by Andie Brock
‘But along with the pride of being crowned the sheikh comes a loss of freedom.’ He tapped the table impatiently. ‘That’s all I’m saying.’
‘Freedom?’ Nadia repeated the word, her nose wrinkling with scorn. ‘You are lucky to have ever had it to lose.’
He was about to come back with a stinging reply but then stopped in his tracks. Was that true? Was the reason he couldn’t get Nadia to understand his frustration because freedom was something she had never experienced? The stark realisation pulled him up sharply.
‘So I take it growing up in Harith was very constricting?’ He regarded her speculatively.
‘Ha!’ Nadia’s reply was heartfelt. ‘That’s one word for it. You have no idea just how constricting.’
‘Well, tell me, then.’ Zayed leaned back in his chair, crossing one long leg over the other, deliberately swinging the spotlight in her direction. ‘Tell me what it was like.’
‘It was stifling, suffocating, insulting.’ The strength of her feeling swelled the breath in Nadia’s chest, pushing her breasts against the fine silk fabric of her blouse. ‘My life was never my own at all. I was just an appendage, a frippery, something to be dressed up and displayed as an object. As a woman I was never allowed to have an opinion of my own and as the only daughter of the sheikh of Harith I was expected to do as I was told, to obey orders unquestionably.’
Zayed could certainly see that would be a problem in Nadia’s case. ‘What about your brother? Did you not form a relationship with him?’
‘Imran? No, absolutely not. He is his father’s son. Too weak to have a mind of his own or too stupid to even realise that he needs one. When he becomes sheikh of Harith I fear for the people of the kingdom even more.’
‘And you were expected to take orders from him, too?’ Zayed probed further.
‘Yes, of course. I had to. And he took great pleasure in dishing out the punishments. But the more they tried to tighten the straps on the straitjacket, the more determined I was that I was going to break free. I didn’t deliberately want to cause trouble, but I knew that I would never let myself end up like my mother, as much as I love her, with all the spirit drained from her by the overbearing men in her life.’
Zayed stared at the flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes of the young woman opposite him. She had pushed her half-eaten plate of food away from her, as if the memory of her past life had taken away her appetite, and she now stubbornly held his gaze, involuntarily blinking her dark lashes at him.
Suddenly he realised that he had been so caught up in his own life, so furious with the way he had been duped by her, that he had hardly spared a thought for her feelings, for the life she had been so desperate to escape from and the life she now found herself imprisoned in. Was that how Nadia saw him, as just another overbearing man in her life?
He looked down at her delicate hands, the left one, complete with the gold band that he had slid onto her third finger, resting on the table in front of her, the other one clasping her wrist. He had felt those hands skim over his body, his skin tightening and stiffening beneath her touch. He had felt those hands circle his shaft, tentatively feel its weight before stroking the length of him with such a sensitive caress that he had let out a mew like a strangled cat; only the intense pleasure of looking at her face as she had done it stopping him from climaxing there and then, as if the overload of sensual delirium had scrambled his poor brain, leaving it not knowing what to do for the best.
‘So—’ Zayed shifted in his seat, determined to focus on something other than the stirring in his pants ‘—when your betrothal was arranged, that was when you knew you had to leave?’
‘Yes. Otherwise I would have been trapped forever.’
‘You fled from the oppression of your life in Harith only to end up in the very heart of your country’s most bitter enemy. Hardly a sensible decision, if you don’t mind my saying, if you were looking for your freedom.’
‘I wasn’t looking for freedom.’ Nadia glared at him, eyes flashing. ‘I was looking to make a difference. That’s what I keep trying to tell you. I was looking for a way to stop my country from going to war. That’s why I came to Gazbiyaa.’
If Zayed had had any lingering doubts about the truth of Nadia’s claims they were well and truly dispelled now. Her passion and conviction shimmered around her like an aura, lighting up her whole body. There was no doubt that she was genuine, that she had come here to do what she thought was right.
