by Fiona Brand
For long moments he couldn’t think. Then he remembered the slamming of the car door out in the street. Sarah must have called a taxi.
Heart slamming against the wall of his chest, he picked up the phone, called Xavier and arranged to detain her at the airport.
With distaste, he forced himself to look at one of Jasmine’s last gifts to him, an album filled with photos that portrayed a love story that had grown to be cloying and unhealthy.
Jaw taut, he opened the surveillance file and skimmed the damning evidence of his letter requesting a watch on Sarah in case she was pregnant. The report included an extensive back history on Sarah’s life because for some reason Tarik had gotten a little overzealous and had requested the private investigator dig back several years.
Reading through the bare facts, Sarah had looked like a woman who had amassed a certain experience with men, but Gabe knew the truth. The reason none of the relationships had stuck was because she had refused to sleep with them. But she had slept with him, after little more than a few hours.
Because she had fallen in love with him.
Grimly, he remembered her saying the words to him tonight, his complete lack of response because, even then, in a sheer knee-jerk reaction he had automatically closed himself off.
She loved him.
He felt like he’d been kicked in the chest. Sarah wasn’t like Jasmine, wavering with every breeze, clinging and resenting at the same time and wanting to be spoiled and cosseted. She was independent and fierce. Used to making her own way through life, for years she had refused to give in to relationship pressure and have sex. She had waited and chosen, and she had chosen him.
Once she had found she was pregnant, she hadn’t panicked. She had gone in search of him, not to coerce him into a relationship, but to ascertain whether she should include him in her life. Those were the actions of a rational, independent woman who had fallen in love.
Tossing the report down on the desk, he found his keys and headed for his car. He felt electrified, every nerve ending in his body on fire. Sarah had told him, but now he knew in his gut—and his heart—exactly why she had agreed to marry him, and why she had left. She loved him but she had given up on the hope that he could love her back.
And suddenly he realized what he had done to himself, and to Sarah. After Jasmine had died he had spent years consumed by guilt, not because he had failed to save her life, but because he had never been able to love her.
He and Jasmine had been wrong together and that tension had reverberated through their marriage, ending in a tragedy that he had allowed to color the rest of his life.
Panic gripped him. He felt as if the scales had just been ripped from his eyes. Too late, he now realized that he did love Sarah. And now he had lost her.
He was partway to the airport when he knew it was the wrong destination. Sarah was smart. She would have known how easy it would be for him to stop her flying.
Turning the car around, he headed for the ferry terminal, the only other way off Zahir other than chartering a yacht or boarding a cruise ship. There were no cruise ships leaving today, and chartering a yacht was a lengthy process because it involved customs declarations. Boarding a ferry to the neighboring island of Al Jahir was a much simpler option.
His stomach churned at the thought that she had chosen the sea as a way to escape him. Jasmine’s choice.
As he drove he went through every nuance of their last conversation, which had been about the dowry. He knew that, like him, Sarah placed no stock in money or possessions. Southwell had chased the treasure for its own sake, but Sarah, who should have been more interested in it than most with her family background, had barely shown a flicker of interest.
From memory the only thing about the past that had interested her had been whether or not his ancestor had loved hers.
His fingers tightened on the wheel as he turned down the street that led to the docks. Jaw tight, he found a space and slammed out of the car. Sarah was simple and declarative. She had told him she loved him, but he had failed to reciprocate. He had taken the easy way out, the cowardly way out, because then he didn’t have to expose his own emotions. He didn’t have to take any risks.
That would have to change; he couldn’t lose her.
Gabe faced the raw depth of emotions that in the past had caused him more pain than happiness.
He wouldn’t let Sarah go without a fight.
* * *
Sarah boarded the early-morning ferry to Al Jahir.
Stepping inside the lower deck cabin, which was already half-filled with passengers drinking coffee and watching TV, Sarah made a beeline for a seat near a window. She stopped when she noticed a large TV was on and that the coverage riveting most of the passengers was a news story on the crates of gold and jewels that Graham had tried to steal.
In no mood to listen to the story she was on the point of walking out onto the ferry deck when Gabe’s deep voice kept her riveted to the screen. She recognized footage of an earlier interview that had been linked with the segment about the dowry, but even so, when Gabe was asked about his impending marriage his curt “no comment” stung.
The reporter smoothed over the awkwardness of the moment by stating that in Zahir any marriage by the ruling family was necessarily an affair of state.
Shivering slightly and hugging her cotton jersey closer against her skin, she walked to the upper deck and ducked inside out of the brisk wind. She stared through one of the large windows at the palace, which gleamed in the first golden touches of morning light, and the terraced jumble of streets and villas that gave Zahir such charm. Feeling miserable, she forced herself to look in the direction of Al Jahir, a misty lump on the horizon. She had made the right decision, even if it made her feel ill.
She was tired, so she bought a cup of tea from the small cafeteria. She guessed she should eat something, but her stomach was still churning and unsettled, and the faint wallow of the sea swell wasn’t helping.
