Their Impossible Desert Match (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Clare Connelly

  Ahmed looked towards Zeb. ‘Taquul insurgents,’ he said quietly. ‘They set off a bomb outside a nightclub.’

  Many times in his life had he been told news such as this. He braced for the inevitable information. ‘How bad?’

  ‘It’s an emerging situation. The damage is being assessed.’

  ‘Whose bomb?’

  ‘That’s not clear,’ Zeb murmured. ‘It has the markings of a state device, though the timing...’

  ‘Yes.’ Unconsciously, he looked over his shoulder. It was impossible to believe anyone in Malik’s military would be foolish enough to launch an attack while Johara was deep in Ishkana.

  ‘What scale are we talking?’

  Ahmed winced. ‘It’s bad, sir. A building’s collapsed.’

  Amir swore.

  ‘I’ve put the border forces on alert.’

  Amir stiffened. It was protocol. Zeb had done the right thing, and yet the familiarity of all this hit him like a stone in the gut. Just like that, he could see the peace evaporating.

  ‘We need more information.’

  ‘Sir?’ Ahmed’s brows were furrowed.

  ‘Was this the act of a rogue military commander, or the insurgents in the mountain ranges looking to profit from ongoing unease between our people, or a state-sanctioned skirmish in disputed land? We need to understand what the hell happened and why, before we respond.’

  ‘But you will have to respond,’ Zeb insisted. ‘We don’t have all the details yet but this was a vicious peace-time attack. Your people will expect—’

  ‘My people want peace,’ Amir said quietly, thinking of the sadness he’d seen in the eyes of the man who’d thrown coffee at Johara. ‘Not a knee-jerk retaliation that springs us back into the war.’

  Silence met the statement.

  ‘The Princess—’ Zeb’s expression was uneasy. He looked to Ahmed before continuing. ‘She would be a good bargaining chip. To ensure Malik apologises, takes responsibility...’

  Amir felt a surge of disgust and then rage. ‘Even if he had nothing to do with it?’

  ‘I find it hard to believe an attack of this kind could occur without his involvement.’

  ‘This is what we will discover. But in the meantime Her Highness remains our honoured guest. No one is to speak to her of this, to touch her, to even think of using her in any way. Understood?’

  Zeb frowned. ‘It is my job to advise you on the best military strategies...’

  ‘Fine. You’ve advised me.’

  ‘The death toll could be in the hundreds. You must act, sir. I have the eleventh division mobilised. They could retake one of our strongholds in the mountains—’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head, then in a tone designed to placate, ‘It’s too soon.’

  ‘Too soon? The destruction. The inevitable death count—’

  ‘We are no longer at war.’

  ‘What is this if not an act of war?’ Zeb pushed with obvious impatience.

  Amir fixed him with a stare that was designed to strike fear into the other man. It worked. Contrition overtook his expression. While Amir allowed—and appreciated—a lot of latitude from his advisors, he remained the ultimate power holder.

  ‘We don’t have enough information to know yet.’

  ‘But if it was state-sanctioned?’

  Amir considered that. He had met with Malik and seen in his eyes the same desire for peace that lived in Amir’s heart. They both wanted this, for their people. ‘We’ll discuss that if we come to it.’

  ‘And you’ll respond accordingly?’

  Amir compressed his lips, not inclined to answer that without having more of an idea as to the circumstances of the attack.

  ‘The Princess should be held until we know,’ Zeb pushed. ‘Detain her, show our people that we’re not feeding our enemies cake and wine...’

  ‘She is not the enemy,’ Amir said cuttingly. ‘And I have already told you—no one is to bring her into this.’

  ‘She is in it, though,’ Ahmed said gently. ‘Her presence alone requires some kind of action.’

  Ahmed’s words reached inside Amir and shook him, forced him to see clearly the tenuousness of Johara’s place here in the kingdom. He had come to know her, beyond the fact she was a Qadir and a princess of Taquul, but why should he expect his people to feel as he did? She could easily become a focus for anger and revenge. His gut rolled with a burst of nausea; his skin felt hot and cold all over.

