by Lynne Graham
Vanity and the desire for him to admire her had triumphed over conscience. Reddening at that awareness, Faye would have put on her own clothes had she still had them but unfortunately she had dumped the lot. The not-thinking-of-tomorrow rule she had observed in recent weeks had made her reckless. She selected an elegant skirt suit in a rich shade of old gold. When she told Tariq that she wanted a divorce, she wanted to look good—she wanted him to feel he was losing out even if it was only on a convenient bed partner.
Having eased on tights beneath the sapphire anklet and put on toning high heels, Faye went downstairs, only to discover that Tariq was not at home. He was at his office in the Haja. Discovering that only made her all the more determined to confront him and discuss what had to be discussed. After an exasperating long wait at her request for transport, a limo which flew two small Jumarian flags on the bonnet finally drew up.
She was taken aback when two police outriders on motorbikes took up position in front of the limo outside the palace gates, even more uneasy when she glanced out of the rear window and saw another two cars filtering out behind them. When the cavalcade she had naively not foreseen her outing might require reached the city, red stop lights were totally ignored and traffic was held up for their benefit on every approach road. For the first time, it began to truly dawn on Faye that being married to Tariq was not quite like being married to anyone else and that even the most minor thing she might choose to do could have consequences.
Latif awaited her at the side entrance of the giant building. He was full of concern about her fall, amazed she was already up and about, and assured her that every spiral staircase in the Muraaba was now to be renovated and hand-rails installed for greater safety.
As Faye was shown into Tariq’s office, her heart began beating very fast. Sheathed in a light grey suit, immaculate as always, he was by the window, fabulous bone structure taut, stunning dark golden eyes slamming straight into hers in a look as compelling as his touch. ‘I was astonished to hear you were on your way here. You’re very pale. Sit down,’ he urged. ‘The doctors said you should take it easy for a few days.’
‘I’d prefer to stand.’ Meeting the sincere concern in his gaze, feeling the instant leap of her senses to the powerful magneticism of his presence, Faye reacted in self-defence, seeking hostility rather than pleasantries. ‘Just as you let me stand sweltering out in that courtyard on my first visit here a few weeks back.’
‘You should know me better. My lack of courtesy was not deliberate but an oversight. I too was under strain at that interview.’
She flushed at that hint of reproach. ‘It didn’t show—’
‘It was quite a shock for me that day to discover that my wife did not appear to have the foggiest clue that she was my wife,’ Tariq extended with gentle irony.
‘Well, all that stuff doesn’t matter now and I don’t know why I mentioned boiling alive in that stupid courtyard—’
Tariq drew closer with fluid grace. ‘Don’t you? I have a good idea of what you’re thinking and feeling right now, aziz. Do you imagine I am not aware that you are drawing up a great long list of my every past and present sin? So that you can impose them as a barrier between us?’
Disconcerted, Faye breathed, ‘I—’
‘Once I went through the same process with you. Even without seeing you, I was able to stockpile more sins at your door. You did not even write me a letter of condolence when my father died,’ Tariq pointed out. ‘We were estranged but you were my wife and I was never not aware of that. I thought you were heartless—’
‘I…I did think of writing,’ muttered Faye in deep discomfiture, having turned pale as a ghost at that reference to an omission which now seemed inexcusable. ‘But I didn’t know what to say so…so in the end I didn’t bother.’
‘You didn’t appreciate that you were still my wife but I didn’t know that,’ Tariq reminded her. ‘When that plane went down six months later and I lost my cousin, who was my closest friend from childhood…his wife and his parents, my aunt and uncle, who were all like a second family to me…what did you think I thought then of you when I still heard nothing?’
Feeling the tables had been turned on her with a vengeance, Faye squirmed and could no longer look at him direct, for her eyes were prickling with tears of sympathy. ‘I didn’t hear about the crash—’
‘Yes, I am aware of that now and I am not trying to make you feel bad…’
Faye hung her head, wondering what he might achieve if he really tried, for she was feeling dreadful.
‘I only want to illustrate how anger and hurt pride build on mistakes and misunderstandings. Don’t do that to us now when we had already found our way through those barriers,’ Tariq spelt out levelly.
Her tender pride took fire and she flung her head high, violet-blue eyes sparkling with angry resentment. ‘Already? Where was I when this healing miracle was taking place?’
‘Faye…if you love me, there are no true barriers and there is nothing that with time cannot be overcome.’
Rage was clawing at Faye. She had come to stage a confrontation with dignity. She had felt strong, committed to her purpose. But from the minute she had walked into his office, Tariq had been running verbal rings round her and making her cringe like an awkward schoolgirl in the presence of an adult. She could not bear to be reminded that she had gone on at such length about having been crazy about him only a year earlier.
‘But the point is…I don’t love you,’ she snapped between gritted teeth. ‘I discovered the joys of sex with you…that’s all!’
Tariq studied her with unreadable cool but she could not help noticing that he had lost colour at that retaliation. ‘It’s good to know that I excelled somewhere.’
‘I came here to discuss us getting a divorce,’ Faye announced.
