by Diana Fraser
“I…” She felt tears spring to her eyes. She swiped at them and twisted away from him. She couldn’t let him see. “I… I’m tired,” she whispered in a croaky voice.
He was silent for a few moments, waiting for her to speak, but she couldn’t. There were only the dots to be connected to form a truth which she refused to voice.
Even when she felt his light touch on her arm, she refused to turn to him.
“Please, go,” she said, her flaming and tear-soaked face twisted away from him.
She heard him leave and close the door behind him.
She was alone once more. Just as she always was. Except now, after the closeness she had felt only minutes earlier, she felt more alone than ever; after the near revelation of a shame about which few people knew, she felt more vulnerable than ever.
Without undressing, she climbed into bed and curled up into a ball and cried as she should have cried years earlier.
* * *
Xander closed the door quietly behind him and walked across to the drinks cabinet. He poured himself a generous whiskey, frowned into its amber depth briefly, before knocking it back, and placing the empty glass firmly back onto the table. He needed that potent heat to counter the fire in his heart which her words had ignited.
He twisted around and looked out the window, over the lights of his city, toward the mountain range which marked the divide between his country and Ela’s, with only one thought on his mind.
What the hell had happened to Ela, that she was no longer a virgin, and yet she’d never been held tenderly by a man, had never been kissed? Because he didn’t doubt the veracity of her statements. One sure thing he knew about Ela was that she never lied. Which left a question, the answer to which he couldn’t bear to contemplate.
Chapter 5
“You have no choice, Xander,” confirmed Zavian. “We are all in agreement. Elaheh must continue to stay with you. The chances of detection are greater if she moves and, besides, no one will suspect her of being with you, given your obvious and public antipathy toward each other.”
Xander glared at the computer screen which was split into four—himself, one each for Amir and Zavian and the last shared by Roshan and Shakira.
“It’s impossible,” Xander said.
Shakira leaned forward. “In what way?”
Xander mind was filled with the memory of the hurt and vulnerability he’d seen in Elaheh’s face, and the lingering question which had stopped him from sleeping—how had she lost her virginity without a single kiss or tender caress? Bile rose in his gut and he could feel rage rising at the thought. His rage must have registered on his face because when he turned back to the cameras, Roshan was shaking his head and the others looked concerned. But it was Shakira who spoke first.
“Xander, you have to try to ignore her outbursts.” Xander grunted softly under his breath, aware that Shakira and the others had misinterpreted his response. “Beneath that demanding, imperious facade is a woman who needs your help.”
He pressed his fingers against his closed eyes, trying to force the anger to retreat. It didn’t. He looked at each of the kings in turn before letting his gaze rest on Shakira. For a moment he considered telling them what he suspected. Or, at least, telling Shakira. But what could he tell them? Nothing for sure. He only had suspicions, for now at least. But he vowed he’d discover the truth, and the only way to do that was to continue to protect her. “I know,” he said finally. “I’ve cleared the next seven days of all engagements and meetings.”
“Good.” Shakira sat back in her seat, her beautiful face showing relief. Not for the first time Xander wondered what would have happened if he’d stayed the night of the masquerade ball. Whether he’d stood a chance with the mysterious, beautiful Shakira. Somehow he doubted it. And he was glad, because instead he’d gained a friend and a beloved sister-in-law.
“I know you don’t particularly like Elaheh,” said Amir. “But you will need to keep her close until we know who is behind these threats. Xander, you can’t let her out of your sight.”
“Amir, I may be many of the things people say about me, but one thing I’m not is dishonorable. I will keep Elaheh safe because I’m unable to do anything else. But”—he leaned into the camera, eyeballing each of them in turn, needing to return to the Xander they knew and understood, because it was the only Xander he knew and understood—“when I go mad, I want you to take responsibility!”
The lighter tone broke the ice and they grinned back at him in relief. He sighed, switched off the computer and jumped up. He had to get away. And he knew precisely where to go—the only place where he could achieve a sense of peace, where nobody could get to him. He swam alone on a private beach daily, usually in the early morning, but this morning his swim had been delayed by the conference call. Sometimes he thought the daily swim was the one thing which kept him sane.
He took only the bare essentials but hadn’t gotten as far as the door when he heard his name called through the interconnecting door which led to the bedroom in which Elaheh was sleeping. He stopped in his tracks at the sound of Elaheh’s voice. It was a beautiful voice, deep for such a slight woman, and more inviting than she appeared in person. It got to him, just as that glimpse of the real, vulnerable woman had got to him the previous night. A part of him wanted to move on, wanted to return to the routine he knew, but a bigger part of him couldn’t turn away from that voice.
He knocked on the door and she immediately opened it, as if she’d been waiting. The first thing he noticed was that she wasn’t wearing a hijab to cover her hair. Her mane of dark hair was still pulled off her face but in a softer style. Presumably she wasn’t accustomed to doing her own hair, because there was something endearingly messy about it which further loosened the screw inside him, softening him even more toward her.
