by Lynne Graham
‘If I had taken my anger out on your stepfather…had I allowed myself within ten feet of him, I would have killed him with my bare hands. And not for the blackmail attempt but for turning you into something so much less than you might have been!’
The savage chill of sincerity in those words took her aback. In the rushing silence which followed, she listened to him undressing. She squirmed over to the far edge of her side of the bed and reached a determined resolve. From that very moment she swore she would not think again about their disastrous wedding day, their marriage which she had not even known existed in reality, or the fact that he might have divorced her since then. She had wasted a whole year of her life on endless regrets and now she had said sorry as well, so that was that. Finito!
The mattress gave beneath his weight. The lights went out.
A tiny betraying sniff escaped her as she opened her mouth to snatch in a ragged breath.
Tariq invaded her side of the bed without warning. ‘Let me hold you—’
‘No!’ she snapped. ‘Can’t I even be miserable on my own?’
‘Not when you are making me miserable too.’ Tariq groaned, tugging her into his strong arms, tightening his hold on her when she made a squirming attempt to snake free. ‘I will not touch you. We can be miserable together. Just lie still.’
The heat and solidarity of his big powerful frame crept into her stiffness like a sneak invasion. Slowly the tension leeched out of her. ‘You know…the first I heard about that dreadful plane crash last year was today,’ she heard herself whisper, for she felt that really she ought to say something on that subject.
Tariq tensed.
‘I’m really sorry. Your father, your stepmother… The whole year must have been a nightmare for you to get through.’
‘Surely the crash was mentioned on the British news?’
‘I’m sure it was but six months ago my life was in total upheaval,’ Faye confided ruefully. ‘The house was being sold and I was seeing to all the packing and looking for somewhere to live. That’s probably how I missed out on hearing about the crash. You mentioned your stepmother’s death soon after I arrived here but I had no idea there were other relatives of yours involved—’
‘Which house was being sold?’ Tariq interrupted.
She frowned. ‘What do you mean by which?’
‘Your brother’s home or yours?’
‘Adrian lived in army quarters: he didn’t own his house and when he quit the army he had to get out of it. I’m talking about the house where we grew up—’
‘But why was it sold?’
Faye sighed. ‘Adrian and I joint-owned it but it was too far out of London to suit Lizzie and him, so I agreed to the sale… I told you that he put the proceeds into starting up his business—’
‘But I didn’t realise that you had sacrificed your own home. How could you let your stupid brother sell the very roof over your head?’ Tariq demanded rawly.
‘Please don’t call Adrian stupid, Tariq,’ she muttered, very uncomfortably for it had occurred to her more than once over the years that her big brother, much as she loved him, was not the brightest spark on the block.
‘But where have you been living since then?’
‘I got a bedsit near where I work…although I don’t suppose I’ll have a job when I get back because I was only supposed to be away a few days—’
‘What is a bedsit?’
‘Are you serious?’ She smiled in the darkness, thinking that there was no good reason why Tariq should understand what a bedsit was. She was probably the very first person he had met who lived at the poorest end of the rental market. She described her accommodation.
‘You must share a bathroom with strangers?’ Tariq demanded, aghast.
‘Not all of us at the same time,’ she pointed out, trying to suppress a giggle.
‘I assumed you were living with your stepfather or your brother.’
‘Adrian has his own family…and he came over here with them,’ she reminded him. ‘As for Percy, he only contacted me again when Adrian went into prison. You know it would break Percy’s heart if he knew we had actually been married for real. You’re lucky you divorced me…’
‘Go to sleep…’ A sliver of raw tension she could feel had entered Tariq’s stillness but exhaustion was settling in on Faye and winding her down like a clock. Muffling a yawn, she surrendered to gravity and rested her head on his shoulder, marvelling that they were talking again and wondering if that was the result of her resolve to totally detach herself from their past.
