by Lynne Graham
Being stonewalled merely aggravated Ruby more and her chin came up, eyes bright with antagonism and resentment now. ‘Let me bring this down to the simplest level. Did you or did you not take off your boxers and lie down with me that night for the sake of your precious country?’
Raja very nearly laughed out loud at that demand but restrained the urge, aware it would go down like a lead balloon. ‘I am willing to confess that I never had any true intention of allowing our marriage to be a fake. I hoped to make our marriage real from the day of our wedding.’
The barefaced cool with which he made that shattering admission shook Ruby, whose nature was the direct opposite of calculating, to her very depths. ‘So, you deceived me.’
‘You put me in a position where I could do little else. A divorce between us would be a political and economic disaster. Any goodwill gained by our marriage would be destroyed and offence and enmity would take its place. And how could I continue to rule this country without an Ashuri princess by my side?’ he demanded bluntly. ‘Your people would not accept me in such a role.’
Unfortunately for him, Ruby was in no mood to recognise the difficulties of his position or to make allowances. Deep hurt allied with a stark sense of humiliation were washing through her slight body in poisonous waves. ‘You deceived me,’ she said again, her voice brittle with angry bitter condemnation. ‘I gave you my trust and you deceived me.’
‘I always intended to do whatever it takes to make you happy in our marriage,’ Raja breathed in a driven undertone, his dark eyes alight with annoyance and discomfiture, for he was well aware that he had been less than honest with her and that went against the grain with him, as well. ‘That is the only justification I can offer you for my behaviour.’
‘But if it takes a divorce to make me happy you’re going to make it difficult,’ Ruby guessed, her face pale and tight with the self-control she was exerting as she turned on her heel. ‘I’m sleeping on the sofa tonight.’
As the door eased shut on her quiet exit Raja swore, jolted by a powerful wave of dissatisfaction more biting than any he had ever known. He had wounded her and he had never wanted to do that. Although it would have been very much out of character he badly wanted to unleash his temper and punch walls and shout. But the discipline of a lifetime held, forcing him to stop, think and reason. Pursuing her to continue the altercation in the state of mind she was in would only exacerbate the situation. He had chosen honesty and maybe he should have lied but he believed that the woman he had married deserved the truth from him.
Ironically, Raja believed that he knew what his wife wanted from him. After all, almost every decent woman he had ever spent time with had wanted the same thing from him: eternal devotion and commitment and all the empty words and promises that went along with them. At a young age Raja had learned to avoid getting involved with that kind of woman. His mistress Chloe’s unconcealed greed was a great deal easier to satisfy and the main reason why Raja much preferred relationships based on practicality and mutual convenience.
Ruby, however, was very emotional and she would demand more than he had to offer. Ruby would want things that would make him grossly uncomfortable. He looked back down the years to when he had been a student deeply in love for the one and only time in his life. She would want romance and poetry, hand-holding and constant attention and if he even looked at another woman she might threaten to kill herself, he recalled with a barely repressed shudder. He was no woman’s lapdog and, although his father was a noted poet in Najar, Raja secretly hated poetry. He groaned in increasing frustration. Why were some women so difficult? So highly strung and demanding? Her metaphoric cup was half empty but in comparison his was almost full to overflowing. Ruby was a very beautiful and very entertaining woman and he had just enjoyed the most fantastic sex with her. That was enough for him and an excellent foundation for a royal marriage between strangers. He was more than content with what they already had together. Why couldn’t she be content? And how was he to persuade her of the value of his more rational and reserved approach?
On the sofa, which had all the lumps if not the worn appearance of a piece of furniture that had served beyond its time, Ruby tossed and turned. She was stunned that Raja could admit to telling her a barefaced lie. He had agreed to her terms. He had said the words but he hadn’t meant them. Clearly he had been diametrically opposed to a platonic marriage and the first chance he got to change that status quo he had snatched at it.
