His voice was very neutral, but she could detect undercurrents in it, deep and strong. What they meant she wasn’t sure, but she was certain she heard anger. His expression, however, gave her no clue. His features were set in granite lines as per usual.
No, he was angry, she could feel it in him, and she understood why. Because she too had wanted more and never had it. She’d wanted a mother and father, siblings, a family.
He at least had known his parents, unlike her. Then again, had he really had his mother? It was clear he didn’t think so. What was worse? To have had a parent you only saw from afar and interacted with infrequently, or never to have had that parent at all?
She didn’t know. But it made her think of the child growing inside her, of how at least that child would have both a mother and a father in its life. Even if that mother had no idea what she was doing.
He was right to keep you here.
The taut, aching feeling inside her eased, as if giving up a fight, making her lean forward, wrapping her arms around his neck, revelling in the feel of his slick, warm skin against hers.
‘Tell me about the more you wanted,’ she said quietly.
His face was very close, the sunset throwing golden light across the stark planes and angles, his eyes glittering in icy contrast to the warmth of the water and the heat of his body. An intense light burned in them, so fierce her breath caught.
‘I wanted everything.’ The deep sound of his voice vibrated against her. ‘I wanted to be her son openly, proudly. I wanted what she gave my half-brother: her time and attention, her softness and gentleness, her love.’ The light in his eyes turned bright and jagged. ‘But my father was concerned that I was spending too much time with her. It was fine when I was a child, since it was well known that the Sultana loved children and her attention to me could be explained away. But not when I got older. So my father decided it would be better if I went away for a time. That’s why I was sent to Cambridge.’
She’d been right; he was angry. Ferociously so. And underneath that anger she could hear the longing for the love and attention he’d desperately wanted and never had. She knew all about that kind of longing. She knew it well.
‘You didn’t want to go?’ she asked.
‘No.’ His hands cupped her bottom, holding her against him, his fingers digging into her flesh. ‘But I had no choice. The three years in England gave me time to think, time to obsess over what I didn’t have and what I wanted. My mother loved me and she loved my father, and she was unhappy with the Sultan, and I couldn’t see why she had to stay in a life that made her so miserable. So when I returned to Inaris, I went to see her immediately. I told her that she and my father should leave, that I would help, that we could all get out of the country, be a family together, be happy.’ His gaze iced over. ‘But she refused. She wouldn’t leave her husband and she wouldn’t leave my half-brother. I was furious, ranting and shouting, and the next thing I knew the room was full of soldiers. Fahad, my half-brother, had been listening and had heard everything. He discovered our secret.’
Ivy’s heart caught hard. ‘Oh, Nazir...’
‘There was a confrontation and I attacked him. My mother tried to stop me, but I didn’t listen. I was too angry, too jealous. He had everything that I’d always wanted, and my mother wouldn’t leave him.’ Nazir’s mouth hardened. ‘But you don’t attack the heir without consequences and I was imprisoned, pending execution. My mother pleaded for my life with the Sultan and I don’t know what she said, but eventually she secured my release.’
Ivy stared at him, caught by the ice in his eyes in comparison to the determinedly neutral expression on his face.
‘What happened afterwards?’ she asked, part of her not wanting to know because, whatever it was, she knew it wouldn’t have been good.
‘My father and I were banished from the palace. The Sultan wanted to execute him, but he was too powerful. Instead, he lost his position as Commander and neither of us ever saw my mother again.’
A soundless breath of shock escaped her. ‘No.’
‘For a long time, neither my father nor I knew what had happened to her. She disappeared from public life and there were rumours the Sultan had had her killed because of her affair.’ A bleak light entered his eyes. ‘My father never forgave me for what happened. I’d always been his secret shame and then I was the cause of so much pain for the woman he loved... I should have been satisfied with what I had.’ Nazir paused, his gaze focusing on her very suddenly. ‘And that is quite enough about me.’
Before Ivy knew what was happening, he’d taken her under the waterfall, warm water falling down around them, soaking her hair, soaking her bare shoulders, blinding her.
She opened her mouth on a gasp, but his lips covered hers, taking the sound from her, the taste of him joining the mineral flavour of the water, surrounding her in warmth. Warmth from the gentle fall of water, warmth from his mouth on hers, his kiss deep and slow and sweet. Warmth from the hard, powerful body she was clinging to.
She had so many questions, her brain still trying to process everything he’d said, her heart aching for him and what he’d lost, but her thinking processes had slowed, the hunger of her body beginning to take over.
One of his hands slid up her spine to cup the back of her head, holding her in place as his tongue pushed deep into her mouth, exploring her in slow, leisurely strokes.
And it suddenly became very clear to her what he was looking for and what he wanted and what he was trying to create by keeping her here. Whether he knew it or not, he wanted a family. He wanted what he’d longed for all those years ago and what he’d lost in the end.
