The Innocent Carrying His Legacy

by Jackie Ashenden

  ‘Because of you, yes,’ he finished for her.

  She blinked, long, thick, silky lashes gleaming a deep brown in the sun coming through the windows. ‘I don’t understand.’ Her voice had a husky edge to it. ‘Why should I make any difference?’

  He could see in her face that the question was genuine.

  She’d asked him a very similar question back there in the salon, too, about why he wanted her. As if she’d had no idea about how passionate and beautiful she was.

  Maybe she doesn’t know. Maybe no one has ever told her.

  A tight feeling—a familiarly tight feeling—gathered in his chest and he found himself holding her small hand very firmly and rubbing his thumb back and forth across her soft skin.

  ‘Because you’re infuriating, aggravating, stubborn, and intensely passionate,’ he said. ‘You’re also loyal and very courageous and incredibly beautiful.’

  She didn’t smile. She looked at him as if the words had hurt her.

  ‘You don’t believe me, do you?’ he asked bluntly.

  Her gaze flickered and she looked away, back out of the window once more. ‘No one ever thought those things about me before.’ The words were so quiet they were almost inaudible. ‘Why should you be the first?’

  He frowned. ‘No one? No one at all?’

  She shook her head. ‘It’s not important.’

  ‘Ivy.’ Her name came out in a low growl, letting her know that he was not in any way satisfied with that particular answer.

  She sighed and then finally glanced at him again, her expression guarded. ‘I was brought up in a children’s home, and no one much cares about foster kids, so forgive me for being a little sceptical about compliments.’

  He knew her background already from the research he’d done, and he could certainly understand such scepticism. Some of his men had been foster children and he knew that coming from such a background wasn’t easy. Yet it wasn’t all bad. Some people who came through the foster system managed to find loving and supportive families. Though, perhaps she hadn’t?

  ‘It sounds like you had a painful experience,’ he said neutrally.

  She lifted a shoulder. ‘It wasn’t as bad as some.’

  ‘Why? What happened?’

  She was silent a moment, then carefully she removed her hand from his and resumed her study of the scenery. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  His instinct was to push her, but now wasn’t the time and this certainly wasn’t the place. It would be better once they were at his residence and settled in. Perhaps after he’d satisfied that desperate hunger of hers, she’d relax her guard, lower her walls.

  Ten minutes later, the helicopter banked and then came in to land on the rooftop of his private villa. The house itself was of white stone and built into the side of a mountain, overlooking a pretty valley and its famous hot spring.

  The place had long been a holiday retreat for Inarian aristocracy, a little town of the same white stone built near the origin of the spring itself. There was an elegant spa resort catering to tourists and a few restaurants and bars, plus the Sultan’s own holiday palace, but Nazir preferred to keep apart from people and so his villa was somewhat removed from the town itself.

  It was built around a small waterfall that came directly from the hot spring, flowing down the bare rock of the mountainside and into a deep pool he’d had constructed especially for the purpose. A number of terraces had been built to take advantage of the views of the valley, but the back of the house where the waterfall and pool were located was completely private.

  He didn’t often have time to visit and hadn’t been here in at least six months, but he’d sent instructions to the people he employed to take care of the house to make the place ready for his arrival, and sure enough the moment they landed the housekeeper appeared, ushering them down the stairs from the helipad and into the cool peace of the main living area.

  It was early evening and dinner was being prepared, or so the housekeeper assured him, and would they like any refreshment? Nazir gave her some more instructions, then dismissed her, glancing at Ivy as she moved over to the large double doors that opened out onto one of the terraces.

  She was dressed in her yoga pants ensemble yet again and he made a mental note to check if the clothes he’d asked to be bought for her had arrived, since he knew most women liked to wear different things on occasion. Certainly he didn’t care what she wore; he wanted to see her in nothing at all, quite frankly.

  A silence had fallen, tension drawing tight in the space between them.