“Ela.” The nickname slipped out before he could stop it. But this time he didn’t see a corresponding frown lower on her face. She looked concerned, and vulnerable. He remembered Shakira’s words. This woman needed his help—nothing more, nothing less. “You’re not wearing your hijab. Is everything okay?”
She pressed her lips together and gave a brief smile. “As well as it can be, considering I’m in hiding.”
He gave her an answering smile. “Hopefully it won’t be for long.”
“Indeed.” Her chin tilted at a determined angle, but the smile still lingered on her lips. “I’m not wearing my hijab because I had a video call with my advisors. I wanted them to be able to see me clearly, to see that I was well. Thank you, by the way for setting up the computer for me.”
“You’re welcome. If the technician wondered why I wanted it set up without any possibility of being traced, he didn’t ask.”
Her smile warmed. “You are king, after all. Your command should be followed without question.”
“True. Although I think it will take me some time to get used to it. So how did the call go? Did you satisfy them?”
“I think so. It’s about that I wish to talk to you.”
“What is it, Ela?” he asked, his voice gentler now.
She plucked at her abaya with uncharacteristic unsureness. The smile had slipped away now, vanished into doubt and uncertainty.
“Has something happened?” he pressed.
“My vizier asked me to tell him where I am. He says that he needs to know for security reasons.” She looked at him with those beautiful feline eyes which curved up in a way which never failed to turn him on. Even when she’d infuriated him, he’d had to fight an equally strong arousal.
He frowned. “Did you tell him?”
“No. But I wanted to. I’ve grown up with the man. He knows everything about me. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to reassure him. He says he’s terribly worried about me.”
“Don’t tell him.”
“But I have to tell someone, some time. I can’t stay here forever.”
“Don’t tell him,” he repeated. “Until we find the person who sent you that letter it’s n
ot safe to tell anyone.”
“Okay,” she said, in a surprisingly meek tone. It hurt him to see her diminished and living in fear. He almost wished to see her imperious attitude return. Almost. She looked down at the towel he held. “Are you going somewhere?” Her tone was as wistful as her expression. He hadn’t seen her eyes quite so vulnerable before. Shakira’s advice repeated in his brain.
“Yes.” He paused but couldn’t bring himself to walk away from her. “Would you care to join me?”
Her face lit up and his heart sank. “That would be lovely. I can’t bear the thought of being cooped up here a moment longer. Where are you going? To the mountains?”
He frowned. “Why would I go to the mountains?”
The light in her face faded a little. She shrugged. “It’s where I always head when I want time out.”
“Why?” He was quite perplexed at the thought.
“Because it’s quiet and beautiful and it’s my place. But… you’re not going there.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m going to the beach. I swim every morning.” It was her turn to look perplexed.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because,” he said firmly, “it’s quiet and beautiful and it’s my place.”
There was a pause before they both burst out laughing at the same time. It was Ela who spoke first.
“You and I are opposites, aren’t we?”
“In some way, most definitely. But you’re still welcome to join me if you can put up with the beach.”
“I’d like that. And then, maybe, when it’s safe, we can go to the mountains.”
It would have been churlish of him to refuse, and the look in her eyes definitely didn’t make him want to.
“Of course. And I’d like that.” He didn’t know why he added that. The words emerged out of some deep impulse. “Come on then.”
“Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Absolutely. It’s private. No staff, no public, only the royal family and their most honored guests have access to these rooms, and the path to the beach.”
“Right.” She nodded and gave him a half-hearted smile. Her unsureness rattled him. “Right,” she repeated, trying to sound more confident. It didn’t work.
He opened the door. “This way.”
She halted in the impressive vaulted hall, as he knew she would. They were surrounded on all sides by decorative tiles and columns and gilded portraits of previous royalty, which she wouldn’t have seen in the darkness of the previous night. They exchanged glances. “This is beautiful,” she said, arching her neck to look up to where the morning light streamed through the clerestory windows. “And cool.”
He pointed upward. “It’s the latticed air vents. They allow the sea breeze to enter the corridors and rooms. Makes it more comfortable all year round.”
She took a deep breath. “And it smells beautiful, too,” she said, as they continued walking.
“The gardens were established centuries ago and well tended. Is it so very different to your own palace?”
She smiled and raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never been there, have you?”
He shook his head. “No, I’ve not had the pleasure.” Not that he’d thought of it in those terms before.
She stopped by a large pot overflowing with crimson fluted flowers. She fingered the velvety petals of a blossom. “Yes, it’s very different. The harshness of the climate in my country, and the toughness of my people, is reflected in the buildings. My palace is much older and…” She hesitated as she looked around, as if groping for the correct word. Then she turned to him, bringing the blossom to her nose to inhale its fragrance. “And less decorative, you could say.” Xander guessed you could. He’d heard her palace looked like a prison. “We also can’t grow tender exotic blossoms such as these,” she continued, looking up at him with a guilty look. “But, of course, there are many other qualities about it which are magnificent.”
