The wind whipped away the leaves that were only just turning brown, tearing them prematurely from their precarious hold. Paris was alive with the roaring of the wind and the slapping of rain on her window. Each day passed more slowly than the last as the world abruptly turned into an autumn that Anna couldn’t consider yet. Her mind seemed to have slipped into some kind of stasis, unable to move on and unable to let go of the life that summer had brought.
But she had to. Zahir was moving on with his life and so must she. She sighed and re-read the letter from Zahir’s solicitor that she’d received. She’d been sorting out her papers rather than gaze at the ravaged trees that twisted and turned in the blustery wind outside her window, but kept coming back to the letter. It had asked her to attend a meeting. About what, it didn’t say. But there was only one thing it could mean. Zahir wanted a divorce. She couldn’t face it. Her morning sickness was worsening rather than improving. It looked like she’d be ill the whole nine months, just as she had been with Matta. But what she really couldn’t take was the finality of the end of their relationship. She couldn’t bear to discover he was going to marry someone else. She didn’t think she could go on if he were.
So she’d missed the meeting that she should have attended that morning and had stayed, instead, determined to clear through the mass of papers that she’d somehow accumulated. She forced herself to read through another paper before tossing it in the bin. Then another and then her mind drifted back to the tossing trees and the leaden sky, imagining it as the desert sky: so big and brilliant. She snapped out of her reverie and continued to sort through her papers, wondering how she could have found the strength to study as hard as she had.
She sat back suddenly in her chair. Truth was, it was a Godsend that she had something to distract her from the man who had stolen her heart and left her a few precious memories. Her hand moved to her stomach and a sense of deep sadness swept her, swiftly followed by anger. She swept all the papers into a basket. She’d continue with her studies but they were no longer her life. They’d only been her life when she had no love in it. But now she had experienced love, everything else was secondary.
Since her return to Paris life had resumed some sort of normalcy. This was where she lived now. Not her home, never her home, but simply where she lived. Matta went to school, albeit an exclusive one where he rubbed shoulders with the rich and the royal and had already settled well after one short week. He missed Zahir but Zahir had promised Matta he would visit him soon. To see only Matta, thought Anna ruefully.
She’d tried to discover more about Zahir from Matta, tried to weave into their talk and play anything that would reveal how Zahir felt for her. But it seemed there was nothing to say. Zahir kept his feelings close to his chest, as always. All she knew was that he had not yet sought divorce proceedings and nor had she. But times had changed and it appeared that he wanted to move on. Well he’d have to move on without help from her. Was there a someone else like he’d inferred? Was it the young woman whom she’d seen at the palace only a few weeks ago?
If Matta knew he wasn’t telling.
She looked at her watch. One of Zahir’s men should be returning Matta now from school. She shrugged on the dishdasha, hanging loose in folds down her slender frame, hiding her gently rounded stomach. No-one must know. Matta didn’t know—he thought mom was just eating too much.
There was a knock at the door. She waited for the housekeeper to open it. She didn’t want to meet any of Zahir’s men face to face. But then she remembered her housekeeper was in the middle of baking. Anna walked down the tiled hallway to the door, pulling her robe around her.
“Mom!” Matta hugged Anna’s legs. Only then did Anna look up, straight into Zahir’s eyes—black, cold and distant. It hurt to see the cold directed to her: eyes that had been so hot for her, but now—nothing.
“Anna.”
“Zahir.” She clutched her chest, willing herself to keep breathing. “Matta. I think there are fresh cookies in the kitchen. Why don’t you go and see?”
Making airplane noises rather than a simple reply, Matta hummed his way out of the room, banging the door behind him.
“What are you doing here?”
“You missed the meeting I requested with you this morning so I’ve come to you. I want to talk to you about Matta’s schooling. I’m not happy with it.”
She indicated that he should sit, showing she could be as formal and as icy as he. “Is that right?”
Zahir continued to stand. “His schooling is all wrong.”
“In what way?”
“Because it is here in Paris, and not with me in Qawaran.”
“Ahh, a good concrete academic reason then.”
“He has to come back with me.”
“Please take a seat.”
Zahir sat where indicated and Anna carefully sat opposite, her spine ramrod straight so as not to reveal the curves of her stomach.
“Thank you.”
“Matta has excellent school reports. He is doing very well and the school has an excellent reputation.”
“He is to return with me.”
“No. He stays with me.” She didn’t raise her voice. She wasn’t the same, desperate, scared woman as before. And Zahir was to thank for that. “You seem to like playing this game.”
“It’s no game.”
“Then you won’t mind if you don’t win.”
“You know I always win.”
Anna decided to ignore the challenge. “Would you like a coffee?”
“Thank you.”
She also knew how to play his games now—with decorum but always getting what she wanted. She rose, careful to make sure the gown shrouded her figure and rang the bell before returning, with the same care, back to her hard-backed chair.
“You’ve been well?” She knew the words, the form to take, whether the questions were required or not. And in this case they weren’t. He looked as strong and as handsome as always.