  Ivy had her back to him, her hair in that loose ponytail down her back, the chestnut strands gleaming in the last of the sun that shone through the windows, illuminating the rich texture. Nazir had crossed the room towards her before he’d even thought it through, reaching out to take that pretty skein of hair in one hand, to run his fingers through the softness of it.

  She froze, her breath catching audibly in the sudden silence.

  The warm silk of her hair against his skin made the simmering desire, which hadn’t subsided one iota since their interlude in the salon, intensify. He eased aside her ponytail and, keeping a grip on it, bent to press his mouth to the sensitive pale skin of her nape.

  She trembled, but didn’t move, the tension coming off her so fiercely it was an almost physical force.

  She wanted him, wanted his touch. Wanted to surrender. Yet she was fighting it. Fighting herself.

  Poor little fury. All this resistance must surely be taking it out of her.

  Her skin warmed beneath his lips and when he brushed another kiss over the back of her neck, she shivered again.

  ‘Come,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll show you the pool. I think you’ll like it.’

  ‘The pool?’ Her voice was husky and sounded a little shaken.

  ‘This is a famous spa town, but you don’t need to visit the resort. I have my own personal hot spring right here.’ He combed his fingers through her hair, easing her back against him. She tensed a moment then, as if giving up some private battle, relaxed.

  ‘I don’t know if I want that right now,’ she said, sounding stiff. ‘I think I might need some time to myself.’

  But they weren’t in the helicopter now and he wasn’t going to let her retreat yet again.

  Gripping her shoulders firmly enough that she couldn’t pull away, Nazir turned her gently around to face him, letting her see that she couldn’t escape, that he wouldn’t allow it. ‘What is it, Ivy? Why are you fighting me so very hard?’

  A small shudder went through her and he caught a glimpse of that desperation, that hunger that lived inside her, once again. She was trying to hide it, trying not to let him see it. She could sense the predator in him and she didn’t want to show weakness.

  It was too late of course. He knew now.

  ‘Is it something to do with what you said on the way here?’ he asked when she didn’t say anything. ‘About your time at the children’s home?’

  Her lashes swept down, veiling her gaze. ‘Nazir...’

  The sound of his name, offered without any warning, went through him like a sword, clean and bright, and just like that his patience ran out.

  Her determination to keep him at a distance ended here. Now.

  ‘Tell me,’ he ordered. ‘How can I make this better for you if you keep pushing me away?’

  Ivy’s gaze was wary, the pulse at the base of her throat beating very fast. Then she said with a trace of defiance, ‘I told you that I was a foster child, that no one cares about foster children and they didn’t. Or at least, they didn’t care about me. I was the only one in the home who was never adopted. One by one all the other kids were, including my friend, Connie, but not me. Never me.’ A flame of anger and a deep pain burned in her eyes. ‘For some I was too quiet. For others I was too loud. I had too many behavioural issues or I w
as too old. Nothing was ever right about me and nothing I did made any difference. And now you’re telling me I’m all these things, things I’ve never been to anyone else, and I...’ She took a trembling breath. ‘I can’t believe you, I just can’t. Because I’ve been wrong before, Nazir, and you never get over the disappointment. Never.’

  * * *

  His gaze narrowed and for whole seconds but what felt like minutes, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t read the expression that flickered across his granite features. It was something fierce, she knew that, but what it meant she had no idea.

  She’d given too much away, hadn’t she? She should never have opened her mouth, not when everything she said revealed more of the sharp, jagged pieces of herself that she tried to keep secret. That she didn’t want to show anyone, let alone him.

  But there was something about him that seemed to draw those things out of her. Something in his deep, authoritative voice and in his sharp, penetrating gaze. In the firm hands he put on her, in the way he wouldn’t let her hide, wouldn’t let her run. Wouldn’t let her no-nonsense, sometimes prickly manner put him off.

