the car drove towards the palace.
‘He’s completely self-focused,’ she said at last. ‘He married my mother for money and her family’s political leverage. He wasn’t interested in us, except to trot us out as the perfect family when it was time to impress the voters or the VIPs.’
Ashraf heard the hurt she tried to hide and vowed that Jack Nilsson would learn to respect his daughter.
‘Fortunately my mother was lovely. We were close.’
Presumably it was from her mother that Tori got her sweet, honest character.
‘Your father...he hurt you?’
‘Not physically.’ She paused. ‘Really, I was lucky. He wasn’t around much. He was away when parliament sat and the rest of the time he had other priorities.’
As if his family wasn’t a priority. Ashraf’s teeth clenched. He hated the idea of Tori with an uncaring parent. Yet surely that should make her more willing to create a real family for Oliver?
‘Everything I did was judged on how it would look. I wanted to play soccer but he thought it more ladylike if I learned piano.’ She shook her head. ‘As a kid I couldn’t get dirty or be seen in public with a hair out of place. It was extreme and unnecessary. I knew other politicians’ kids who didn’t live like that, but he saw me as an extension of himself. Everything was about appearance, not about being a real family. Our only value was as props to make him look good.’
Tori grimaced.
‘I think eventually it destroyed my mother. She stayed with him because of me. She thought any family was better than none. But I know we’d have been better just the two of us, without him.’
Now Ashraf began to understand. Did Tori see parallels between his proposal that they marry to create a family for Oliver and her mother sticking at a bad marriage for her child’s sake? Worse, did she compare his motivations with her father’s?
The idea revolted him.
‘And even now he tries to manage your life?’
Tori laughed, the sound sharp. ‘Hardly! I rebelled when my mother died and I went to university. He wanted me to study law and follow in his footsteps.’
‘But you chose geology.’ He smiled. ‘An act of rebellion and a chance to get your clothes dirty?’
Her chuckle warmed him, expelling the chill he’d felt since they’d begun this conversation.
‘You could be right. It also gave me a career that would take me far away from him.’
‘When you found yourself pregnant you didn’t seek his assistance?’
He found it perplexing that she’d moved to the opposite side of Australia from her father. Without family support things must have been tough.
Her hand twitched in his, as if she’d withdraw it. Ashraf placed his other hand on hers, holding it steady. ‘What is it?’
Her gaze met his then slid away. ‘I told him what had happened and he told me to abort the baby. He said there was nothing to be gained from having it and that it would make it hard for me to secure the right sort of husband.’
Ashraf’s hands tightened around hers. His throat choked closed on a curse. He drew a slow breath, searching for calm. ‘Maybe he thought a permanent reminder of what you’d been through—’
‘Don’t try to excuse him!’ Tori’s voice rose to a keening note. ‘He wasn’t interested in me or how I was doing. He didn’t even want me to see a counsellor in case my story leaked to the press.’ She shook her head. ‘He said my behaviour was sordid. He washed his hands of me and he has no interest in Oliver.’
Indignation exploded through Ashraf. Tori had been kidnapped and traumatised and the best her father had been able to do was tell her to abort the baby. He knew by her expression that her father had said far more too. Had he blamed Tori for what happened?
For her sake Ashraf had to stifle his incandescent fury. With difficulty he sat, outwardly calm. Yet he imagined getting his hands on the man who’d dared talk of marriage settlements and closer relations when he hadn’t the common decency to care for his own flesh and blood.
‘In that case you’re better off without him. While you’re in Za’daq I can make sure you never have to deal with him again.’ It was little enough, but he’d take pleasure in doing it for her.
She nodded. ‘Thank you.’
It was a good thing for Jack Nilsson that he was on the other side of the globe. Ashraf wasn’t a violent man but he’d enjoy making an exception in this case.
No wonder Tori was wary of a pragmatic marriage. He’d mentioned the importance of public perception in Za’daq and maybe she assumed his motives were like her father’s. The idea sickened him.
He stroked his fingers down her hot cheek, then lifted her chin so she had no choice but to meet his eyes.
‘I give you my word, Tori. I’m not like your father.’
‘I know that.’
But her smile was crooked. It cracked his heart to see her look that way. He was used to her being defiant, strong and independent. He hated it that perhaps some of the pain he read on her face was because of him.
‘I make you a promise, Tori.’ He placed one hand over his heart, his expression grave. ‘If we marry I will be devoted to you and our children. Always. To be Sheikh is a privilege and an honour, but I know, I understand that family is more important than power and prestige.’
How could he not know? He’d grown up unloved and unregarded except by his brother. Ashraf would have given anything to have had an atom of love or even liking from his father. Or a genuine memory of a mother’s tenderness.
‘My family will be the centre of my life. You have my word on it.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
FOUR DAYS LATER Ashraf’s words still echoed in Tori’s ears. She recalled each nuance, the deep cadence of his voice, the searing look in those impossibly dark eyes, the feel of his hands, hard and warm but so gentle, clasping hers.
He’d made her feel cared for.
Special.
Tori bit her lip. She’d never been special to anyone except her mother. It was a strange feeling, both wonderful and nerve-racking.
If she believed him.
That wasn’t fair. She did believe Ashraf. He meant every word. Tori had no doubt his intentions were good. But would good intentions be enough when his heart wasn’t engaged? For, despite the shivery excitement his words, his look, his intensity had conjured in her, it was impossible to believe that after spending just a few short weeks together the King of Za’daq had fallen in love with her.
And without love how could she commit to marriage? She knew what a lack of love did to a family.
Yet Ashraf wasn’t her father. He’d told her that but she’d known it from the first. Ashraf was—
‘What’s taking you so long, Tori? Do you need help with the zip?’
Azia’s voice came from the bedroom, jerking Tori into the present. She blinked and took in the unfamiliar image in the mirror. It had been so long since she’d dressed up she barely recognised herself. And she’d never looked as s
he did in this dress.
‘Just coming,’ she called, smoothing her palms down the black velvet. It was reassuringly soft...like Ashraf’s voice when they made love.
The thought sent another flurry of nerves jittering through her. Instead of making life easier, abstinence from sex had left her a wreck. The wanting hadn’t stopped. It grew stronger daily. Especially since she knew Ashraf slept in the room neighbouring her own bedroom, connected to hers by a single closed door.
She caught her wide eyes in the mirror and dragged in air. This wouldn’t do. She couldn’t think about that if she was going to get through tonight’s reception.
Smartly she stepped across the tiled floor and opened the door to the bedroom, sweeping in, her long skirts flaring. Azia waited, looking fabulous in the shimmery lime-green that complemented her sable hair and dark eyes.
‘Ah...’ Azia drew the syllable out, gesturing for Tori to turn. Obediently she did. When she faced her friend again, Azia nodded. ‘Perfect. You’ll stun them all.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’ Tori grimaced. ‘You’re sure it’s not too much?’
‘Too much?’ Azia laughed. ‘You’re the guest of one of the richest men on the planet. How much is too much?’
‘Well, the glitter, for a start. Though I love the silver embroidery. It’s exquisite.’
Azia nodded. ‘It’s some of the best work I’ve seen, especially given how little time they had to make it.’
The dress had been made by a friend of Azia’s, a designer just starting her own business with a couple of seamstresses.
‘I wouldn’t change a thing.’
‘It’s not too revealing?’
Tori had wondered about that, but left the detail to the designer, who’d been so excited and grateful to make a gown for a formal court event. Tori had told herself a local designer would know what was appropriate in Za’daq. But the narrow silver straps over her shoulders left a lot of bare flesh.