“Yes thank you. And you?”
She nodded, hoping he wouldn’t notice the fact that rather than gaining weight during her pregnancy, she’d remained the same with the constant sickness and her face had become thinner. “Yes, I’m well.”
“Wearing Qawaranian robes I see. You must have acquired a taste for them.”
“They are comfortable.”
“You feel free in them I take it.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“And freedom is, of course, everything to you. More than your husband, more than your child—”
“Don’t come in here and start arguing with me.”
“I’m merely describing a truth. It is a truth isn’t it?”
It had been, but was no longer. She looked into his eyes but refused to answer. That he should come to her, after months of silence and pick an argument, infuriated her.
“Anna. Your life—it is as you wanted it to be? Your freedom?”
She looked into his eyes. His voice had become quiet, the brief flare of anger was gone. But she’d wished it remained because without it there was only a stark politeness that meant nothing. There was no sarcasm, no bitterness in his words. He just wanted to know; a polite enquiry.
“Yes. I’ve always wanted to be free, to be independent, and I am.”
He sat back in his chair. She didn’t like the way he nodded thoughtfully. She felt her hopes rise. Perhaps he really had come to see her.
“And you?”
He nodded once. “Yes. Everything is going to plan.”
“Of course it is.”
A heavy silence fell between them. She had to break it, rather than endure his intense gaze.
“So you return tomorrow?”
“It depends.”
“Upon what? Not Matta, I hope.”
He looked up from beneath lowered lids at her. “No. I will come for him when I am ready. I am not waiting for him.”
“Good.” Good wasn’t adequate word enough to convey the utter relief she felt.
> “No. I am waiting upon a woman.”
Anna felt sick to her stomach; any newly-born hope that he was here for her was blown away. So there was a woman. “I see.”
There was a knock at the door and the housekeeper entered laden with coffee and cake. They both sat in silence while she laid them out. Anna poured a small cup of coffee for Zahir, concentrating on calming her shaking hands, and then one for herself that she didn’t touch. Only when the door closed behind the housekeeper did she speak.
“And this woman is proving reluctant?”
“A little. But I know her well and am sure she will have none of the problems you had when first moving to Qawaran.”
“Well, that’s good for her. And good for you then.”
“Yes. But she would benefit by talking to you about it.”
“If you need my help then perhaps you are losing your touch.”
“No.” He leant forward. “I can assure you she is very receptive to my touch.”
Anna willed herself not to feel anything at his words but failed. She drew a deep, unsteady breath to at least stop herself from shaking. Focus, just focus on the words. “Then what? She doesn’t want to live in Qawaran?”
“She’s unsure at the moment. She needs time to make up her mind.” He sat back and sipped his coffee, his eyes never leaving hers. “Perhaps you could speak to her, tell her about the place?”
Pain shot through her limbs from her heart. It was for real. Another woman would step into the life that had been hers and that she’d never cherished as much as she should have done. It was only these past months when she’d gained all that she’d ever said she wanted, that she realized what she’d lost, what she’d never valued, what it was that she really had been wanting all along. But there was no chance of that now.
“What could I tell her that you could not?”
“I think you are the only person she would listen to.”
“I’m surprised. I would have thought I’d be the last person.”
“No. You are the only person who has experienced what she will experience. You liked it well enough in Qawaran didn’t you?”
She nodded.
“Then you could tell her what you think of the palace as a place to live. What would you tell her?”
She couldn’t meet his gaze. It seemed to pierce her through to her very soul. She shifted in her seat. “It’s a very satisfactory place.”
“Satisfactory? That wouldn’t tell her much. She would want to know what it was like.”
Anna closed her eyes as she remembered the soaring walls, the light filtering through the ancient corridors, the view that went on forever, the everlasting spring of water that gave life and healing.
“It’s magical.” She whispered. She felt a wave of heat leave a shimmer of sweat on her brow. The words seemed to have been wrung out of her. She felt weak. But she couldn’t be weak. Not now, not in front of Zahir.
“Good. Then she should have no qualms about living there.”
Anna clasped her hands together, her fingers rubbing together as she tried to gather her strength and make sure the robe was pulled out from her stomach.
“I hope that is enough for you?”
“No. She would want to know about the land.”
Anna looked down as her mind captured memories of searing heat that shimmered white, playing with mirages of water, horizons of a setting sun shedding its rich light over the expansive landscape; of dry wadis carved by water and time wending their way up into the mountains.
She nodded and swallowed, meeting his gaze. She wouldn’t dissemble. The straighter she was, the sooner this horrible interview would be over. “It, too, is magical.”
“And the climate?”
Anna felt herself sag. This inquisition seemed to be lasting an age. But she couldn’t back out.
“Extreme.”
She noticed his face drop slightly at the ambiguous word, as if she suggested criticism.
“You did not enjoy the climate?”
“How could one not enjoy the rain that fell after so much sun; then the light of the sun followed by the brilliance of the stars—” she stopped short.
“Then the people, my family?”