Just as Ruby had snatched at Raja out in the desert, craving the hot, hard passion of that lean, strong body against hers! Lust, that was all it could have been, and she had given way to that lust and without much of a struggle. It didn’t matter how much she blamed the upsetting circumstances of their kidnapping for what had transpired. In her heart she knew that nothing would ever have happened between them had she not found Raja al-Somari downright irresistible in the flesh.
But it seemed that Raja had made love to her for much more prosaic reasons than mere desire. He had slept with her to consummate their marriage, to make it a real marriage and ensure that she was less able to walk away easily. How much did he really find her attractive? Was it even possible that he was the sort of guy who had set out to bring her down simply because she defied his wishes and expectations? How many women had actually said no to Prince Raja with his fabulous looks and even more fabulous wealth? Had she only made herself an irresistible challenge?
Her eyes prickled with stinging tears of humiliation that rolled slowly down her face in the moonlight that filtered through the windows, which had no curtains. She had never had the power to guess what went on in Raja’s arrogant, dark head. Their confrontation tonight had been an education. He had been a total mystery to her and a dangerously fascinating one at that, she acknowledged painfully.
Possibly she had been overdue for the experience of meeting a man who affected her more than she affected him. Had she got too full of herself? Too convinced she could not be fooled or hurt by a man? She had assumed she could call the shots with Raja and he had just proved that she could not. The guy she had stupidly married was much colder, more astute and ruthless than she could ever be. Raja had manipulated her into doing what he wanted her to do when she slept with him and in doing so he had crushed Ruby’s pride to dust.
Hermione was standing guard over Ruby’s sleep when Raja entered the room soon after dawn. With a snarl, the little dog launched herself at him and he caught the animal. He suffered a bite on his arm before he got the frenzied little dog under control and deposited her outside the suite with a word of command to the guards standing outside to take care of her. Raja then strolled quietly back across the room to study his soundly sleeping wife. She didn’t take up much space on the sofa and she looked achingly young. Below the tousled mane of blonde hair, only her profile was visible. He could see the silvery tear tracks marking her cheek and he cursed under his breath, his conscience pierced afresh. He had screwed up, he had screwed up royally. He should have kept his mouth shut. Lying didn’t come easily to him but the truth had done way too much damage.
Somehow he had to redress that damage and make their marriage work. With no previous experience in the marital department and only a long unhelpful history of unscrupulous mistresses to fall back on, Raja felt unusually weak on the necessary strategy required to make a wife happy. Particularly a wife as unusual as Ruby. An apology would probably be in order. It was not that he had done anything he shouldn’t have done, he reasoned in frustration, more a question of accepting that in her eyes he was guilty and that for the sake of better marital relations he had to respond accordingly. He would buy her something as a gift, as well. Flowers? His nostrils flared and he grimaced. Flowers had the same nauseous effect on him as poetry. Diamonds? He had never met a woman who didn’t melt when he gave her diamonds…
CHAPTER EIGHT
FROM her small collection of clothing, Ruby selected a black dress she had bought to wear at her mother’s funeral and a beige cotton c
asual jacket. She would be too warm in the garments but they would have to do because she couldn’t wear the red suit again. Some minimal make-up applied to conceal the puffiness of her eyes and her pallor, her hair caught up in a high ponytail for coolness, Ruby forced herself to walk out to the dining area and join Raja for breakfast.
‘Good morning…’ Raja murmured lazily as if they had not parted at odds the night before.
‘Good morning.’ One glance at that handsome face and her mouth ran dry and her heart thumped loudly behind her breastbone, while a tiny heated knot of reaction pulled taut in her pelvis and made her clench her thighs together as she took a seat opposite him. Face burning with discomfiture, she suddenly didn’t blame herself any more for succumbing to Raja’s lethal sex appeal. He was a heartbreakingly beautiful man. Her biggest weakness was her failure to appreciate how clever and calculating he might be, but now that she did know she would be a great deal more cautious.
