The Innocent Carrying His Legacy

by Jackie Ashenden

  He truly believed that; she could see it in his face. And it made her heart shrivel up in her chest like a flower exposed to frost. ‘No,’ she said hoarsely. ‘You can’t take the blame for what happened. That wasn’t your fault.’

  His expression shut down, the pain gone, leaving only a flat expanse of ice. ‘Of course it was my fault. I was the one who lost control of my temper. I was the one who attacked my half-brother. And I was the one who gave away their secret. No one else.’

  ‘But you—’

  ‘Which means that for the rest of my life, I need to live according to the principles my father taught me. To have no children. No wife. No family. No emotional ties whatsoever.’

  Her eyes prickled with tears, a deep well of hurt for him opening up inside her. ‘That’s not a life, Nazir. That’s just...nothing. And I know, because that’s what I had until you came along.’

  ‘Then you must be grateful for what you have. You will have our baby and that will surely be enough.’

  Her throat closed up, pain like a vice around her heart. ‘But it’s not and it never will be. You child needs you, Nazir.’ She took a breath, then offered up the last piece of her soul. ‘I need you.’

  Yet he only gave her back the same expressionless stare. ‘A soldier’s job is to protect and defend, and that’s what I’m going to do. Even if what I have to protect you from is myself.’

  Anger bloomed suddenly in the depths of her pain, wrapping around her in a cleansing fire. ‘You really think this is about protecting me? Protecting our son?’ Her voice cracked, fury laced through it. ‘No, I don’t accept that. This is about fear. Your fear.’

  Finally, heat flickered in his frosty gaze as the barb hit home. ‘I’m not afraid.’

  ‘Yes, you are,’ she insisted. ‘You’re terrified. Your mother broke your heart and your father broke your will, and now you can’t risk either ever again.’ She took a step towards him, now just bare inches away. ‘Well? Tell me that isn’t true.’

  His gaze raked over her, cold, indifferent. ‘My heart I cut out years ago and as for my will, my father didn’t break it. He created it. He taught me how to keep it strong. I forgot his lessons for a time, but I seem to have remembered them now.’

  Tears blurred her vision, her anger receding as quickly as it had come. ‘You keep thinking of love as a vulnerability, Nazir,’ she said hoarsely. ‘But it isn’t. I love you and I love our child and I don’t feel vulnerable. I feel strong. I feel like I could climb mountains and conquer the world.’

  There were no flickers of heat now, no glimpses of anger or pain. His expression was wiped clean. ‘That has not been my experience,’ he said without any emphasis at all.

  He wasn’t going to change his mind, that was obvious. If he wouldn’t change it for his child, then he wasn’t going to change for her, and she knew it.

  Which made her decision very clear.

  Ivy swallowed down her agony, grabbed the brightness that had flickered to life inside her, the love for the baby she carried, the love for her best friend who now wasn’t here, but who’d been the only person to choose her, and she held onto it tightly.

  ‘In that case,’ she said, lifting her chin, ‘I can’t marry you, Nazir. And we can’t live here, exiled to the mountains the way your mother was exiled from Inaris.’

  He stared at her, giving her nothing, his gaze darkening, the ice thickening, taking all her rage, all her passion, all her love, and giving her nothing but a cold, black void.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said without any discernible expression. ‘In which case, it’s best that you return to England. I will of course provide money for the child and protection for you.’

  There were bitter words she wanted to say to him. Hot, angry words. Words aimed like weapons that would cut him and hurt him the way he was hurting her.

  But suddenly she’d lost her taste for a fight. He’d made his decision and, as he’d already told her once before, fighting him would only waste her energy and she was going to need all that energy to care for their baby.

  And she would care for it, she knew that deep in her heart. She had all this love inside her and she was desperate to give it to someone, and so she would give it to her baby. She would shower him with so much love he’d never know that his father hadn’t wanted him.

  ‘Okay,’ she said quietly. ‘If that’s the way you want it, I’m not going to argue. And I’m not going to fight, not this time.’ She lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. ‘This is your choice, Nazir, not mine. I would have chosen you if you’d let me.’

  Nazir’s eyes glittered, his face a mask. ‘But I don’t want to be chosen, Ivy.’ His voice was as cold as the north wind. ‘I’m sorry.’

  There was nothing to say to that. She’d opened herself up to him, given herself to him and he didn’t want her. What could she do about that?

  There’s nothing you could do. Nobody ever wanted you, remember?

  No, but Connie had. And her child would. And even if the man she wanted more than her next breath didn’t, she wouldn’t be alone.

  Ivy swallowed back her tears, swallowed back her pain. She gave him one nod, then she turned on her heel and walked out.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  NAZIR STOOD AT the window of his office, looking out onto the courtyard. The fountain was playing, filling the air with delicate music, and it all looked very peaceful. The gardener was trimming one of the trees, the dry snick of his pruning shears providing a counterpoint to the fountain.

  It was a peaceful scene and one that normally he wouldn’t even have been aware of, too focused on his army, his men and the operations he was planning. Now, however, it was all he could see, his mind circling around and around the fact that something was missing from it. That there should be a small, determined woman talking to the gardener, her face alight with interest. A small woman with a hot mouth whom he’d kissed there weeks earlier.

