by Nalini Singh
The hand he’d placed on her own tightened a fraction. “And you will return to Zulheil.” His voice was hard, eliminating her misty dreams of trust.
“Yes.” She would go wherever Tariq resided. “Will you be very busy with the energy conference?”
His face underwent a subtle change at her calm acceptance of his decree. However, the fact that he’d entertained even for a second the belief that she might defect, told her that deeper issues of trust and forgiveness lay buried within his heart. Even her agreeing to have his child had not rebuilt their broken bond.
“I’m sorry you cannot participate.” His mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Zulheil may allow its women full participation, but most of the Arab states at this conference hold different views. Those who agree with Zulheil’s approach are helping me to try and change the others’ thinking, but progress is slow.”
“And to challenge them openly with my presence at this juncture could well destroy everything that you’ve achieved?”
He threw her a quick grin. “Correct. Even though this conference involves the leaders of the Western world as well, including their women, our neighbors are the ones we must be careful of. I cannot afford to take a too-radical stance and alienate the massive powers that surround our borders.”
She nodded, understanding the delicate balance he sought to maintain. “One step at a time. Perhaps by the time I’m fifty, I’ll be able to chair such a conference,” she joked.
Tariq didn’t answer. When she turned her head, she found him staring at her. “What?”
“We will have been married for twenty-eight years by then.”
“Goodness. I didn’t even think of that.”
“Then perhaps you should.”
His enigmatic statement kept her company throughout the journey. They landed at Sydney Airport around 2:00 a.m. Going through customs, Jasmine confused her two passports.
“Sorry. This is the one you need.” She handed over her newly issued Zulheil passport and put the other one away.
Tariq didn’t say anything until they were in the limo on the way to the hotel. “Why did you bring both passports?”
Looking out at Sydney’s lights, Jasmine replied absentmindedly, “The New Zealand one was in the pocket of my carry-on bag from when I entered Zulheil. I forgot all about it.”
He didn’t say anything further on the topic and came to sit beside her, teasing her for her open delight in the night scenery. She teased right back, but once in their hotel room, exhausted by the long flight, she fell into immediate slumber.
TARIQ WOKE JUST BEFORE DAWN. Mina was asleep, her head resting on his chest. He tangled his fingers in her glorious hair, feeling an urgent need to touch her, to appease the slowly healing creature inside him. He’d made the decision to trust Jasmine’s loyalty on this trip, aware that she was no longer a teenage girl. What he hadn’t counted on was his possessiveness and the frailty of this new accord between them. He’d needed his Mina to himself for a while longer.
He hadn’t meant to snap at her on the plane, and had been immediately sorry that he had done it, seeing the hurt in her expressive eyes. But his generous wife had forgiven him. He would, he vowed, try to control his edgy possessiveness. It was not her fault that they were in this country, which had to remind her of her homeland. And it was not her fault that he was…afraid. Afraid that once again she’d make a choice that would shatter his soul. He hated that feeling.
Yet he couldn’t have left her in Zulheil. It would have broken her tender heart if he’d forced her to remain behind—one more rejection on top of so many others. He touched her cheek and felt something deep inside him sigh in defeat.
Unbeknownst to her, his wife once more held his heart in her hands.
“I HAVE TICKETS TO MOST OF the shows.” Jasmine waved the pieces of paper in Tariq’s direction. He stopped in the process of buttoning up his white shirt and stalked over.
“You will be accompanied by Jamar.”
She stood up to finish buttoning his shirt. “He’ll be bored stiff.”
Tariq gripped her wrists, forcing her to meet his vivid green eyes. “I do not do this to clip your wings, Mina. You are the wife of the Sheik of Zulheil. There are those who would hurt you to reach me.” His words were gentle.
She gasped in surprise. “I hadn’t considered that. I guess I’m still not used to being your wife.” She knew she’d said the wrong words the moment they left her mouth.