Perhaps it wasn’t surprising that she was so hostile towards him, why she took a swipe at him every opportunity she got. It pained Zayed to admit it, but he could see why he irritated her so much. Nadia had risked everything to be here—risked her life, in fact. Whereas he was here under sufferance, still mourning the life he had left. They had ended up in the same place with the same goals, but one had fought to get here and the other was resentful of it. Suddenly he felt humbled. Maybe he should have accepted the role he now had, the title of sheikh of Gazbiyaa, with more grace, more gratitude. Maybe he should let Nadia in, at least give her a chance.
‘In that case I can only commend your selflessness and bravery.’ He had meant it as a compliment. Nadia had to be the bravest person he had ever met; her spirit and fire all part of what made her so damned attractive. But it seemed as if Nadia didn’t take compliments from him any better than anything else. Far from softening towards him, she had pushed back her shoulders ready for a fight.
‘It’s not selfless or brave. I see it as a privilege to be able to help my country. Unlike you.’
Unlike you. There she went again. A muscle twitched in Zayed’s jaw. If he had been starting to weaken, to see things from her point of view, then her contemptuous attitude had sharply brought him back to his senses. Forget selfless and brave—how about pig-headed and downright sanctimonious? His rational brain was telling him to let it go, that it really didn’t matter what this infuriating woman thought of him. But his irrational brain and the rest of his hopping-mad body were itching to give her a taste of her own medicine.
‘Unlike you I don’t feel it necessary to play the martyr. We all know your sacrifice knows no bounds. You really don’t need to keep shouting it from the rooftops. But perhaps I need to point out that you are not the only one making sacrifices—and before you start, I am not talking about the sacrifice of my previous life. I’m talking about being married to you. Quite frankly, that feels like the biggest sacrifice of all.’
He watched Nadia’s eyes widen with a flash of something that looked like hurt before quickly narrowing again.
‘Well, that goes for me too.’ She tossed back her head with such vehement disdain that the bouncing black curls of her hair positively shone with it. ‘Because, believe me, that is the biggest sacrifice for me, too.’
‘Good.’ He glared back at her. ‘I’m so glad we find something to agree on.’
* * *
Nadia tucked her feet up under her and looked around her. She had come out to one of her favourite hideaways, a relatively small palace courtyard with rows of columns supporting ornate arches on all four sides and cushioned benches tucked inside. A wide rill cut through the abstract pattern of the tiled floor, and now the peaceful scene was floodlit a glowing orange.
She pulled her pashmina more tightly around her shoulders. It was getting cool, the temperature dropping fast. Which was more than she could say about her own.
She didn’t think hers would ever drop below boiling point as far as Zayed was concerned, tonight’s dinner conversation simply proving that point. It seemed they were totally incapable of spending any time together without it descending into tit-for-tat arguments, squabbling over who held the moral high ground and who could hurt the other most. Well, guess what, Zayed had won that one, hands down. His final comment, that she was his biggest sacrifice of all, had sliced through her like a cold steel blade, leaving a chasm of hurt. But at least she had managed to hurl his contempt right back at him, not shown him any sign of the damage his words had
done. Or, worse still, the deep-rooted weakness she had for him.
She hated herself for that weakness. It undermined her, unsettled her, made her question everything she was trying to do here. Why did his cruel words hurt so much? Leave her feeling as she did now, raw and exposed and like a fraud for caring so much. Neither of them had entered this marriage for anything other than practical reasons. How he felt about her shouldn’t matter.
But it did matter. Nadia hugged her arms around herself. For some reason it seemed to matter a lot.
The ringtone of Zayed’s phone had finally ended their bitter exchange, Nadia only too happy to nod her assent when Zayed had asked if she minded if he took the call, seizing it as an excuse to escape. Sweeping out of the room, she had heard him say ‘Clio’, followed by an easy laugh that indicated just how pleased he was to hear from his beautiful British friend, immediately relaxing in a way that he never did in her company. A pang of jealousy joined the pit of misery in her stomach. There was undoubtedly a special connection between these two; Nadia had sensed it at the wedding. But she absolutely refused to let herself think about that now. After all, Clio had just married Stefan, one quarter of the indomitable Columbia Four, one of Zayed’s closest friends. There couldn’t be anything more than friendship between them. Could there?
