by Annie West
Would it be the last time he let her kiss him?
Fear catapulted through her as she realised she wanted more than anything to spend her life with Tahir. But perhaps she’d pushed him so far he’d turn his back on her.
Warm hands framed her face. Gentle thumbs scraped fresh tears from her cheeks as he drew back a fraction.
‘I told you,’ he murmured gruffly, ‘not to cry. That’s a royal command.’ His mouth tilted in the lopsided smile that flipped her heart in her chest. ‘I don’t like it.’
Shakily Annalisa nodded, swallowing a knot of emotion.
He hadn’t pushed her away. Instead his hands were gentle as they shaped her face.
‘You’re not going to give up, are you?’
She shook her head, her long hair swirling around her bare shoulders in a reminder that she was naked. They were both naked. But it didn’t matter. Not when she saw pain shadowing Tahir’s eyes.
With a sigh he lifted her up, right off her knees, and sat her on his lap, warm flesh against warm flesh. He reached for a coverlet and dragged it over her, cocooning them together under its satin comfort, hugging her close. His chin rested on her head and his heart thudded strong and familiar beneath her ear.
‘No, he didn’t beat Kareef and Rafiq,’ he murmured at last. ‘Just me.’
‘But why?’ Surely abusers weren’t so discriminating?
Silence for another thirty seconds. ‘I spent a lifetime wondering that, thinking it was a fault in me that provoked his hatred. My earliest memories are of his rage, his disapproval.’ He paused. When he continued his voice was flat. ‘It was because he thought I wasn’t his son.’
Annalisa jerked in his hold, stunned. ‘Seriously?’
He nodded. ‘Oh, yes. After all these years my mother has finally explained what she didn’t dare before.’
His chest expanded in a deep breath.
‘My parents had an arranged marriage. My father amused himself with mistresses but he was incredibly jealous of his wife. She had a difficult birth with Rafiq, and on her doctor’s recommendation she spent several months in France, recuperating. When someone made a sly remark about how she’d enjoyed herself with friends my father decided she’d taken lovers. It wasn’t true, but that made no difference.’
Tahir tugged Annalisa close and she shut her eyes, grateful for his warmth as she imagined Rihana’s life with a cruel brute who didn’t love her.
‘Then when I was born I was different. I didn’t have the pale ice-blue eyes of his family. I stood out from him and my brothers.’
She stiffened, staring at his wide shoulder before her. ‘Your father didn’t think you were his son because your eyes were a darker blue?’
Tahir shrugged and she felt his muscles ripple. ‘He wasn’t a reasonable man. He was unhinged on the subject. My mother even suggested a DNA test, but he was paranoid news of it would leak. His pride wouldn’t countenance anyone knowing he might have been cuckolded.’
He paused, breathing deep. ‘It was no wonder I couldn’t please him no matter how I tried. He didn’t publicly accuse me of being a bastard. That would have reflected on his ability to keep his wife under control. Instead he made my life hell.’
‘He made you his whipping boy.’
‘Literally.’ There was no humour in his laugh.
‘And your mother?’
‘No, he didn’t beat her.’ Tahir must have read her mind. ‘He realised he could exact a more exquisite revenge by maltreating me and letting her know she was helpless to stop it.’ His hand tightened on her shoulder. ‘He’d shown his displeasure from the first, and she soon learnt that if she showed affection to me I’d pay for it.’
‘How she must have suffered.’ Annalisa shuddered at the idea of being unable to protect her own child. Short of running away and leaving her elder sons to the mercy of a vicious father, under traditional Qusani laws Rihana had had little power to stop it.
‘I never realised how much,’ Tahir murmured, ‘till you forced me to talk to her.’
‘Forced you? I—’
‘I’m grateful, Annalisa, believe me.’ His hand slipped down her arm in a slow caress that made her melt against him. ‘If you hadn’t brought up the subject I’d never have confronted my mother and known the truth.’
