‘What is between us, Zafir?’ The earnestly asked question halted him and he looked into those soft brown eyes, now swirling with desire. How could he answer that when he didn’t know himself? Damn it, he didn’t even want anything to be between them. She could not be his destiny, his future, despite her name.
‘Something that shouldn’t be there, but is.’ He looked at her lips, so soft and inviting, wanting nothing more than to feel them beneath his. Whatever it was that had exploded to life between them that one night was now calling to him again. He was like a man possessed. All he wanted was her. ‘And I cannot walk away from it—not yet, not until every last flame has been extinguished.’
‘One night,’ she whispered as her pupils enlarged, obliterating the soft brown of her eyes almost completely. ‘That was all you said we could have. Just one night. So why more?’
‘I have a duty to perform, Destiny. I must select a bride from a list chosen for me. Duty is the mantra by which I have lived my life and marriage is a duty I cannot avoid, but I am not yet married and, for a short while, I want to give us a chance to explore the attraction which exists between us. Can you deny it is there now, drawing us closer, despite everything?’
‘But...’
He silenced her protest, pressing his lips to hers, kissing her like a man who’d been in the desert for many days. As he pulled her close, he relished the feel of her body against his and knew he didn’t care about anything other than making her his once more. For two weeks he was free to be a different man, one not bound by duty and obligation to his kingdom.
For two weeks she would be his.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FOR TWO WEEKS Destiny had lost herself in the oblivion of being with Zafir and she had to force herself to remember it was nothing more than lust, that she was in Kezoban only to secure her future and her freedom from her father. It would be so easy to fall in love with Zafir and it was only the knowledge that she was just his latest mistress that kept her from doing so.
There had been times she’d wanted to call and confide in her sister, but the mere fact that she was having such a relationship with a man like Zafir would set the alarm bells ringing for Milly and she didn’t want to worry her when they were so far apart. Neither did she want to admit that those alarm bells were also sounding in her own head.
Zafir represented everything she’d always wanted to avoid in a man. He was controlling, dominating and so handsome women would surely fall at his feet. And she’d done the same, as if drawn by forces she had no understanding of and little ability to resist.
As days had turned to weeks, she’d known he would announce it was over, that it was time for him to do his duty and select his bride. But how could she go back to her life in England and forget the passion, the desire they’d shared each and every night?
The first light of dawn crept in, tracing intricate patterns on the marble floor as it shone through the carvings around the archway and, as always, it signalled Zafir’s return to his suite, to his duty as the Sheikh of Kezoban. But, just as last night had felt different, this morning was different too.
Instinctively, she knew exactly what was happening—their time together had come to an end. His insatiable need for her last night had been about goodbye, but she wished he’d warned her. Instead now she would have to pack up all the memories of being with Zafir and stand back whilst he chose his bride.
‘I am leaving the palace today.’ He turned onto his side, propping himself on his elbow and looked at her, but she couldn’t meet his gaze, not when her mind was so full of wishful thinking. ‘I shall be away for at least a week.’
She forced herself to be as strong as he was and sat up in bed, looking at him, but she didn’t trust herself to say anything, not yet, not when her emotions were so dazed by something she’d known all along would happen.
Zafir sat up, pulling her close, kissing her with a passion which lingered from the night and she couldn’t help herself. She moved closer against his naked body, the sheets of the bed only just allowing her some modesty.
‘And when you return, you will be engaged.’ It wasn’t a question but a statement. She’d known all along that she could never be more than a passing affair for him, his final mistress before he married, but it still hurt, still cut deep.
He sighed as he moved, swinging his legs to sit on the edge of the bed, giving her a tantalising view of his strong bronzed back. She wanted to reach out and stroke her fingers over his skin, to feel his strength and power in every muscle, but he was no longer hers, even though she would always be his.
‘It is my duty.’ He stood up and, unashamedly naked, crossed the white marble floor to the robes he’d discarded last night with such haste. She drank him in, committing every last bit of him to memory. He pulled the white robes over his body and his dark gaze met hers across the expanse of her bedroom, the fire of passion now extinguished. Already he’d distanced himself. ‘I am expected to produce heirs for my country.’
‘I know,’ she said firmly, determined not to cling to him or what they’d shared. She would show nothing but dignity and strength. ‘My work with Majeed is almost complete and I will soon return to my life in England.’
She forced herself to think professionally, although her state of undress made that difficult, and clutched the sheet against her. She had to remember why she was here, why she’d even agreed to Zafir’s demand that she work with his horse. She was in danger of falling in love with a man who could never love her, just as her mother had done. Replicating more of her mother’s life story was her biggest fear.
The ever-present shadow of how her mother had died haunted her, making motherhood an almost impossible choice. So even if Zafir told her right now he wanted to make her his wife, she couldn’t, not when children would be of paramount importance. She just couldn’t risk leaving her child alone in the world, not when she and Milly knew only too well what it was like to lose their mother so young.
‘You will come to my office before I leave—to discuss Majeed’s progress.’ The briskness of his tone told her he’d already switched from lover to Sheikh. What they’d shared was over.