Lowering her head so that she could look beyond the archway, she stared up into the rectangle of deep blue sky, studded with early stars, hoping to find some comfort in the wider universe. Instead, the wider universe was immediately forgotten as something else caught her eye. Zayed, tall and dark, striding purposefully towards her with what looked like a laptop under his arm.
‘I hope I’m not disturbing you?’
He had seated himself on the bench beside her before she’d had the chance to reply, opening the laptop while she was still untucking her legs and edging away from him. His telephone conversation seemed to have improved his mood.
‘It’s just that I’ve had an idea, something that you could help me with.’
Help him? This was a first. Despite herself, despite their earlier bitter words, Nadia felt her hopes soar. Could it be that he was going to listen to her at last, let her explain her ideas for talks between Harith and Gazbiyaa? She inched back a little closer, glancing at his shadowed profile illuminated by the screen of the laptop.
‘You know I will do whatever I can to help.’
‘That was Clio on the phone.’ Zayed was concentrating on moving his finger over the touchpad of the laptop. ‘She sends her love, by the way.’
Did she indeed? Nadia took in a breath. She had to stop this stupid grudge of jealousy. She was being ridiculous. Clio had been nothing but kind to her.
‘How is she? And Stefan?’
‘Yes, fine.’ Distracted, Zayed offered no more information. ‘Ah, here we are.’ He moved to close the gap between them, turning the laptop so that she could see the screen better. She could feel his denim-covered thigh branding its warmth onto her skin. ‘I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this to you, but I am one of the founder members of a charity, The Knights of Columbia.’ He turned to look at her briefly. ‘That’s me, Christian, Stefan and—’
‘Rocco. Yes, I know.’
‘I’m not sure which one of us named it but none of us is owning up to it now.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Anyway, this is the website.’ She could sense his pride as he leaned in closer. Sense the strength and heat of his masculine body too, now that he was so close. Just for a second she let herself savour the intimacy of the moment. The two of them side by side, in the dimly glowing light of their almost cosy recess of the courtyard.
‘The success of the charity has exceeded our most idealistic dreams, but the downside of that is the pressure of keeping it all going.’ He really had the most lovely voice, deep and dark and compelling. ‘None of us have had much time to devote to it lately, and Clio has just reminded me that if we want to keep a healthy balance sheet we need to keep chasing the donations.’
‘What is the charity for?’ Clutching on to her runaway senses, she focused on asking a sensible question.
‘Here, this is the mission statement.’ Zayed moved the cursor. ‘Basically we are funding disadvantaged youngsters who deserve a good education but don’t have the money to pay for it. Educating kids out of poverty, if you like. Like I say, it’s been wildly successful.’
Nadia didn’t doubt it. The images of smiling young people now scrolling endlessly across the screen had to be a testament to that.
‘What we need is someone to keep a track of the benefactors, remind them of the importance of the work they are supporting, make sure they are spreading the word, that sort of thing. We employ a small team of people and Clio has taken on the role of finance director, which is fantastic, but she could do with some help. Basically these philanthropists appreciate the personal touch. Direct contact from one of the Knights seems to be the fastest way to get them to open their wallets.’
‘But I am only the wife of a Knight.’ Nadia slanted him a doubtful look. ‘Will that count?’
‘Hmm, probably not.’ If she had been hoping for confirmation of the importance of her role, Zayed’s pondering reply had squashed it flat. No doubt Clio was influential enough in her own right. Zayed’s eyes held hers for a second; deep, dark and sexy eyes that managed to draw her in and push her away at the same time, like opposing poles of a magnet. ‘I think it would be best if you sent the emails in my name. After I’ve okayed them, of course.’