Annalisa luxuriated in his approving tone as much as in the sensation of chest hair and solid muscle beneath her cheek.
Grateful… It wasn’t love, but surely it was a start.
‘For years I thought she didn’t care.’ His voice was husky. ‘Now I know she distanced herself from me because any sign of love on her part provoked more furious retribution for me. She tried to protect me the only way she could.’
His hold on her tightened.
‘I was petrified he’d begin physically abusing her after I was exiled, but even then she wouldn’t break her silence.’ He paused, his breath fast and loud. ‘She feared he’d kill me if she returned my calls. He knew I’d tried to contact her again and threatened violent retribution if she spoke to me.’
‘Tahir!’ Annalisa clung close, her arms tight around his torso. ‘That’s monstrous!’
She felt him shake his head above her. ‘He was a monster. The damage he did.’ Tahir stroked the hair back from her brow. ‘Even when he died my mother didn’t call me. She thought she’d killed my feelings by seeming to turn her back on me. She was afraid I didn’t care for her.’
When all the time it had been the other way around. Tahir had believed his mother hadn’t loved him.
What would that do to a child?
Annalisa’s heart cracked even as fierce maternal protectiveness surged at the notion of anyone abusing her child like that.
Now she understood Rihana’s words. Tahir had had everything he wanted: success, wealth, women. But not the one thing he’d really craved.
Love.
Tahir had been without love, or believed himself without it, most of his life.
Jagged fear shot through her. He’d found pleasure and comfort in her body. Yet he’d committed himself only to a marriage of convenience. Would Tahir accept the one thing she wanted most of all to give him?
Would he accept her love?
He’d spent so long cultivating his independence and his self-belief as a man unworthy of deep regard, maybe he was no longer able to accept love or even believe in it.
Was he capable of reciprocating? Of loving her?
Annalisa found her answer the next day.
After a night of passion beyond anything she’d believed possible, after tenderness that brought tears to her eyes more than once, Tahir left.
Words of love trembled on her tongue, her heart so full she had to share her feelings.
Yet he looked so weary after another night without sleep. His expression settled into grim lines as he spoke of the need to oversee the rescue efforts and she didn’t have the heart to burden him with more.
Others needed him more urgently. Her news, her needs, could wait a little longer.
Besides, she shied from the possibility he’d freeze when he heard her admission.
Perhaps he’d reject her. She wasn’t ready for that.
Her love for him had grown so much, obliterating her doubts once she saw beneath the mask he presented the world. She wanted to stay and make him happy. Prove to him love was possible and that they could have far more than a marriage of convenience. That they could make a family together.
She was so preoccupied it took her a while to realise the stir she caused as she moved through the palace much later in the day. Everyone looked at her differently, from servants to officials and visitors waiting for appointments.
Overnight the news of where Tahir had spent the night must have spread. Or perhaps it was the way he’d blurted out news of her pregnancy in public.
People refused to meet her gaze, bowing lower than ever as she passed, yet she felt their eyes on her back. Heat crawled up her throat and into her cheeks as she entered an audience chamber to be
greeted by a cessation of all conversation. No doubt they’d been gossiping about the latest royal scandal, confirmed by the Sheikh himself.
Stiffening, her pulse thudding, Annalisa paused, grateful that she’d again worn one of the beautiful gowns Rihana had pressed on her. She might feel small and insignificant, but at least she looked as if she belonged in this world of wealth and finery.
She lifted her chin, forcing down the impulse to spread her hand over her abdomen in a telltale protective gesture.
Did they assume she was simply the latest in the long series of Tahir’s conquests?
Her stomach plunged. Remembering how he’d left so abruptly, and his air of distraction, maybe they were right. Was she kidding herself that Tahir could feel more for her than duty and physical pleasure?
He’d shared some of his past but that didn’t mean he loved her.
Yet she refused to give up her dreams without a fight. She owed it to her baby too, to try and build a meaningful marriage.
Turning on her heel, she spun round and marched to Tahir’s offices. His senior private secretary was alone in the outer office.
