The Sheikh's Impatient Virgin

by Kim Lawrence

‘How…quaint,’ she observed, looking at Eva, not the flowers.

  Eva, struggling to ignore the other woman’s rudeness—it wasn’t normally this overt—asked quietly, ‘Is there something I can help you with, Layla?’

  ‘There’s something I can help you with.’

  Eva, who highly doubted this, stayed silent.

  ‘Do you know where Karim is today?’

  ‘He’s in a meeting. They’re discussing the official opening of the hospital.’ As Layla’s father was, she knew, to be part of this discussion group, the other woman already knew this, so why was she bringing the subject up?

  Layla’s expression was openly malicious as she released a tinkling laugh and said, ‘Is that what he told you? Poor Eva.’

  The other woman’s pretended sympathy grated on Eva, who stuck out her chin and said confidently, ‘Karim does not lie to me.’ Sometimes she wished he would, but even in the heat of passion he never used the L word. ‘Or discuss me with you,’ she observed, quietly confident of this.

  It was no big leap. It was not in her lone-wolf husband’s way to share his burdens, even if his English bride was one! She had been quick to recognise the no-go areas in their relationship, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to respect the keepoff signs—difficult to stop herself making spontaneous declarations.

  It had reached the point where Eva had taken to locking herself in the bathroom, turning the taps on full and allowing the water to muffle her voice as she said, ‘I love you, Karim,’ over and over again.

  People, she had reflected on more than one occasion, had been certified for less, but what choice did she have when she felt as if her heart would explode if she didn’t say it out loud?

  ‘But maybe he doesn’t tell you the entire truth?’ Layla let the suggestion hang in the air before adding, ‘I think you might be the only person who doesn’t know what topic is on the agenda.’

  Eva, pretending boredom though her stomach was churning with sick apprehension, lifted her chin and suggested, ‘Why don’t you tell me what I don’t know, Layla, as that seems to be the purpose of this delightful little visit?’

  ‘Are you sure you want me to?’

  Eva, who wasn’t at all sure she wanted anything of the sort, snapped inelegantly, ‘Spit it out, Layla.’

  ‘They are hammering out the finer details of your separation.’

  Eva looked at her with genuine incomprehension. ‘Separation?’

  ‘Karim has no heir—’

  The colour flew to Eva’s cheeks. ‘We’ve only been married six months.’ She heard the defensive note in her voice and suspected from her expression that the other woman had too.

  ‘It takes time,’ Karim had said, not seeming particularly bothered when she had awkwardly brought the subject up after overhearing a conversation on the subject in the ladies’ room at a function they had attended. The women had been discussing a rumour that was apparently circulating that she was already pregnant.

  Karim’s first response had been an eager, ‘Are you?’

  When she had rebutted the suggestion he had not seemed particularly put out, remarking with a bold suggestive grin that had made her pulses race that they could continue enjoying trying.

  ‘Because you do enjoy it, don’t you, ma belle?’

  The scalding wave of helpless response as he had curled an arm around her waist and dragged her hard against him, allowing her to feel the strength of his arousal, had involved every centimetre of Eva’s skin from her scalp to her toes.

  Karim wanted her, his love-making left no room for doubts in that area, but he had never pretended to love her.

  ‘And,’ she added, fixing Layla with a frosty glare, ‘it is a private matter.’

  The older woman’s pencilled brows lifted. ‘Private?’ she echoed scornfully. ‘You can’t really be that naïve, can you?’ Her vulpine lips thinned as she mused, ‘Maybe not so naïve. I have to hand it to you—in landing our prince you did what many had tried and failed to do.’

  Eva, who had no intention of defending her innocence to this woman, raised her brows and asked, ‘Do you include yourself in that number, Layla?’

  The comment earned Eva a virulent glare that made her take an involuntary step backwards; she had known the other woman disliked her, but she was only just beginning to realise how much!

  ‘Karim would have had to marry at some point, but I saw no harm to allow him to enjoy his freedom.’

