by Sarah Morgan
‘You want a woman barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. No opinions. No life of her own. That is why you are marrying Kalila.’
He was marrying Kalila because it was the only option left to him.
‘This is a pointless conversation.’
Her glossy mouth curved into a smile. ‘Men always say that when they’ve lost. Never “you’re right” or “I screwed up”, just “this is a pointless conversation”. Do they give speeding tickets out here? Because if they do then you’re going to get one. You seem angry. Are you angry?’ She was pushing him and he realised just how easy he made that for her. It was doubly frustrating because normally the desert relaxed him.
‘I’m concerned about Kalila. It’s important that we make the edge of the mountains by dusk.’ He slowed the speed fractionally, exasperated with himself for allowing her to wind him up. ‘I know a good place to camp, but I want to set up while there is still some light.’ That observation was greeted by silence.
‘So no chance of reaching your bride tonight then?’
‘If she is where her sister suspects she is, then no. We will have to stop for one night.’ A night alone in the desert with this woman. He was greeting that prospect with almost as much enthusiasm as his impending wedding.
‘So if her sister knew where she was going, why didn’t she stop her?’
‘She didn’t know. Kalila sent her the same note she sent me. Jasmina was afraid of her father’s reaction, so she contacted me instead. Which was fortunate because at least we have more to go on than we did before. She is covering for her sister. At the moment the Sheikh does not even know his daughter is not in her rooms.’
‘Her father sounds like a real treasure. Better to not have one than have one who induces fear.’
It was the first time he’d ever heard her mention her father.
Mal turned his head and glanced at her, but she was looking forwards, a tiny frown between her eyes as she focused on the sand dunes that rose either side of them. ‘I love how they change colour with the light. And the way the pattern changes—it’s fascinating.’
‘It’s the combination of wind and sun.’ He’d watched her fall in love with the exotic, mysterious dunes the first time round and he could still remember the delight on her face when she’d witnessed her first desert sunset. Another irony, he thought, that this woman who had been raised in a Western city should feel an affinity for the place of his birth while Kalila, with her desert heritage, found the place nothing short of repellent. ‘Your father wasn’t around when you were young?’
‘Are we playing psychotherapy next?’ She met question with question and he sighed, wondering what it took to get her to open up.
‘In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never talked about your father.’
‘That’s because there is nothing to say.’ Her cool tone was like a wind blown straight from the Arctic, her words designed to freeze that line of questioning in mid-flow.
Mal refused to be deflected even though part of him was wondering why he was choosing to ask these questions now, when it was too late for them. ‘Did he leave when you were young?’ It was a personal question, and probably unadvised given his vow to avoid the personal, but nevertheless he asked it. He’d always assumed that her father was somehow responsible for her aversion to marriage but she’d never given him any detail.
‘Why the sudden interest in my father? We were talking about Kalila’s situation, not mine.’
‘I’m just thinking it must have been hard for you growing up without a man in your life.’
‘You’re doing it again—assuming that a woman needs a man to survive.’
Mal breathed deeply, refusing to rise. ‘That is not what I assume. Why are you deliberately misinterpreting my words?’
‘I’m not. I just know you, Mal.’
‘Maybe you don’t.’ He wondered how he could have been so blinkered. She was afraid. Why hadn’t he seen that before?
‘We both know you have very traditional views on the role of women.’
‘Do not assume to know what I am thinking.’
‘It’s not hard to guess. You’re marrying a woman you barely know so that you can have a traditional set-up and breed children.’
‘Is it so wrong to think a child benefits from being raised in a traditional family unit?’
‘I wasn’t raised in a traditional family unit and I’m fine.’
No, he thought. You’re not fine. ‘I’m not saying that a child can’t be fine with one parent. But family offers security.’
‘You’re talking rubbish. Take Kalila’s father—would she be better off with a mother who teaches her to be strong and independent or a father who bullies her?’ She spoke just a little too quickly. Was a little too anxious to move the conversation away from her own situation.
Mal thought of his own father. Strict, yes, and often busy, of course. But never too busy to spend time with his son. ‘Your mother didn’t remarry?’
‘I don’t know why you’re going on about fathers. Kalila’s has frightened her into running away and yours has pressured you to marry a woman you barely know.’
She hadn’t answered his question. ‘He didn’t pressure me.’ This was the point where he should tell her the truth about his union with Kalila but something held him back. ‘We are well suited.’
‘Because you give out the orders and she says yes? That’s not a relationship, Mal. That’s servitude. You’ve barely had a conversation with her. You know nothing about her likes and dislikes and you have no idea why she’s run away or where she could be heading. None of that suggests an unbreakable bond.’
Their conversations had always been lively, but never before today had she been so openly antagonistic. It was as if she were trying to goad him.
‘I have a great deal of respect for Kalila and I value her opinion.’
‘When has she ever expressed an opinion? When has she ever actually voiced a thought that isn’t yours?’
‘Perhaps we think alike.’
