by Lynne Graham
‘Is it?’
‘That law was not made to allow a child to rampage out of control! I was reluctant to deprive Rafi of the nursemaids who have looked after him since he was a baby but I see now, it must be done. He has to be taught how to behave.’
‘What age is he?’
‘Four…old enough and bright enough to know better. I shall deal with him.’ Tariq headed for the door like a male with a target and a definite purpose in mind.
Faye rushed after him. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I can see what you think I’m going to do but you’re wrong,’ Tariq spelt out in impatient reproof as he read her anxious expression. ‘I may know little about children but I hope I know enough not to repay violence with violence. I will talk to him and remove certain privileges as a punishment.’
‘I’m sorry about what I said a moment ago. It’s just I was upset about the whole thing…but Rafi’s awfully young and, having lost both his parents, probably very unhappy—’
‘I know these things but I also fear that he has his mother’s cruelty in him.’
Left standing, Faye chewed at her lower lip, wondering why she felt so troubled and why on earth she should feel so involved. It was nothing to do with her and she was certainly no authority on childcare. However, she was terribly relieved that Tariq had been furious about the episode which she had witnessed. At least, she hadn’t been totally wrong about his character the year before when she had honestly believed that, with very little effort, he might walk on water…
Fourteen months ago, Adrian had been invited to his commanding officer’s wedding at which Tariq had been the guest of honour. Heavily pregnant at the time, Lizzie had decided to stay home and Adrian had asked Faye to accompany him instead.
‘Come on, sis,’ Adrian reproved when she tried to turn him down. ‘Since Mum died, all you’ve done is hang out with horses. I know you’re shy but you need to get out occasionally.’
The day of the wedding, Adrian’s car refused to start and, much to his dismay, they had to use Faye’s ancient little hatchback instead. A poor passenger, her brother honed her nerves to screaming point during that drive. Her less than pleasant day out then got going with a real bang when, stressed beyond belief in her efforts to find a parking space at the church, she reversed her car into Tariq’s stretch limo.
As aghast as if she had killed somebody, Adrian leapt out and started shouting at her. ‘What do you mean you didn’t see it? It’s as big as the blasted Titanic!’
Welded to the bonnet of her car to stay upright and shaking with reaction, Faye stared in even greater horror at the dark-skinned excitable men erupting out of the limo. Then the passenger door opened and Tariq climbed out with un-hurried grace. Silencing his bodyguards, he strolled across the tarmac to where her brother, who had his back turned to him, was still ranting.
‘How could you do something so stupid?’ Adrian was seething.
But Faye’s attention had already been captured by the tall, dark, incredibly handsome male smiling at her. A smile that literally talked. Sympathetic, concerned, charming. Her heart started beating very fast. From his wonderful smile, her gaze travelled upward to encounter spectacular lion gold eyes that made her feel breathless, boneless and pretty much mindless too. Within seconds of first seeing Prince Tariq Shazad ibn Zachir, Faye was mesmerised.
Ignoring Adrian, Tariq strode straight to her side. ‘You’re suffering from shock. You must sit down.’
‘B-but…but your car—’
‘It is nothing. Please do not consider it.’
He urged her back to his limo where a guard already had a door open. Guiding her down on to the edge of the leather seat, he murmured something in his own language in aside and then said to her, ‘Try to calm yourself. Nothing that need concern you has happened.’
‘Your Royal Highness…er…’ Adrian began in a strained and apologetic undertone from behind him ‘…Prince Tariq…my sister…er…well, I’ll see to her, no need for you to be bothered…’
‘Thank you but I am not easily bothered.’ Tariq passed a crystal tumbler of iced mineral water into Faye’s hand. He gazed down into her eyes and her heartbeat went so far into earthquake mode she felt literally dizzy. He smiled again. Straightening, he then turned to extend a hand to her brother and speak to him.