She chose a seat that overlooked the docks, just in case Gabe arrived before the ferry left. She hoped he wouldn’t come after her because if he did she didn’t know if she’d have the strength to resist him.
* * *
Gabe walked inside the ferry building. He had missed the sailing by about twenty minutes. He could still see the ferry in the distance. He asked to see the manifest. His jaw tightened when he spotted Sarah’s name.
Thanking the clerk, he left the building and made a call. Al Jahir was ruled by his cousin several times removed, Kalil. The relationship was distant, but that didn’t matter. They were family. A second call and he had arranged a helicopter.
Half an hour later he landed on the docks of Al Jahir. When the ferry anchored just offshore, embargoed from landing until he had retrieved Sarah, Gabe took the launch Kalil had provided and climbed on board.
When Sarah saw him, her stricken expression gave him a small measure of hope. Although, he had mishandled their relationship so badly he had to wonder if he had finally destroyed her love.
Ignoring the disgruntled crowd of ferry passengers, he concentrated on Sarah. “Will you come with me?”
She shot to her feet, clutching her handbag. “Why?”
“Because you belong on Zahir, with me.”
The sleepy-eyed tourist next to her muttered, “Last I heard slavery went out of fashion a few years back.”
Someone else grunted agreement and added, “And piracy. Honey, if you need backup just say the word.”
Jaw locked, Gabe kept his focus on Sarah. “You’re free to leave anytime. But I need you to hear me out, in private.”
* * *
Minutes later, caught halfway between misery and delight that Gabe had come after her, Sarah allowed Gabe to hand her down into the launch.
A short helicopter ride and they landed on the roof
of the palace, which had a helipad.
As Sarah walked back into the familiarity of Gabe’s apartment, her stomach tightened. “I left because I didn’t want you to feel you had to marry me just to have access to the baby.” She lifted her chin. “You’re her father, so it’s only right that you should have a part in her upbringing. We just need to reach agreement on how that will work.”
Gabe shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair. He ran lean fingers through his hair, looking suddenly unutterably weary. “Zahir is an old-fashioned country. The only agreement that will work here is marriage, and that’s what I want.”
She blinked at the intensity of his gaze. “I found the surveillance report.”
His expression turned raw. “It was something I had to do, because I knew I couldn’t afford to contact you again unless there was a child. If I hadn’t instigated the report, Xavier would have. At least that way I could make sure the information came only to me and ensure your privacy.”
The tension when she had discovered the report relaxed a little. She still hated that she’d been spied upon, but viewed that way, Gabe’s actions had a protective element. “I thought you hated it that you were being forced to marry at all. If the dowry had been found months ago—”
“I would never have gotten engaged to Nadia. And since I was always going to New Zealand for the promotional tour our relationship would probably have followed a more normal path.”
She stared at a pulse jumping along the side of his jaw. “But, when Graham found the dowry—“
“I was annoyed because I’d finally gotten you to myself, and then Southwell put himself in the frame again.” He grimaced. “In case you hadn’t noticed the dowry is a media circus. I knew I’d be out for hours.”
Sarah took a deep breath. She was starting to feel happy, but she couldn’t allow herself to relax just yet. “What about Jasmine?”
“I married Jasmine because I thought I loved her, but that was years ago.”
The words thought I loved her seemed to reverberate. Her throat closed up so that when she spoke the words came out in a husky croak. “Do you still love her?”
Something cleared in his expression. “She was a childhood sweetheart. The media blew it up into a big love affair, but the marriage was a mistake. Jasmine was stuck on Zahir while I traveled. She hated it.”
In terse, halting words he supplied a brief outline of the day Jasmine had drowned. He’d been spending more and more time away on business, tired of the fights and Jasmine’s unhappiness. When Jasmine had insisted on accompanying him on a diving trip he had let her and when another fiery argument had ensued, he had suggested they end the marriage. Jasmine had lost her temper and in desperation had clung to him. Tired of her manipulative tactics and the clinging, he had gone below to study the navigation maps. When he had come back on deck, Jasmine, who had never handled a boat in her life, had taken the small dinghy, determined to row to shore. The dinghy had been swept onto a rock shelf and the boat had capsized on top of her. Gabe had dove down to search for her.
Sarah touched his cheek. “And that’s how you got this.”
His hand covered hers, holding it against the scar. “I had to get her off the rocks.”
And the scar had become a permanent reminder that he hadn’t been able to save his wife—more, that he had no longer loved her. It was no wonder he hadn’t wanted anything to do with love again. “You can’t believe it was your fault.”
“I shouldn’t have argued with her on the boat.”
“And she shouldn’t have taken the dinghy.” Sarah unlocked her jaw. “I’m sorry she died, but it’s a fact that she endangered your life as well as her own.”
By the startled acknowledgment in his eyes she knew he hadn’t considered that angle, preferring to take all the blame on his own shoulders. The only problem was that the guilt had morphed into an aversion toward emotional commitment that had almost destroyed their chance at love.
He threaded his fingers through hers, pulling her closer. “When it came to you, I knew I was in trouble, but I tried to channel the emotion into a purely sexual connection. It didn’t work.”
