Woman in a Sheikh's World

by Sarah Morgan

  ‘I gave it to you. I see that now. I was so used to making decisions on my own that I failed to share my thoughts and that was a fundamental error to make with a woman like you. I underestimated the depth of your insecurities and I—’ he gripped his glass ‘—I overestimated your feelings for me.’

  ‘Maybe the first is true, but the second—’ she lifted her head and gave him a faltering smile ‘—no. You didn’t overestimate. I did have those feelings. You were right about that. But the feelings weren’t enough to cancel out the insecurities.’

  ‘And now?’ He hardly dared ask the question. ‘Are those feelings enough for you to overcome everything your mother taught you? Can you forget One Thousand and One ways for a marriage to die and instead think about ways it can work?’

  The only sound was the relaxing sound of water that came from the ornamental fountain by the pool.

  Then she stood up abruptly and walked to the edge of the pool, her back to him. Like a wild animal disturbed, he thought, watching in silence.

  ‘Don’t do this, Mal.’

  ‘I am doing it.’

  She wrapped her arms around herself even though the evening was oppressively warm. ‘Why can’t you leave it alone? Why does it have to be marriage?’

  ‘Because for me there is no other possible outcome. It has to be marriage. But, unlike you, I don’t see that as a negative. I love you. You’re the only woman I want to spend my life with so marriage is logical to me.’ He rose to his feet, careful to give her time. He rescued her chair, but she didn’t sit down. Just stood there, looking at him over her shoulder as if she was deciding whether it was safe to stay. Whether she should run or not. Hunted and hunter.

  ‘I am an independent woman—’

  ‘You’re a frightened woman.’ He curved his hand around her waist and pulled her against him. It felt like progress when she didn’t pull away. ‘It’s time to separate what your mother told you from what you know to be true. I love you. You have to believe that I love you. I want you to marry me.’ He felt the fear ripple through her but he kept his arm round her and held her.

  She placed her hand flat against his chest, as if it was essential to keep some distance even now, during this most intimate of conversations. ‘You want to kill what we have stone-dead?’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be that way. It’s not going to be that way for us.’

  ‘People say that—’ There was desperation in the way she blurted the words out. ‘They make promises and exchange rings and believe that it’s going to last, and then it doesn’t. Relationships fail all the time. How can you possibly know what you’ll want, or feel, in the future?’

  ‘When you started your business, were you afraid of failing? Did it ever occur to you that perhaps it was better not to try in case it didn’t succeed?’

  She looked up at him and then looked away again. ‘No, of course not. But that’s different.’

  ‘Businesses fail every day, habibti. If yours had failed—’

  ‘I wouldn’t have let it fail.’

  ‘Exactly. You wouldn’t have let it fail. That is the reason your business is flourishing in this economic climate. Because of your determination. Because when something feels wrong, you deal with it. You flex. You compromise. And you will bring all those skills to our marriage and it will be a success.’

  ‘Marriage is different than business.’

  ‘But the same qualities are required for both. You start with a burning passion, and that burning passion is what keeps things alive if problems arise.’ He could see her weighing it up, pitting his words against her ingrained beliefs and he held his breath because he had no idea how that fight would end.

  ‘I’m scared—’ She covered her face with her hands and leaned her forehead against his chest. ‘I can’t believe I’m admitting that.’

  ‘I’m pleased you’re admitting that. For once you’re being honest. I can work with that. Now all I have to do is get you to admit that you love me.’ He closed his hands around her wrists and drew her hands away from her face so that he could look at her. ‘Is it unreasonable to hope that one day you’ll actually say those words to me?’

  There was humour in her eyes. And something else. Something warm he’d always hoped to see when she looked at him.

  ‘I don’t think your ego needs the boost.’

  He lowered his head, smiling against her mouth as he brushed his lips over hers. ‘Try me. Let’s see what happens.’

  ‘We’re too different. We want different things.’

  ‘I want you. You want me. What’s different about that?’