‘As you wish.’ There was a crisp edge to her voice too, one born out of the need to survive. ‘Once I have finished working Majeed, I will come directly to your office.’
He stopped and looked at her, his eyes as black as midnight, glittering in a way she’d never seen before. His heavy brows snapped together and she instinctively clutched the sheet tighter against her. This was not the way she’d envisaged their affair ending, not with such harshness on his handsome face.
He didn’t say anything but held her gaze for a moment longer before striding out of the room and towards the doors which led to the palace gardens, as usual avoiding being seen by anyone in the palace. She knew he would now ride in the desert, then attend his duties before flying his hawk, a routine he’d kept to for the last two weeks. Had that been as cover for their secret nights together?
Pain rushed through her. Why had she allowed herself to become not only his mistress, but his secret mistress? A guilty pleasure he could never acknowledge. She’d barely even kissed a man before she’d arrived in Kezoban. So what had changed so drastically?
* * *
She was late. Zafir paced his office, waiting for Destiny to report on Majeed’s progress, still irritated by her cool acceptance of his intended departure and now her inability to keep her word. He seriously considered marching down to the stables to see her. Had she been so pliant over the ending of their affair because she thought she had new power over him?
That would be a serious error of judgement. Nobody had power over him. He was the only son of the Sheikh of Kezoban—he’d been taught to be commanding even from a young age. Anything less would have been to let his father down, a man he’d admired and wanted to please. When his father had died he’d become the youngest ruler Kezoban had ever had at just twenty-four and now, six years later, the days of doing what he wanted w
ere over. He had a duty to his people, his country—even Tabinah had failed to understand that.
He growled an oath, causing his aide to look suspiciously at him. For the first time in his life he wished he didn’t have a duty to honour to his country. He wished he could be free to be the man Destiny wanted. The man she needed. He’d had affairs before, broken the ties many times, but never had it been as hard as this morning. As she’d looked at him, defiance shining in her eyes, he’d forced himself to remember that duty had to come first, which meant his feelings towards Destiny must be sacrificed. He’d made his father a promise just before he’d died, to always put his duty to Kezoban before anything and it was one promise he intended to keep.
As if conjured up by his thoughts, a servant entered, escorting Destiny to his office. This would be the last time he saw her before duty consumed him, taking him along the path of an arranged marriage. He had no real wish for marriage, but after Tabinah’s death it was necessary, not only for the succession of his family as rulers of Kezoban, but for the promise he’d made to his father.
As Destiny walked in, he noticed her chin was just a little higher than usual and a spark of defiance glittered in those lovely eyes. Was this as hard for her as it was for him? Did she yearn for more nights like those they’d shared? He pushed the thought savagely aside. That was all in the past and it was time to do his duty and move forward.
‘How is Majeed?’ He kept the subject on the reason for her presence here in his kingdom, in his life. The reason she’d driven such a hard bargain. If he asked how she was, he would want more. He would want to hold her, to kiss her and make her his again, but he’d done that in the early hours for the last time and it couldn’t happen again.
‘His progress is good. He is responding well now and my work will very soon be complete.’ She looked straight at him, her eyes hard, almost brittle. Beside him, he knew his aide was watching them. He could feel the other man’s questions and suspicion, sense the scrutiny that was barely concealed. Anger simmered inside him. If it was so noticeable that there was something between him and Destiny then all his care to protect not only her reputation but his had been to no avail.
He’d never before so much as touched a woman in his palace. The life of a bachelor prince had been played out on foreign shores. The fact that Destiny had tempted him to even consider such an affair, right here in his palace, spoke volumes for the intensity of the attraction he had for her. But he could not act on it any longer.
Zafir turned on his aide, the harshness of his voice unintended. ‘Leave us,’ he commanded in English so that Destiny would know what had been said.
‘Sire?’ the man questioned as he looked at him.
‘Leave us.’ The command in his voice reverberated around the white walls of his office and for a moment he thought he saw Destiny flinch, but when he looked at her properly she was as defiant as he’d ever seen her—and beautiful.
‘I thought discretion was needed.’ Her words slammed into him as the door of his office closed with a loud click behind his aide. ‘If that little display doesn’t alert suspicion it will be a miracle.’
‘I am the Sheikh and I am about to leave the palace to meet with the families of potential brides. I insist on just a few moments alone with you.’ The words fired out as he gave vent to his irritation.
Her gorgeous brown eyes, so full of emotion, sparked with fury as she glared back at him. Her lips were parted and he remembered how she’d kissed him as passion had engulfed her. She was beautiful, tantalising and almost everything he needed in a woman—but it could never be. He would be a fool to consider continuing with such a union. How could he when he’d forced Tabinah into an arranged marriage, making her so unhappy she’d fled the palace under the cover of darkness?
‘We’ve had every night for the last two weeks, Zafir. Each and every one of them was more than “one night.” It’s time to move on with our own paths in life—different paths which should never have crossed.’
