by Fiona Brand
“What sign?”
The sound of another large wave hitting rock spun her around, cold spray drenched her.
Gabe’s arm snaked around her waist, steadying her. “The sign that said don’t go out on the rocks.” There was small, bleak silence. “This is where Jasmine died when her boat overturned.”
The shock of his statement—of his finally mentioning Jasmine—was canceled out as the next wave flowed toward them, this one even larger. Fingers laced with hers, he pulled her onto a higher shelf of rock and back toward shore.
Breathless, Sarah worked to keep up with Gabe’s smooth, gliding stride, glad that she was wearing sneakers and that she had kept up her walking during the pregnancy and was still reasonably fit. “I suppose people get swept off.”
The wave broke sending more spray flying. The distraction took her attention from the uneven rock surface for a split second, making her wobble.
Gabe said something hard and sharp beneath his breath as he reeled her in close again then swung her into his arms. “Not today.”
Coiling her arms around his neck, she held on tight, worried that she had provided another painful reminder of Jasmine, but loving that Gabe had come to her rescue. Water dripped from his hair and clung to his lashes. His gaze rested on hers for a moment, the glint of masculine satisfaction sending a warm surge through her. She was soaked, they both were, but suddenly she didn’t care. For a few moments they were alone, and like the hours they’d spent together last night, he was hers. “I’m sorry. I should have kept a better watch out. Graham arrived at the beach and I got a bit creeped out. I thought he would try and follow me.”
Gabe’s expression turned grim. “Don’t worry about Southwell. Xavier has him under surveillance.”
Resting her head in the curve of his neck and shoulder, she breathed in his warm scent. “I suppose that’s how you found me? I ran into your secret service?”
She felt his smile rather than saw it. “What did you expect when you gave Yusuf the slip? Tell me, kalila, are you always this difficult?”
She was startled by his rueful expression, the softness of his gaze, as if he liked it that she was giving him such a hard time. “Only when I get engaged.”
“And when you’re pulling swords off displays, assaulting thugs with your umbrella and giving Tarik a hard time.”
She blinked at the picture of herself. “Maybe I am difficult.”
A curious expression crossed his face. “Don’t change, I like it.” Bending, he kissed her.
Her heart thumped at the kiss and the tone of his voice. “What does kalila mean?”
Stopping at the edge of the rock promontory where it flowed into the smooth, broad curve of the beach, he set her on her feet. “It’s an endearment. On Zahir we use it much as you would honey or darling.”
Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she smoothed wet straggling hair back from her cheeks. When his gaze flickered to her chest she glanced down and realized that her thin white cardigan and camisole were wet. Luckily, she had a bikini top beneath, so she could afford to ignore the wet T-shirt effect.
Gabe glanced along the cliff face. Graham was still there somewhere because his car was in the parking lot, although he was nowhere to be seen. At a guess he had disappeared into the warren of caves that riddled the rock.
When Gabe spoke his voice was terse. “I’m moving you into the palace tonight.”
* * *
Gabe arranged for all of their belongings to be transferred to the palace.
Night was falling with a pretty sickle moon, the sky studded with brilliant stars as he drove into a cavernous garage beneath the palace.
He gave her a quick tour of the residential area, which used to be the old harem quarters and which had been remodeled into a series of family apartments. He pointed out where his parents stayed and two other empty apartments. “There are also a whole bunch of single and double rooms, but those are mostly empty unless family or guests come to stay.”
He opened the door to their apartment and a warm glow suffused her as she walked into the main sitting room, which was filled with comfortable leather couches and low coffee tables. A dining table was positioned in an alcove next to a gleaming kitchen. The dining table was set, candles lit, giving the room a welcoming elegance while the warm aromas of the meal that had been kept hot in silver chafing dishes drifted on the air.
Gabe gave her a quick tour. The next room, which Gabe indicated as they walked past, looked like a beautifully appointed guest room. That was followed by a large bathroom tiled in cream marble with a tub big enough to swim in.
She examined the large walk-in shower and the supply of fluffy white towels. “We’ll have to block off the bathroom once the baby starts walking.”
“Good point.” He stared at the marble bath, which had steps that would be slippery when wet. “Even better, we’ll get a house. This place is a death trap for kids.”
The casual comment about getting a house made her heart glow with happiness. More and more they were starting to feel like a regular couple. She stepped inside what looked like the master bedroom, since it had its own bathroom and dressing room opening off it. This was confirmed by the masculine bedspread, the faint scent of Gabe’s cologne and one of his shirts slung over the back of a chair.
Sarah checked out the dressing room, a faint tension she hadn’t realized was there dissipating when she saw her suitcase. “I take it I’m staying in this room.”
Gabe was leaning against the doorjamb watching her. “That’s right, with me. Although, you can have the guest room if you want.”
She strolled toward him and when he didn’t move aside she took another half step, which brought her up against him. She wound her fingers in the smooth silk of his tie. “I choose this room.”
“I was hoping you were going to say that.”
His phone hummed. Looking frustrated, he took the phone from his pocket, checked the screen and frowned. “I need to take this.”