  Her fingers were locked in the front of his shirt. ‘You’d expect me to give up my job.’

  ‘Not true, at least not in the sense that you mean.’ He trailed his fingers down her neck, touching the diamonds she wore at her throat. His diamonds. ‘You are a master of organisation—that is why your parties are always such a success. You can juggle a million projects at once. You have consummate social skills and you know just what to say to put people at ease. You are beautiful, poised, generous and warm. All these are perfect qualities for the role of Sultan’s wife.’

  ‘Are you asking me to marry you or are you offering me a job?’

  ‘I haven’t asked you to marry me yet. I’m leading up to that.’

  ‘Oh.’ She was trembling against him. ‘So you’re offering me a job. You’re asking me to give up everything and in return you give up nothing.’

  ‘Life is all about perspective, habibti. Some would say I was offering you everything.’

  The dimple appeared at the corner of her mouth. ‘You have a high opinion of yourself, Your Highness.’

  ‘I’m sure a life spent with you will cure me of that.’ Hoping that he’d judged the moment perfectly, he slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out the ring. ‘Last time I did this badly—’

  ‘If we’re talking about a marriage proposal, you didn’t do it at all.’ Her tone was light but the look in her eyes was panic and he took her face in his hands and kissed her gently.

  ‘Breathe.’

  ‘I’m breathing.’

  ‘I want you to marry me, not because I want to ruin your life, but because I want to make it happy. I want to make you happy.’

  ‘Now that is arrogance, Your Highness—’ But her eyes were fixed on the ring. ‘Was it Kalila’s?’

  The fact that she would ask him that question intensified his guilt. ‘I am willing to concede that sensitivity towards your feelings has not been my strong point, but even I would not be so thoughtless as to give a gift I bought for one woman to another. It belonged to my great-grandmother.’ Unsure of her response to that, he paused, watching as her face changed. ‘She had a long and happy marriage, so perhaps you’ll consider that auspicious.’

  Carefully, she took it from him, turning it so that the stone winked in the sunshine. ‘It’s exquisite.’

  ‘But will you wear it?’

  She hesitated for what felt like a lifetime but which was, in reality, only seconds. ‘This is huge.’

  ‘The diamond or the commitment?’

  ‘Both?’ But his words drew the smile he’d been hoping for and he took ruthless advantage of that and slid the ring onto her finger.

  ‘It doesn’t feel huge. It feels right. It fits, habibti. It’s an omen.’

  ‘I don’t believe in omens and neither do you.’

  ‘But I believe in us. And I want you to believe in us, too. Will you marry me?’ He tilted her face and she stared up at him, more vulnerable than he’d ever seen her.

  ‘Yes.’ She stumbled over the word. ‘But if you hurt me, I’ll kill you.’

  He laughed. ‘That sounds fair to me.’ And if she still hadn’t said that she loved him, he told himself he had to be patient.

  They spent two more days in the desert. Two days during which they only left the bed to swim, ride and eat. Days during which Avery was conscious of the weight of the ring on her finger. She was aware of it all the
time, aware of him all the time. And the feelings inside her were a stomach-churning mixture of excitement and trepidation.

  But already the Palace machine was rolling into action. Arrangements were being made for her to become his bride and although it made her feel uneasy and out of control, she understood. Because of who he was, it had to be that way.

  ‘Don’t they mind that it’s not Kalila?’

  ‘Turns out that there was more to Kalila than either of us knew. I’m informed that she married her bodyguard within hours of us leaving.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I would have preferred she waited. It would have been easier for her to let me take responsibility, but I suppose she was afraid that her father might find a way to stop her.’

  ‘Or perhaps she needed to take responsibility for her own decisions.’ Avery understood that, but it didn’t stop her being concerned for Kalila. ‘What will her father do now?’