  ‘Allow!’ The woman made it sound as though she had permitted it—the woman was clearly deluded, because the only person whose feelings Karim took into account when he made a decision was his daughter…and of course his country.

  Layla’s eyes narrowed. ‘You really think your position is so secure, don’t you?’ she hissed. ‘Well, live in your fool’s paradise while you can because your main function is to provide an heir and if you can’t do that you’ll be history.’ She studied Eva’s paper-pale face and smiled before saying confidently, ‘Karim will put you aside.’

  The illustrative click of her fingers made Eva start.

  ‘And take someone who can give him an heir.’

  Eva opened her mouth and closed it again. Wasn’t this brutal analysis more or less the truth? Hadn’t it always been, although in the last few months she had been guilty of pretending it was something else?

  Had the bond she had imagined growing between them really been a figment of her wishful imagination? While she built her castles in the air she had been ignoring the fact this was and always had been a marriage of convenience.

  Karim had married her because culturally and politically he’d had no choice, but if she proved to be infertile nobody, least of all her grandfather, would condemn him if he divorced her—it would be his duty.

  ‘Someone else—you, for instance?’ Eva suggested, sliding her hands into the pockets of her loose, high-waisted trousers to hide the fact they were shaking.

  The other woman gave a complacent smile and ran her tongue across her glossy lips before observing. ‘It is true Karim and I have always been close—very close,’ she added, throwing a look of glittering challenge at Eva.

  The overt malice shining in the other woman’s eyes made Eva feel queasy. She rubbed her hands briskly across the skin of her upper arms; despite the warmth she suddenly felt chilled to the bone.

  Was it possible that Layla was telling the truth? Would he discuss a subject he had avoided with her? The thought of men sitting around a table cold-bloodedly discussing, dissecting and dismantling their marriage filled Eva with utter repugnance.

  ‘My father has brought up the topic privately. He felt it was his duty.’

  Up until that point Eva, feeling pretty emotionally mauled by this conversation, had been feeling numb, but the pious addition brought a spark of anger to her green eyes.

  ‘But actually,’ the older woman drawled, ‘it was Karim who suggested discussing the subject with the full council.’

  Aware that the other woman was watching to see how she reacted, Eva managed—it took every ounce of her mental reserves—to keep her face a blank canvas.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she added, her pout an indication Eva’s response had not been what she’d hoped. ‘I’m sure the settlement will be most generous.’

  ‘Or I might be pregnant.’ Eva slipped the comment in under the wire and watched her tormentor go pale.

  ‘Are you?’

  Eva didn’t drop her gaze. ‘As I have said, I feel these are matters that should stay between a husband and wife. But I do appreciate your intentions in coming here today, Layla.’ Eva let the deliberately oblique comment hang in the air before she produced a brilliant smile and added, ‘I will be sure to tell Karim how kind you have been.’

  The vague unease in Layla’s eyes became visible alarm at this prospect. ‘No, really, I—’

  ‘Now if you’ll excuse me I have some things to do before Karim returns.’ Her smile remained in place until she ushered the other woman from the room; the fact th
at Layla left looking a lot less smug than when she had arrived made the effort worthwhile.

  Eva got as far as the bedroom before her composure crumbled. She closed the door and flung herself headlong on the enormous carved bed she shared with Karim.

  She beat the pillows with her fists and sobbed. Finally, feeling physically and emotionally drained, she rolled on her back and stared at the carved ceiling.

  Her chest lifted as she sniffed and brushed her hair back from her tear-stained face. After the emotional storm she felt drained but determined.

  If she was going to leave it would be in the manner and at the time of her choosing, she decided, and the old adage no time like the present seemed rather appropriate!

  At the back of one of the walk-in wardrobes—there were five and one was bigger than her bedroom in her flat in London—she discovered the two battered suitcases she had arrived with.

  She heaved them onto the bed, then, opening the nearest drawers began to pile the contents willy-nilly into them.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘WHAT are you doing?’

