by Annie West
Safiyah stiffened. Despite the joy Karim had brought her tonight, she didn’t have the emotional resources to deal with an autopsy on her first marriage. She’d survived it and that was what mattered. Dredging up the details would only reinforce the fact that, despite tonight’s sexual satisfaction, she’d given herself in another loveless marriage.
She swallowed hard, forcing down the metallic taste of despair. Could she really go through this again? Especially when this was a hundred times worse because part of her kept hoping for some sign that Karim cared for her. Even though she knew that was impossible.
‘That’s enough, Karim. I don’t ask you about your past. I don’t delve into your secrets.’
In the gloom she saw him stiffen as if she’d struck him. Because she’d answered back or because he had secrets he wouldn’t share? She was too weary and upset to ask.
‘You’ll have to forgive my curiosity.’ But his voice held no apology. Instead it cut like honed steel. ‘I thought it would be useful to know more about you since we’ve undertaken to spend our lives together.’
He sounded anything but thrilled about that! He made it sound like a prison sentence.
Gone was the passionate lover. Gone the tenderness that had wound itself around her foolish, unthinking heart and made her begin to believe that miracles might be possible.
Karim’s haughty tone reminded her exactly why they’d married.
Pragmatism, not love.
Never love.
Safiyah choked back the sob that thickened her voice. Perhaps she was vulnerable after tonight’s unprecedented experiences, but suddenly the idea of spending her whole future in a marriage where she’d have to pretend not to crave what she could never have was too much.
‘Don’t bother about that,’ she said. ‘A successful royal marriage doesn’t require you to know me or I you. In fact, it will work best if we meet as polite strangers.’
She gathered the sheet tight around her and rolled away. ‘I’m going to sleep now. I’ve got a headache.’
CHAPTER TEN
POLITE STRANGERS.
Karim grimaced. The idea was ludicrous, but that was exactly what they were. Even after seven nights away from the capital on their supposed honeymoon.
He swore and shoved his chair back from the desk, swamped by the discontent that hounded him whenever he tried and failed to break through Safiyah’s reserve.
Or when he tried to determine why doing that was so important to him.
Every morning and for a couple of hours in the evening Karim worked, grappling with the multitude of matters requiring the new Sheikh’s attention. Each day he breakfasted with Tarek and Safiyah, and they spent the afternoons together as a family. For Karim was determined to establish a good relationship with his new son. Not for Tarek a life in which the only male role model was a man he hated spending time with.
To Karim’s surprise the boy had accepted him. Not only that but, given the chance, Tarek dogged Karim’s footsteps as if fascinated by him.
Or just previously starved of male attention?
The picture Karim had built of Abbas was of a man with little time for his wife or son. A man caught up in the business of ruling, or perhaps a man too wrapped up in himself to care about anyone else.
That possibility stirred indignation in Karim’s breast.
His own dysfunctional family had made him impatient with those who didn’t appreciate the value of what they had. Which was why he was determined to make this work—for all of them.
Yet between Karim and Safiyah there yawned a void. Safiyah held herself aloof. Each day it was like conversing at a formal banquet with a foreign ambassador—all charm on the surface but with neither letting their guard down.
He’d never met a woman so adept at avoiding discussions about herself. Whenever he pressed for more she lifted her eyebrows as if surprised and deftly changed the subject.
If she’d fobbed him off with trivialities it wouldn’t have worked, but Safiyah was a fount of knowledge on Assaran politics. Her shrewd observations on key individuals, on brewing issues and provincial power-plays were informative and incredibly useful to a man shouldering the burden of ruling a new country.
The only time she let her guard slip was in bed. Or in the shower. Or during their midnight swims. Or wherever else they had sex. Then she was a siren who drove him wild with her responsiveness and, increasingly, her demands.
Sometimes he felt as if he was really connecting to the vibrant woman hiding behind the mask of conformable queen and wife. He glimpsed something in her velvety eyes that hinted she was there—the woman he’d once believed her to be. But then, after sex, the barriers came up like steel barricades. Shutting him out.
Karim wasn’t emotionally needy. He hadn’t been since he was a child and his mother had abandoned him to the mercy of a tyrant. He’d made himself self-sufficient in every way. So it wasn’t for his own sake that he wanted to break down the wall between him and Safiyah. It was so they could create a sound footing for a future together, to bring up Tarek and any future children.
His groin tightened and his pulse skipped faster at the idea of fathering Safiyah’s children. He’d been semi-aroused all morning, despite the hours dealing with budget papers and plans for law reform. The sea breeze through the window reminded him of their race down the beach that first night here—that fever of need as he’d stripped Safiyah and given her a first taste of rapture.
Karim closed his eyes as a shudder ran through him. Hunger and longing. And regret. Because after the triumphant sex and that incredible sense of closeness she’d said coldly that it was best if they were strangers.
It was what he’d visualised when he’d first imagined this marriage. Keeping her at a distance, using her to secure his standing in this new country and for personal pleasure—not least the satisfaction of having at his mercy the woman who’d spurned him.
But from the start he’d wanted more.
Frowning, Karim shut down his computer and stood, rolling his shoulders.