‘Excuse me,’ she said, approaching his desk. ‘I wonder if you can help me with some information?’
‘Of course.’ He stood abruptly, his expression uncomfortable as he shot a glance towards the other office.
Instantly a premonition hit Annalisa. A feeling of impending disaster. These last weeks she’d developed an easy relationship with Tahir’s staff. What had changed?
The secretary’s eyes dipped fleetingly to her waist and her poise almost crumbled. Of course. News of her pregnancy and a potential scandal changed everything.
Warily she let him lead her towards a private sitting room partly screened from the main area.
Her lips twisted bitterly. Was she such an embarrassment she had to be ushered from sight?
‘I’d like you to look up the King’s appointments,’ she said as they walked, her voice a little too strident as she fought embarrassment and anger. ‘We’re marrying next week and I need details of the time and location so I can arrange some invitations.’
If she was going to fight for Tahir, attempt to turn this into a real marriage, she’d start as if it were real. She’d proudly invite her family. Every last cousin. She refused to let Tahir turn their wedding into a hole and corner affair, as if he were ashamed of her.
The secretary halted so abruptly Annalisa almost walked into him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered. ‘Pardon me.’ He turned but didn’t meet her eyes. ‘Won’t you take a seat?’
She shook her head, watching with growing concern the way he clasped and unclasped his hands, clearly ill at ease.
‘No, thanks. I’d rather stand. Now, about the wedding?’
He swallowed hard, as if clearing a constriction in his throat. Still he didn’t look her full in the face.
‘I’m sorry, I…’ He paused, looking back to the office as if seeking help.
‘You were saying? Just the time and location will do.’
‘I’m afraid…’ He stopped and finally met her eyes. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to talk to the King. He’s altered the arrangements.’
‘Yes?’ Annalisa’s skin prickled as that prescience of trouble grew stronger. ‘How did he alter them?’
‘He’s cancelled them.’
Annalisa heard the words echo through her, felt their impact like the slow motion force of a traffic collision.
Blindly she groped for support, clutching the back of a chair with shaking fingers.
Only yesterday Tahir had referred to their wedding. Why change his mind? Had he read her neediness and her emotions even though she hadn’t voiced them? Had he understood how she felt and decided to weather the scandal rather than lumber himself with a woman so obviously in love with him?
Had he rejected her because he couldn’t accept her love? Because he couldn’t return it?
‘Here. Please! Sit down.’ The secretary grabbed her elbow and guided her into a nearby chair.
Obediently Annalisa sank, grateful for the support as her knees turned to water.
‘Are you absolutely sure?’ She fixed him with a look that begged him to be wrong.
Hurriedly he shook his head. ‘No, I’m sorry. His Majesty cancelled the arrangements only a few hours ago. Perhaps if you talk to him…?’
What? He’d agree to marry her after all?
From the first Tahir hadn’t wanted marriage. He’d felt obligated. And now…now, for all their physical intimacy, perhaps she’d got too close to that part of himself he held so private.
Her heart throbbed pure pain. No doubt he thought it easier to provide financial support for their child than entangle himself with a needy woman.
‘Wait there. I’ll get you some tea.’ Her companion hurried away, leaving Annalisa to stare at the cluster of gilded French antique furniture in the room. It reminded her inevitably of the huge gulf between her and Tahir.
Had she fooled herself with dreams of a love-match? How had she let herself think for a moment it was possible?
She tried to tell herself it was for the best, ending things now rather than going through the emotional entanglement of a doomed marriage.
Yet she couldn’t convince herself.
She was still gazing dry-eyed before her, when a door slammed and she heard footsteps on the inlaid floor of the outer office.
‘…and your personal leadership during this disaster has made all the difference, sire. Without it the relief operation would not have been so effective.’
‘You flatter me, Akmal. But thank you. I realise I’m not the man the elders expected to have on the throne.’