“Then I got pregnant.” And he had attempted to transfer the “safe” relationship model he had settled on to her, and that hadn’t worked either.
She cupped his jaw, suddenly seeing him, his tenderness and depth. “Even though I was a lot of trouble, you didn’t let me go.” She tried to breathe deeply, but her chest felt banded and tight. “Why?”
His hands closed around her arms, his palms warm through the cotton pullover. “That would be because I’m in love with you.”
Happiness flared deep inside. Not just love, but in love. “Since when?”
“Since the moment I saw you completely ignore the don’t-touch sign and knock my ancestor’s sword to the floor.” He pulled her snug against him. “I suppose you think because I’m a guy I’m incapable of that kind of depth.”
She spread her palms over the warm solidity of his chest, loving the steady beat of his heart, the heat and strength of him. “It was a fact that I was a last fling before you got engaged.” Flickers of the old hurt came back to haunt her at the words.
“I was on the point of getting engaged. It was an arrangement that had taken months to negotiate then I blew it by sleeping with you. That should tell you something.”
She went still inside. Somewhere in all of this she realized she had lost the ability to stand back and look at the big picture, or to read between the lines. The one thing she had learned about Gabe was that for most of his adult life he had put Zahir ahead of his own wants and desires. The only times he had departed from that pattern were when he had married Jasmine, then again when he had slept with Sarah.
She stared at the clean, strong planes and angles of his face, the steadiness of his gaze. “You really did fall for me.”
He cupped her face, his thumbs drifting over her cheekbones, giving her goose bumps. “Like a ton of bricks.”
“The way I fell for you.”
His gaze connected with hers in a poignant moment of recognition.
She coiled her arms around his neck, holding him tight, loving the rock-solid quality that had frustrated her so often but which carried its own assurance. She knew without doubt that she and their daughter could trust Gabe with their hearts.
They had finally come home.
Sixteen
They didn’t delay the wedding, even though Gabe was happy to do so. Sarah, now secure in his love, decided she had to do her bit for Zahir, and upsetting the travel plans of hundreds of people wasn’t a good way to start.
The next day Gabe ushered Sarah into his study, where Faruq was impatiently waiting to find out just how the new wedding would affect his promotional efforts.
He was visibly relieved when Sarah informed him she was prepared to accept the current wedding date. She fixed him with the calm, level look she used in the classroom. “But I’m not getting married in the dead of night, like it’s some kind of secret—”
“It’s hardly a secret with four hundred guests.”
Sarah frowned at the interruption. “—since it’s my wedding.” She softened the statement with a blinding smile that, to Gabe’s mind, seemed to light up the room.
“Also,” she continued, “I want my cousin Laine’s son to be a page and her three daughters to be flower girls. Since they’re family, and on the next island, that should happen.”
Sarah kept her attention on Faruq as he took notes. “I’m thinking one o’clock is a good time for the ceremony. Midnight might have suited Nadia, but it doesn’t suit me or my nephew or nieces. Laine’s youngest has only just started to sleep through the night. You can’t expect us to upset that pattern when it’s taken so long to put in place.”
Faruq looked suitably chast
ened. “Uh—of course not—”
“Good.” She sent him an affirming smile. “It’s also crucially important that people should understand that Gabe is not being forced to marry me.”
Gabe hid a grin.
“Um—I don’t think Sheikh Kadin was being forced as such, it was more of a service to the country.”
“With a financial benefit.” Sarah favored Faruq with another brilliant smile. “My point exactly. Gabe is not marrying me for money. He’s marrying me because—”
“You’re irresistible to him.” Gabe thought he would just toss that one in.
Sarah’s gaze locked with his. “Irresistible?”
Gabe pulled her into his arms. “Absolutely.”
When she went up on her toes and rewarded him with a kiss, he heard the door close softly as Faruq let himself out. The meeting had ended a little precipitately, but it didn’t matter. Faruq was a creative genius and he was already excited about the promotional potential in Gabe’s marriage to a descendant of Camille, especially when combined with the recovery of the ancient dowry.
According to Faruq those two aspects could only enhance Zahir’s new image as a destination for romantic getaways, and would make it relatively easy to gloss over the small detail that Gabe and Sarah had already made a start on a family. For Zahir the formula was win-win, but for Gabe those two elements held little importance to him when he finally had what he wanted—the gorgeous, fascinating love of his life and their first child together.
* * *
The day of the wedding dawned fine and clear. The ceremony was held in the ancient stone church next door to the palace. Golden sunlight poured through the rose window at the western end. Jewel-bright colors illuminated thick flagstones and the gleam of dark oak pews. The church overflowed with guests, so seats had been placed outside along with two very modern screens with speakers.
A restive murmur ran through the guests as Gabe’s parents arrived and took their places. His father looked tanned and relaxed after a recent holiday and was no longer walking with the aid of a cane. His mother looked elegant and happier than he had seen her for years. She sent Gabe a beaming smile and a small thumbs-up.