  ‘He can’t do much. Rafiq is arranging for them to come back to Zubran, at least for the time being. But I don’t want to talk about Kalila right now. I promise she won’t suffer for her decision.’ He lowered his mouth to hers. ‘I want to think about us, and if we are discussing a wedding, I want it to be ours. Talking of which, do you intend to invite your mother?’ The question was asked casually but there was no such thing as casual when it came to discussing her relationship with her mother.

  ‘No. I’ve told you—we’re not really in touch much now.’

  ‘Perhaps a wedding would be a good time to reconcile.’

  He had no idea. ‘Believe me, my mother would be the very last person anyone would choose to invite to a wedding. Not if they want it to be a happy event.’

  ‘And your father? I was thinking that this might be a perfect time to make contact.’

  ‘No.’ Suddenly cold, she pulled away from him. ‘I’ll give you a list of people I’d like to invite. Friends and people from work.’

  ‘In other words you don’t want to talk about your father.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Closing down the conversation, she slid from the bed and pulled on a silk wrap, knotting it firmly at the waist. ‘Not all families are like yours, Mal. I wish you’d try and understand that.’ Without giving him an opportunity to respond, she walked through to the bathroom and locked the door.

  And this time he didn’t follow her.

  Was this the start of it? she wondered, leaning her head back against the door and closing her eyes. Was this how it happened? The first crack. And then another crack, until the cracks became a rift, and the rift became a canyon and suddenly there was nothing between them but space that couldn’t be bridged.

  ‘It is not going to happen the way you’re thinking.’ His dry tone came from the other doorway and she felt a rush of exasperation with herself for forgetting about the second door, but also relief because she hated feeling the way she was feeling.

  ‘Please tell me that your apartment in the Palace doesn’t have two doors in the bathroom.’

  He crossed the room to her, lean, powerful and confident. ‘It doesn’t, but unless you stop trying to knock down what we are building with every thought you have, then I’m going to remove all the walls and we will be living open-plan. I know which part of our conversation had you running from my bed and I won’t mention it again. If you don’t want to trace your father then that is your decision, but if you ever change your mind then let me know. I will use my contacts to find the truth.’

  She already knew the truth but any guilt she felt at not revealing that was drowned out by more urgent feelings as he pulled her into his arms and brought his mouth down on hers.

  And afterwards, hours afterwards as they lay in the darkness in sheets tangled from their loving, she told herself that it didn’t matter, that it didn’t make a difference, but the feeling that she was somehow deceiving him stayed with her and it was still with her when they finally landed in Zubran City.

  The Old Palace, the Sultan’s official residence, was a fascinating labyrinth of private courtyards, soaring ceilings and opulence built on the shores of the Persian Gulf. Avery had planned parties in the most luxurious and exclusive venues in the world, but nowhere had left her quite as breathless as this place. The Palace was beautiful, but her real love was the gardens, particularly the water gardens that provided a cooling sanctuary from the blistering desert heat.

  It became her favourite place to escape from the madness and chaos of the wedding plans, none of which seemed to require her input. As someone used to running things, it felt strange not to have a role in what was surely the biggest event of her life.

  While Mal was occupied with state business, Avery flew back to London to see clients and deal with aspects of her own business that Jenny couldn’t handle. Far from being concerned about Avery’s marriage to Mal, her friend was delighted. Together they agreed to a few changes to the running of the business, giving Jenny more day to day control. Avery returned to Zubran knowing her business was in safe hands and feeling slightly redundant. It was a strange feeling. She loved her work and was proud of her achievements, but she knew that for her it wasn’t just a means to independence, but a shield against intimacy. She’d been afraid to share herself, afraid to trust, and her mother would have said that was a sensible approach. Until a few weeks ago, Avery would have agreed.

  That was before she realised how good it felt to love and be loved. And she was loved, she was sure of that.

  Mal loved her.

  How could she doubt it? He loved her so much that he couldn’t wait to marry her. There was no hesitation on his part. He was so sure of himself and of her and that made her feel wanted in a way she’d never been wanted. Her mother’s only contribution as a parent had been to teach her that it was better to live her life alone. She’d never mentioned the richness of a life shared and Avery was starting to appreciate the flavour of that.