  A woman he’d let walk out of his life a month ago.

  It had been the right thing to do—the only thing to do—so why he should still be thinking about her, he had no idea.

  He’d sent with her a couple of his best men to give her discreet protection, as well as contacting the best doctors in England to keep track of her pregnancy. He’d put money in her bank account—money he’d noted she hadn’t touched—and had provided everything he could for her.

  She was no longer his concern.

  Yet over the past month he’d felt strangely hollow, as if he were missing a vital piece of himself, which surely couldn’t be right. He hadn’t given her anything, so why he should feel as if she’d taken something from him, he had no idea.

  One thing he was glad about, though, was that he no longer felt that ache he’d always felt around her.

  He didn’t feel anything at all, which was quite frankly a relief.

  There was conversation behind him, the rumble of male voices obscuring the sound of the fountain, and suddenly, out of nowhere, came an intense, powerful rage.

  ‘Leave,’ he ordered sharply, without turning around.

  Shock filled the silence behind him.

  ‘But, sir—’ someone began.

  Nazir turned around, surveying the gathering of his highest-ranking officers with intense distaste. He didn’t want these men here. He didn’t want this army. He didn’t want the heat of the desert or the hardness of the stones. He’d had nothing but rock and stone all his life and he was tired of it.

  He wanted to hear the delicate sound of the fountain and the snick of those shears. He wanted to look at the green shrubs and flowers. He wanted...

  You want her.

  ‘Get out,’ he repeated without raising his voice. ‘All of you, get out. Now.’

  His men didn’t need to be told twice. Within seconds he was alone, the music of the fountain filling the silence of the room.

&
nbsp; It should have eased him, but it didn’t. It only reminded him of her.

  Ivy in her transparent red robe. Ivy beneath him, crying out her pleasure. Ivy standing toe to toe with him, fighting him.

  Ivy with tears falling down her cheeks telling him that she loved him.

  Nazir paced to the meeting table in the middle of the room and put his palms flat on the surface, staring down at the dark grain of the wood.

  Why was he constantly thinking of her? He could have understood if they had just been thoughts about her in his bed, her hot mouth and the slick feel of her body around his. But they weren’t. He thought about her fighting spirit, the shy way she teased him, the insightful way she viewed things, the excitement when she talked about something that interested her, and the grief that had filled her voice when she’d talked about her friend. The warmth that had suffused every word as she’d spoken about the baby.

  Their baby.

  His heart felt as if there were an arrow piercing it, a raw, painful wound that he’d spent the past month telling himself he didn’t feel. But of course he was wrong. He did feel it.

  And it was agony. It was a rent in his soul miles deep.

  This is about fear, Ivy had told him. Your fear.

  Nazir stared at the table, unable to get the image of her out of his head, standing tall and strong and so very beautiful in front of him.

  This is your choice, Nazir, not mine. And I would have chosen you if you’d let me.

  But he hadn’t let her. He’d made his own choice, telling himself it was about protecting her and their child, about not wanting the stain of his existence to bleed into theirs and ruin them the way he’d ruined his parents.

  Perhaps she was right. Perhaps it had been about fear. Yet it wasn’t only that.

  It was about shame, too.

  He was the bastard son of the Sultana, a mistake that had to be kept secret, and he’d been made to feel like that all his life. He’d never been allowed to show his feelings openly, had always had to keep them to himself lest he betray her and his father and their liaison.

  And the day he’d forgotten, the day he’d lost control, he’d been punished for it. And so had everyone around him.

  His father had always viewed the intensity of his son’s emotions as a failure, and so he’d never forgiven Nazir for that final slip, especially when it had lost him the woman he loved. And so the shame had wound its way into Nazir’s heart. He was ashamed of himself, ashamed of his feelings, and so he’d got rid of them, purged them like an illness from his body.

  And it hit him all of a sudden that that shame was still there, sitting inside him like a canker.

  That was why he was here in his iron fortress, skulking in the desert and refusing to leave. Making sure his country was safe but doing it from the shadows, keeping himself a secret, never declaring himself openly.

  He never did anything openly.

  But she did.

  She had. She’d told him she loved him. She’d given away that piece of herself without hesitation, leaving herself so vulnerable. Leaving herself open.

  Love has made me strong, she’d said, and at the time he hadn’t been able to conceive how love could be a strength, not when he could see the agony burning in her eyes. Yet...now he could see, now it was so very clear.

  There was strength in vulnerability, so much strength. Because it took both strength and courage to be vulnerable to someone else, to open yourself up and risk being rejected, risk being hurt.

  It was a choice. Ivy hadn’t had to risk herself for him; she’d chosen to.

  I would have chosen you if you’d let me.

  And she had chosen him.

  That pierced him to the core. She’d opened herself up and not to just anyone but to him. A man who hadn’t given her any sign that he felt anything for her but lust. Yet she’d opened her heart, her very soul, to him. She’d trusted him...

  And you threw it away.

