by Cara Albany
"I didn't mean to put pressure on you, Grace," he said. "I only wanted you to see another side to all of this. To life in Qazhar." He moved closer and she stood her ground, watching him closely. "I wanted you to see how good it could be. For you. And for us."
She lowered her head and he heard her sigh sharply. Maybe he was making progress. Perhaps he was getting through to her. He could hardly dare hope that he might succeed.
He took one more step closer and she was within touching distance. He inhaled her scent, triggering a sudden need in him.
This was the perfect place to get her answer. He hadn't been truly alone with her. Not since she'd walked out on him.
Grace lifted her head and her gaze rested on him. Her eyes softened for the briefest moment. And that was all the signal he needed.
Qazim swept her into his arms, crushing her against him, feeling the warmth of her body. Then his head dipped and he claimed her lips with a fierce, ravenous kiss. It was a kiss he had wanted for a long time. One he'd been denied for too long. One he desperately needed.
Her mouth was soft and tasted sweet beyond measure. He'd almost forgotten this sensation, lost any sense of how exquisite it felt to hold her in his arms.
Grace's breath quickened and he felt her hands go to his shoulders. Her fingers curled, taking hold of his muscles.
Qazim inhaled her sweet scent, intoxicating and delicate. It made his senses spin.
He heard Grace moan quietly as he probed her with his tongue, testing, seeking. Qazim felt himself harden. Grace shifted as he traced a line with his hand down the length of her back. The fabric of her dress was silky soft. He settled his hand at the base of her spine, drawing her even more firmly against him.
They both wanted this, he told himself. They'd been fooling themselves trying to deny the truth of how they felt about each other. Grace had been hiding her true feelings from him. He could sense it in the way she'd responded to this kiss.
Everything around them seemed to fade away. There was only the two of them. He refused to end the kiss, needing it to last, wanting it to never stop. Now that she was in his arms, where she belonged, he never wanted to let her go.
Qazim felt her breasts pressing against his chest. They felt soft and incredibly enticing. He wanted to cup his hand around them, just as he had so many times before.
Grace stiffened suddenly and she lifted her head away from his. She was slightly breathless and her eyes were bright with inflamed desire.
She peered into Qazim's eyes. For a moment, he wondered what she was searching for. Did she need to see if he was being sincere, or was she looking for any hint he was merely taking advantage of this solitude?
He smiled at her. "Grace!" he breathed. He lifted a hand to her chin, savoring the softness of her skin.
He noticed, immediately, that she didn't return his smile. Her features were as impassive as before the kiss.
Qazim started to dip his head toward her, but she shocked him by leaning to one side, turning her face away.
Qazim froze. Frustration flared in him, an instant hot flame. He forced himself not to say anything, to control the impulse that threatened to completely spoil the moment.
Then Grace shifted, loosening herself from Qazim's embrace. It felt like much more than a simple act of separation. Qazim knew that gesture meant so much more than simply the desire to move away from him for the moment.
Grace took a few steps away from Qazim, turning her back to him. She folded her arms around herself.
He followed after her. Then she halted and turned, peering at him. "This isn't going to work, Qazim," she announced.
Qazim felt something heavy sink in the pit of his stomach. He took a step toward her, but she fixed him with a stern look that made him stop in his tracks.
Grace shook her head. "I knew it was going to be a mistake coming here, tonight."
"It hasn't been a mistake, Grace," he retorted. "You see how I've missed you." He gazed at her. "How much I want you in my life."
Grace sighed heavily. "Don't say that," she exclaimed. "This isn't going to work, Qazim."
"It can work, because we will make it work. For us." He glanced down at her belly. "For the baby."
He saw her cheeks flush with color. She knew what he was saying was true. This was about more than Qazim and Grace.
"Marry me, Grace," Qazim breathed, feeling the fierceness of his own emotion. Those words sounded so sweet to his ears.
Grace's features were impassive, at first. Then he saw uncertainty flicker in her eyes.
"I can't, Qazim," she replied in a soft voice. He saw a pleading expression in her eyes. "Don't keep asking me that."
"I won't stop until you're my wife, Grace. You know that, don't you?"
She turned her face away from him. He reached across, placing his fingertips beneath her chin. He gently guided her gaze back to him. "Habibti," he murmured.
Her eyes widened imperceptibly and then closed softly as if she was trying to gather her strength.
"I won't become your wife, Qazim," she announced in a steady voice. "I'm leaving tomorrow."
She moved away from him. He caught her arm, holding it gently. She glanced down at his hand and he quickly released her arm.
He had one last thing he could try. Even as he considered it, he couldn't quite believe it had come to this.
"If you won't be my permanent wife, then at least consider marrying me for the sake of the baby. It doesn't have to be forever."
Grace's eyes narrowed. "You want me to have an arranged marriage with you?"
Qazim nodded slowly. "If that means we can all be together, then yes," he replied.