‘I’ve made arrangements for a new wardrobe to be assembled for you in Najar,’ Raja informed her.
‘I do need more clothes. I don’t own dressy outfits but I wouldn’t want anything too expensive or flashy,’ Ruby responded thoughtfully as he poured tea for her and she buttered a roll. ‘The state this country is in, it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to be dressed up like some sort of celebrity.’
‘Wajid would disagree with you. He thinks life is too dull here and that you will bring some much-needed colour and the promise that brighter times lie ahead. Here you are a celebrity, whether you like it or not, and celebrities dress up.’
Zuhrah joined them along with her male administrative counterpart, Asim, who organised Raja’s diary. Ruby’s engagements at the orphanage and at a school were discussed and useful sheets of facts tucked into a file for her. She could not help noticing that the heavy-duty visits, like one to a homeless camp and another to a makeshift hospital, fell on Raja’s shoulders, Wajid evidently having decided such venues were no place for a lady. A lighter note was struck when a maid appeared with a crystal vase filled with the most exquisite white roses, which she placed on the table.
‘Oh, how lovely!’ Ruby got to her feet to lean down and draw in the rich opulent perfume of the perfect blooms and only then noticed the gift envelope inscribed with her name. She recognised Raja’s distinctive handwriting immediately. Eyes veiling, her facial muscles freezing, she took the card and sat down again to open it with pronounced reluctance.
I am sorry for upsetting you. Raja
Her teeth gritted. She reckoned there was never a truer word written than that apt phrase but she was unimpressed by the apology, for a wife barely able to look at him never mind speak to him was naturally a problem he had to fix. No doubt any effort made towards that objective would be all for the greater good and the peace treaty, as well.
‘Thank you,’ she said with the wooden intonation of a robot and gave him an even more wooden smile purely for the benefit of their audience of staff. Wajid would have been proud of her, she reflected bleakly. Instead of throwing the vase at her royal husband she had smiled at him, showing a restraint in her opinion that raised her near to sainthood. After all, had he been sincerely sorry would he not just have apologised across the table?
Ruby didn’t do a good fake smile, Raja acknowledged wryly while he wondered if it had been accidental or deliberate that at one point she had actually pushed the vase of roses out of her way to lay down her file. And then he could not credit that he had actually spared the brain power to wonder about something so trivial! He left the room to phone his jeweller and explain what he wanted: a diamond of the very highest calibre. Raja did not embarrass easily but her silence over breakfast had embarrassed him. He did not want their differences paraded in front of their staff for inevitably it would lead to gossip and the news that their marriage was in trouble would enter the public domain very soon afterwards.
Wajid accompanied Ruby to the orphanage and revealed that Raja had requested that he do so as soon as he had realised that Wajid had scheduled them to make visits separately.
‘His Royal Highness is very protective of you,’ Wajid told her with approval. ‘When he is unable to be with you he wants you to have every possible means of support.’
It occurred to Ruby that that was paradoxical when Raja seemed to have the power to wound her more than anyone else. His protectiveness meant nothing, she reasoned unhappily. The prince was simply one of those very masculine men who deemed a woman to be more helpless and instinctively expected to have to take care of her. That in the desert she had proven him right on that score still blasted a giant hole in her self-esteem. But why did she feel so unhappy? Why had he hurt her as no other man had ever succeeded in doing since her stepfather had gone out of her life?
It hadn’t just been sex for her, Ruby conceded reluctantly, striving to be honest about that. Raja was strong and clever and resourceful and she admired those traits. Add in his looks, boundless sex appeal and equally extensive charm and her defensive barriers had begun crumbling so fast she had barely registered the fact. Of course she had never met the equal of Raja al-Somari before. He came from a different world and culture but he had also been shaped by every educational advantage and great wealth and status. Twenty-odd years earlier, Ruby’s mother Vanessa had made the mistake of falling in love with just such a man. Was Ruby about to make the same mistake? Not if she could help it.
