by Annie West
She prided herself on her honesty and her willingness to face facts, no matter how unpalatable. But tonight she realised she’d hidden from the truth.
Far-fetched as it seemed, if she counted on the calendar the time they’d actually spent together, Tori was in love with Ashraf al Rashid.
In love. Not just in lust. Not just admiring of his determination to do right by Oliver and his people or grateful for his understanding of her doubts.
In love.
Totally.
When he’d given her these fabulous earrings and she’d caught his tender look the truth had struck. She’d wondered if his feelings were more deeply engaged than she’d suspected. Had she resisted his proposal so adamantly because she cared too much for him? Because she didn’t want to commit herself till she knew he felt the same way?
The thought of loving Ashraf but never having his love terrified her. It was a roiling wave in her belly whenever she dwelled too long on doubt. But tonight, as she watched him with his people and basked in his attention, she couldn’t hide from her feelings any longer.
If her abduction in the desert had taught her one thing it was to live for the moment. You never knew what was around the corner. Whether you’d have another chance to do what really mattered.
What really mattered was Oliver and Ashraf.
‘Victoria? You’re miles away.’
Ashraf curled an arm around her waist, securing her against him, and everything inside her rejoiced. This was where she wanted to be.
She licked her bottom lip and saw his eyes zero in on the movement. Heat drenched her. But as well as physical need she recognised now the deeper sense of contentment that swelled her heart.
Life in Za’daq would have challenges. Life with Ashraf would be a learning experience. But love couldn’t be denied. She’d made up her mind.
‘I’ve come to a decision.’
Ashraf’s grip tightened, his brows furrowing. ‘Don’t let one bigoted man—’
‘Shh...’ She reached up on tiptoe and silenced him, this time with her lips. How she’d longed for his kiss!
He gathered her in with both arms and would have deepened the kiss but Tori leaned back just enough to speak. She felt secure in his embrace—not because she needed protection or looking after but because Ashraf made her feel as no other man had. Because she loved him.
‘If the offer is still open, I’ll marry you.’
For a moment she thought he hadn’t heard. Or that she hadn’t said it aloud, just thought the words. He looked down at her, his expression unreadable.
Then, to her amazement, he dropped to his knee. Her hands were in his and he kissed first one and then the other. Not in passion but with a deliberate reverence and a formal courtesy that belonged in a world of warrior knights and beautiful maidens.
‘You have my word, Victoria, that you won’t regret this.’ His voice made it a solemn vow. ‘I will do all in my power to make you happy. To support you, honour you and care for you. And our family.’
His words sent a flurry of emotion through her.
Care. That was good. More than good when combined with the rest of his promise.
Tori shut down the querulous inner voice that said care wasn’t love. That the chances of Ashraf ever loving her were slim, given how he’d grown up unloved. The fact that he loved Oliver was enough for now. It had to be. And maybe, just maybe, over time—
Her thoughts stopped as Ashraf surged to his feet. That sombre expression had vanished, replaced by a smile so brilliant it undid something inside her.
‘Thank you, Tori.’
Then, before she realised what he was about, Ashraf swooped low, scooping her up in his arms, swirling her around and striding across the room.
She laughed. ‘Where are we going?’
As if she didn’t have a fair idea.
‘To bed. To show you how good our marriage will be.’
Because he was afraid she’d change her mind? No. She’d decided. She wouldn’t expect the impossible. Tori would accept what was offered and make the most of it.
She didn’t believe in fairy tales.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ASHRAF SEETHED AS he marched into his office. There’d been satisfaction in sacking the Minister for the Interior, but not enough.
‘Meeting didn’t go well?’ Bram looked up from his desk.
‘It went as expected. We now have an opening in the Ministry.’ And an offended ex-minister, shocked that his King had actually dismissed him. The old goat had thought himself untouchable.
‘Good. The Council will run better without him.’
Ashraf shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘I expected you to counsel patience.’ That had run out last night.
Bram shrugged. ‘You gave him chance after chance, compromising to bring the old guard along with you and allow him some pride. But he’s dead wood, holding the government back.’
Ashraf lifted his eyebrows. Bram really was speaking his mind today. ‘What’s happened?’ He knew his friend. Something had prompted his militant attitude.
Bram nodded to his computer. ‘The press reports are worse than we first thought. Somehow they’ve got a photo of Tori and Oliver, taken in Australia. Speculation is rife that he’s your son.’
Ashraf ploughed his fingers through his hair. It had been a gamble, waiting to legitimise Oliver. Ashraf had wanted to announce a wedding simultaneously, but he’d respected Tori’s need for time.
‘The cat’s out of the bag, then.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Arrange a press release. I’ll—’
‘That’s not all.’ Bram looked grim. ‘I’ve received a petition from a small group of Council members. They’ve heard about Oliver and know that you’ve moved out of your apartments to be with him and Tori. They insist you give them up or abdicate.’
Ashraf snorted. ‘As if they have the power to insist! Let me guess.’ He named three cronies of the sacked Minister and Bram nodded. ‘They seem to forget it’s only by my pleasure that they have a role in government.’
‘They threatened to approach Karim and ask him to assume the throne.’