  Ten days after they’d arrived back at the Palace she’d taken coffee and her work down to her favourite spot and was sitting in the shade reading through a document Jenny had sent through to her when Mal found her.

  ‘The entire Palace is searching for you.’

  She closed the document she was reading. ‘I wasn’t hiding. I like it here. I love the water gardens. The sound is so soothing.’

  ‘The gardens were a wedding gift for my mother. She liked the sound, too. She told me that it was the one place in the madness of the Palace and her life that she could be sure of finding peace.’

  ‘I can understand that. It’s very soothing.’

  ‘Do you need soothing? Are you stressed?’ He sat down next to her and she realised how tired he looked. Since they’d arrived back in Zubran he’d been in endless meetings, his presence required almost continuously either by the Council or by his father.

  ‘I should be stressed. Marriage and me. Can’t believe I’m saying those two words in the same sentence and not freaking out and running through the Palace screaming.’ Laughing at herself, Avery twisted the ring on her finger, realising that it no longer felt heavy. It felt good.

  He breathed deeply and took her hand in his. ‘You have no idea how relieved I am that you’re not freaking out.’

  ‘I trust you. And I love you.’ She curled her fingers around his and smiled. ‘Did you hear that? I said, “I love you.” And now I just said it again. That’s twice in as many minutes. I’m getting good at it.’

  ‘It’s practice.’

  ‘Not practice. Trust.’ She watched as a butterfly settled on the border of flowers next to her and opened its wings to the sun, trusting that no harm would come to it while it stole the moment for itself. ‘Trust is like a door. I always assumed that keeping that door closed kept you safe, but now I see that opening it can let in good things. Things I’ve never felt before.’

  ‘Avery—’ He seemed unusually tense and she kissed him.

  ‘Although we were together for that year, I didn’t really understand the level of responsibility you face. I didn�
��t understand the pressure. Everyone wants a piece of you and you have to juggle so many things. I think my job is busy, but yours is stupid. And everyone comes to you expecting a decision. I see now why you behaved the way you did when horrid Richard tried to goad you. As far as you were concerned, you’d already made that decision and moved on to the next. You were decisive because you loved me.’

  He cupped her face in his hands. ‘I do love you. Don’t ever forget that.’ He kissed her and then stood up. ‘These party organising skills of yours—do they extend to children’s parties?’

  ‘You want to hold a children’s party?’

  ‘My mother was patron of a charity devoted to equal educational opportunities for all. Once a year we hold a giant children’s party.’ He gave a helpless lift of his shoulders. ‘I confess that running it doesn’t play to my skills.’

  Pleased to finally have something positive to do, Avery smiled. ‘Just as long as you don’t expect me to do a balloon release or hire fifty swans. What’s my budget?’

  ‘Change the day.’ Mal faced the Council, staring at faces aged with worry and experience, faces that had been part of his life for as long as he could remember. ‘Even if you shift it by a week, that would work.’

  ‘Your Highness, we cannot do that. You know that circumstances do not allow us any flexibility.’

  He did know. He’d been living with those ‘circumstances’ for a decade. He also knew how Avery would react if she found out what that date signified.

  And then the door to the Council chamber opened and she stood there, fire in her eyes, and he knew that, somehow, from someone, she had found out.

  Across the room, their eyes met and he stood, forcing himself to absorb the silent accusation that flowed across the room like a lethal mist.

  So that was it, then. Regret stabbed him along with disappointment and frustration at the timing. Maybe if they’d had a little longer in this phase of their relationship. Maybe if those fragile strands of trust had been given time to strengthen …

  He addressed the Council. ‘Leave us.’

  Something in his tone clearly communicated itself to them because they rose instantly, those men for whom duty exceeded all other priorities, exchanging worried glances as they shuffled from the room. He knew there would be mutterings, but he didn’t care. The only thing he cared about was the woman holding his gaze.