  Nazir closed his eyes, the shame deepening inside him. She’d been open and trusting and honest, and he’d thrown it back in her face. He’d treated her as his father had treated him, as if her feelings meant nothing, as if they were worthless. And that was weak, cowardly.

  But then perhaps that was what he’d always been. Weak. Afraid.

  So? It’s a choice. She found courage and she found strength. Why can’t you?

  In the darkness behind his closed lids, he could see the choice before him.

  He could go on as he had done before, thinking he was strong and skulking in his iron fortress, doing everything in the shadows, still hiding, still ashamed. Still being his father, in essence.

  Or he could choose a different path from the one his father had taught him. He could choose to step away from the shadow of shame. He could choose to be vulnerable, to be open. He could choose to give away that last piece of himself.

  He could choose love.

  He could choose Ivy.

  Nazir’s eyes flicked open, a wave of the most intense longing flooding through him. Longing for her and her presence. Her warrior spirit. For the child they had created together even though they hadn’t known it at the time. For the family he’d always wanted that, deep in his heart, he’d never thought he deserved.

  But this time he didn’t push it away, he let it fill him. Let it wash away the shame and the hurt. The betrayal and sorrow.

  And he smiled, because she was right, his little fury. She’d always been right. Love wasn’t a weakness, it was a strength. He could move mountains with this feeling; he could conquer worlds.

  Not that he wanted to. The only conquering he wanted to do involved the demons in his heart, and then maybe he’d give that heart to the woman he’d probably fallen for the moment he’d first seen her.

  She might not want him any more. He might have hurt her too badly. But no one had ever chosen her, and so he wanted her to know that he would. That he would give her what he could, that he would give her every last piece of himself and if she trod every piece under her little foot, then that would be no less than he deserved.

  Nazir pushed himself away from the table.

  It was time he stopped skulking.

  It was time to step out of the fortress in which he’d been hiding and into the light.

  * * *

  ‘Miss Dean!’ One of the youngest of the current collection of teenagers in Ivy’s home suddenly charged into her office, his eyes very wide. ‘There’s a huge car out in the street. And it’s stopped just outside!’

  Ivy looked up from the spreadsheet she’d been going over, rubbing at her temples. She had a headache and the past month of no sleep was catching up with her.

  She wasn’t sure what was worse, not being able to sleep because she missed Nazir, or the way he filled her dreams when she finally managed to get to sleep. Either way, it was bad.

  ‘What is it, Gavin?’ She tried not to sound sharp. ‘What do you mean a big car?’

  The boy rushed to the window that overlooked the street, stabbing an urgent finger at it. ‘Look!’

  Ivy sighed and pushed herself out of her chair, moving over to the window, because it was clear Gavin wasn’t going to let this go.

  Then she stopped, her heart nearly exploding in her chest.

  A long black limousine had pulled up to the kerb and several people were getting out, including guards in smart black and gold uniforms. There were four of them, two standing on either side of the path up to the front door of the home, while a third stared up and down the street, obviously looking for danger. A fourth pulled open the door of the limo.

  Several groups of kids that had been playing on the side of the road stopped and stared. A crowd of teenagers drinking RTDs, vaping and listening to tinny dance music on a stereo stopped shouting and gawped.

  The whole world stood still.

  It wasn�
�t. It couldn’t be...

  A man got out of the limo, so tall and broad there was no mistaking him. He wore the same uniform as the guards, except the only gold on his was a pin at his breast, a stylised sun.

  He was the most magnificent thing Ivy had ever seen. Certainly the most magnificent thing her little borough had ever seen.

  Her eyes filled with tears as he glanced up at the home, the last in a terraced housing estate in one of London’s more depressed areas. Because it was him; of course it was him. Those harshly beautiful masculine features, those cold turquoise eyes.

  Nazir.

  ‘Is he a king?’ Gavin asked, staring in rapt fascination. ‘He looks like a king. What’s he doing here?’

  Ivy’s heart was beating very, very fast, longing almost strangling her. ‘A good question,’ she said hoarsely. ‘A very good question indeed.’

  Why? He’d sent her away; he’d let her go. She’d offered him her heart and he hadn’t wanted it. And she’d spent the past month in agony because of it.

  She stepped away from the window and went back to her desk, her throat thick, her mouth dry. Perhaps if she ignored him, he’d go away?

  Someone knocked loudly on the front door.

  ‘I’ll answer it,’ Gavin shouted and raced off before she could tell him to stop.

  She sat there, her heart quivering in her chest, her eyes full of tears, anger and love warring for precedence inside her. She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want to see him ever again.

  The sound of voices came from the hall, deep, masculine voices, and then Gavin was back again, leading a group of black-clad guards with Nazir at the head, straight into Ivy’s office.

  ‘Here she is,’ Gavin announced, pointing triumphantly at Ivy. ‘There.’

  And Ivy found herself staring straight into Nazir’s turquoise eyes.

  He didn’t look anywhere else, only at her. ‘Thank you,’ he said to Gavin. ‘Go with my men, please. They have things for you.’

  ‘Things?’ Gavin looked suspicious. ‘What things?’