‘You could not wait an hour for me to come home?’
Her colour heightened. ‘Tariq—’
‘I have no intention of continuing this conversation in my office,’ he murmured levelly. ‘Now go home.’
At that level command, Faye sucked in such a deep and charged breath she thought her lungs might burst.
Tariq stepped past her and cast wide the door. Her trembling hands closed into furious fists. ‘I—’
‘Her Royal Highness wishes to travel home before the rush hour begins, Latif.’
Faye was so dumbfounded to hear herself being referred to as ‘Her Royal Highness’ that she almost collided with Latif in the corridor.
The older man escorted her to a stone bench and hovered.
‘Am I a princess?’ The shaken enquiry just erupted from her and she went pink.
‘From this moment on,’ Latif informed her in a tone of great approval. ‘The gift of that title is in the power of Prince Tariq alone. You are only the second princess in the history of our royal family—’
‘Really?’ she whispered dazedly.
Latif was now in full flood on a subject evidently close to his heart. ‘Prince Tariq’s lady mother first enjoyed the distinction but only on the birth of her son. However, I feel it is most appropriate that, in these more forward-thinking times, His Royal Highness should honour you early within your marriage.’
‘Honour me…’ Faye echoed weakly.
‘It may be of interest to you to learn that you may now sit in His Royal Highness’s presence in public and walk by his side as his equal without it being said that you are showing disrespect.’ As Faye slowly raised her head, eyes very wide, Latif straightened his shoulders with immense satisfaction. ‘Yes, we will be setting a precedent and an example in this part of the world.’
CHAPTER TEN
TARIQ did not actually return to the Muraaba until eight that evening. Having dined with the children and seen them off to bed through the usual baths, high jinks and bedside stories, Faye believed she had attained a much calmer frame of mind.
Tariq glanced into their sitting room where she was pacing the floor and flashed her a warm, appreciative smil
e as if everything was well between them. ‘I’m going for a shower…I’ll be with you soon.’
Her teeth gritted.
His brilliant golden eyes rested on her frozen face. ‘You could always join me.’
Faye flew out of her seat and took the bait. ‘How dare you suggest that?’
‘Just testing the water,’ Tariq murmured smooth as glass. ‘No pun intended.’
She contained herself for all of ten minutes and then she headed into their bedroom. The bathroom door stood wide. Tariq was in the shower. She paced again, but the instant she heard the water switching off she lodged herself in the doorway.
‘Why didn’t you divorce me a year ago?’ she demanded.
Tariq stepped from the shower, pushing his hair back from his brow, all bronzed masculinity and easy grace. ‘Obviously because I did not want to break that final link, regardless of how tenuous that link might have appeared. And I am very much afraid that, on the subject of divorce, I have no good news to share.’
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ Watching him towel himself dry, Faye could feel familiar warmth stirring in her pelvis and she averted her eyes hurriedly.
‘Some time ago, certain discreet enquiries cast that question open in a most revealing debate between the high court judges and, this evening, I learned much that I did not know. No ancestor of mine has ever applied for a divorce. There is therefore no facility for the ruler of Jumar to divorce…no case law, no nothing,’ Tariq stated with flat emphasis.
Faye’s lips parted company. ‘But what about all that turning round three times and saying you divorce me stuff?’
‘That must be done in a court before a high court judge and may obtain a divorce for any one of my subjects. But not for me. At the same time I threw those angry and foolish words at you on our wedding day, I was not aware of that. Indeed…I was so angry, I hardly knew what I was saying to you,’ Tariq admitted between compressed lips.
‘But you’ve got to be able to get a divorce—’
‘Presumably the law would eventually work out how to allow me to divorce when I stand outside the laws of our country but…’ Tariq rested shimmering golden eyes on her ‘…I don’t want a divorce.’
Faye trembled. ‘Yes, you do…well, you did when those discreet enquiries were casting open questions to some legal debate between judges!’
‘No, it was my father who had those enquiries made some months before his death—’
‘Your…father?’
‘I had no idea he was considering divorcing Rafi’s mother but, evidently, he was. It was Latif who enlightened me on that news this evening.’ The towel draped round his lean hips, Tariq crossed the floor and rested his hands on her shoulders to stop her from spinning away out of reach. ‘I will say again. I don’t want a divorce…do you think you could listen?’
‘Well, we can’t stay together, so obviously I just go home and…the legal stuff can be sorted out some time later, some time never! I really don’t care how or when.’
‘Faye…’ Tariq breathed tautly. ‘Until yesterday, you were happy. There is no reason why that happiness should not be recaptured—’
‘Maybe you’d like me to go on acting like your mistress!’
‘Considering that believing yourself to be my mistress appeared to give you quite a thrill on several recent occasions, only you can answer that question.’
Her cheeks flamed at that rejoinder for there was truth in it. Pulling away, she stalked back into the bedroom.
‘I care about you and I don’t want to lose you but my patience is running out—’
‘Just like my patience did when you were content to misjudge me for the supposed blackmail that caused all the trouble between us in the first place!’