  Eva spun around. The tone had been calm, almost conversational. The body language too was relaxed; Karim’s broad shoulders were braced against the wall, one elegant ankle crossed casually over the other as he regarded her through halfclosed eyes.

  But Eva, who recognised a calm before a storm when she saw it, was not fooled. And a scene right now was just what she didn’t need!

  She sucked in a breath. Spine rigid, she made a deliberate show of turning her back on him before slinging him a seething glare over her shoulder.

  As she returned to her task of packing Eva heard him say something that did not sound like a compliment in his native tongue.

  ‘So I now have a personal experience of the cold shoulder…I cannot say I care for it.’

  ‘And I so don’t give a damn what you care about!’ The frigid declaration was spoiled slightly by the quiver that crept in at the end. ‘Damn!’ she muttered under her breath as she dug in her pocket for a tissue and came up empty-handed.

  The anger died from his face as his eyes moved from her teary eyes to her quivering lips. Despite the frustration raging in his blood, he forced himself to speak calmly as he asked, ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘You’re the one with the razor-sharp intellect. I’d have thought you’d have worked it out for yourself. I’m packing.’ She picked up a shoe and placed it in the overfull case, saying, ‘See.’ She flashed a fake smile and enunciated the word slowly. ‘Pack-ing.’

  ‘Eva…’

  She ignored the warning in his deep voice, ignored the fact she could sense him moving towards her, ignored the quivering mixture of anger, self-pity and apprehension churning in her stomach and snapped without turning her head, ‘I’m leaving you!’

  ‘You are leaving me?’ The information did not soothe the drumming in Karim’s head.

  It had been a long day and one that he had not been anticipating with any pleasure, but he was a great believer in taking the fight to the enemy and not waiting for it to knock on his door.

  He had up until this point been feeling quite pleased with the results of his strategy.

  ‘No, you are not leaving.’

  Her chest swelled wrathfully as she spun around, a bra clutched in her white-knuckled hand. To find him standing so close she could feel the heat from his body made her pause, but only for a second.

  ‘That’s what you think, isn’t it? You just have to say something and it will happen…or not.’ She clicked her fingers, failed to produce a satisfactory click and caught his quickly repressed grin. ‘Well, not this time,’ she added, stabbing an accusatory finger into his broad chest.

  When he remained frustratingly immune to the pressure, ‘Try and stop me!’ she challenged, putting all her frustration into the next jab and this time being rewarded with a satisfactory grimace for her efforts.

  As she lifted an impatient hand to wipe the tears from her face Karim moved away. The expression of grim determination on his face was not reassuring.

  She hung back, unsure what he was about to do. ‘What…what are you…?’

  Maintaining his silence, Karim held her eyes while he slammed the lid of one suitcase closed. ‘Leave that alone.’

  He flashed her a grim smile and slammed the second shut.

  The power struggle was over before it began, but Eva made a determined effort to cling to the case that Karim already had in his possession. Karim barely seemed to notice her efforts as he casually tugged it out of her grasp and hefted the other beneath his free arm.

  As she staggered backwards Eva watched him stride to the open window and onto the wrought-iron balcony.

  ‘What are you doing, Karim? Stop…Oh, my God!’ She gasped, staring in disbelief as he quite deliberately emptied the contents of one case over the balcony into the courtyard below. He then threw the case after it.

  ‘The method is crude,’ he admitted, flashing her a dangerous grin as he began to dish out identical treatment to the second case. ‘But you did invite me to stop you.’

  ‘You’re mad!’ she yelled, rushing out to the balcony in time to see the second case land in a fountain. Her belongings, for the most part underclothes and shoes—not all pairs; her packing had not been exactly methodical—were scattered around the courtyard.

  ‘Why were you leaving?’

  Eva carried on staring at a pair of her knickers—red silk ones that had brought a gleam to Karim’s eyes when he saw her wearing them. No more red knickers—they were torn, hanging from the branch of an orange tree. And no more gleams, she thought dully.

  ‘Eva…?’