It was Adrian who then hurried Faye back out of the limo. Walking away from Tariq, all Faye was able to think about was whether she would ever get to speak to him again. She felt…sent, no longer grounded on solid earth. Butterflies in her tummy and excitement pulsing through her in a crazy flood.
‘I’ve never thought about it before but I suppose you are quite beautiful.’ Her brother treated her to a frowning appraisal inside the church. ‘Nothing like looks saving your skin, sis! You reversed into a giant stationary vehicle that a blind man could have avoided. Yet His Royal Highness chose to insist that his limo was parked in the wrong place, that non-existent sunlight must have reflected off your mirror and that he will pay for the repairs to your car!’
‘Oh…is he…is he really a prince?’ she muttered.
‘About as real as they come,’ Adrian said drily. ‘Commander-in-chief of his own army and acting feudal ruler of the Gulf state of Jumar. Hamza, his father, is supposed to be on his last legs and Prince Tariq has already taken on all of the old man’s public engagements abroad.’
Her heart sank at that dismaying confirmation for even the smallest spark of common sense warned that a male of that status was out of her reach, but still curiosity had to be quenched. ‘Married?’
‘No. What’s that to you?’
‘I was just wondering. He’s awfully nice—’
‘Nice?’ Adrian grimaced. ‘Look, I may not have actually spoken to the chap before today but, according to what I’ve heard, he’s faster than a jump jet with women! Thankfully, you’re far too young to interest him.’
‘Too young? I’m nineteen next month!’
‘Oh, wow…’ Adrian rolled his eyes, unimpressed. ‘Well, you’re still safe as houses. I doubt that Prince Tariq is the kind of creep who takes advantage of starry-eyed kids!’
A fateful and unfortunate conversation which within the space of hours led to the first outright lie which Faye had told since she had outgrown childish fibbing. At the reception, Adrian soon abandoned her for the more convivial company of his fellow officers and Tariq strolled over to speak to her. ‘May I join you?’
And even a year on, Faye had to admit that lying never came so easily or so naturally to her again. For the first time in her life she wanted to impress a man and not with the image of some starry-eyed kid, and she knew she had only that one chance for there was little likelihood that they would ever meet again.
‘Hardly anybody knows you here but one who does referred to you as a teenager.’ Tariq made that lazy comment only after asking her if she was fully recovered from the episode in the church car park.
‘People really do lose track of the passage of time when they don’t see you for a few years.’ Hugely aware of his lustrous dark golden eyes resting on her, she ran far from idle fingers through the glossy fall of her silvery fair hair. She knew he could barely drag his admiring attention from her crowning glory and she gave him what she hoped was a mature and yet teasing smile. ‘I may not be that tall but I’m actually twenty-three years old.’
‘You don’t look it,’ he murmured frankly.
‘That’s the fresh country girl bloom,’ she told him, batting her eyelashes.
And that was it, that was how easy it had been. Her sole objective had been that she should not be excluded from attracting his interest by her age alone. She had not thought further than that, had foreseen no potential problems in the future because at that point, before he’d even asked her out, it had not occurred to her that they might have a future of any kind.
‘I would like to see you again,’ he said then.
‘When?’ she prompted, ditching her attempt at older woman cool.
Tariq stilled in surprise and then the beginnings of an amused smile tugged at the corners of his beautiful mouth. ‘Wait and see.’
And the roses began arriving the next day. White roses every day, white roses that filled the house with their rich perfume. No card but she knew, of course she knew, they were from him and she dreamed away every hour, leapt every time the phone rang, but it took him a week to call her.
‘Tell him you’re booked up!’ Lizzie printed on the phone pad when she realised Faye was speaking to Tariq.
Faye gave her sister-in-law an agonised look. At the shortest possible notice, she would have walked barefoot all the way to London in a thunderstorm to see Tariq!
‘I’m sorry, I can’t make it…’
Perhaps another time, Lizzie mouthed at her to repeat and made shocking faces at her until she did so.