‘Of course.’ Nadia tried her hardest to bite back the sarcasm. She didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. Her initial hopes had done a spiralling nosedive when she had found out the sort of help he was talking about. But at least he was letting her into one small part of his life and that had to be better than nothing. If she could gain his trust she might be able to find a chink in this knight’s impenetrable armour.
‘So what do you think?’ Closing the laptop, Zayed held it out in front of her. ‘Will you do it?’
‘Yes, I’d be glad to.’ She congratulated herself on her sunny acceptance as she took the laptop from him.
‘Thank you. That will be a great help.’ Zayed rose to his feet, business concluded. ‘We should go inside now. It’s getting cold.’ He held out a hand to her, leaving her no choice but to take it, silently waiting while she rearranged her pashmina and awkwardly tucked the laptop under her arm before finally giving her hand to him.
‘I was right.’ He rubbed her fingers with his own. ‘You are cold. Let’s go in.’
‘I’m fine.’ Nadia hastily reclaimed the offending hand but still found herself crossing the courtyard with Zayed and together they went back into the palace. The bright lights of the entrance hall made her blink.
‘Right, I’d better get back to work, then.’ Closing the door behind them, Zayed turned to look down at her.
‘Yes, me, too.’ Nadia jiggled the laptop under her arm.
‘Thanks again for this.’
‘You’re welcome.’
They stared at each other for a long, awkward moment.
‘Let me know if you need any help.’ Zayed’s husky, sexy voice, combined with the dark knowing look in his eyes, sent a shiver of arousal tiptoeing down Nadia’s spine.
‘I will.’
‘Or better still...’
‘Yes?’
‘Just ask Clio. She’s brilliant.’
* * *
Nadia looked at the time displayed in the corner of the screen: 23:35. She had been working on this laptop for several hours, propped up on the bed with a pile of pillows behind her. As she’d never had her own computer, her brother expressly forbidding it, her lack of IT skills had slowed her down, but now her research was done and she stretched back her shoulders and flexed her cramped fingers. She had her list of contacts ready to email, but that was a job for tomorrow.
She was impressed, seriously impressed, with The Knights of Columbia charity. It was obvious that these four highly successful friends
had done an astoundingly good job, offering young people from all over the world an education to transform their lives and the lives of their families. But that came at a huge financial cost. Which made her all the more determined to do her job well and get those donations rolling in.
She was just about to close the laptop when she decided to look into the email situation. She would need to be able to access Zayed’s email if she was to contact these benefactors in his name. She wasn’t going to tell Zayed, but she had never actually sent an email before. But how hard could it be? She clicked on the envelope icon. Easy, she was straight in, no password needed. An inbox full of messages faced her. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to look at those. She had no desire to torture herself with anything she might find there, and besides that was snooping.
She moved the cursor looking for how to send a message and found herself inadvertently clicking on Sent Mail. No, that wasn’t right. She was just about to move on when a name jumped out at her. Azeed Al Afzal. Nadia hesitated. She shouldn’t look, she knew she shouldn’t, but maybe if it was only a very quick peek? Suddenly temptation had pressed her finger before her more honourable brain could stop it, and she found herself staring at a string of messages from Zayed to his brother, each one colder and more blunt than the one before. They started with Zayed encouraging Azeed to contact him, and they finally petered out with a terse, ‘Whenever you are ready to talk to me, I will be here.’ Not one of them had received a reply.
Nadia stared at the messages. Okay, she knew she shouldn’t have read them, but now that she had maybe she could help. She was certainly sure she could be more persuasive than that. If she could get Azeed to contact Zayed, and if Azeed really was in Harith as Hassan Rouhani had suggested, maybe he could facilitate some sort of meeting with her father and brother. It was worth a try.
With her fingers hovering over the keyboard, she bit down hard on her lip, concentrating on how best to phrase this. Right, she was ready. She lowered her fingers.
Dear Azeed,