‘But I stopped judging you,’ Tariq shot back at her with icy force. ‘You said you wanted more than anything else in the world to be my wife because you loved me and, in the space of hours, I have forgiven everything and let go of every piece of my bitterness. Do you think I have no heart? Do you think I did not feel your sincerity?’
Faye did not want to be reminded of the more embarrassing things she had uttered in the grip of her overtaxed emotions. ‘You forgave me for the blackmail…’
‘As I was planning to marry you in any case before your stepfather intervened,’ Tariq delivered in a velvety smooth tone, ‘It was not a major problem.’
And Faye picked up on that admission and reeled in shock inwardly as he no doubt intended her to reel. Fighting Tariq was a constant debilitating struggle, she recognised in furious frustration. He was fast on his feet and kept on throwing the unexpected back at her. But Tariq had been planning to marry her even before Percy tried to blackmail him? Never in her life had Faye been so desperate to snatch at the carrot offered to her as a distraction. But she would not allow herself to snatch.
‘But you still didn’t trust my word.’ She flung that promising branch on the fire with satisfaction. ‘I have every right to leave you—’
‘What is right? Strive to recall Rafi, whose love you have also won and who is a great deal less able than I am to cope with another major loss in his life!’ Tariq ground out fiercely. ‘Before you pack, you go and you tell him why you are leaving him after teaching him to love you for I will have no part of that dialogue!’
And at the exact same moment as he strode off in evident disgust with her into the room he used as a dressing room, the anger and the ferocious need to hit back every way she could fell away from Faye. She slumped back against the foot of the bed, her legs suddenly shaking beneath her.
As if she were someone waking from a dream, the previous twenty-four hours replayed within her memory and she squirmed. She recalled ignoring him all through the night while he’d sat by her bed in the private hospital room. She had acted like a huffy, ill-mannered child but he had not uttered a word of reproof. He had behaved as though her accident had been his fault. He had bowed that proud head and begged her to forgive him. And she had lain there in that bed, relishing her power like a real shrew and stoking up her resentments to new heights. Confronting him at the Haja had been even less forgivable.
She loved him. But it was as if her love had got lost for twenty-four hours, yet it was her pride Tariq had hurt more than anything else. She was his wife when all was said and done. A wife by default, though. He had not known that divorce might be a real challenge to achieve and he no longer wanted a divorce. Indeed, according to him he had never wanted a divorce enough to even find out how to go about getting one, even when he had believed she was heartless and mercenary. But then he also had the needs of three children to consider, children whom she had encouraged to care about her, children she had been threatening to walk out on.
‘Tariq…?’ she muttered unevenly.
‘What?’ he demanded, obviously thinking she was starting on round three and ready for her now with gloves off.
‘Nothing…’
‘Surely you have not run out of steam yet?’ he growled.
‘Pretty much. I would never hurt Rafi or Basma or Hayat,’ Faye told him very quietly.
‘If you are set on leaving, you should go now for, the longer you stay, the harder it will be on the children.’ Tariq expelled his breath in a hiss. ‘I have nothing more to say. I have said it all.’
The silence weighted Faye down with its electrifying tension. A current of fear new to her experience was infiltrating her. ‘I got carried away,’ she said, dry-mouthed. ‘I’m sorry.’
Tariq said nothing. She watched him zip up faded denim jeans that accentuated his lithe muscular physique and pull on a dark green shirt, more casual clothing that she had ever seen him wear. He was not watching her any more. Indeed, he might have been on his own. All of a sudden it was as if she had become invisible. His bold profile grim, he was not ignoring her as she had ignored him; he simply seemed buried in his own thoughts.
‘I’m sorry for…everything.’ At that moment everything seemed to encompass so much Faye did n
ot know where to begin.
‘I’m sorry…you’re sorry…the children will be sorry too.’ Darkly handsome features taut and spectacular eyes cloaked, Tariq headed straight for the bedroom door.
Wide shoulders straight, he walked tall. He had magnificent carriage, she reflected numbly, and he was walking out on her without another word. But then she had been screaming at him like a banshee wailer. Yet he had kept his temper and explained all that he could with irreproachable honesty. Only it hadn’t got him anywhere and now he appeared to have decided that her leaving was possibly for the best in the long run.
‘Tariq…?’ Her voice emerged all squeaky.
‘I wish I could say something profound…’ his lean brown hand clenched on the door knob ‘…but our whole relationship has been a black comedy of errors and I am out of words. Inshallah.’
Her throat was convulsing. Her mind was an appalling blank. She could only wish she had run out of words sooner.
He opened the door and then paused. ‘What will I do with the mare?’
‘What mare?’
He turned back with a frown. ‘It was to be a surprise…Delilah, your mare that you had to sell last year. I had her traced and purchased from the riding school but she is in transit and, until you have stables again… Don’t worry, I will deal with it.’
Faye was so shaken by that unexpected revelation and conclusion, she stood there with a dropped jaw, and by the time she unfroze and decided to chase after him he was gone. Really gone, for absolutely nobody seemed to have the slightest idea where he had gone, which dismayed her.