“No problem.” While Gabe sat at a desk in a small study that opened off the lounge and took a series of calls, Sarah unpacked then had a quick shower to remove the salty residue from that afternoon. Toweling herself dry, she put on fresh underwear. Instead of dressing in the cotton shift she’d chosen, she decided to wear an exquisite rose-pink silk kaftan she had bought in the souk the morning Gabe had found her. The kaftan was gossamer fine and flowing but when belted with a silk sash became a gorgeous Eastern dress.
She combed out her hair and used the blow-dryer. When her hair was mostly dry and trailing down her back, she quickly applied a little eye makeup. Now that she finally knew how the makeup should look and what products to buy, she was determined not to go back to dashing on a bit of dark brown eyeliner and rose-pink lip gloss, both of which usually faded into invisibility within an hour.
Rummaging through her suitcase she found the pashmina that went with the outfit, an exquisitely fine woven cashmere stole in rich hues of purple and pink with splashes of deep red that added a sensual grace to the pretty kaftan. She examined the effect in the bathroom mirror. The outfit was more modest than the red dress she’d worn the night she’d met Gabe, there was only the barest hint of shadowy cleavage, yet somehow it was infinitely more feminine and mysterious.
With her hair dropping around her shoulders in a dark curtain, her eyes taking on a smoky, exotic slant courtesy of the eye shadow and mascara, she didn’t look remotely like a sensible history teacher, neither did she feel like one anymore. The clothing seemed to underline the inner change that had taken place, almost without her being aware of it.
When she walked out into the lounge, Gabe was dishing up food. He must have had a shower in the other bathroom because his hair was damp and he’d changed into a pair of dark pants and a polo shirt. His gaze met hers as he set the plate he’d just filled on the table.
Her pulse sped up at the intensity of his gaze as he took in the softly sensual outfit. “Are you hungry?”
“Starved.”
They ate, although as delicious as the food was, Sarah could barely concentrate because she was so aware of Gabe.
When she was finished, he took her plate and set it in the sink in the kitchen, his expression taut. “Would you like dessert?”
She followed him and placed an empty salad bowl on the counter. “Not really.”
“Me neither.” With a grin, he picked her up and carried her through to the bedroom. “When you walked out of the bedroom like that, I didn’t think I’d make it through dinner.”
He set her on her feet. The Pashmina slid to the floor as she reached up to kiss him. One kiss followed another. She felt the silk sash loosen then slip off her shoulders and puddle at her feet. Two steps back and they were on the bed and somehow, this time, she was on top, her hair sliding silkily around them. Long drugging minutes later she was naked and so was Gabe.
Tension gripped her as she studied Gabe in the wash of light from the hall. For the first time, she was actually beginning to believe that he could be hers.
Cupping his face, she looked directly into his eyes. “I love you.” The words were bald and declarative, leaving her nowhere to hide.
Instead of the words she wanted in return, she felt his instant tension and knew she shouldn’t have made the declaration, shouldn’t have pushed him. Even if he had mentioned Jasmine today, it was still too soon. A split second later, he kissed her and, determined not to fret, she relaxed into the kiss and let the warmth and heat of lovemaking encompass them both.
* * *
A phone call in the early hours brought Sarah out of a deep, dreamless sleep. Rolling over in bed, she slipped an arm around Gabe’s taut waist as he lay, propped on one elbow, speaking in rapid Zahiri. When he hung up, the gray light of dawn illuminated the grim expression on his face. “That was Xavier. They’ve been keeping Southwell under surveillance. Apparently, he’s found the lost dowry, which was sealed in a side cave in Salamander Bay. That’s what he was doing there today, repacking the caskets and getting ready to transport them to the loading docks at the port where he has an export container waiting.” Expression taut, Gabe set the phone down. “Damn Southwell and the dowry. Why did he have to find it now?”
Climbing out of bed, Gabe dressed and was gone within minutes.
Unable to go back to sleep, Sarah belted on the beautiful silk kaftan, freshened up in the bathroom then walked through to the sitting room. Gabe’s words kept echoing through her mind.
Damn Southwell and the dowry. Why did he have to find it now?
As if Gabe had wished the dowry had been found some other time. Probably months ago, a year ago, so he would never have given way to the pressure of an arranged marriage in the first place. Because if that hadn’t happened, he would never have spent a dangerous night of passion with her that had resulted in a pregnancy, and what could only be termed a marriage of convenience.
Dragging fingers through her tangled hair, she paced through the huge apartment, strolling through moonlit rooms only to find herself in Gabe’s study, the one room she hadn’t seen on their tour. Curious, she flicked on a light and strolled to tall French doors and looked out onto a beautiful patio. When she turned, she noted a rich leather photograph album on top of a polished mahogany desk.
Knowing that she shouldn’t, she flipped the album open. The first section had Gabe and Jasmine’s engagement photos. Lavish wedding shots followed and the final section was filled with romantic honeymoon photos. Feeling a little sick, because Jasmine looked glowingly happy in every photo, her arms either draped around Gabe’s neck or his waist, as if she couldn’t bear not to touch him.
She closed the album with a snap. As she did so, she noticed a folder beside it, carrying her name.