She stood firm and rigid. Was she so immune to him, so closed to the pain of saying goodbye that she could stand there like a regal princess who’d been trained since childhood to be so aloof? Such natural poise and decorum proved she could be a suitable bride.
Where had that thought come from? He’d never considered Destiny as anything other than a lover, even though she’d been a virgin. They were of different worlds, different cultures and beliefs, brought together only by their common interest in horses.
Zafir looked at her again, as if seeing her with new eyes. Sunlight streamed in around her from the archways and beyond her lay the desert and, dressed as she was, in clothing of his country, she looked as if she belonged, as if she’d been created especially for the role. Especially for him.
But being his wife was a role. The woman he married would need to be strong of mind and wilful in spirit. She would need to be someone the women of his country could look up to but at the same time she had to be prepared to be one of them. More importantly, she would need to provide him with healthy male heirs to continue his family’s rule and enable him to fulfil the promise he’d made to his dying father.
Fury boiled up. How could he consider marriage for his own selfish reasons when he’d denied Tabinah exactly that?
‘You shouldn’t have dismissed him.’ Destiny’s sharp words snapped him back from the brink of thoughts of what could never be. When he looked at her everything in her stance seemed to confirm not only that she could be all the things he needed but that she was, as if fate was pulling them ever closer.
‘You are right.’ He turned and marched to the ornate arched window which looked out over the desert, the vastness as empty as his life now seemed, knowing Destiny would no longer be in it. But she was right. She had a life in England and he had duty to his family name, his country.
He refocused his thoughts. ‘I should not have sent him away. It was remiss of me.’
As he turned to face her once more, he thought he saw disappointment on her face. He watched as she swallowed, and remembered kissing her neck, tasting the pale creamy skin as she’d lain beneath him, totally consumed by desire.
He shouldn’t be having such thoughts. Passion and desire had never played a serious part in his life. Never had he been able to live far from the shadow cast by the role he’d been born into and yet, somehow, something was changing, shifting like the desert sands, making him long for something different, challenging the duty and honour which drove him.
‘I will leave before you return from your trip.’ The tone of her voice gave nothing away and he fought hard against the urge to go to her, to pull her into his arms and make her come back to life, make her want to be his again. This Destiny was cold. Too cold.
‘As you wish.’ He stood behind the gilt-trimmed desk, hoping to gain some strength from its solidness. He’d never been this emotionally weakened before, but then he’d never had two weeks of passion-filled nights with a woman who set every nerve on fire and stirred needs and desires he’d constantly pushed aside. ‘I will make the arrangements. Mina will inform you when it is done.’
* * *
Destiny opened her eyes and, just as had happened for the last two mornings since Zafir had left, a heavy weight of despair settled over her, pressing her into the bed. It was still early and she tried to close her eyes and sleep, but the hurt caused by Zafir’s lack of emotion or any hint of compassion as they’d talked in his office made her feel physically sick.
She turned restlessly in the bed to face the windows, watching as the daylight chased the darkness away, remembering Zafir leaving her bed, often reluctantly, to slip quietly through the gardens and back to his suite before resuming his usual routine.
That man had been a different man to the Sheikh she’d last faced, the one who was now able to switch off his emotions, making her doubt he’d ever had them. It hurt to acknowledge the last two weeks had all been about sex for him, his final act of recklessness before he settled down to do his duty—ma
rriage for the good of his country.
It should have been as unimportant for her too. It was how she’d wanted it to be. She turned in bed again, trying to push back what she felt, deny its existence, but she couldn’t.
She’d done the worst thing possible. She’d fallen in love with Zafir.
She closed her eyes against the pain of knowing he’d never love her and tried to ignore the nausea which claimed her, churning her stomach so severely she wanted to cry. She never cried. She was strong—she’d had to be and she always would be—but now she was so low, so heartbroken she couldn’t even face dressing and going to the stables.
For the first time since she’d arrived in Kezoban there wasn’t the smallest amount of pleasure or excitement in spending several hours working with such a magnificent stallion as Majeed. With a groan she buried her head beneath the pillow and begged for the oblivion of sleep.
When she woke again it was late and Mina had arrived with a breakfast tray. It was a treat she usually relished, but this morning, knowing she’d said goodbye to the man she’d given her heart to, breakfast, no matter how enticing, was the last thing she wanted.
Her stomach lurched and, without her usual greeting to Mina, she slipped quickly from the bed, dashing to the bathroom, where she splashed cold water on her face in an attempt to quell the heaviness which sat like lead inside her. She looked at the pale reflection of herself and closed her eyes against the washed-out image. How had she come to this? How had a man penetrated all her barriers and attacked her heart? She’d never wanted to be so vulnerable, always telling herself she would never love a man who didn’t show her love. Yet she’d done just that when she’d fallen for Zafir.
Finally she returned to her room to find Mina had set out her breakfast on the table beside the open doors which led to the terrace and the gardens, but the idea of sitting and eating was the last thing she wanted to do. In fact just the thought brought the earlier nausea back with a vengeance.
The Sheikh's Last Mistress (Harlequin Presents) Page 10