"But, that just can't be, Qazim," she said. "It doesn't make sense."
"It makes sense for all three of us," he replied.
Grace frowned at Qazim. "But what kind of marriage would that be?"
"A marriage that will give our child a family," he declared. "We owe the child that, at least, don't we?"
Grace sighed and shook her head. She thought for a few long moments. "And you'd be happy with that?"
"I would have to be. Although it is not what I would really want for us."
"There is no us, Qazim," Grace said.
That statement sounded harsh and unwelcome, but he ignored it. Apart from anything else, he knew it wasn't true. There would always be a bond between him and Grace. He felt that in his soul.
He glanced down at her middle. "I think there is," he stated firmly. "There always will be."
Grace placed a hand across her belly and shook her head. " I have to go back to my apartment."
"You'll consider my offer?" he asked.
She paused and then nodded curtly. "I'll give you my answer tomorrow."
Hope rose within him. He started toward her but she gave him a cold look, causing him to freeze on the spot.
"Can you arrange for me to be taken back to the city?" Her voice had an icy edge to it now. He felt his heart sink slightly at the sound of it.
"Of course," he replied. "I'll get one of the drivers to take you home."
Grace nodded.
And then they both started back toward the palace.
All he had to do was wait. That wasn't something he was used to doing. But Grace had demanded it of him and he would comply.
Until tomorrow. Already, he felt impatient.
Qazim felt as if at least some small victory had been won. She would consider becoming his bride of convenience. His wife of convenience.
It didn't sound right, to his ears. But, it might have to do. For the moment. If it meant he could make Grace his wife, it would be a beginning.
Time would tell if it would be a beginning of something that would last beyond the birth of their child.
If he had anything to do with it, it would last forever.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Grace awoke the next morning and immediately wondered if last night had been a dream. Of course it hadn't been a dream, she told herself. Qazim's kiss h
ad felt all too real, an unmistakable reminder of how things had once been.
She wished he hadn't done that. Wished he'd restrained himself. Her body had reacted in a treacherous fashion that must have given him completely the wrong idea.
But most of all she wished he hadn't asked her to become his wife.
Not again.
Especially that she agree to some kind of arranged marriage. That sounded cold and businesslike. Not what she'd ever planned for herself when it came to choosing a husband.
And what kind of husband would Qazim be? She wasn't sure about that. Of course, there had been some changes in Qazim over these last two months. And, it was clear that he was excited about the child.
But, Grace was still hesitant to commit to Qazim completely. There was still too many things from the past, from their previous time, that still troubled her.
The prospect of something cold, a formal relationship within in a marriage horrified her. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like. Long days spent avoiding each other. Shared meals where silence was the order of the day.
Separate beds. Separate bedrooms, even.
And then the temptation to seek happiness from others. Would either of them be able to resist that? Even after the child was born. Grace had seen enough marriages disintegrate. She'd witnessed couples growing cold toward each other. She even remembered how her parents had grown apart.
Was that it? Was it really to do with her own parent, now separated and divorced for many years?
That explanation seemed too simple. Was she simply trying to avoid the mistake her own parents had made?
Grace recalled how her parents' relationship had deteriorated gradually throughout Grace's teen years, until coldness and silence had reigned in the Collins household.
There had been nothing cold and formal about what Grace had witnessed last night at Zaheer's palace. Both couples clearly loved each other. That was obvious and Becca doted over her beautiful son, Tariq. No wonder. He was an adorable child.
No. Everything she'd seen last night had been perfect. Almost too perfect.
Of course, she knew those good people were not so cynical that they had put on a special show for Grace's benefit. It had been completely authentic, she had no doubt about that.
Surely both American women must have had difficulty adjusting to life in Qazhar, even if now they seemed happy enough.
Not just happy, but blissfully married.
Could that be something Grace could ever hope for?
There was so much promise, so much potential happiness in all of this, she told herself. She could see the good and also the not-so-good. There were dangers. Traps that lay ahead.
But the prospect of marriage obviously meant a great deal to Qazim. There was no doubting that fact.
In some way, she couldn't quite put her finger on, Qazim was a changed man. There was something different about him now, she told herself. It was almost as if the prospect of becoming a father had brought out a fresh sense of responsibility in Qazim. Something she hadn't seen before.
But would it last? If Grace married Qazim, would he simply become bored with her? Would Qazim be tempted back into his former life? Would he suddenly become busy with his business interests, or even worse, take mistresses.
The idea of Qazim being unfaithful to Grace made her feel momentarily uneasy. She pushed the sensation away, disregarding it as even a realistic possibility. Qazim wasn't the kind of man to cheat on his wife.
Grace knew that arranged marriages often became cold and impersonal, with husband and wife sometimes finding separate lives of their own.
There was so much to consider. So much that could go wrong.
But she knew she had to think about all of this. There were so many possibilities for happiness as well as so many possibilities for the opposite.