So why not give it to him? There wasn’t any reason not to. They were both looking for the same things, it seemed, and both of them had finally found them together, so why bother fighting? He’d told her that she was his, so why not accept it? Give into it? After all, no one else had ever claimed her. It might as well be him.
The decision settled down inside her and she gripped his shoulders hard, tightening her legs around him, because as much as he claimed her, she would also claim him. So she kissed him back, hungrier now, the water falling on her, the slick feel of his skin, the rapidly growing hardness of his shaft between her thighs providing her with the most delicious erotic contrasts.
But he would not be hurried and he ignored her growing need. He kept his kiss deep and lazy, his fingers on the back of her head angling her so he could explore her deeper. Hunger grew sharp teeth, but this time she didn’t feel as desperate.
The falling water soothed her, as did the warmth of the pool, the strength of him holding her up, the slow-burning, lazy kiss, and the decision she’d made to accept what he’d offered her. And gradually, the hunger became less frantic.
The tension eased from her and she relaxed into the slow eroticism of the kiss, returning it with the same tender sweetness.
There was too much water in her eyes so she kept them closed, focusing instead on his hot mouth and the leisurely way he kissed her. He was hard, and when he adjusted his grip, lifting her slightly, the head of his shaft pressing against her exquisitely sensitive flesh, she wriggled to take him. But he teased her for a few moments, making her shudder, before taking her hips in a firm grip and then easing her down onto him, again, so slowly it drew a groan from her.
‘Take me, little fury,’ he whispered against her mouth, his voice so deep, cutting through the sound of the water rushing over them. ‘Because all those people who didn’t want you were fools. I want you. So give me your passion. I want it all.’
She thought he’d forgotten about what she’d told him earlier. But it seemed he hadn’t, and it made something in her heart slip then catch like a puzzle piece sliding into place in a jigsaw.
She wanted to give him that passion because he was a hard man who’d held her with gentleness. A leader of armies who had a courtyard full of
greenery and fountains in the middle of an unforgiving fortress in the desert. A man for whom pleasure seemed to be a foreign concept and yet who had a holiday villa with a hot pool, which he never visited because he didn’t like sitting around. A vicious warlord by his own admission, yet who’d seen to her comfort.
There were so many fascinating contrasts within him. It was as if there were things he wanted but wouldn’t let himself have, perhaps as a punishment or a lesson for what had happened to him all those years ago. The mother who’d been banished and the father whose life had been ruined by his actions. The family he’d destroyed.
He still wanted that family though, and that longing was so familiar to her. She knew it as she knew her own heart. So she didn’t think twice as she wrapped her arms around his neck and tightened her legs around his waist, moving on him, giving him back all the passion contained inside her, until the ecstasy of it drowned both of them.
CHAPTER NINE
NAZIR HADN’T EXPECTED to tell Ivy everything that had happened with his mother. He’d meant to answer her question about why he’d been sent to Cambridge then carry her under the waterfall and kiss that sweet mouth of hers.
But there had been something in the way she’d wrapped her arms around him, something in the feel of her silky bare skin against his, the slight crease between her brows and the steadfast look in her coppery eyes.
And he’d found himself saying much more than he’d intended. More than he’d ever told anyone. He hadn’t expected to let the longing he’d always felt come to the surface, nor the anger that came along with it. The anger and jealousy and sorrow he’d thought he’d got rid of years ago, and beneath that a shame he’d never accepted.
Which wasn’t a good thing. He couldn’t let those emotions cloud his thinking the way they had all those years ago, not with what was at stake. Ivy and his child had to be protected at all costs, and most especially from him.
His loss of control had destroyed the family he’d almost had and his mother...
Eventually he’d found out what had happened to her. After her affair had been discovered, the Sultan had banished her from the country for the rest of her life. She’d died in Switzerland, never to see either of her sons or the man she loved ever again.
That was his fault. If he hadn’t lost his temper, if he hadn’t attacked Fahad, then everything might have been different. But he had, and there was nothing he could do to change that or what had happened to his mother. The only thing he could do was stay in command of himself and ensure nothing like that ever happened again.
It was an easy enough task, especially when, over the course of the next few days, Ivy stopped being stubborn and challenging. She stopped fighting him, stopped protesting. Her no-nonsense armour was nowhere to be seen, letting the woman she was underneath bloom like a flower in the sun.
And what a woman she was. Warm and vital and interested. Caring and curious.
Like himself, she wasn’t much for lying around, and so he took her on a few gentle horseback rides along some of the mountain trails, showing her the pretty valleys and views that could be had from the higher outlooks. He taught her how to swim in the warm water of the hot springs and then, afterwards, taught her how to pleasure him even at the same time as he explored all the ways to pleasure her.
They had meals by candlelight on the terraces and by the pool, and once or twice in some of the prettier valleys near his residence, where they discussed various subjects, including how a marriage would work between them, how and where they would raise the child together.