Her beautiful mouth twisted into a wry smile. ‘More likely she’s afraid to tell you what she really thinks. Or perhaps she doesn’t even know what she really thinks because she’s never been allowed to find out. You need to do something about that, Your Highness. Not only is it politically incorrect to want a passive wife, it’s going to bore you in five minutes.’ The car bumped into a pothole and she winced. ‘And while you’re ruling the world, you really do need to do something about the state of your roads.’
And the state of his nerves. He was tense. On edge. Angry. ‘This road is not my responsibility. We left Zubran half an hour ago. You are now in Arhmor and infrastructure has never been a high priority for the Sheikh.’ The scenery had changed. They were approaching mountains and the road was rougher. Everything about Arhmor was rougher. ‘Let’s hope we don’t blow a tyre. This is not somewhere to break down.’
‘So instead of mending his roads, the Sheikh tries to build his empire. I suppose that’s what this marriage is about, is it? You are the wealthier state. I assume he’s hoping that if you marry his daughter, you’ll fix his roads for him.’
‘It’s true that this marriage will bring political advantages—’ Mal turned the wheel to avoid another deep rut in the road ‘—but that is not the only reason for the marriage. Kalila is a princess with an impeccable bloodline.’
‘You make her sound like breeding stock. On the other hand, I suppose that’s what she is. A brood mare to produce lots of little Sultans for the future.’ Her tone flippant, she turned her head and looked over her shoulder. ‘Are you sure you’re taking the right route? Because according to the sat nav you should have turned left back there. You should have let me drive. Everyone knows a man can’t do two things at once.’
She was definitely goading him.
What he didn’t understand was why. Why would she want to make this journey more difficult and unpleasant than it already was?
Mal breathed deeply, transferre
d his gaze to the screen and cursed softly. She was right. He’d missed an important turning. Not because he couldn’t do two things at once, but because he’d been so distracted by Avery and by his impending marriage that he hadn’t been concentrating. Slamming the vehicle into reverse, he took the correct route. Around them, the landscape grew steadily more bleak and barren. ‘Say one word and I’ll dump you by the side of the road.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of making a sound.’ It was clear from her voice that she was enjoying his mistake and he tightened his grip on the wheel.
‘You’re infuriating, you know that, don’t you?’
‘Because I pointed out you were going the wrong way?’
‘I’m perfectly capable of driving. If you want to pick a fight, you’re going to have to choose a different battleground.’
‘This is why our relationship ended. Because we can’t be civil to each other for five minutes. The only thing we were ever really good at as a couple was fighting.’
So that was it. That was the game she was playing.
She was snapping because she was terrified of what they’d once shared. She was terrified that if she stopped snapping, something else would happen. Something far, far more dangerous.
Wondering how he could have been so dense, Mal slammed his foot on the brake and the car stopped suddenly.
Anger throbbing inside him, he turned to look at her. ‘That is not why our relationship ended.’ His voice thickened with emotion and he wondered what it was about this woman that triggered such extreme feelings. ‘And we were good at a great deal more than fighting.’ He saw the change in her. Saw her spine grow rigid and her breathing grow shallow.
‘No, we weren’t.’
‘We both know exactly why our relationship ended, Avery, and it had nothing to do with the arguments.’
Her skin was flawless, smooth and very, very pale. Her mouth was a tight line in her beautiful face. ‘There is nothing to be gained by talking about this.’
‘Maybe not, but we’re talking about it anyway.’
‘Mal—’
‘Our relationship ended because I asked you to marry me,’ he said harshly. ‘And you said no. That’s why it ended.’
CHAPTER FOUR
‘STOP the car!’ For a fleeting second she’d tried telling herself that it wasn’t worth going over this, but her emotions were too raw for that. She was so angry that all of her was shaking. Her knees. Her hands … ‘Stop the damn car, right now.’ She was out of the door before the vehicle came to a standstill and Mal was right behind her, the slam of the door breaking the stillness of the burning air.
Theirs was the only vehicle in sight. They were alone in the spectacular open space of the desert, surrounded by shimmering dunes and the soaring mountains.
‘You intend to walk from here?’
‘Is that really your recollection of events? You truly believe that you “asked” me to marry you?’ Her hair swung across her back as she turned to confront him. Her heart was racing and she felt the heat of the sun beating down on her head. She realised that she’d left her hat in the car, but it was too late to care about that now. ‘We must be existing in a parallel universe or something because I remember it very differently.’ Right now her anger was hotter than anything produced by nature but underneath that pulsing anger were layers of different emotions. Pain. Desire. Sexual awareness. Feelings. Feelings she didn’t want to feel. And he clearly didn’t either if his expression was anything to go by. He was watching her with the same cautiousness he would give an enraged scorpion.
‘Avery—’
‘And when you think about it, that’s not surprising because you never ask anyone anything, do you? You command. You order. You instruct.’ She ticked them off on her fingers while he watched with a dangerous glint in those dark eyes.
‘Are you finished?’
‘I’ve barely started. You’re so arrogant you never involve anyone else in your decisions. No wonder your virgin bride has run into the desert.’
His eyes flared dark. ‘Stop calling her that.’