Tariq was gone when she woke up at seven the next morning. As her seeking hand found nothing but emptiness beside her, she jerked in dismay at the sound of something moving about what sounded like below the bed. Sitting up with a start, she was just in time to see Rafi scramble out in his pyjamas, bounce up and shout, ‘Boo! Did I scare you? Did I scare you?’
‘Yes…what time is it?’
Rafi clambered up on the bed and landed himself on her lap. ‘Can we have a picnic today?’
‘Maybe.’
‘I like you…’
‘Please let me go back to sleep,’ Faye begged.
Rafi climbed in below the sheet and snuggled up to her like a tadpole wriggling in itching powder, bony little knees and elbows jabbing in the small of her back. She swallowed a long-suffering groan. ‘Did you see Tariq leaving?’
‘I saw his helicopter.’ Rafi imitated the noise at deafening pitch and sat up to start whirling his arms round and round at the same time. ‘I won’t go in a helicopter…it might fall out of the sky and go bang and die my brother—’
‘Oh, Rafi…Tariq will be fine. Tariq is a wonderful pilot.’ Faye groaned and, giving up on sleep, she flipped over and began tickling him until his giggles and hers rose to such a level that Shiran came running in to see what was happening.
She thought Tariq might come back that night but he did not. It was the afternoon of the following day before he reappeared. After enjoying a riotous couple of hours playing in the gorgeous terraced gardens that climbed the hillside, Rafi and the twins had been taken inside for a nap. Hot and sticky following such activity, Faye had taken advantage of the departure of the servants. Having kicked off her shoes, she was paddling in the wide shallow basin of a secluded fountain in a shaded arbour. The sensation of that cool water lapping her overheated skin felt like total bliss. Holding her dress up to her knees to prevent the hem from getting splashed, she kicked up water, watching the droplets sparkle in a shard of sunlight strong enough to pierce the hanging dark pink foliage of the spreading casuarina tree above her.
When she lifted her head, it was a considerable shock to see Tariq poised on the lush manicured grass only a dozen feet from her. His dark golden eyes flared over her comical look of dismay and glittered with rampant amusement. A devastatingly attractive smile flashed across his wide, sensual mouth and her heart hammered so hard in reaction to that charismatic charge, she felt dizzy and just kept on staring at him.
‘You make a charming and refreshing picture,’ he murmured huskily, moving forward and extending a lean hand to grasp hers and assist her back out of the basin.
‘You were laughing—’
‘Laughter has been painfully thin on the ground over the past thirty-six hours,’ Tariq confided, retaining his hold on her slim fingers and gazing down at her with a mesmerising intensity that whipped colour into her already warm cheeks. ‘I sat up half the night listening to two obstinate old men arguing about grazing rights that neither need. But now it seems worth it for I’m with you sooner than I had hoped.’
‘My shoes…’ Faye mumbled, her wide eyes stealing over him in greedy little bursts that she could not resist, taking in the exquisitely tailored pale beige suit that sheathed his very tall and powerful frame, lingering on the full spectacular effect of a colour that accentuated his black hair and sun-bronzed skin. It was no use. He still just took her breath away. Although she had sworn to be cooler than an ice cube, she cou
ld not shake the conviction that he was the most drop-dead gorgeous male alive.
‘Never mind your shoes…although you are inconveniently small without them.’ Banding both arms round her as he made that teasing comment, Tariq drew her close, lifting her up against him and draping her arms round his shoulders. ‘Cling…’
‘I don’t cling,’ she said tightly, shutting the allurement of him out with lowered eyelashes, fighting the urge to grab him and hold him tight and sink into the gloriously familiar scent and feel of him.
‘Please…’
‘You’re wasting your time…’
He hoisted her higher with a strength that disconcerted her and bent his proud head to press his mouth against the tiny pulse beating out her tension just below her collarbone. Jolted by that unexpected approach, she let her head fall back, felt a river of liquid heat forge a path through her thrumming body and loosed a choky little moan.
‘Am I?’ Tariq strode over to the stone bench below the tree and sank down, keeping her trapped in his arms. He gazed down at her, a wolfish grin forming on his beautiful mouth. ‘I want to spend my time with you.’