“They are kind. Your new wife will have no problems with them. She will enjoy their company.”
“This is sounding most satisfactory. I am sure she will find your words most comforting. Is there anything else I’ve forgotten? What about me? What would you say about living with me? Do you have any words of advice for her there?”
She looked up into his eyes then, not believing he could drag her through the pain of each element of life living with him, through the eyes of another person.
“I’d tell her—” but she couldn’t go on, she heard, and felt, her voice crack.
“Go on.”
“You wouldn’t want me to speak with her about you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’d tell her the truth about you.”
“I am not afraid of the truth,” his eyes glittered.
“Yes. She probably realizes already what an arrogant, insensitive bastard you are, who would stop at nothing to get what he wants. Who would even drag his ex-wife—”
“Not yet ‘ex’—”
“His ex-wife along to help sweet-talk her into doing what he wants.”
“And what would that sweet-talk say? Tell me, Anna, was I so bad to live with?” He was leaning forward, watching her, his eyes no longer cold, but hot, searing, wanting.
She looked into his eyes, startled. “Bad?” She shook her head, feeling the pricking of tears at the back of her lids. “No. You were—everything. Not good, not bad, just, you.”
“Just me. Well, we must hope that is enough for her.”
She sagged back into her chair feeling drained but there was one more thing she had to get sorted. “I can’t have Matta living in Qawaran being cared for by another woman. I don’t know her for God’s sake. I can’t have it, Zahir, please don’t do this again.”
“We made a bargain once. And we kept both sides of the bargain. Can I ask, Anna, was your side of the bargain worth it? Your freedom?”
She closed her eyes. “Stop it Zahir. What is it that you want from me?”
“I want the truth. You have no-one to protect now, no reason to not tell me the truth. Do you have what it was that you wanted, what you believed freedom would bring you? Do you?”
How could he even think that she’d enjoyed life away from him these past months? Yes, her studies and Matta and living in Paris had brought joy. But it paled by the side of the longing that she’d had to live with. She done what she had to do, but it was like sleep-walking, going through the motions, waiting until you could go back to bed and dream of the man in whose arms you longed to be.
“Yes.”
He jumped up and walked to the window.
“And no,” she added.
He turned to her then. “Stop playing with me woman and tell me straight.”
“Haven’t you learned anything by now? Nothing is straight. Nothing is black and white.”
“Some things are, Anna. Some things are.”
“So you tell me. Was your side of the bargain worth it? Did you rid yourself of your obsession with me? Are your nights and days peaceful now?”
His jaw ground with a tension that sparked black in his eyes. “You never leave me.”
Her lips parted, a thrill went through her body and she swallowed hard.
“I need to know,” he continued, “and then I’ll leave you forever. Your freedom. Was it worth it all? Is it what you truly want? Was it Anna?” He rose and stood over her, his hands clenching and unclenching as if stopping himself from reaching out. “I need to know.”
She licked her dry lips. “Bargaining is such a useful tool.” His frown could have been a weapon in itself.
“It is only useful if both have something the other wants.”
“Oh, I have what you want. And I’m not talking abo
ut Matta.”
He came to her then and pushed his fingers through her hair, holding her face tight within his large hands. She could feel their roughness and their tenderness in every sinew of his fingers.
His face was close to hers now, his lips, a breath away.
“Tell me what it is that I have that you want. Tell me now, Anna, before I go crazy.”
“This.” She breached the slender distance between them and pressed her lips gently to his. Neither moved, simply held the soft touch of their lips, treasuring it, letting the connection flow through their bodies, through every nerve, fiber, muscle, vein, until it filled them both.
They separated then. But the connection was re-made, forged by a kiss. It was in his eyes as he looked at her and it was in her eyes as she gazed upon the one thing freedom had excluded her from, the one man that she couldn’t live without.
“I love you Zahir. You make me free. You are all I want.”
“Anna,” half-moan, half-groan she felt her name pressed into her lips as his own found hers in a kiss that breathed life back into her life, gave her back the passion without which she could not live. He pulled away as if suddenly doubting her words. “I love you Anna. You’ve shown me how to love, you’ve forced me to look inside myself and find that love. And I have. But are you sure you love me, after all the mistakes I’ve made, after how I failed you and my brother?”
She smiled at this man, so strong and yet to her now, unafraid to show his true self. “No mistakes, no failings. Just a heart that takes the wrong turn sometimes. Hearts do that.”
“Come back to Qawaran with me.”
She smiled. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On what kind of bargain I can strike.”
“I see. And so in return for your good self, what is it that you want from me?”
“Undying love for me and your children.”
“Agreed. I already feel that love for you and Matta.”
“That’s not good enough.”
He frowned. “I love you, Anna. I love Matta. I always will. I promise to care for you to cherish you to worship you both forever. Isn’t that enough?”
She shook her head and took his hand and pushed it against her stomach, flattening his palm across the round edges of her stomach so that there was no doubt.
The Sheikh's Bargain Bride (Desert Kings) Page 15