Feeling like an automaton, she picked up the file and opened it. Fifteen minutes later, feeling sick, she set the file back in its place. She had known that Gabe had had her investigated, but this file was a detailed surveillance record that Gabe had ordered after their first night together. He had expressly stated that he wanted her watched in case she was pregnant.
Seeing the truth about how Gabe had viewed her, in stark contrast to his romantic, loving relationship with Jasmine, was hard to take. It hurt.
She guessed that, given he was a sheikh’s son and the future ruler of Zahir, she could understand his approach. But that didn’t change the fact that she had given up everything for Gabe, including her heart, and he had given up very little for her. He still hadn’t shared even the bare facts about his marriage.
Feeling numb, she replaced the file. As understanding as she had tried to be, she wasn’t stupid, she had limits, and her limits had just been breached.
She had taken a risk in loving Gabe, moving in with him and agreeing to marriage. She knew he’d been hurt in the past, but even so she had believed there was a possibility that he would come to love her someday.
But she couldn’t stomach marriage on such compromised terms, with someone who had seen her as predatory. It underlined the fact that if she hadn’t gotten pregnant and forced his hand, she would never have seen Gabe again.
Face burning at the humiliation of seeing the basis of their relationship laid bare, of having her life sifted through, by the man she loved, she left the study and found her way back to the bedroom. Their bedroom, but not any longer.
Lamplight pooled like liquid gold, casting a soft glow on the beautiful plastered walls and delicate frescoes. Chest tight, she opened a set of doors and stepped onto the balcony, staring out over the moonlit city to the sea. It was all unspeakably beautiful and she loved it, but she was going to have to leave.
She finally understood why Gabe had agreed to a marriage of convenience to Nadia and why he’d never confided in her about his past with Jasmine. It was because he didn’t want the one thing she craved: intimacy.
The moment was defining. She had said she would marry Gabe, but how could she when his heart wasn’t in it? When his heart might never be in it?
She knew what it felt like to be second best, to be passed over. It hadn’t been a good feeling, but she had gotten over it. She didn’t think she could get over Gabe, but neither would she be second best for him.
She had always thought she was lacking in passion, but when Gabe had entered her life she had discovered that she was passionate and volatile. She wanted a real love with Gabe with a fierceness that shimmered and burned and made her want to cry.
Knowing now that she would never have his love, she had to act. When she had the baby Gabe would love their daughter and want to be a father to her, but that was a scenario with a modern solution. He might not like the idea, but the only sensible thing to do was to share custody.
Working quickly, she retrieved her bags from the closet. She didn’t know how much time she had before Gabe returned, so she simply stuffed clothing into them. She found her engagement ring, which she’d left on the bedside table, and replaced it in its velvet case. She put the case along with the second case containing the pendant and earrings on the dressing table. On impulse, she walked through to Gabe’s study, found the photo album and the surveillance report and placed them beside the jewelry boxes.
She checked her watch. An hour had flown by. She needed to leave before she weakened and changed her mind.
Gabe would hate it that she’d walked out on him. He was an alpha male. But the very strengths that made him such a good leader were the qualities that would push them apart in the end. He would continue to sacrifice his free choice, and perhaps his happiness, and she couldn’t bear that.
Walking through to the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face. Feeling chilled despite the balmy warmth, she used her cell to call a local taxi firm and arranged to meet the cab in the resid
ential street that backed onto the palace grounds.
Fumbling slightly in her haste, she changed into cotton jeans and a sweater and pulled on sneakers. She found a scarf and on impulse used it to cover her hair, tying it under her chin. After all the media coverage she was now recognizable on Zahir. It wasn’t much of a disguise, but it would have to do.
She carried the luggage downstairs and outside to the street, leaving it in the shadow of a huge flowering rhododendron. Walking back to the apartment, she did a last check of the rooms, picked up her handbag, hooked the strap over her shoulder and walked out onto the landing. Headlights beamed up the driveway. Heart in her mouth, feeling sick to her stomach at what she was doing, Sarah walked quickly down the stairs.
Fifteen
Gabe locked the car and headed for the stairs. Now that the situation with Southwell and the dowry was resolved, with Southwell in custody and the dowry in safekeeping, all Gabe wanted was to go back to bed with Sarah and preserve what time they had before the major news companies picked up on the story and all hell broke loose.
Faruq was coordinating the press releases. With any luck, he would finesse the timing of the discovery of the ancient treasure as a “sign” that the marriage to Sarah was propitious for Zahir. The romantic tale of his ancestor’s love affair with Camille de Vallois would do the rest.
As Gabe stepped inside the apartment, the curious quality of the silence made him frown. Somewhere outside he heard a car door close, the sound of an engine. On edge he walked into the bedroom. Moonlight slanted over the rumpled bed, which was empty. Stomach tight, he checked the bathroom, which was also empty.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the two velvet cases on the dresser and the photograph album and surveillance report he had left on his desk with the intention of destroying them that morning.
He went cold inside. For the album and the file to be where they were, Sarah had clearly found and perused them. A quick glance in the spare room confirmed that Sarah hadn’t just moved out of his bedroom. She had left him.