‘Well, I suppose I signed up for it,’ Faye muttered grudgingly, maddeningly conscious of him with every wretched fibre of her being.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I’m your mistress. Spending time with you is hard to avoid.’
Tariq tensed and then breathed in slowly, lean, strong features taut. ‘I have considered what you said the other night. It’s possible that I have misjudged you to some extent—’
‘It was Percy who made off with your half million—it serves you right too!’ Faye told him squarely. ‘You must’ve made the bank draft out to him—’
‘Naturally. I believed you would still be living with him and he would be taking care of your needs—’
‘Look, Percy never looked after me in his life and he hardly ever lived with us either, aside of the occasional weekend. He didn’t even look after my mother. He just paid people to do it for him—’
‘This is not the picture of the happy united family you gave me when I first met you—’
‘Of course it’s not,’ Faye agreed ruefully. ‘Who do you know who drags out all the dirty washing in their family if they can avoid it? And you’ve got to admit that Percy is a very big piece of dirty washing…you think I didn’t see how you avoided him? You think I don’t notice how much my stepfather offends people?’
‘Why on earth did your mother marry such an unpleasant man?’
‘Well, if she ever regretted it, she didn’t show it.’ Faye sighed. ‘And, to be fair, he never spoke an unkind word to her that I heard, but somehow we mysteriously went from being well off to poor during their marriage.’
‘Adrian once mentioned that your own father had made some very unwise investments. Your stepfather may not be responsible for the loss in family prosperity.’
‘Adrian once mentioned…? Why didn’t he ever mention that to me?’ Faye demanded in exasperation.
‘I can see that I’ve been remiss in my responsibility towards you,’ Tariq breathed flatly.
Faye stiffened. ‘No, you haven’t been. As far as I’m concerned, I was never your wife. In fact I don’t even want to think about all that nonsense any more.’ And with that cool assurance, she broke from the loose circle of his arms and stood up in a hurry. Having forgotten that she had no shoes on, she felt the gravel below the seat bruise the soles of her bare feet, making her gasp and jump back onto the bench beside him where she hovered, stepping off one foot on to the other. ‘That hurt!’
Tariq looked up at her with a slanting smile. ‘A princess would have to be very dignified.’
Faye paled and then tossed her head. ‘I wish you well of one…are you going to be a gentleman and fetch my shoes?’
Tariq sprang upright and reached for her hands, enclosing them tightly in his and startling her. He crushed her soft mouth under his with a devouring hunger that splintered through her in a shockwave. Then he lifted her and settled her down on the bench. Senses reeling in the aftermath of that stormy onslaught, she watched him retrieve her shoes and return with them.
‘Just like Cinderella,’ Tariq murmured playfully, sunlight gleaming over his luxuriant black hair as he crouched down to slide her sandals onto her small feet.
‘No, she got the fairytale prince…I got the frog of little faith.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You heard me.’
Tariq simply laughed and closed one lean hand back over hers, walking her back down the hill towards the palace.
‘You only came out here to drag me back indoors again, didn’t you?’
‘I only came out here to find you, but you are right. I am now taking you back to my bedroom where I intend to remove every single garment you wear as fast as I possibly can and make passionate love to you,’ he admitted without skipping a beat.
‘Duty calls,’ Faye quipped, but she could feel herself blushing, feel the spiralling ache of the exact same hunger twisting deep down inside her. And, in her opinion, that made her not one whit better than him. Moaning about being his mistress seemed a little hypocritical when she was as keen on him as she was.
He gave her a startled glance. ‘You have changed.’
‘Have I?’
‘Now you are joking about sharing my bed.’
‘Fancy that.’ She shrugged. ‘Bit of a problem for you, that, isn’t it? Instead of feeling punished by your revenge, I’m enjoying myself.’
