Bought by the Sheikh

by Diana Fraser

  “When I said, ‘I love the way you can ignore anything’, I meant I can’t believe the way you ignore things.”

  “Ah, so when you use the word ‘love’ I shouldn’t believe it.”

  She looked around but didn’t answer.

  “Gabrielle?”

  She turned to him. “Yes?”

  “I asked you a question.”

  “I thought it was a statement. Language is so difficult,” she continued. “Always open to interpretation. Words are easy to say, it’s the people you have to believe in, not the words. Anyway…”

  She looked away as if searching to escape and turned to walk away. He wasn’t about to let that happen. It was now or never. He had to get that box ticked so he could proceed with his plans.

  “Well, I hope you believe me when I tell you I love you.”

  Even to his ears, the words didn’t sound convincing—nothing like the films. Convincing or not, Gabrielle stopped in her tracks. She turned her head to look at him, brow knitted, her mouth open. “What?” The word sounded strangely strangled.

  He cleared his throat. “I love you.” Again, it didn’t sound like he’d imagined it would. He, who rarely was aware of people, was now conscious of looks being shot his way. He wanted this wound up. He shifted onto his other leg. “So… what do you think?” He winced inside of himself—he never sounded needy, but it appeared he was now.

  She turned to face him. It was she who appeared unaware now of onlookers. “What do I think? I think you’re saying words that you believe I’d like to hear. That’s what I think.”

  He sighed with impatience as he heard his name called by his vizier. He turned to see him approaching along with King Amir and King Roshan. His time was running out. He turned back to Gabrielle and stepped closer to her so that only she could hear now.

  “I’m saying what I feel.”

  “Really? It doesn’t sound like that’s what you feel.”

  “I don’t know what I’m meant to sound like, but take it from me, that’s what I feel. All right?”

  “All right?” she repeated back to him. Or was she repeating it? Perhaps she was confirming that everything was, indeed, all right.

  “Isn’t it?” he asked.

  “Isn’t it what?”

  “All right? The fact that I love you. I assume you still love me, so that sorts everything.”

  She drew in a deep sigh. “You’re incredible.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “The way you said that it doesn’t sound like a good thing.” He held up his hand to stop his vizier’s impatient voice.

  “Zavian!” she said, shaking her head.

  “Your Majesty,” butted in the vizier. “People are waiting to see you.”

  “Right,” he said. “Right,” he said to Gabrielle. “I have to go. But I want you to know that I’ve done what you said. I’ve considered the matter and concluded that you’re right. I love you.”

  “There you go again.”

  “I’m repeating,” he said clearly, “because you aren’t responding to me as I anticipated.”

  She glanced at the vizier, who was giving her a black look. “You should go. You’re expected elsewhere.”

  He drew her closer. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me you understand. I love you. Three words you wanted, and I’ve given them to you. I assume that they’re not unwelcome.” He raised an imperious eyebrow. He couldn’t seem to stop himself.

  “Go, Zavian. We can talk about this later.”

  “No. I need to know now whether what I’ve said is sufficient for you to marry me.”

  She shook her head but smiled at the same time. True, it was a hard-to-read kind of a smile, but Zavian instinctively read it as a reassuring smile. He’d given her what she wanted. He relaxed his grip on her hand with relief.

  “Good,” he said. “I must go now. But there is nothing now to fear, Gabrielle. All will be well.”

  He raised a hand in greeting to the two kings who stood with amused smiles by the entrance, awaiting him. There was nothing to fear, he repeated to himself as he walked away from her, remembering her small smile. She’d said that words were of no importance on their own, and that you had to trust the person themselves. She trusted him. Of that, he was certain. Therefore all would be well. His plan could continue.

  * * *

  As Gabrielle watched Zavian greet the two kings who made up the ancient kingdom of Havilah, she shook her head, bemused and frustrated. How could he believe that him telling her he loved her like that changed anything? She knew what he’d done. He’d added the “love thing” to his bullet point list and now considered it had been ticked. Well, he needed to do a whole lot more than tell her. He needed to show her he loved her because until he did, she wouldn’t believe that he’d allowed the walls around his heart to fall, wouldn’t believe that they could have a life together.

  She wished she could disappear into the night, into the shadows of her suite of rooms. But she had her duties to perform that night. Just one evening and the next few days and then she could leave, away from the temptations and jeering reminders of a life that might have been hers.

  * * *

  Sheikh Amir looked at Zavian thoughtfully. “What’s going on, Zavian? I haven’t seen you this jumpy since we were teenagers, and you had your eye on that girl.”

  Amir’s comment broke Zavian’s train of thought, and he glanced around to see that both Amir and Roshan were watching him with barely concealed amusement.

  “You’re right, Amir,” said Roshan, leaning back in his chair and taking a quick sip of his drink, “Zavian is plotting something.” He cocked his head to one side with a considering air. “Plotting something that he’s not quite sure about. Hm. Interesting.” He looked at Amir. “Since when has our friend ever been not quite sure about something?”

  “There’s only one thing that he’s unsure of, and that’s about matters of the heart.”

  “Ah, yes,” replied Roshan. “Now he really should come to me on that score. I happen to be an expert in matters of the heart.”