  He turned back to the men. ‘I want a meeting in the tactical rooms. Fifteen minutes. Discover what you can in the meantime. I need answers. And I want to speak to Malik Qadir. Arrange that as soon as possible, Zeb.’ His eyes met Ahmed’s. Something passed between them. Understanding. Agreement. ‘Let me be clear here—my goal is to maintain the peace.’ He softened his tone. ‘For too long we have answered violence with violence; I understand your instincts now are to do the same. But that will only perpetuate what we’ve always known. The fight for peace will be won with diplomacy, not military force.’

  He paused, knowing what he had to do and hating the necessity of it. But for her safety...to prevent anything ever happening to her as had happened to his parents? An image of his mother’s face filled his mind, as she’d been the last time he’d seen her, in the tombs beneath the palace. Fear hardened into resolve. Johara would be protected at all costs.

  ‘Johara Qadir will leave the country immediately.’ He faced Zeb. ‘Her safe passage is the most important job you will have tonight, Zeb. If anything happens to her—’

  ‘I know. It will inevitably renew the war.’

  Amir waited until they were gone before pushing the door to his room open. Johara was awake now, looking at him, her eyes huge and hair tousled. He wasn’t sure what she’d heard, but it was clear she knew something was amiss.

  She stood as he walked towards the bed, her nakedness taking his breath away even then.

  ‘Something’s wrong?’

  He contemplated not telling her. He contemplated saying nothing, but she deserved to know. Besides, her brother would undoubtedly contact her imminently.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What is it?’

  He ground his teeth together, moving towards her. ‘There was an attack. A Taquul bomb in one of the northern towns.’

  Her features showed surprise and then sorrow. ‘You said this would happen.’

  ‘Yes, but I had hoped...’ He shook his head. He hadn’t, really. He’d known that peace was a Sisyphean task, yet still he’d pushed for it, worked towards it, knowing his people deserved at least a chance. He still believed that. For their sake, he had to quell this, ensure it didn’t form the beginning of more conflict. But the attitude of his chief military advisor showed what a battle he was waging—even within his own government.

  ‘Was anyone hurt?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Killed?’

  ‘The exact number is unknown but we expect the count to be high.’ She dipped her head forward, and he knew she felt as he did—sorrow. Futility. Anger.

  ‘You have to go.’

  She nodded, looking around for her clothes. ‘Yes. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. What can I do?’

  He stared at her, committing everything about her to memory. He could never see her again. These last few days had been something he could never put into words, but it had to end. She wasn’t simply a woman with whom he could enjoy a no-strings affair. He wanted her too selfishly. In another day or two, he wouldn’t be able to relinquish her. It had to be now. To his people, and his government, she would always be the enemy. He was putting her at risk every minute he kept her here.

  ‘How can I help?’

  Her words were some kind of balm. No one had offered him help—and so simply—all his life. But he pushed the offer aside. ‘You misunderstand, Johara. You need to leave Ish
kana. I have arranged your transport. You are to leave now, in the dead of night, before the country has awoken to this news.’

  Her mouth dropped open.

  ‘That’s... No.’

  Another surprise. People didn’t say ‘no’ to him. ‘You misunderstand me again. I’m not asking you to leave.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘You’re ordering me?’

  He expelled a sigh, moving across the room and pulling out some clothes. He understood her resentment of that—all her life she’d been ordered around and yet she deserved so much better. He didn’t want to be just another person who sought to control her. ‘I’m telling you what is going to happen. You cannot be here if war breaks out. The risk to you is too great.’

  ‘War won’t break out. My brother and you will work together to prevent that from happening.’

  ‘We don’t know yet that this bomb wasn’t detonated with your brother’s permission.’

  She gasped. ‘You can’t seriously think—’

  He shook his head. ‘No.’ He frowned. ‘But war with Taquul is familiar.’

  ‘All the more reason for us to challenge that assumption.’

  He shook his head with frustration. Why wouldn’t she understand? ‘There are powerful members of my government already demanding retribution.’