“Of course.” He just couldn’t think of any. And nor, it seemed, could she.
She glanced around the paintings and stopped at one. She looked at Xander. “Who’s this?”
He didn’t need to look to know. “My great grandmother. She was a beauty.”
She turned too quickly and caught him looking at her, not the portrait. His great grandmother had been a great beauty but it was Ela’s own beauty which he couldn’t help admiring. She blushed before turning quickly away again.
“I was just thinking she looked like you,” Ela said.
“Does that make her more of a beauty or less?” asked Xander, enjoying toying with this more vulnerable version of Ela.
She raised an eyebrow and a small smile played on her lips. “Fishing for compliments?” she asked.
He took a step closer. “It’s nice to think of yourself as being admired by someone you like.”
Her smile dropped but the air of vulnerability didn’t.
“You like me.” There was a sense of wonder in her voice which surprised him.
“That wasn’t even a question, was it?”
She shrugged. “I’m surprised, that’s all. After all the arguments we’ve had, after all the disagreements. I’m surprised to know you like me.”
“Then it will really surprise you to know that I’ve always liked you.”
“Then why were you so antagonistic towards me?”
“Me, antagonistic? That’s rich. You made it quite plain that you had no time for me. What was it you once called me, ‘a dilettante, arrogant playboy’?”
“Well you are. Or, at least, you were.”
His lips tweaked with amusement again. “So you don’t consider me to be so any longer.”
Confusion flickered over her beautiful face.
“What is it?” he asked, taking another step towards her.
She held out her hand to stop him. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Come so close.” She shrugged. “I can cope with you being close and not speaking, and I can cope with difficult questions if you aren’t close. But I can’t cope with both at the same time.”
The thought that he could disrupt her unflappable confidence sent his libido into overdrive. But he needed to focus, not seduce. “Then I’ll step away, because I’d really like an answer to my question.”
She pressed her palm to her chest as if trying to calm herself. He liked that, too. “What was the question?”
He grinned. “It wasn’t really a question. More an intrigued statement. I was surprised that you no longer think of me as an arrogant playboy. I guess I wanted to hear you say it again.”
She pressed her lips together as if unsure how to reply. After a few long seconds which he was determined not to interrupt, she smiled and stepped toward him, apparently having overcome her unsureness. “You, Xander, are needy. And no, I will not elaborate on that statement. You’ll have to make of it what you will.”
He grinned and shook his head in despair. The old Elaheh had just resurfaced. She was an enigma. One moment terrifying, the next as vulnerable as hell. In a flash he thought that in both states she was utterly mesmerizing. He turned away suddenly. What he needed was a good, long, cooling swim.
He sighed heavily and followed her out to the garden.
* * *
Elaheh was relieved to find that Xander was correct and the path to the beach was, indeed, short and totally private. The footpath gave way to a small, sheltered cove which was fringed by trees and protected from the city by a rocky promontory.
As soon as Xander set foot on the sand he tilted his head up to the sun, closed his eyes and sighed.
“That feels good,” he said. “Are you coming into the water?”
“No, thank you. I don’t like to swim. I’ll sit in the shade.”
He began to take off his clothes and Elaheh looked quickly away and walked toward some chairs and tables placed under the shade of large palm trees. Beside it a thatched bar stood, no doubt stocked with everything from the ubiquitous champagne to w
hatever else a royal might need to relax.
“Help yourself to a drink,” he called out.
She opened the drinks cooler, allowing the chill air to fan her heated skin for a few seconds before glancing over the top of the bar to where he was undressing. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. As he stripped off his shirt, she was aware of only one thing—the way his muscles bunched and stretched as he raised and lowered his arms. His dark skin gleamed with a slick of sweat which made her mouth water. The thought was alarming, but didn’t stop her from thinking about him. Sunshine and shadows highlighted the contours of his shoulders. She was glad he had his back turned to her. She could watch him unobserved. Standing in his swimming shorts she could admire his muscled legs—runner’s legs, she thought idly. Not that she’d ever seen any man’s legs before, running or walking. But if she had, she knew they’d be like that.
He ran into the sea and dived into the water. She could almost feel the chill of the water hitting his heated skin. She shivered as he swam strongly out into the sea. She watched until her eyes hurt and he was a dot in the distance.
With a sigh she closed the cooler and opened a can of soda. She’d hardly slept the previous night and suddenly felt exhausted. The tension which had kept her going all morning suddenly dissolved under the sound of the rhythmic roll and drag of the ocean on the sandy beach. She lay on the sun lounger, closed her eyes to the flicker of shadows created by the rattling fronds of the palm trees, and lost herself to dreams of Xander, as sleep crept over her like a soft, light comforter.
* * *
Xander looked down at Ela with a frown. She lay, fast asleep, on the sun lounger, sheltered from the sun by the dancing fronds of a palm tree. She looked peaceful in a way she never did when she was awake. She also looked young and intensely vulnerable. He hated that because he knew it brought out the best in him. And the best of him would make his life very difficult.