Ivy had no trouble disagreeing with him on a few points, but it was soon clear that they both believed very strongly that the child needed both parents and a safe, secure base in which to grow up.
‘And what about me?’ Ivy asked as they sat by the pool one night, the braziers lit, sending flickering light over the waterfall that fell into it. ‘I need more to my life than raising a child. Not that that isn’t a vitally important job, but I need something else.’
Nazir glanced over the low table to where Ivy sat cross-legged on a cushion opposite him. Her hair was loose tonight, the way he preferred it, tumbling over her shoulders in a wild, gleaming fall of chestnut. All she wore was a light, diaphanous robe of deep red silk embroidered with gold that he’d ordered especially for her. It was a rich, beautiful fabric that made her pale skin glow and brought colour to her pretty face. The metallic thread made her eyes seem even more coppery in the light and, as an added bonus, it was a little transparent, allowing him to catch glimpses of the glory that was her naked body.
At first she’d been uncomfortable wearing it with nothing on underneath, but once he’d shown her how much it pleased him to see her wearing it, she’d relaxed, and now she didn’t even seem to think twice about it.
Looking at her and how beautiful and sensual she was, the robe curving over the slight roundness of her stomach where his child lay, made his possessiveness flex and tighten. As if he wanted to fight anyone who came near her, anyone who dared even look at her. And if anyone else ever touched her...
He forced himself to look away, struggling to get control of the hot thread of fury that wound through him at the thought.
She is dangerous to you. She makes you feel too much.
No, that was foolish. His control over his emotions was flawless.
Nazir picked up his wine glass and took a sip of the rich red wine, forcing his recalcitrant attention back to her question.
She did need more to her life and the more time he spent with her, the more that was obvious. He’d told her when they first met that her life so far had been a small one, and while he hadn’t meant it to be cruel, he still believed that.
She was exceedingly intelligent and interested and had a big-picture focus that the commander in him recognised as a valuable skill.
There were many organisation systems he had in place that he knew could use an overhaul and Ivy would be perfect for the job. Because in very many ways, she was a commander too. Hadn’t that been her role in the home she’d managed? It wasn’t an army, but it was people and, in the end, that was what an army was, just people operating within a system.
‘I agree,’ he said. ‘You do need something more. So what would you like to do?’
A tiny crease appeared between her brows as she picked up the tall glass full of the orange juice she liked. ‘You know, I hadn’t really thought. Back in England I didn’t have a lot of options and so I—’
‘You always had options,’ he interrupted gently. ‘You’re intelligent, interested, empathetic and full of energy. You would have been a huge asset to any employer or university or training institute.’ He paused, watching her face. ‘Why did you stay at the home? You could have gone anywhere, done anything. But you didn’t.’
She coloured, looking down at her glass as if finding its contents fascinating. ‘I had no experience at anything else but looking after the home. And I wanted to make sure everyone in it was looked after and cared for. And Connie lived nearby. And... I suppose it was all I knew.’
He could understand that, just as he understood that it wasn’t any of those things that had held her back, not this stubborn, determined woman. She’d crossed a desert, braved those rumours he’d put around about himself and all to fulfil her dying friend’s last wish. If she’d wanted to leave the home, she would have.
‘You didn’t want to do anything else? You didn’t have dreams of a better life? Of having more?’
‘No,’ she said quietly, not looking up. ‘It was easier not to. Easier to accept what I had than to hope for something I had no chance of getting.’
The way you’ve accepted your life and what you have. The way you keep telling yourself that you don’t want more.
No, this wasn’t the same. He’d been brought up to be a soldier, that was all he’d known, and he was happy with that. The need to protect and defend
was part of him; it was in his blood. And so, after his father’s death, because he hadn’t been welcome back in the palace, he’d built himself an army so he could continue protecting and defending.
But you never thought beyond that, did you? You never thought there might be something else for you outside violence.
The thought was deeply disturbing and he didn’t want to think about it, so he focused on Ivy instead.
‘And what was it that you thought you had no chance of getting?’ he asked, even though he thought he knew the answer to that already.
Finally, she looked up from her juice, her gaze meeting his. ‘A family, Nazir.’
There was such honesty in her gaze, no armour, no evasions. This was the precious heart of her and she was showing it to him.
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...
She’d told him that days ago. He’d meant to tell her more about how he wanted her, but then she’d distracted him with talk about his past.
‘There was never anything wrong with you, Ivy,’ he said quietly, addressing not her statement, but the doubt he could see lingering in her eyes, and the underlying pain that went with it. ‘I don’t know why you were never chosen to be adopted, but it wasn’t due to a failure on your part. You know that, don’t you?’
Her lashes fluttered. ‘No. I don’t know that.’ Her voice was husky and uncertain. ‘There was one couple who I thought wanted me. They showed me a room they’d prepared for me, talked about how they couldn’t wait for me to be their daughter. But it...fell through at the last minute. I was told they’d changed their minds, though not why.’
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