  Eva straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath before she turned to face him. ‘Am leaving, am—wrong tense.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Eva.’

  Her temper fizzed. ‘At least I’ll never be patronised by you again.’ Or kissed, or taken to the stars and back, or told in a voice that melted her bones that she was beautiful…‘And as for those…’ she nodded to her belongings ‘…I’ll go in what I stand up in. I really don’t care.’ And where will you go, Eva? asked the voice in her head.

  ‘Why, Eva?’

  She gulped and blinked away a fresh rush of tears, turning her head from the tenderness in his eyes. It was all a lie and she was a fool because she had believed it. ‘It’s better to jump than be pushed.’

  His brow furrowed in irritation. ‘Pushed? What do you mean “pushed”?”

  ‘There’s no need to pretend, Karim.’

  The only thing Karim was pretending was that he was in control, and that pretence was wearing pretty thin.

  ‘I know about your meeting.’

  Karim, in the act of reaching out to pull her to him, froze.

  ‘How many months did you decide on before I’m officially designated barren?’

  He flinched, but said nothing.

  Eva, ignoring the danger signals of the nerve jumping in his lean cheek and the white line etched around his sensual lips, interpreting his lack of reaction as guilt, added, ‘I’m curious—what is the market value of a discarded infertile wife? One that has all her own teeth, that is I’m given to understand that the settlement can be quite generous?’

  Eva had thought she had seen him angry before, but the flash of sheer molten fury that blazed from his eyes as they connected with her own was on a different scale. Every muscle and sinew in his body was drawn tight as, with a face like a carved bronze statue, he took a step towards her.

  ‘Mon Dieu, you will not speak of yourself that way—is that understood?’

  Eva took a wary step backwards, which took her perilously close to the edge of the balcony. She cast a sideways glance towards the drop and felt dizzy. She turned her face to an ablaze Karim and felt dizzier.

  He was awesome, six feet five of smouldering virile masculinity. As they stared at one another he tore the headdress from his head and flung it to one side before raking a frustrated hand through his gl
ossy hair.

  ‘Do you ever stop and think before you act?’

  ‘That’s rich coming from you. You could have killed someone,’ she condemned piously as she nodded towards the courtyard. He was killing her just by standing this close. The scent of his skin, as well as driving her quietly nuts, was eating steadily into her resolve to leave.

  ‘They could have ducked,’ Karim retorted, displaying a callous lack of concern for any victims of his outburst. ‘And the last time I checked a bra is not a deadly weapon.’

  Unless Eva was wearing it, he corrected, his eyes drifting to her heaving bosom that appeared interestingly unfettered beneath the drifty silk blouse thing she was wearing. The soft green brought out the darker emerald of her eyes; it also did little to disguise the small pointed perfection of her breasts.

  Momentarily distracted—for a man who was renowned for his powers of concentration that was happening a lot—by the image that formed in his head of his brown fingers, dark in contrast to the warm creamy mound of silken flesh they caressed, his glance lingered as lust licked like a flame along his receptive nerve endings.

  Sticking out her chin, Eva succeeded to some degree in hiding her apprehension, but her composure crumbled when she saw where his heavy-lidded stare rested. Her bolshy attitude tipped over into dismay as she recognised the familiar illicit jolt of excitement that crept through her body.

  Karim’s jaw was set as he wrenched his gaze upwards. ‘Who…who said this to you?’ he demanded thickly. ‘Who mentioned divorce?’

  She shook her head mutely.

  His lips compressed, a muscle beside his clenched jaw jumped. ‘I will know.’

  Eva shook her head; in an unrealistic corner of her heart she had hoped he would deny it. It was irrational to feel so utterly betrayed, but she couldn’t help it.

  A harder shell was what she needed she told herself. Being an old-fashioned romantic who loved a happy ending left you open to all sorts of pain in the real no-happy-ever-after-ending world.

  ‘It doesn’t matter who told me,’ she said dully. He wasn’t mad because it was a lie, he was mad because she had found out—presumably before he was ready.