‘You’ve got a lot to learn, kiddo.’ Her sister-in-law groaned when Faye was in tears after Tariq rang off without having suggested an alternative. ‘If you want to be kissed off after one date, go ahead and show him how keen you are!’
Only four years older than Faye, Lizzie thought it was all a terrific laugh. When Tariq called Adrian and invited the entire family out to dinner instead, it was also Lizzie who took her husband aside before they went out the following evening to warn Adrian not to drop Faye in it with Tariq about her age.
‘I don’t like the fact you’ve lied at all.’ Adrian looked at his hot-faced sister with surprise and strong disapproval.
‘Give it a rest, Adrian.’ Percy backed Faye up and startled her. ‘It’s not like this little flirtation is likely to go anywhere, is it? Not with him being a royal prince. Let your sister enjoy herself. If a squeaky clean night out for the whole flippin’ family is this bloke’s idea of a hot date, what have you got to worry about?’
In the weeks which followed, Faye worked very hard at telling herself that there was no future in any relationship with Tariq but it did not stop her falling head over heels in love with him. Indeed, realising just how much she loved him soon made her feel very vulnerable and increasingly desperate. Once his father died, she was convinced that she would be ditched and forgotten about because Tariq would be spending more time in Jumar than abroad. Believing that her time with him was running out, believing she was never going to love anyone the way she loved him, she reached an impulsive decision that subsequently proved to be the biggest mistake of her life.
It was so ironic, Faye reflected in mortification as she returned to the present in the tranquil beauty of the Muraaba palace: a year ago, Tariq had sounded so utterly shocked when she’d invited him to spend the night at her home and made it clear that they would be quite alone there. But it was really his own fault that her stupid and unwise invitation had not led to any actual intimacy.
Nervous as she had been, she had tried to create a special ambience for a romantic evening with the man she had loved. The very last thing she had wanted was a guy who showed up late and crushed her tender naïve expectations by saying things like, ‘I won’t be staying all night. I never do when I am with a woman.’
Or: ‘Why must we eat now? I am more likely to be hungry after sex than before it.’
And finally: ‘How many other men have you done this with?’
At what had to have been the ultimate put-down for a virgin, Faye had spilled wine all over herself, burst into floods of tears and raced upstairs. Sticky and reeking of alcohol, she had got into the shower to wash. When she had returned to her bedroom, wrapped only in a bath towel, Tariq had been waiting there. Mere minutes later, Percy had walked in on them and the trap as such had snapped shut without her even appreciating the fact for she had fled back to the bathroom in embarrassment and Tariq had left the house by the time she’d emerged again.
Faye closed her eyes and literally flinched from her memories. What a total idiot she had been to throw herself at Tariq like that! Carried away by her own imagination, she had begun behaving as if she were involved in some great tragic love affair. She had refused to see that that affair as such had existed only in her own head. The humiliating truth was that, in spite of a series of incredibly romantic outings, Tariq had never mentioned love. Indeed, apart from a few light kisses and a little discreet hand-holding, she might well have been a platonic friend. So it was hardly surprising that, after such minor flirtation, Tariq had been pretty taken aback when she’d suddenly chosen to surrender to her own far more passionate inclinations and asked him to spend the night with her! Resting back against the comfortable cushions, Faye slowly drifted to sleep on uneasy acknowledgements that still filled her with pain and deep, deep chagrin.
Faye woke up, dimly conscious of motion, of being too warm, yet of feeling strangely secure in the arms that held her. Arms?
‘Be still…’ As she stirred Tariq’s dark deep-timbred drawl sounded, commanding even when quiet, she noted without surprise.
‘What…wh-where?’ Her eyes opened in the same instant as he laid her down on a comfortable yielding surface. She had a hazy impression of a big sunlit room but the recognition of the reality that she was on a huge canopied bed hit her with more striking effect. At incredible speed, she reared up off the pillows and flipped backwards off the bed again, landing upright like a trained gymnast.
From the far side of the mattress, Tariq surveyed her with transfixed golden eyes. Then he shook his dark head slightly as if he was questioning what he had just witnessed.