  Zavian scowled at them both. “I need no help.”

  “Of course,” Roshan leaned forward, rubbing his fists against his lips consideringly. “You are an expert. You have such a successful track record.”

  “And you have, I suppose. All you have left behind you is a string of broken hearts.”

  “But not mine. That, I would suggest, is being successful.”

  Zavian shook his head. Roshan was incorrigible, and hell would freeze over before he took any advice from him. In the relationship department, anyway.

  He looked around the room with satisfaction. Everything was going according to plan. His plan. He caught Gabrielle’s eye as she listened to the foreign ambassador who was keen on promoting cultural and tourist links between their countries, and smiled at her. She smiled back, their eyes caught in an intimate moment, which transcended the room. It calmed any outstanding fears from his earlier conversation.

  It was time. He rose, and she sat back, puzzled, as silence fell in the room. As he started to speak, all eyes fell upon him just as he’d planned. This would be the perfect opening to the celebrations, the icing on the cake. It would place his country at the forefront of the world’s media as they gloried in Gharb Havilah’s past, in its prosperous present and its promising future. So much had changed over the past few generations, but he was here now at a point where they could move forward with confidence. After a short, formal speech in which he welcomed guests and spoke of the meaning the celebration had to his country, he moved on to the part of his speech about which none of his advisors had been told. He didn’t meet his vizier’s direct look, but he could feel it as he continued.

  “I’d like to end now where I began. The importance of Gharb Havilah’s future is dependent on the people who live here, and a leadership committed to its people and culture… a leader who is committed to family life.” He turned to Gabrielle. “And what better time to thank Dr. Gabrielle Ta
ylor for her commitment to our culture and her work on the celebrations. Gabrielle has made the study of Gharb Havilah’s past her life’s work. She’s been an inspiration to us all, and most particularly to me. She sums up what makes Gharb Havilah great. A love of the people and the country. And it gives me great pleasure to announce our engagement.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence. Royalty rarely provided the unexpected, but then there was a burst of applause and cheers as various leaders rose and clapped, turning first to the king and then to Gabrielle.

  Zavian smiled back, acknowledging the cheers and good wishes. Ever since that moment in the desert, he’d known the match would meet the approval of his people. And it seems he was correct. Even a glance at his vizier reassured him. From initial disbelief, his vizier was nodding slowly and joining in with the general sense of celebration. The formality of the dinner dissolved, and people crowded around. Not least his two friends, Amir and Roshan.

  There was only one person he couldn’t see. There were people milling around between them.

  Roshan clapped Zavian on the back. “You dark horse!” He grinned widely. “Seems like you know a bit more than you’re letting on.”

  But Zavian wasn’t in the mood to talk. He was trying to spot Gabrielle in the crowd.

  “Where is she?”

  The two other kings looked around. “There’s some commotion moving over there. I think she’s… yes, she’s making her way to the exit.”

  They both looked at Zavian, who frowned. This wasn’t his plan—nowhere near his plan.

  “Maybe I was premature in my congratulations,” said Roshan. “We’ll cover for you, but I think you’d better go and track down your bride-to-be because it looks like she’s just left the room.”

  He didn’t waste any time following Roshan’s advice. He moved swiftly through the crowds, which parted before him, but she must have run after she’d left the room because there was no sign of her.

  He hesitated for a moment and considered where she might go to in the heat of the moment. It came to him in a flash. The gardens. He strode down the empty colonnaded walks, past the public areas of the palace, toward the older wing where the old, overgrown garden was. He saw her instantly, her red dress flashing against the dark greens of the palms and plants as she made her way to the privacy of the central fountain.

  He followed her and watched for a few moments as she slumped down beside the fountain and put her head in her hands. That made him start forward.

  “Gabrielle, tell me, what’s the matter?”

  She turned to him with a start, and he was surprised to see not the emotion he’d expected on her face. She was furious.

  “What’s the matter?” She took his hand and flung it from her, folding her arms across her chest. He’d never seen her so angry before. “You’ve publicly humiliated me, and you ask me what the matter is?”

  Anger sparked in him. “Humiliated? How is asking you to marry me a humiliation?”

  “You. Didn’t. Ask. Me!” Each word was spoken with vehemence.

  “I hardly thought I needed to. I thought you’d made your feelings clear.” For the first time, a shadow of doubt entered his mind. He couldn’t have got it so wrong, surely?

  She shook her head, her eyes bright, her mouth a firm line, a million miles from the kiss he’d imagined giving her at this moment. “Whatever I said, whatever I feel for you, it’s totally overshadowed by behavior such as this!”

  “Me asking you to marry you is bad behavior?”

  “I repeat,” she said in a dangerously low tone. “You didn’t ask me. Do you really imagine that the public announcement of our engagement would result in marriage?”

  “Yes.” It was the only answer he could think of. Because he hadn’t, in a million years, imagined any other outcome.

  “And just in that answer I know that we could never marry.”

  “What are you talking about?” He was getting angry now. “We talked about the future, you said you needed to know I loved you, and I told you I did. What’s the problem?”