  ‘You can’t do that.’

  He ground his teeth together. ‘I have to do what is best for my country.’

  ‘And that’s peace. We both know that.’

  ‘Yes, Johara, but peace may not be possible.’

  She shook her head. ‘I refuse to believe that. Let me stay here with you, standing by your side showing that we are committed to a peaceful outcome.’

  The image she created was vibrant but impossible. Zeb’s response had shown him that. Detain her. A fierce reaction resonated along his spine. ‘Your place is in Taquul with your people.’

  Her eyes sparked with anger. ‘Can’t you see that’s what’s wrong with all this? Your people. My people. They’re all damned people, living side by side. Isn’t this peace about breaking down barriers, Amir? Wasn’t that the purpose of my being here?’

  His heart had kicked up a notch. He dragged trousers over his boxers without looking away from her. ‘This changes things.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to.’ She moved towards him with urgency. ‘You said, from the outset, there would be difficulties. This is one of them. Are you truly intending to fall at the first hurdle?’

  ‘No.’ He reached for a shirt. ‘But having you here complicates matters. You have to leave.’

  ‘Why? For whom does it complicate anything?’

  ‘You represent something my people have been taught to hate, and also fear.’

  ‘Me?’ She dug her fingers into the space between her breasts; his gut twisted at her look of obvious disbelief. ‘I’m just one woman, a woman who’s here with an open heart and mind, wanting to improve relations. Your people will see that—just don’t push me away. Let me stay. Show your citizens that you and I are both invested in the peace process, that we believe it will succeed...’

  ‘And what if Malik and I cannot agree on this? What if war is inevitable? You think my military will not expect me to keep you as a prisoner?’

  She gasped. ‘You would never do that.’

  ‘No.’ He dragged a hand through his hair, frowning. ‘Of course I wouldn’t, and that’s the problem. You compromise me. This, what we’ve been doing, has made me forget.’ He softened his tone, moving closer. ‘But I can’t forget.’ He lifted a hand to her cheek, touching her for what he knew would be the last time. ‘We created a perfect void, you and I. A magical space removed from anything and anyone else. But nothing about this works when the world intrudes. The reality of who we are and what our countries require of us is there, banging at the door. Wake up and hear it, Johara. This has to end and you need to leave.’

  He felt her shiver, her body trembling against his hand. ‘You’re wrong.’

  He took a step back. ‘This was wrong. I thought we could separate what we were doing from the circumstances of who we are, but I never will. We stand on the brink of war once more. Your people. My people. You, and me. You are a Qadir.’

  She shook her head, tears filling her eyes, so he felt pain throb low in his gut. He angled his face away for a moment, unable to see her cry.

  ‘Is that all I am to you?’

  He closed his heart against her hurt. ‘No. But it’s the part of you I have to focus on.’

  Silence hung between them, heavy and accusatory. He fixed her with a determined gaze.

  ‘I promise that I will protect you with my dying breath but even that isn’t enough to guarantee your safety. I have forbidden my military commander from using you as a pawn in this, but I cannot control this to my satisfaction. You are at risk every minute you remain here, Jo.’ The diminutive of her name slipped out in his need to convince her.

  ‘I’m not afraid,’ she insisted, her eyes showing fierceness.

  ‘You should be.’ He blinked and saw his parents’ bodies. His blood turned to ice. ‘I will not have your death on my conscience.’

  ‘Then let me absolve you of that. I’m choosing to stay—this isn’t your responsibility.’

  But she would always be his responsibility. It was inevitable. He didn’t want the burden of protecting her; he couldn’t lose her because of his selfish desire to have her at his side.