Tariq’s jaw firmed into a determined line that she knew well, and his grip on her wrists suddenly felt like steel handcuffs. “That will never change, so get used to it.” He dipped his head and took her lips in a profoundly possessive kiss, his body rigid against hers. “You belong to me.”
She thought he was going to leave her with that image of distrust, wounding her. Instead, he turned at the door and walked back to her, his shoulders taut. “Mina.” His eyes were dark and turbulent. The gentle touch of his finger on her cheek was an apology.
Carefully, she reached up and kissed him softly on the lips. “I know I am your wife, Tariq. I know.”
He nodded, an expression in his eyes that she couldn’t read. “Take care, wife. I would not lose you.” Then he was gone, leaving her shaken by the power of that statement.
WHETHER IT TOOK PLACE IN Sydney or Melbourne, Australian Fashion Week was one of the biggest shows on the planet, full of every type of style, color and decadence. Jasmine was entranced, though she never forgot Tariq’s words. Did love drive her husband’s possessiveness, or something less beautiful? Her mind continuously went over the words.
However, she didn’t have to worry about Jamar. Her muscled bodyguard enjoyed watching the women on the catwalks, if not the fashions. He was commenting on a curvy brunette when a hand on her shoulder made Jasmine cry out in surprise. Jamar moved so fast she didn’t see him shift. Suddenly, his big bulk blocked her field of vision.
A throaty feminine laugh breached the barrier.
“Jamar, it’s okay.” Shocked, Jasmine pushed around his side when he refused to budge from his protective stance. “She’s my sister.”
“Hello, Jasmine,” Sarah drawled.
“Sarah.” Her sister’s beauty seemed even brighter.
Sarah’s mouth curved into a smile that was without warmth. “So, what’s it like being part of a harem?”
After all these years, Tariq’s revelation had given Jasmine an insight into her sister’s cruelty. “I’m Tariq’s wife.”
Sarah didn’t hide her surprise fast enough. A bitter look tinted her beautiful eyes for a second. “Well, well. Caught the big fish, after all.” She looked over her shoulder. “It’s been lovely but I must rush. Harry’s probably looking for me.”
Sarah turned and disappeared into the dimness beyond the lights of the catwalk before Jasmine could reply. The minute-long meeting left her feeling a confusing mix of emotions.
“She is not like you.” Jamar moved to her side once more, his blunt features set in disapproving lines.
“No. She’s beautiful.”
“And icy. That one is cold.”
Jamar’s words reminded Jasmine of Tariq’s statements. Suddenly, her heart felt lighter, more carefree. Her husband had chosen her. He thought she was good enough just as she was, and that was what mattered.
“HOW DID THE INITIAL negotiations go?” Jasmine asked Tariq over dinner. She’d decided to eat in their suite, aware that he’d be craving some peace and quiet.
He ran his hand through his damp hair, having just showered. Under the terry-cloth robe that he’d thrown on to placate her sense of modesty, his tanned skin glowed with health. “It is as I expected. Those with oil wish to keep their position of power and are unwilling to look at alternatives.”
“Isn’t that short-sighted? Oil will eventually run out.”
His eyes gleamed with intelligence. “Exactly. And it is not only money but our world that we must consider.”
Jasmine reached across the table and touched his
hand. “As an ex-New Zealander, I’d have to agree with you. Kiwis are very big on clean and green.”
“Are you?” He trapped her hand beneath his.
“Am I what?”
“Are you an ex-New Zealander?”
She paused. “Aren’t I? I thought after marrying you, I gained Zulheil citizenship?”
He nodded once. “Zulheil allows dual citizenship.”
“I didn’t know that.” She smiled. “My heart belongs to you and your land, Tariq. It’s home.”
He began to rub his thumb in tiny circles across her wrist. “You have no wish to return to your family?”
She knew her smile was a little sad. Even though they’d hurt her so much, they were her family. A lifetime couldn’t be easily dismissed. “I saw Sarah today.”
“Your sister is well?” His question was innocuous, but his eyes were alert.
She shrugged. “You know Sarah.”