‘Tell me something.’ Still shaking, Avery put her hands on her hips. ‘Did you actually ask her to marry you, Mal? Or did you just book the wedding and then mention it to her in passing? Perhaps that’s what’s wrong here. Perhaps no one remembered to tell her she was supposed to be getting married. Did you miss her off the invitation list?’
A muscle flickered in his bronzed cheek. ‘I’m the first to admit that my proposal to you went awry, but there were circumstances—’
‘Awry? It didn’t go “awry”, Mal. It didn’t happen. There was no proposal. There was just assumption. Lots of arrogant assumption.’ All the anger and humiliation came piling back on top of her. And the terror. She’d almost lost everything. All of it. Everything she’d worked for. ‘You assumed I was a sure thing. That of course I’d say yes to you because who wouldn’t? You were so sure of yourself you didn’t even pause to think about my needs, and you were so sure of me you didn’t even bother to ask my opinion on the topic. And there are no circumstances that can explain or excuse your arrogance!’
‘And if there were, you wouldn’t listen to them.’
‘The first I knew of your “proposal” was not when you and I had a private moment during which you asked me if I’d consider marrying you, but when one of my biggest clients rang to cancel his contract with me because he’d heard that I was no longer going to be running my company. When I asked him where that rumour had originated, he told me that he’d heard it from you. That you’d told him that once you married me I would no longer be taking on more business. Because of you, I lost clients. I could have lost the whole business. My business. The business I built from nothing.’ The thought of how close she’d come to losing everything that mattered to her sent her spiralling into panic. ‘That is what our “romance” did for me. And you wonder why I’m not romantic?’
There were lines of strain visible around his sensual mouth. ‘That is not what I said to him.’
‘Then what did you say to him because he was pretty sure of his facts when he took his business elsewhere. Important business, I might add. Business that would have led to more business. Instead I found myself explaining to some very confused people why I wasn’t getting married.’
His eyes were a dark, dangerous black. ‘And in doing so you humiliated me.’
‘No, you humiliated me, Mal! You made me look like some brainless, witless woman who was just waiting for a rich, handsome Prince to come along and rescue her from her sad life. All those times you said you loved me for who I was. You said you loved my independence and my strength. And then you cut me off at the knees. Did you really think I’d just give up my business and marry you?’
‘I thought you’d trust me. We’d been together for a year,’ he said in a thickened tone. ‘We were happy together.’
‘We were happy until you tried to take over my life. “Once we’re married she won’t have time to run your parties.” Wasn’t that what you said to him?’
There was a tense silence. ‘Yes. But there were reasons—’
‘Yes, and we both know what those reasons were. You have to be in control. You’ve been giving orders since you were old enough to put two words together and you don’t know any different. The problem is, I’m not great at taking orders, Mal. I like to run my own life. In fact, I insist on it. Damn it, why are we even having this conversation?’ Furious to feel her eyes stinging, she stomped back to the car but as she touched the door handle his hand covered hers. ‘Get away from me. It’s my turn to drive.’
‘This conversation isn’t finished.’
‘It is as far as I’m concerned.’
‘What happened with Richard Kingston was a mis-judgement on my part, I admit it. But there were circumstances—’
‘There isn’t a single circumstance that would successfully excuse a man discussing his marital intentions with everyone before the woman he intended to marry.’ She felt the warmth
of his hand, the strength of those fingers as they stayed in contact with hers and forced herself to pull away.
‘Are you crying?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve got sand in my eyes. This is a very sandy place.’
‘You’re wearing sunglasses.’
‘Well, clearly they’re not very efficient.’ Furious and miserable, Avery pulled open the door and slid inside. Her heart was pounding, her control shredded and her emotions raw. Why on earth had she decided to put herself through this? And in the desert. A place so closely entwined with her relationship with Mal that she wasn’t even able to look at a picture of it without feeling sad.
On her first visit to Zubran she’d fallen in love. Twice. First with the country; with the contrast between stunning beaches and the wild beauty of the ever-changing dunes. Second, with the man. And somehow the two had become inextricably linked so that she couldn’t imagine one without the other. He was part of this wild place and part of the place existed within him, had bred the strength and resilience that formed that steel core of his personality.
Her feelings for him had terrified her and they terrified her still. And yes, that was why she’d done nothing but snap at him from the moment she’d got into the vehicle. The alternative was allowing that dangerous chemistry to take hold and she couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t do that.
Avery tightened her fingers on the wheel as she drove, every tiny part of her alive with awareness despite all her efforts.
Next to her in the passenger seat, Mal sat sprawled, beautiful eyes narrowed behind sunglasses as he stared ahead.
She was silent and so was he, but that silence did nothing to defuse the tension.
An hour passed.
And another hour.
Neither of them spoke a word. And she was relieved to be driving. Relieved to have something to focus on other than him. Except that it didn’t work like that, of course, because no matter how much she focused on the road, she was still aware of him, right there beside her. Within touching distance, except that she wasn’t allowed to touch. And awareness grew and grew until the air was almost too thick to breathe. Until the desire to touch him was almost overwhelming and she had to grip the wheel until her knuckles were white with the pressure.