  He demanded things from her that she’d been certain she’d never give anyone and yet here she was, giving them to him in much the same way as she’d given him her virginity.

  He drew passion from her, he drew fire. The same passion and fire that she’d fought down and kept hidden, because it was all part of her desperation. The deep neediness of wanting to be something to someone that she couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard she tried. The need to be accepted and loved. To be chosen.

  But she’d never been chosen and to think that he might actually choose her...well, she couldn’t accept it. Once she’d had some interest shown in her by a lovely couple, who’d made the effort to get to know her. They’d taken her out for a couple of day trips then had taken her back to their house, shown her a room they’d decorated for her. And she’d allowed herself some hope that finally she’d have the family she wanted, only for the adoption to fall through. The couple had changed their minds, she was told. There had been no reason given, but Ivy knew why.

  It was her. It was always her. There was something wrong with her.

  Her muscles tightened in readiness to pull away, but before she could he let her go and stepped back. His expression was impassive and yet his blue gaze burned hot.

  ‘Let me show you the pool,’ he said, and it was not a request.

  ‘But I—’

  He said nothing, holding out his hand to her, making it clear that he expected her to take it. And she found herself doing exactly that, the warmth of his fingers closing around hers and the firmness of his grip easing something that had become far too tight inside her.

  Without a word, he drew her from the living area and down a hallway, the dark wooden parquet illuminated in the evening light. The walls were pale, and heavy beams of dark wood crossed the ceiling above. A selection of the most beautiful hand-knotted silk rugs had been hung on the walls, giving the place a rich, luxurious feeling without it being suffocating or over the top. She’d never been in a place like it.

  The hallway eventually led out onto a stone terrace with the mountain soaring upwards behind it. The terrace ended at a deep, intensely blue pool fed by a gentle waterfall that cascaded down the side of the mountain. The rock gleamed and glittered blue and white and pink from the mineral deposits left by the water, and the flames from braziers that had been lit around the side of the pool made the glitter more intense.

  It was the most beautiful place Ivy had ever seen.

  Nazir let go of her hand and turned towards the pool. Then, without any fuss, he began to strip off his clothes, casting them onto one of the white linen-covered loungers grouped around the pool.

  Ivy blinked, her mouth going dry as the intense, masculine beauty of him was revealed. He was broad, heavily muscled, and powerful. His skin was a deep bronze, the flickering of the braziers outlining the broad planes of his chest and the chiselled ridges of his stomach. His shoulders were wide, his waist lean, his legs long and powerful. He was a perfect physical specimen in peak condition. Here and there, the bronze skin was marred by white scars of different shapes and sizes, and it hit her, almost forcibly, that these were signs of a life of violence. Because of course they were. He was a soldier, wasn’t he? He commanded an army.

  Once he was naked, he strode to the pool with that athletic predator’s grace. A set of stairs led down into the water, but he didn’t use them. Instead, he paused at the side of the pool and then dived in, leaving barely a ripple. A second later, he surfaced, pushing his black hair back from his face as he turned towards her. Then he held out his arms, the blue-green flame in his eyes offering a challenge.

  It was clear he wanted her to join him.

  A streak of heat went through her. It was too tempting to resist and he probably knew that. And really, she should just ignore him. But the needy thing inside her wouldn’t let her, and before she was even conscious of it she’d begun to undress, first peeling off her T-shirt and then her bra. She took off her sandals, pushed down her yoga pants and her knickers, and then stepped out of them.

  He watched her, the flame in his eyes leaping higher, his attention turning intent, making her mouth even drier and her cheeks feel hot. Resisting the urge to cover herself, she walked to the edge of the pool, hoping it was with the same unselfconscious grace that he had.

  He followed her every movement, his expression not so impassive any longer but sharp with open masculine hunger. He liked what he saw of her, that was obvious, and he made no attempt to hide it.

  Ivy wished she could dive as he had, but she’d never had swimming lessons. She could float and do dog paddle, but that was about it, so she turned to the stairs that led down into the pool.