He didn’t say anything, simply watched her face with eyes that seemed to see through to her soul. When he stood and came around the table, she was ready for him. That night, his lovemaking was tender and careful, as if he was trying to soothe her hurt. She forgot Sarah’s barbs with his first touch, her heart overflowing with love for her desert warrior.
Her grip on her husband’s strong body was fierce, her loving equally tender, his comments at dinner having given her an insight into his mind. Her husband had been afraid that she’d be tempted by the proximity of her country of birth. He didn’t know that Zulheil was the only place that she truly thought of as home, and only because it was his land.
JASMINE SPENT MOST OF THE next day shopping for gifts. Jamar tagged along like a good-natured, if extremely large, puppy, even offering suggestions on prospective purchases.
“Your sister is approaching us,” he stated suddenly.
Jasmine looked up in surprise. Sure enough, Sarah was making her way through the small boutique in Darling Harbour.
“How about lunch, little sister?” For once, there was no sarcasm or bitterness in her words, and Jasmine couldn’t resist the invitation. Old habits were hard to break and this hint of an olive branch from an always-unapproachable sister was too good to pass up.
Before they reached the car, Sarah asked her if they could stop in at a travel agency. “Have to pick up some tickets.” She smiled and wiggled her fingers at Jamar.
The bodyguard, who’d been hanging back, moved closer.
Jasmine smiled at him. “We’re just going to stop by a travel agent’s office. Can you tell the driver?”
Jamar frowned but did as she asked, taking the front passenger seat, while Jasmine sat in the back with Sarah. As the vehicle was a courtesy provided by the Australian government, there was no glass partition between the two compartments. Mindful of that, Jasmine kept her voice down as she chatted with Sarah, catching up. When she admitted to missing her family, Sarah said, rather loudly, “So, when do you want to leave for New Zealand? I’ll book your ticket right now.”
Jasmine responded in a quieter tone. “I’ll see if Tariq has some free time after the conference.” She wondered if she could convince her husband to return to the place where they’d hurt each other so much.
To her surprise, lunch was pleasant. Starved for news about her family, she drank in every one of Sarah’s words. “Thank you,” she said, after paying the bill for both their meals. “I needed to know about everyone.”
Sarah smiled slowly. “Perhaps we’ll see each other again. We’re both adults now.”
Jasmine nodded. She was no longer the naive girl she’d once been, and it seemed her sister respected that. And maybe after marrying Boston blue-blood Harrison Bentley, Sarah had matured and forgotten her spiteful anger toward Tariq.
Jasmine had no premonition of the sheer wrongness of her belief until late that night.
SHE WAS IN THE SHOWER when Tariq returned sometime after eight. When she walked out into the bedroom, wrapped in a towel, she found him waiting for her, eyes glittering with what she immediately recognized as unadulterated rage.
“Tariq? What is it?” She froze, suddenly afraid.
He remained on the other side of the room, his big body held tightly in check. “Did you have fun laughing at me, Jasmine?” His quiet voice vibrated with anger.
“W-what are you talking about?”
“Such innocence! And to think I’d believed you’d changed.”
He raked her body with eyes that were so angry, she didn’t want him anywhere near her. At the same time, it hurt that he stayed as far as physically possible from her.
“Unfortunately, your sister gave away your plans.”
Her head jerked up. “What plans?”
“Your sister commiserated with me over your desertion. She said I had to understand that you could not bring yourself to marry a man like me.”
Shocked, Jasmine just stared. When he ripped something out of his pocket and threw it against her chest, she didn’t move to get it.
“You did not tell her I was your husband! What were you planning to do after you left? File for divorce, or just ignore your Zulheil marriage?” The sharp pain in his voice cut her.
Sarah had done this, Jasmine thought dully. But she wouldn’t win. Her lie was too enormous, too unbelievable. Surely Tariq would see the truth. He knew Sarah. “I’m not planning on leaving you. She lied.”
He looked even more furious. “Do not make this worse with further lies. The plane ticket in your name that Sarah wished me to give you does not lie.”