She got out of bed and went to the kitchen and made herself some coffee. All she could think about was the decision that she had to make today. Whatever she decided, it would be momentous.
She felt as if she had been pushed into a corner, as if life was demanding something of her. As if fate had already made up its mind about her and Qazim. How could she fight against that?
She felt better after the sleep. Her dreams had been chaotic and confused. She was glad that she didn't feel any sickness this morning. It would help in keeping her mind clear, ensure that she focused on what was really important.
And what was that?
What exactly was important?
She knew the answer to that.
One word.
Happiness.
Happiness for the child she was carrying.
And for herself and Qazim. Nothing else mattered. It was really that simple, and now that she had thought of it in that way, the decision that she had to make was somehow ridiculously simple.
She had been running from the truth for far too long. The way Qazim had held her last night in the garden reminded her of his passion for her. She had no doubt that his passion for her was completely genuine.
At least there was that to build on, she told herself. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad or so cold.
It was completely up to Grace. She held the future in her own hands. Not just her own future, but the future of her unborn child and any chance of a future of happiness with Qazim.
What she had seen last night on display with the two happy couples had given her pause for thought. Maybe she could be happy. Perhaps there was a possibility, even the smallest of possibilities, that she and Qazim could make this work.
Maybe.
But however they decided to do this, to begin with it would be a marriage of convenience, because Grace had to be sure that Qazim meant what he said. She needed to see for herself.
And the only way she would be able to be sure would be to take the biggest risk she'd ever taken.
With a growing certainty, she knew there was only one way she was going to know for sure.
Maybe it was time to take a chance on Qazim again.
It wasn't going to be easy, she knew that.
But all that paled into significance significance in comparison to thinking what was best for the child. That was all that mattered.
If she was going to go ahead with this, there would have to be conditions attached. She and Qazim still had a long way to go before things could ever be the way they'd once been.
It would be a long journey back to the happiness they'd once shared. That thought triggered a mixture of regret and unease.
Grace glanced at the open suitcase which lay on the floor in the middle of the apartment. She had planned to start packing early in the morning and head off to the airport in the afternoon.
But now, it was clear that the only option she could choose was the one which had been staring her in the face for the last twenty-four hours.
****
Qazim paced the floor of his apartment. It was three o'clock and he still hadn't heard from Grace. He was beginning to feel a rising sense of desperation, even panic.
Why hadn't she called? She'd agreed to call him this afternoon and tell him what she had decided. When he'd agreed to that, he hadn't anticipated the torment he'd have to go through while waiting for the call.
The call which would decide his fate.
Their fate. The destiny of their family.
Because, whether Grace agreed with him or not, she and Qazim had made a family between them.
All that remained was to make it official.
With a marriage.
Even a marriage that had been arranged for the sole purpose of ensuring that their child would have parents who would shower that child with daily with love and affection.
Qazim had hardly slept. He'd spent most of the night running over in his mind every possible action he could take, everything Grace could possibly choose to do. Anything that would ensure happiness for all three of them. As far as Qazim was concerned that was all that mattered.
Happiness.
But that would only be found in marriage. A marriage he desperately wanted, and one that Grace seemed so reluctant to agree to.
Qazim knew she had reservations about entering into this marriage. It was obvious she was worried about a lack of passion, an absence of warmth. She was concerned the arrangement would be cold and clinical.
But she was wrong about that, Qazim told himself. If she did marry him, there would be passion in the relationship. Qazim would see to that.
Most definitely.
Qazim glanced at his watch again. Maybe she'd decided to go to the airport, after all. Perhaps, right now, she would be checking in, preparing herself for the long journey home.
He felt a tight, hard and knot in his gut.
Grace might actually leave him. That thought made his heart pound furiously.
He wasn't going to let that happen.
He threw on his jacket and started toward the elevator doors. Just as he reached them, the intercom rang. Someone was downstairs. Someone wanted to come up.
It could only be one person, Qazim told himself. Qazim hurriedly pressed the button of the intercom, "Yes?"
"I have Miss Collins here, sir," the receptionist said. "She says she'd like to come up."
"Send her up," Qazim barked.
She had come.
At last.
Qazim paced in front of the elevator doors, hardly able to contain himself. What had she come here to tell him? Had she decided to stay?
He felt a mixture of anticipation and dread.
His throat was tight and every muscle in his frame was taught with nerves. The doors opened and Grace looked at him. Her eyes were steady, fixed intently upon Qazim who felt himself rooted to the spot. His pulse was pounding in his ears. He forced himself to smile nervously. She nodded simply but didn't smile back at him.
"Grace, I'm glad you came," he said. He reached out a hand. She ignored his offer of assistance and walked straight into the apartment.
He could tell that she was tense, almost as nervous as him, if that was possible.
He turned and followed her into the room. She still had not said a single word to him.