He’d erred in pushing her for details about Abbas that night in bed. They’d both been exhausted after a sexual marathon that had left them off balance. Yet Karim had been driven by an urgency to establish control over circumstances that had suddenly seemed more complex and fraught than he’d anticipated.
He’d expected great sex, given the constant shimmer of attraction between them. Yet he hadn’t expected to feel so much when he finally bedded Safiyah. It had been as if the years had peeled away and he still believed she was the one woman for him. As if her happiness was important to him.
His glance strayed to the brilliant blue sky outside the window. It was their last afternoon at the small summer palace. His plans for today would surely help him break down Safiyah’s defences.
* * *
‘A picnic lunch?’
Safiyah met Karim’s glinting eyes. His brows slanted up at her surprise, giving him a saturnine appearance that was both goading and sexy.
It was appalling the way such a little thing made her knees weaken and her insides liquefy. At breakfast today she’d been reduced to wordless yearning just by the crook of Karim’s mouth in the hint of a smile.
That half-smile had reminded her of last night, when Karim had teased her mercilessly with his mouth and hands till she’d begged for him to take her. Last night there’d been something in his expression, too. Something she couldn’t name and didn’t want to, for she feared she’d make a fool of herself, imagining tender emotions when he had none.
She was his convenient bride. Nothing more.
‘Yes, a picnic. It’s all arranged.’
He made it sound like a typical royal event, with retainers on hand to serve them. She didn’t particularly enjoy formality, but if it meant less time alone with Karim that was a good thing. Because it got harder by the day not to be seduc
ed by his charm.
‘I’m sure Tarek will like that.’
‘Oh, I know he will.’
Was Karim laughing at her? That gleam in those dark eyes—
‘He was thrilled when I told him. Ah, here he is.’
Safiyah turned to see Tarek running from his room, not in his usual shorts and T-shirt, but in the trousers and boots he wore for visiting the stables.
‘Mama, Mama, we have a surprise for you.’
He stopped beside Karim and looked up at the tall man. Then, to Safiyah’s surprise, her son lifted his small hand and Karim’s long fingers enfolded it.
A pang pierced her lungs. Could she be jealous of the burgeoning closeness between the two? That would make her pathetic. It was good for Tarek that Karim made time for him and seemed to enjoy his company. Her son had bloomed since coming here, becoming more and more the carefree little boy she’d seen in snatches since Abbas’s repressive influence had gone.
‘A surprise? How lovely.’
Her boy nodded gravely, then frowned. ‘But you need other shoes. For safety.’
He looked up to Karim, who nodded. ‘That’s right. We don’t wear sandals around horses.’
‘Horses?’
That explained Tarek’s beaming smile. So they were having a picnic in the stables? Despite her attempts to distance herself a little from Karim, she couldn’t help smiling at the idea. Tarek was fascinated by horses and she’d promised to teach him to ride.
‘That sounds like fun. I’ll be right back.’
But when she went to the stables there was no picnic laid out. Instead she found Tarek, grinning from ear to ear, wearing a riding helmet and mounted astride a tubby little pony almost as wide as it was high.
‘Surprise!’ He threw out his arms, bouncing in the saddle so Karim, holding the pony’s leading rope, put out a hand to steady him.
‘Easy, Tarek. What have I said about sitting still and not frightening Amin?’
The pony didn’t look perturbed—merely shook its head and stood patiently.
Safiyah stopped in her tracks, torn between shock and delight. Tarek looked so enthusiastic, his smile like a beacon. She grinned back at him. He really was coming out of the shell of reserve that had so worried her.
But at the same time she forced down a sliver of something less positive—the feeling that she’d been excluded. She’d wanted to teach Tarek to ride, had looked forward to it.
Yet she couldn’t be selfish enough to begrudge him his excitement. This was a positive change from Abbas, who’d never made time to be with Tarek, much less encouraged him to learn anything other than court etiquette.
‘You’re riding? Karim has been teaching you?’
Maybe that explained Tarek’s recent willingness to have a nap in the afternoon. Before coming here he’d been adamant he no longer needed a rest. Had he and Karim secretly spent nap time in the stables?
Tarek nodded. ‘Brushing Amin and feeding him and learning how to sit.’ He chewed his lip. ‘But not really riding...’ He looked up wistfully at Karim.
Karim’s eyes met hers. ‘We thought you’d like to teach him that.’
His voice was suede brushing across her skin and Safiyah shivered in response.
‘You’re the expert rider in the family. I’ve told Tarek how you used to compete.’
Silly how much his words affected her. She drank them in like desert earth sucking in life-giving water. Because it was so long since she’d received praise? Or because it was for something she’d once excelled at?
But even after years of being denied access to the animals she loved she wasn’t that needy. This warm feeling came from the way Tarek and Karim looked at her. Tarek with excitement and admiration and Karim with...
Safiyah wrenched her gaze away. Karim was doing what he’d promised—building a bond with Tarek, creating a sense of family so her boy could thrive. So they could present the image of a solid family unit. Karim was pragmatic, that was all. It would be crazy to read more into his actions.
She focused on Tarek. ‘You’re sitting up nice and straight. I’m impressed. Are you ready to ride out?’