‘Let me assure you, your actions these past couple of months have won their respect. As will your decision to cancel that imprudent marriage. It’s gratifying you’ve taken the advice of your counsellors on this issue.’
Annalisa pressed her palm to her mouth.
‘If I’d taken your advice, Akmal, I’d be crowned already and married to a foreign princess with blue blood and ice in her veins.’ Tahir’s voice was terse.
The sound of it made Annalisa twist in her seat. But they couldn’t see her. She was hidden by a carved screen inlaid with mother of pearl. Her stomach fluttered in distress. She didn’t want to be here, listening to their discussion. But she couldn’t face him. Not yet.
‘I wish you’d stop delaying your coronation, sire. It’s what the country needs. Stability, proof that the monarchy is solid and here to stay.’
‘You don’t think marrying the mother of my child indicates a certain permanency?’
Annalisa winced at the heavy irony in his tone.
‘Laudable as your intentions were, Majesty, we both know the child can be brought up out of the limelight. With sufficient money it will be well cared for and educated. And if you wish to continue a discreet relationship with the mother…’
Nausea engulfed her, and she didn’t hear the rest of the sentence for the buzzing sound in her ears. She hunched over, arms wrapped around her waist, breathing slowly through her nose in an attempt to force down the bile in her throat.
‘Besides…’ The other man’s voice began to fade, presumably as they entered the inner office. ‘Such a marriage isn’t possible. The King must either marry royalty or a woman of pure Qusani blood. It’s written in the constitution. This woman’s father was Danish. She’s not suitable as your consort.’
Annalisa barely heard the thud of heavy doors closing. Her mind was filled with the brutal words she’d not been meant to hear.
Tahir’s advisor proposed to pay her off with cash then set her up somewhere so she could be the King’s…what? Mistress? Concubine? Even for Qusay the idea was medieval.
As for the requirement for pure Qusani blood! Right now her blood, pure or not, was boiling at the man’s attitude. How could he take such an antiquated view of the world? Hadn’t he heard of the twenty-first century?
She shot to her fe
et and paced the small salon.
To be discussed as if she were a problem, a thing to be moved or used or discarded as they saw fit! To be rejected because she wasn’t royal, or because her father had been born in Copenhagen! She was as much a Qusani as Tahir and his precious Akmal. More so. Unlike Tahir, she’d lived here all her life—and, unlike his advisor, not in a gilded palace but with ordinary Qusanis.
How dared they belittle her like that?
Fury surged in her bloodstream, propelling her across the room and out of the door.
She’d wondered if Tahir could ever love her and now she had her answer. Now she knew exactly what to do. It was time to go home.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
TAHIR strode down the frescoed corridor, eager to reach his destination.
The day had been difficult. The cleaning-up work after the earthquake continued, and organising emergency housing and supplies for the dispossessed was a massive undertaking.
Then there was the matter of his marriage.
He’d reckoned without the obstinacy of the Council of Elders, who stuck blindly to the old ways. They wanted him married, all right, but to a woman of their choosing. It was only today he’d learned exactly how far they’d take their opposition.
Strange how they were willing to accept him, a prodigal returned, as their monarch, but quibbled over his choice of wife.
He set his jaw, remembering his recent interview with Akmal. The vizier was determined to force his hand and manoeuvre him into marrying a princess.
Tahir slipped a hand into his trouser pocket, grasping it on the weighty package there. His lips curved in a smile of anticipation.
With this gift he planned to get everything he wanted from Annalisa.
‘What’s the meaning of this?’ Tahir strode past the suitcase lying open on the bed, half full of her clothes. He followed the sound of movement into the nearby dressing room and slammed to a stop.
Annalisa stood there, wearing nothing but lace panties and bra. On the floor at her feet lay of pool of crimson silk embroidered with pearls. He recognised it instantly: a dress he’d ordered for Annalisa to go with the pearl and ruby diadem he’d present her with when they married. He’d asked his mother to give her the dress, knowing his fiancée, with her quaint scruples, would balk at accepting it from him.