The limousine in which she was travelling drew up outside the orphanage, a cluster of relatively modern buildings that had mercifully not been targeted by the Najari soldiers. As the older couple she had met at the reception the night before appeared on the steps to welcome them, Ruby had no more time for introspection. She had always loved children. As her visit progressed she was alternately appalled by the scale of loss many of the children had suffered in losing their entire families and then touched by the resilience of their spirits. The orphanage was in dire need of more trained staff, bedding and toys but most of the children were still able to laugh and smile and play.
One little girl attached herself to Ruby almost as soon as she appeared by sliding her tiny hand into hers. About three years old, Leyla had big dark eyes, a tangle of black curls and a thumb firmly lodged in her rosebud mouth.
The orphanage director was surprised by the little girl’s behaviour and explained that she was rather withdrawn with the staff. Leyla’s parents had died during the war. Unfortunately there was no tradition of adoption in Ashuri society and many people were struggling just to feed their own families. Leyla clinging to her skirt, Ruby spent the most time with the younger children and listened while a story was being told. When the time came for Ruby to leave, Leyla clung to Ruby as if her life depended on it and, lifted from her, wept inconsolably. Ruby was surprised at how difficult she found it to part with Leyla. Just the feel and scent of that warm little body curled trustingly in her arms had made her eyes sting with tears. All of a sudden her own problems seemed to shrink in comparison.
Ignoring Wajid’s disapproving expression, Ruby promised to come back and visit in the evening. Their next visit to a temporary school housed in tents was a good deal more brisk but also less formal as Ruby mingled with teenagers and answered their questions as best she could, trying not to wince or stiffen when the court advisor admonished those he considered were being too familiar with his royal companion.
‘I don’t like formality. I’m more of a hands-on person and that’s the only style I’m comfortable with,’ Ruby informed the older man as they drove off.
‘Royalty should be more reserved,’ Wajid preached.
A determined look in her level eyes that Raja would have recognised, Ruby said quietly, ‘I’ll carry out my engagements as the ordinary person that I am, Wajid. I can only do this kind of thing because I like mingling with people and chatting to them.’
‘Princess Bariah would not have dreamt of lifting a crying child,’ the older man was reduced to telling her.
‘I am not Bariah. I grew
up in a different society.’
‘One day soon you will be a queen and such familiarity from your subjects would seem disrespectful.’
Aware that a man old enough to be her grandfather was almost certain to cherish a less liberal viewpoint on suitable behaviour, Ruby dropped the subject. But she had not noticed Raja standing on ceremony with their guests at the reception the evening before. He had appeared equally friendly and courteous with everybody.
When she got back to the palace she was so tired she lay down. For quite some time she thought sadly about Leyla. The little girl had touched her heart and she was wishing that there were something she could do to help her before she finally fell asleep for several hours. She wakened when a maid knocked to deliver a garment bag. Unzipping it, she extracted an opulent sapphire-blue evening dress and high-heeled shoes. Her expression thoughtful, she checked the size of both.
Only minutes later, Raja joined her in the bedroom.
‘Did you organise this?’ she asked, extending the dress.
‘Yes. This evening you’ll be meeting friends and relatives of your late uncle and his family. You would feel ill-at-ease if you were underdressed in such a gathering,’ Raja forecast smoothly.
‘You even got my sizes right,’ Ruby remarked, thinking how very, very handsome he was, even when in need of a good shave, for dark stubble clearly accentuated the sensual curve of his sculpted mouth. ‘You’re obviously used to buying clothes for women.’
A slight frown at that remark drawing his ebony brows together, Raja swung fluidly away to remove his jacket and made no response.
But Ruby was not so easily deflected. ‘Are you in the habit of buying for your sisters?’
‘They do their own shopping,’ Raja admitted.