‘Lucky fall…’ Faye was furious and embarrassed by her own instinctive and childish reaction. The couple who had looked after her late mother had at one time been circus performers. As a child, with a brother who was frequently ill and a parent who had bad days too, Faye had spent a lot of time with Pearl and Stan. To keep her amused, the kindly couple had taught her some of their skills.
His aristocratic brows drew together. ‘How…and why did you do that?’
How? She didn’t want to answer that for there was nothing very cool or sophisticated about circus tricks in the bedroom. But her heart hammered, her mouth running dry on that second question. Why? Why did he have to be so gorgeous? Why did her rebellious brain throw up a mental image of them entwined in loverlike intimacy on that silk-draped decadent bed? Lust, her conscience told her in reproof, while her gaze rested on his lean, powerful face and, without her seeming volition, widened to take in inch by appreciative inch his long, lithe, muscular physique. The heat she despised sparked a licking, taunting flame in her pelvis. She reddened, shifted her feet, pressed her thighs together in a desperate effort to quench that treacherous response.
‘You frightened me,’ she condemned on a sudden brain-wave, hoping to shift the focus of the dialogue from her acrobatic talents.
‘How did I frighten you?’ Tariq threw his proud dark head back, a level challenge etched in his darkly handsome features.
He was fairly leaping for the red herring she had proffered. But, in a sense, it was true that he frightened her, Faye acknowledged ruefully. However, it was her own lack of control she feared and his power over her. She just looked at him and he sent her traitorous body haywire. Intelligence didn’t get a look-in. She did not need to ask herself why she had turned herself into a lying pushover a year ago!
‘Under no circumstances would I ever hurt a woman.’ As Tariq made that declaration, feverish colour scored his hard cheekbones.
It was extraordinary but he made her feel guilty. Faye backed away from the bed and moved her hands in a rueful dismissive motion. ‘I don’t want to be here and you know that—’
Tariq now viewed her with steady cool. ‘You made the choice.’
‘Between a rock and a hard place?’
‘Welcome to how I felt on the day of our wedding. Trapped like an animal!’ Tariq spelt out, shocking her with that allusion. ‘No choice but to accede to the lesser evil of marrying you. My father was dying. You knew that. What a comfort it would have been for him to learn in his last week of life that his son and heir had
been exposed in some English tabloid as the sordid seducer of a teenage girl!’
Her lashes lowered, her lovely face bled free of colour. ‘But you didn’t—’
‘I need no reminder of that fact.’ Venting a derisive laugh, Tariq strolled forward to capture both her hands in his. He tugged her to him as easily as if she had been a doll. ‘What are the odds of my letting you go untouched a second time? A billion to one?’
The atmosphere sizzled. Tension curled her every nerve-ending. ‘Tariq…’
He released her hands and framed her flushed cheekbones with splayed fingers instead. Molten gold eyes inspected her with hungry precision. His intense gaze enthralled her. She breathed in brief rapid bursts. Excitement was shivering through her in delicious little waves. Excitement was rising in her as fast as her body temperature. Excitement that literally consumed every rational thought.
One hand pushing into her hair, he ran a sensual forefinger along the line of her full lower lip, watched her pupils dilate, her moist pink lips part. And then he met that invitation with the hot devouring hunger of his mouth. For her, the effect was instant conflagration. Every skin cell charged up on the passion he had never shown her before and just went wild. Her hands slid beneath his suit jacket, found silk shirt, clawed it away, finally reached skin, warm, smooth skin covering hard whipcord muscles. She felt him shudder against her, all potent male power and promise, and she melted with liquid longing.
Tariq moulded his hands to the feminine curve of her hips and hauled her closer still, crushing her sensitised breasts to the hard wall of his chest. Low in her throat she moaned acquiescence to the plunging penetration of his tongue. On fire, she gasped, shivering violently, out of control, mindless…ecstatic. With a driven groan, Tariq dragged her back from him.