‘I am no longer thinking of revenge—’
‘It doesn’t bother me. I’m only looking on this as an extended holiday.’ Unfamiliar aggression was powering through Faye. If Tariq thought he was going to hear one more time about how he had broken her poor little heart, he was in for a surprise.
‘Really? I suppose I’m the holiday romance?’
‘No comment.’
Ten minutes of simmering silence later, Faye kicked off her shoes and lay down on the bed. ‘Do you think you could remove this anklet now?’
Tariq nailed her with glittering golden eyes. ‘I like to see you wear it.’
‘All the time…everywhere? Even when I go paddling?’
He shed his jacket, jerked loose his tie in the manner of guy making a statement. Watching him, she stretched, conscious he could not take his eyes from her even though he was furious. She was thrilled by the discovery, a new sense of feminine power infiltrating her bloodstream like heady wine.
‘You’re fighting back…’ he said softly.
‘Did you expect me to stay in doormat mode for ever?’
Shedding his last garment, Tariq strolled over to the bed. Sunlight filtering in through the doors spread open on the balcony enveloped his bronzed magnificence and something caught in her throat. No today, no tomorrow, she told herself feverishly. She was living for the moment.
‘You can’t win.’ Tariq came down on the bed one hundred per cent sexual predator. ‘You are my woman, aziz.’
‘While I still want you,’ Faye heard herself point out.
His lean, sure fingers momentarily stilled on the buttons that ran down the front of her dress. Lush black lashes lifted on his stunning golden eyes and he gave her a slow-burning smile of pure sensual threat. ‘I am not planning to bore you out of your mind in the near future.’
‘Well, you’re bound to think that…’
He spread the edges of the dress apart as thought he were unwrapping precious gold. She was not wearing a bra. ‘I am not surprised that grazing rights failed to hold my attention last night,’ he confided huskily, running an appreciative hand over one small pouting mound crowned by a prominent rosy peak. ‘You are exquisite…’
She quivered at that glancing caress, forcing her spine back down to the bed. No need to wow him with overenthusiasm, she warned herself. ‘You’re bound to think that too after a year of celibacy—’
‘And what would you know? Only days ago you were a virgin.
’ Tariq gazed down at her in exasperated challenge.
‘I was only stating an opinion—’
‘Don’t.’
‘Do you think other men would have the same opinion, then?’ A little devil was dancing in Faye’s head, priming her tongue.
Tariq ground out, ‘Why would you ask me such an inappropriate question?’
‘It’s on a par with you having asked me that night how many other men I had invited to dinner and slept with.’
‘I was upset by your behaviour—’
‘Oh, were you? I thought you were just trying to make me feel cheap—’
‘It was cheap.’ Winding both hands into her tumbling hair as if he were imprisoning her, Tariq possessed her angrily parted lips with so much potent force, she lost her grip on her thoughts. She clutched at his shoulders, dizzy with pleasure.
But then he made the serious error of pausing to extract her from the dress. ‘And you’re not cheap—’
‘No, indeed—to date, at my estimation, I have cost you upwards of a million pounds!’
Tariq froze at the reminder.
‘Nobody could call that cheap,’ Faye agreed sweetly.
Tariq glowered down at her, pale beneath his sun-darkened skin, superb cheekbones taut in his lean, strong face. ‘You’re worth it. Are you happy now?’
She wasn’t but she nodded, wishing she had not mentioned the money: the bank draft Percy had purloined, the cost of her brother regaining his freedom.
Tariq traced her tremulous mouth with a soothing forefinger. She was blinking back tears but he didn’t miss a trick and he smoothed them away. ‘We are finally together. Think only of that.’
The instant he kissed her again, the hunger stormed back, intensified by her raw emotions. She loved him. She wanted him. She would not allow herself to think one step beyond those realities. A fever had got hold of her. Her hands roamed over him, adoring the flex of his hard muscles beneath his hair roughened skin. Trembling beneath her exploration, he pulled her over him, depriving her of that freedom and locking her into the hard heat of his aroused body while he plundered her lips.