  Johara brushed a hand through her dark hair, drawing his attention to her face. ‘I won’t leave; not now. My visit is scheduled to end tomorrow. Let me stay until then, keep to my schedule. Please, Amir. We cannot capitulate to what’s likely to be a few rogues. Why can’t you see that? It’s exactly what they want! Surely this attack was designed in the hope of disturbing the peace—’

  He held a hand in the air to silence her, his blood slamming through his body. ‘And what better way to disturb the peace than to harm you? You think that even if you stayed I would ever allow you to keep to your schedule? To leave the palace when the mood is like this? No, Johara.’ He refused to soften even when faced with her obvious hurt. ‘The night we met, I thought you idealistic. But you are also naïve. You have been sheltered, to some extent, from the ravages of this war. You do not understand the lengths men will go to—’

  ‘How dare you?’ She glared at him down the length of her nose. ‘How dare you speak to me as though I am—’ she stopped abruptly, her face filled with torment ‘—stupid?’ she finished on a sob, pressing her palms to her eyes.

  He stood perfectly still, because if he moved, even a little bit, he knew he would crumble altogether. He wanted to cross to her and pull her to him, to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight, to kiss her until this all faded away into nothingness. To tell her that whoever had told her she was stupid because of her dyslexia was mad, because she was the smartest, most courageous person he’d ever known. But he would not weaken. She needed him to be strong; his country needed him to be strong.

  Her eyes narrowed, her lower lip trembling, but when she spoke it was in a tone that was pure steel. ‘You think you’re the only one who’s watched his country suffer at the hands of the enemy? I know what we’ve done to each other! I’ve lived it, too! That’s why we need to stop it. Work together—’

  ‘As your brother and I will do,’ he said, determined to turn her away. ‘If this was a rogue attack from the mountain people then we will work together to—reason with them and understand them, just as you urged me to understand the man who threw coffee at you. They have played their part in this war and perhaps they have motives we don’t comprehend. You’ve made me see that, Jo. You’ve changed how I view conflict, people, war. You’ve changed me.’ The admission cost him. It emerged thick and throaty, dark with his emotions.

  He paused, bracing himself for what he needed her to know. ‘You cannot remain. You are a l
iability.’ He knew he had to be firm, harsh, to get her to see sense. Feeling as though he were dropping off the edge of a cliff, he spun away from her. ‘And you’re a distraction I don’t want, Johara. I need you to go now.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘YOU’RE A DISTRACTION I don’t want, Johara. I need you to go now.’

  She stared at his back, his intractable words beating her in the chest. Her eyes swept shut; she struggled to breathe. Hearing these things at any time would have been difficult, but naked in his room, she felt vulnerable and exposed, disbelieving too, as though what he was saying went against everything they’d become.

  ‘The fate of my country hangs in the balance. Of course I can’t just run away from that.’ She looked around for her clothes, and finally saw them discarded near the foot of the bed. She stalked towards them, scooping them up and pulling her pants on quickly. Her fingers shook, making it difficult to clasp her bra into place. ‘And you don’t know me at all if you think I’m the kind of person who would quit at the first roadblock.’

  ‘Then do what you must in the bounds of Taquul but you will leave Ishkana, and leave now, before the kingdom awakes to this news.’

  ‘And they’ll think I’ve deserted them! They’ll think my opinion of the peace is fragile when it’s not! I believe in this peace as much as I believe in this—what you and I share.’

  His eyes closed for a moment, as though he was physically rejecting that sentiment. ‘They will be far more concerned with whether or not the war is about to break out again.’

  ‘You’re making a mistake.’ She knew that to be the case. Every cell in her body was screaming at her in violent protest. Leaving was wrong. Not just Ishkana, but Amir. All week she’d braced herself for the necessity of that, and she’d known it would be hard, but, seeing him with the weight of the world on his shoulders, she finally understood what had been happening to them. Ever since that night in the maze.

  She lifted a hand to her mouth, smothering a gasp and turning her back on him while she analysed her head, her heart, everything she was feeling.

  It was a secret affair, one they’d agreed would have clear-cut boundaries, but Johara’s heart...it hadn’t realised. Not really. She’d fallen in love with him, with all of herself. The desert sky was still an inky black, the stars overhead sparkling, though now it was with a look of mischief. They’d known what they were doing in the maze, contriving for these two people to see one another and give into that cataclysmic desire. Qadirs and Haddads, unbeknownst, hidden, lovers.