‘Can I? Can I really?’ He jumped up and down in the saddle, then almost immediately subsided, leaning forward to pat the pony reassuringly. ‘Sorry, Amin. I didn’t mean to scare you.’
The pony flicked its ear at the sound of his name but otherwise didn’t budge.
Safiyah suppressed a smile. ‘You found a very calm pony, Karim. I only hope he moves as well as he stands.’
Karim passed her the leading rope. ‘Time to find out.’
Amin did, indeed, move. In fact he turned out to be an ideal learner’s mount—placid, but not obstinate, content to circle the courtyard again and again while Tarek learned the basics.
‘I had no idea what you two were up to,’ Safiyah said as they stopped before Karim. Despite her stern self-talk, she found herself smiling into those glinting eyes. ‘You kept the secret well.’
He shrugged. ‘We kept Amin at the far end of the stable, away from the other horses, so you wouldn’t see him. He’s only been here a couple of days. I don’t think Tarek could have kept the secret any longer.’
Tarek piped up. ‘I wanted to tell you, Mama, but I wanted to surprise you with how much I know.’ He rattled off information about grooming his pony and even caring for his tack.
Safiyah raised her eyebrows.
‘I told Tarek that if he had a pony he had to learn how to look after it.’ Karim caught her eye.
‘I agree.’ She turned to her son. ‘You’ve learned so much. I’m proud of you.’
He grinned. ‘Can we go now? Can we?’
‘Go?’ Safiyah looked from Tarek to Karim.
‘Our picnic, remember?’ He turned and went into the stable, emerging with her horse, already saddled. ‘Up you get.’ When Safiyah hesitated he continued. ‘You and Tarek will ride. I’ll lead the pony.’
Karim would walk, leaving her and Tarek to ride? She couldn’t imagine many men of her acquaintance doing that—especially Abbas, even if he had been able to ride. Usually women and children tagged along while the man took precedence.
‘Hurry up, Safiyah. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.’
There was no impatience in Karim’s expression, just a twinkle of amusement that she found far too attractive. With one last look at Tarek she took the reins and swung up into the saddle.
They didn’t ride far, and not down to the beach—for which she was grateful. Even with Karim holding the leading rope, the track there was steep and would challenge a first-time rider. Instead they went to a sheltered grove a little way along the headland.
The view across the sea was spectacular, but what held Safiyah’s eye was the tent erected for their convenience. It was tall enough to stand up in. The floor was covered with carpets and cushions. And she caught the glint of silver from platters, jugs and intricately decorated goblets. Cool boxes stood in one corner, no doubt packed with their picnic meal.
The place looked inviting and, she realised, deserted. The servants who’d set up this temporary camp had clearly returned to the palace. Maybe that accounted for the sense of intimacy here. There was silence but for the snort of the horses, Tarek’s chatter and the whisper of the sea below.
She caught Karim’s gaze on her. Warmth swarmed through her, climbing to her cheeks. Suddenly the tent with all its rich furnishings looked like the setting for seduction.
She remembered that morning, when Karim had persuaded her to stay in bed, ostensibly by reaching out one hand to stroke her bare body. But it had been the searing hunger in his expression that had held her there. For she’d been consumed by a matching hunger.
How dangerous it was, trying to keep her heart whole while sharing her husband’s bed. This wasn’t like her marriage to Abbas. Then there’d b
een no difficulty in maintaining an emotional distance. But with Karim—
‘What are you thinking?’
His voice hit that baritone note that never failed to make Safiyah feel weak and wanton.
‘I...’ Her gaze shifted and she noticed for the first time that one end of the tent was a cosy bower, where a couple of Tarek’s toys were propped against fluffy pillows. A kite lay beside them.
Safiyah swallowed, her throat closing convulsively as emotion see-sawed. This looked...felt...like the action of more than a man taking a pragmatic approach. It felt like the action of a man who cared.
‘Safiyah?’
Suddenly he was before her, looking down from under sombre brows.
‘What’s wrong?’
She shook her head, swallowing the reckless words that crammed her mouth. Pushing away the almost overwhelming urge to pretend this was real. Once she’d yearned for love, had believed in it with all her heart. To her dismay it seemed even the hard lessons of the last years hadn’t banished that craving.
‘Mama! Karim! I’m starving. Aren’t you?’ Tarek raced into the tent, lifting the lid on one of the cool boxes.
‘Nothing’s wrong.’ She aimed a vague smile in Karim’s direction. ‘You seem to have thought of everything. Thank you.’
Before he could question further, she hurried after her son.
‘Wait, Tarek. You need to wash your hands first.’
* * *
Again Karim felt he’d missed his opportunity with Safiyah. In the rare moments when it seemed they were on the brink of something more than sex, or a purely dynastic marriage, the possibility shimmered for an instant and then shattered.
Was it weakness to want more?
He’d told himself he wanted to secure their future. If he and Safiyah knew and trusted each other they’d create a unit that would underpin his new role.
Or did his need for more from Safiyah have another explanation?
Personal experience made him particularly sympathetic to Tarek’s situation. A childhood devoid of love had made Karim determined to do better for the boy than his own parents had done.