With shaking hands, Jasmine picked up the ticket, barely able to keep the towel around her. The ticket was in her name, and even worse, her passport details were listed. That was odd, but only seemed to damn her further in her husband’s eyes.
“No,” she cried. “I would never do this. My family had all these details on file.”
His mouth twisted in disbelief. “Enough! I was foolish to believe in you despite it all, but Jamar heard you discussing your defection!”
Jamar had obviously not heard her response to Sarah’s words. She reached for Tariq, forgetting the towel. “Listen—”
“The truth is clear. I have always known your choices. Your body is not enough to make me a fool again. Though if you wish, I can avail myself of the invitation.” His dismissive glance broke her heart. He was so cold, so uninterested.
Unbearably ashamed of her nakedness, she pulled the towel around her with fingers that trembled, and tried to reason with him. “Please, Tariq, listen to me. I love you…” She gave him her heart in a frantic attempt to make him listen.
He laughed. “You must think me a great fool, Jasmine. Your love is worthless.”
Brokenhearted at the bald-faced rejection, and no longer able to figure out a way to make him understand that her love and loyalty belonged to him without reservation, Jasmine threw the balled-up ticket in his face. “Yes, that’s the truth!” she lied. “I’m going to New Zealand and I’m going to divorce you!”
Tariq didn’t speak. His face resembled a mask carved out of stone. The rage driving him had been tempered to cold fury.
“I’ll go back and marry someone more suitable. I don’t know what I was thinking of, marrying you!” She wanted to break down and cry, but some final piece of pride held her in check. If she gave in to the urge, she might never stop.
“You will not leave Zulheil.”
“I’m already out of Zulheil! I won’t go back!”
The anger on his face should have scared her, but she was past fear, mercifully numb. “You will return,” he declared.
“No!” Her anger crested. “You have no right to make me!”
“Get dressed. We are leaving today.” His voice was without emotion, as if he’d suddenly tripped a switch. “If you try to make it difficult, I will personally make sure that you get to Zulheil.”
“You wouldn’t make a scene.” The room separated them, but it was the distance in his eyes that broke her heart.
His eyes narrowed. “
I will do what it takes.”
Confronted with the Sheik of Zulheil, she knew that she’d lost this battle. He had the political power to do whatever he wished. “I have nowhere else to go.” The wistful words fell from her lips like long-held tears. “I gave up everything for you. Everything. Everything.”
His only response was the slamming of the door behind him as he left the room.
SLUMPED OUTSIDE THE HOTEL door, his control shattered, Tariq could barely think. He knew what Sarah was like, and so, when she’d told him, he hadn’t believed her. Even with the evidence of the ticket, he hadn’t believed her. Making sure that she knew of his disgust with her for her troublemaking, he’d gone to find Jasmine. He’d wanted to protect her from her sister’s maliciousness. Then Jamar had seen him heading to their suite, and had asked if Jasmine had talked to him about leaving for New Zealand. His expression had been dark.
“On their way to the travel agent’s, her sister asked Jasmine al eha Sheik when she would like her ticket booked.” The bodyguard had started to say something else, but was interrupted when the head of security beeped him. He’d excused himself.
Tariq had felt his heart break with Jamar’s words. It was fortunate that the guard had left, because otherwise he would have seen his sheik’s composure crack, like fine porcelain under a heavy boot.
Jamar was a loyal guard, one with no reason to lie, especially since he clearly adored Jasmine. Tariq called himself a fool for accepting Jasmine’s explanation for carrying her New Zealand passport. He’d broken his longest-held vow and had trusted her when she’d said it was an oversight. Even after what she’d done to him the first time, he’d trusted her. He’d wanted to protect and keep her safe in his arms.
An image thrust into his mind, turning a knife inside him. Of a tiny woman with hair of flame pleading with him to believe her, her shoulders and legs bare. A woman with shame in her eyes when he’d mocked the inherent sensuality that was her nature. Sensuality that he had always treasured, that he’d taken time and care to nurture.