Ashraf gritted his teeth. The last thing Karim wanted or needed was a delegation of old fogeys bothering him. ‘Karim rejected the throne. He can’t simply change his mind. Even if it were possible, he’d never agree.’
Bram lifted one eyebrow but Ashraf said no more. Only he and his brother knew the reason for his action. A medical test had revealed that Karim, not Ashraf, was the cuckoo in the nest, the son of another man.
Privately Ashraf thought that had precipitated his ailing father’s death. The revelation that the son he’d groomed as heir wasn’t his while the despised younger child was his true son.
Karim had stayed after the funeral only long enough to see Ashraf crowned and then left Za’daq. He had no plans to return.
‘Is that all?’
‘One of the latest press reports has a particularly nasty edge. It makes a great deal of Tori’s work in isolated areas, often as the only female on a team. It draws conclusions about her morals and insinuates...’
Bile rose in Ashraf’s throat. ‘I can imagine. Where, precisely, was this from?’
Bram mentioned a media outlet owned by a friend of the sacked Minister. Ashraf nodded. ‘Show me, and call the legal office. They can check the libel laws.’
He’d end this now, before it came to Tori’s ears.
But as the afternoon wore on Ashraf’s fiery indignation was overtaken by something far harder to bear. Especially when the lawyers dithered over whether the law had actually been broken. Ironically, if Tori were Za’daqi, or if she’d already married him, the reports could have been taken down and the outlet closed. As a foreigner, her situation was less clear.
Ashraf had grown up being vilified by his father. He was used to people assuming the w
orst about him. But to see Tori belittled and be unable to stop it tore at something vital within him.
He stalked the offices, trying to find a solution but finding none. He either abided by the laws he’d introduced, allowing more freedom for the press, or he gave up all pretension of being anything other than an autocratic ruler, thus destroying the hard work he’d put into turning Za’daq into a more democratic country.
He was caught by his own insistence on reform, and his inability to sweep the ugly innuendos away and protect his woman ate at him. He’d expected scandal. But seeing the negative focus shift to Tori, with such snide inferences, sickened him.
His wonderful woman had been through so much. Now, generously, she’d finally agreed to marry him for their son’s sake. She’d signed on for a marriage without love, though it wasn’t what she wanted. She’d agreed to learn a new way of life—not only in a country foreign to her, but as a royal, under constant scrutiny. He’d promised she wouldn’t regret her decision.
And now... How could he ask this of her?
The answer was simple and terrible.
He couldn’t.
* * *
Tori was on the floor with Oliver, watching his eyes grow round with excitement as, wobbling, he managed to stay sitting up before losing his balance and falling onto the cushion she’d put behind him.
Smiling at his achievement, and his delight, she was taken by surprise when Ashraf appeared.
‘You’re early.’
Pleasure filled her. All day she’d wondered if she’d done the sensible thing, agreeing to marry Ashraf. In the end she’d given up wondering if it was sensible, contenting herself with the fact that it was her only option if she wanted to be with the man she loved.
The glow inside her as she looked up at him told her she’d done right. Better to love than to turn her back on the chance of happiness.
‘Gah-gah-gah.’ Oliver, on his back, waved his arms and legs as he saw his father.
‘Hello, little beetle.’ Ashraf bent and scooped him up, lifting him high till Oliver crowed with excitement.
As ever, the sight of them together tugged at the sentimental cord that ran through her middle. It was stronger today, after she’d spent all night making glorious love to Ashraf.
Tori told herself that was why she felt emotional. Lack of sleep. And finally admitting you’re wildly in love with this man.
‘We need to talk.’
Ashraf looked down at her and that warm, squishy feeling solidified into a cold lump of concern. Something was wrong. She read it in the lines bracketing his mouth.
‘Of course. I’ll ring for the nanny.’ Tori scrambled to her feet.
‘No need. I’ve called her. Ah...’ He turned at a knock on the door. ‘Here she is.’
He took time to buss Oliver’s cheek and let his son grab his fingers, all the while murmuring to him in his own language, before handing him to the nanny.
Finally they were alone. But Ashraf didn’t pull Tori close. He didn’t even take her hand, though when she’d last seen him he’d been reluctant to leave her bed. He’d lingered, stroking her hair, kissing her and murmuring endearments in a voice of rough suede that had made her feel maybe she was wrong. Maybe he might learn to love her one day.
Now, Ashraf didn’t even look at her. He seemed fixated on the view from the window. His brow was pleated and his mouth was set so grimly that the back of her neck prickled in anticipation of bad news. Her stomach churned.
‘What’s wrong?’ She came up beside him, put her hand on his arm then dropped it as he instantly stiffened. ‘Ashraf?’
Tori had a really bad feeling now. During everything they’d been through never once had Ashraf shied away from her touch. Shock slammed her. It did no good telling herself that it wasn’t revulsion she read in his grimace, even if the idea seemed crazy.
He turned but didn’t reach for her. Instead he shoved his hands deep in his pockets, broad shoulders hunching. Tori felt his rejection like a punch to the solar plexus that sucked out her breath. What had happened to the tactile man who couldn’t get enough of her?