  Nazir moved suddenly, coming over to the edge where she stood, raising his arms to her. ‘No. Come to me, Ivy,’ he murmured.

  She wasn’t sure why he wanted to take her down into the water himself, but, feeling awkward, she lowered herself to sit on the side of the pool and then leaned forward towards him. His hands settled on her hips and suddenly she was weightless, surrounded by deliciously warm water and the hotter, harder feel of his body against hers as he drew her to him.

  She took a shaky breath, because she couldn’t touch the bottom and there was nothing to hang onto except him. But his arms surrounded her, pulling her tighter against him, urging her legs around his waist, her breasts pressed against his iron-hard chest. Part of her instinctively wanted to push him away, to get some distance, but there was no distance to be had. It thrilled at the same time as it disturbed her.

  His gaze held hers and the strangest feeling of security began to move through her. Left with no choice but to allow herself to be held, Ivy relaxed into him. His skin was slick and warm, and he was so strong. It felt as if he could hold her for ever if he wanted to.

  He didn’t speak, moving slowly backwards towards the softly falling waterfall that fed the pool.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he murmured. ‘It’s warm.’

  Her hands were somehow on his powerful shoulders and she was gripping him tightly. ‘I’m not worrying.’ She glanced up at the waterfall, the drops of water glittering in the light. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘It is. And it’s been too long since I was here.’

  ‘Why? Are you too busy?’

  His hard mouth curved. ‘That and the fact that I don’t like sitting around doing nothing. This is a retreat and I’m not one for retreats.’

  ‘What do you do, then? Fight wars with that army of yours?’

  His lashes were long and thick, glittering with drops of water, the gleam of his eyes beneath them no less intense. ‘Are you really interested, little fury, or are you simply making conversation?’

  She flushed. ‘Perhaps I’m tired of talking about me. And anyway, you sai
d you wanted us to get to know one another.’

  ‘So I did.’ He moved closer to the waterfall, the gentle rush of it as it fell down the mountain filling the silence. ‘I don’t fight wars with my army. It’s for protection. For example, sometimes governments hire us to protect polling stations for free elections, or hospitals and medical staff in times of unrest, or other parts of vital infrastructure. Sometimes we’re hired by private companies to free people in hostage situations or to protect goods and staff.’ He smiled suddenly, bright and dangerous in the last of the evening light. ‘I pick and choose what contracts we accept, and I don’t allow my men to be used in territorial or border wars. We’re peacekeepers, not killers.’

  Interested despite herself, Ivy stroked absently over the slick skin of his shoulders as she studied him. ‘That sounds all very altruistic for a bunch of men trained specifically to kill other men.’

  This time his smile held real amusement. ‘You’re sceptical, and I suppose you should be. But my beginning was as a soldier in the palace guard and the purpose of a palace guard is to defend, not to attack.’

  Well, she hadn’t known that. ‘Oh, so you wanted a military career? Following in your father’s footsteps?’

  ‘Yes. There was never any other choice for me. As you know, I was sent to Cambridge for a few years, but apart from that, it was always expected that I would be a soldier.’

  She studied him, curious. ‘So why Cambridge?’

  The light from the braziers gleamed over his sleek black hair and caught at the glints in his eyes. ‘For a decent education.’ An undercurrent of bitterness tinged the words.

  Ivy frowned. ‘Why do I get that feeling that’s not all there was to it?’

  ‘Because that wasn’t the only reason why I was sent away.’

  ‘What else was there, then?’

  ‘My mother.’ He moved closer to the waterfall, the sound of it splashing into the pool musical and soothing. ‘She was the Sultana and she had me in secret. I was brought up by my father. Every so often I was allowed to meet her and my father would take me to her so we could spend time together. She couldn’t be seen to be spending too much time with the Commander’s child, though, or else people would talk. It was never enough. Always, I wanted more.’