  She clamped her hand to her chest, where her heart rested beneath. “The problem is that I don’t believe you love me. All I know is that you said the words to me.”

  “But you trust my word, surely?”

  Her hesitation said it all. “I know that you believe what you say, but, Zavian, I’m not sure that your definition of love is the same as mine. I can’t believe in it.”

  “Then what, Gabrielle, do I have to do to make you believe that I love you.”

  “You have to do more than tell me like it’s something you’ve signed off on. You have to show me that you have feelings for me.”

  “You know I have feelings for you.”

  The folded her arms defensively across her chest. “I know you want me in your bed.”

  He raked his fingers through his hair and twisted away. “It’s more than that.”

  “It’s not what I’m seeing.”

  He flung his arms open, full of anger and frustration. He was floored. “Words? You want words?”

  “Yes. I want more than a box ticked. I want more than the word regurgitated and spat back at me as if I were a chick needing it to survive.” She shook her head. “But that small morsel isn’t enough to move forward on, isn’t enough to believe in, isn’t enough to sustain our relationship with.”

  He suddenly realized. “You don’t believe me. You think I’m lying.”

  “No, there you’re wrong. I think you believe in what you’re saying, but to me, they are words without emotion. It’s not in the words.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “It’s in what lies behind them. It’s in your manner, in your heart, showing through your words.”

  He withdrew his hand from her and placed his hands on his hips. “So now I have to work out how to get my heart to show through? You ask too much, Gabrielle. Too much.” With that, he turned and stalked away. Too quickly to hear her reply.

  “I ask too little.”

  Chapter 12

  His vizier was waiting for Zavian’s return.

  “Where are you going?” asked Naseer. Zavian stopped in his tracks and shook his head.

  “Back to the reception, of course.”

  “There’s no of course about it,” said Naseer in a tone most unlike his usual respectful one. “You and I need to talk.”

  “Naseer!” Zavian said. “The last thing I wish to do now is to talk to you.”

  “Zavian!” said Naseer, using the same tone. “This is something I should have done years ago. And would have, if I’d listened to the girl’s grandfather, rather than your father! Now, come with me.”

  “But—”

  “The rest can wait, this can’t.”

  Naseer’s tone chastened Zavian. “What’s happened?”

  Naseer’s mouth was a firm line as he shot him a dark look before proceeding toward a stateroom. Zavian entered, and Naseer closed the door firmly behind them. The place was in shadow and private.

  Neither made to sit down. Naseer turned and crossed his arms, his back to the door. “Your father was a tough man, Zavian, and he was especially tough on you.”

  Zavian shrugged. “It’s of no importance now.”

  “Yes, it is. It made you the man you are today. Also tough, strong and determined, but you lost something you had in abundance as a boy. You lost your ability to be affectionate, you stopped showing your love, and eventually, you stopped feeling that love. Any emotion you had became twisted into something else. Power, lust…” Naseer shook his hand, indicating a range of other things. And then he pointed to where the feast had just taken place. “And that, in there, shows your ineptness.” He shook his head. “I’ve been remiss. I thought…”

  “What did you think?” Any clue, Zavian would gratefully have received.

  “I thought your father was right. At one time, anyway. I thought that maybe the soft heart you had in your youth was a weakness, a hindrance.” He pursed his lips wi
th regret. “But it was only later that I realized it wasn’t because your father considered your affection weak that he wanted to eradicate it, but because he was jealous and scared.” He looked Zavian directly in the eye. “It was he who was the weak man. And it was his weakness which was the end of him. You have a capacity for greatness, which your father never had.” He stepped closer to Zavian, closer than was ever usual between a king and his subject. “Find your heart again, Zavian. For only that will connect you with your people. For only that will connect you with the woman who I know, deep down, you love.” He nodded, and stepped away. “That is all I have to say. Go now and think about what I have said. Your announcement has been well received, if not with a little puzzlement at its suddenness. Everyone, excepting your cabinet and ministers, was expecting an announcement of betrothal between you and the Tawazun sheikha.”

  “That will now fall to Roshan.”

  “Yes, and he had better not fail us. But that is up to him and his advisers to pursue. For us, all is dependent on you persuading Gabrielle that you truly do want to wed her. She loves you, anyone can see that. But also anyone can see that she is an extraordinary woman who needs security from her husband, which she has never experienced in the rest of her life. And the only thing she can trust is the one thing you need to find again in your heart.” The vizier tapped Zavian on his chest as he said the final words, in a gesture far too familiar for one of his advisers, but reminiscent of their relationship when Zavian was young.

  As Zavian watched Naseer walk away and return to the reception to ensure that any rough water was smoothed over, Zavian realized he’d just been given a reprimand and told to sort himself out. For a moment, he wavered as to whether to be angry with his vizier but the moment passed, and he smiled to himself. Because he knew, deep down, that Naseer was correct.

  * * *

  Zavian returned to the sanctity of his suite of rooms and paced the floor. He felt as if he’d been run over by a truck. He stopped by the window and looked, unseeing, into the night. No, not a truck, but by a force of a woman who’d been deprived of security and love her whole life, and a woman who was also strong enough to hold out for what she wanted.