‘I’m sorry, Tori. I was distracted. Let’s sit, shall we?’
She shook her head and planted her soles more firmly on the silk carpet. ‘I’m fine here.’ If it was bad news she’d rather have it standing up. ‘Is it my father?’
‘No, no. Nothing like that. There’s no news from Australia.’
Tori’s swift breath of relief surprised her. She didn’t like her father but it seemed she did care for him at some level.
‘So it’s news from Za’daq?’
She looked into fathomless eyes and wished she knew what Ashraf was thinking.
Just when she thought he wasn’t going to speak he took her hand, enfolding it in long fingers. Warmth trickled from his touch but dissipated with his words.
‘I’ll always treasure your generosity in agreeing to marry me, Victoria.’
For the first time the sound of Ashraf saying her full name sent a cold shiver through her—nothing like the shimmer of lush warmth it usually generated.
‘But I’m freeing you from your promise.’
Tori felt his encircling hand tighten as she stumbled back, away from him, till finally she broke his hold.
‘You don’t want to marry me?’
In another time, another place, she’d have winced at the sound of her ragged voice. But it matched the way she felt. Off balance, as if someone had ripped that beautiful hand-woven rug from beneath her feet.
But the only ripping here was her heart. Her sad, foolish heart, which had opened itself up to Ashraf’s kindness, strength and caring.
‘I’m sorry.’ He held her gaze, his own unwavering. ‘It’s for the best. I was selfish to ask you to give up your life and home and live in Za’daq. I see that now.’
Tori wanted to protest that living with him in Za’daq was what she craved, but he continued.
‘As you wisely pointed out, Oliver will still have a family even if we live apart.’
Live apart.
Tori pressed her hand to the place below her ribs that felt hollow, as if an unseen hand had scraped out her insides. He didn’t even want her in his country!
Out of the miasma of shock and hurt, indignation rose. ‘That’s not good enough.’
‘Sorry?’
He’d obviously expected her simply to accept his decree. He wasn’t the enlightened man she’d thought. All those generations of absolute rulers had left their mark. She read surprise in the lift of his eyebrows and determination in those haughty features.
‘If you’re going to jilt a woman you need to do better.’
For a second—a millisecond—she saw something pass across that set face. Then it was gone. If anything he stood straighter, imposing and rigid, like the soldier she’d discovered he’d once been. Or an autocrat looking down on a lesser being.
Yet even in her distress Tori couldn’t believe that of Ashraf.
‘Of course. I apologise. Again.’
He paused, and if she hadn’t known better Tori would have said he was the one struggling for breath, not her.
‘I should have started by saying I’m sorry for changing my mind.’
Changing his mind? Tori stared, incredulous. He wanted her to believe he’d simply changed his mind?
She shook her head, wrapping her arms around her middle to contain the empty feeling which threatened to spread and engulf her whole.
‘Still not good enough, Ashraf. I need to know why.’ A thought pierced her whirling brain. ‘Is it someone else? Have you found a better bride?’
Someone local who understood Za’daqi ways. Some glamorous princess.
‘Of course not!’ He actually looked insulted.
‘There’s no “of course” about it.’ Tori’s voice grew in strength a
s anger masked pain. ‘This morning, in my bed, you were happy with the arrangement. What changed?’
He winced and half turned away. Tori began to wonder if the caring, wonderful man she’d fallen in love with had been an illusion.
‘You’re right. You deserve to know.’ He paused, breathing deep. ‘The press, stirred by my opponents, have learned about Oliver. About us. The stories they’re printing...’ He spread his hands and grimaced. ‘They’re not to be borne. The filth they’re spouting will only continue and I can’t allow that. I have to stop it.’
‘I see.’
It was clear from Ashraf’s expression how important this was to him. Tori recalled his talk of past scandals, how he hadn’t been accepted by the political elite, how he’d had to strive to win support for his schemes.
Was his situation so precarious? It seemed so. And so was the crown he wanted to pass to Oliver. Tori wanted to tell him that it didn’t matter. That Oliver could make his way in the world without a royal title. But it did matter. This was Ashraf’s birthright. He’d worked all his life to prove himself. Since becoming Sheikh he’d worked longer and harder than his predecessors to improve the nation. Tori had had that from Azia, who was forever singing Ashraf’s praises.
This was his destiny. His purpose in life.
But that didn’t stop her searing anguish as she faced facts. The man she loved was rejecting her because when it came to the crunch he, and his people, believed she wasn’t good enough to stand at his side.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
TORI TURNED AND marched away from the window into the shadows.
Ashraf wanted to follow and haul her close.
He didn’t do it. If he touched her his good intentions would collapse and he wouldn’t release her.
He swallowed and it felt as if he’d swallowed a desert of sand, his mouth so dry the action tore his throat to shreds.
This was the cost of releasing the one woman he’d ever cared for. The one woman he could ever love.
That, above all, gave him the strength to weld his feet to the floor.
He loved Tori. Loved her with such devotion that watching her struggle with his decision felt like the most difficult thing he’d ever done. Harder than facing the threat of death at Qadri’s hands.