by Kate Hewitt
His admiring words caused a warm glow to start inside her. ‘You have a lot more at stake, Zayed. Plenty of people are your responsibility, so I don’t need to be one of them.’
He didn’t look convinced, and Olivia decided it was time to change the subject. There was only so much reassuring she could do, especially when the truth was the thought of her unknown future made her stomach churn. She didn’t have that much in savings; Sultan Hassan paid her a pittance because she was also given food and board. Her employment skills were limited to being some kind of governess, but she’d hardly get a reference from the Sultan.
And what if she was pregnant?
That was a possibility she hadn’t let herself dwell on. Zayed hadn’t seemed to have considered it, although perhaps it was simply not of concern to him. Despite his seeming solicitude now, she knew she shouldn’t entirely trust him, even if she wanted to, and she doubted he trusted her. What would he do if she was pregnant? She didn’t even like to think about it.
‘What’s wrong?’ Zayed asked suddenly. ‘You’ve gone pale.’
‘Nothing.’ She’d been meaning to change the subject, so now she did. ‘This meal is really quite delicious. What is the main course?’
‘I have no idea.’ Zayed pressed a pager to summon the staff. ‘But we can find out.’
Moments later a member of staff came in and silently removed the dishes, returning shortly with the main course—grilled meat with rice and yoghurt sauce. Again it was delicious, and Olivia said so, but she knew she couldn’t just keep talking about the food.
And Zayed, for whatever reason, seemed determined to find out more about her. ‘What kind of job might you have done, if Hassan hadn’t offered you the governess position?’
Olivia shook her head. ‘I never really thought about it.’
‘Did you consider going to university?’
‘No, not really.’
Zayed frowned. ‘Not even for a moment? In this day and age...an educated woman like yourself... Why not?’
She pressed her lips together. ‘There wasn’t the money for it.’
His frown deepened, turning almost to a scowl. ‘No money? Did your father leave you nothing?’
‘He died virtually bankrupt.’ He’d had a penchant for gambling that Olivia hadn’t known about, and there had barely been enough to cover her most basic expenses after the funeral. ‘I didn’t really feel like going to university,’ she told him, wanting to avoid his pity. ‘I didn’t have a burning passion to study anything, and the truth is I’m not very adventurous.’ The thought of starting over alone in a strange city had been most unappealing. She’d done that enough as a child, before she’d been sent to boarding school at age eleven.
‘And what about now?’ Zayed pressed. ‘If you could do anything, what would you do?’
‘I...’ Olivia hesitated. She didn’t have dreams. She hadn’t let herself have them, because they’d seemed so pointless. Better to be happy pleasing other people, accepting their thanks when it came. Better to be useful than important or loved.
‘Think about it,’ Zayed urged. ‘This could be a great opportunity for you, Olivia.’
A great opportunity? Olivia blinked, stung. She understood about putting a good face on things, heaven knew, but that was stretching it a little far.
‘I’m sorry, Prince Zayed,’ she said stiffly. ‘But I can’t quite see that from where I am.’ She put her napkin next to her plate, her appetite vanished.
What was she doing here, really? Having a romantic candlelit dinner with a man who was going to put her aside so he could marry someone else? A man who had taken her innocence, her livelihood, her home. Did she have anything more to lose? The last thing she needed was to sit here, eating delicious food and drinking fine wine, as if they were on some sort of date. It just reminded her of all she didn’t have, would never have, and, while she usually didn’t let herself think like that, right now it hurt.
Because part of her wanted that—the romance, the anticipation, the seduction—with Zayed. She didn’t want to feel that persistent ache of yearning, but she did. He was a powerful and devastatingly attractive man, and despite his ruthlessness she knew he could be kind. It was enough right there to half tumble her into love with him, and that she could not have.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said as she rose from the table. ‘It’s been a long day. I think I’ll go to bed.’
‘Olivia, wait.’ Zayed rose as well, catching her arm and turning her towards him. A wave of heat, the tangy citrus of his aftershave, assaulted her senses and felt like a taunt. Even now she felt the ripples of desire spreading outwards from her centre, like a pebble had splashed into her soul, and she couldn’t stand it.
She didn’t want to want him. Didn’t want to long for things she couldn’t have, to yearn to feel those strong arms around her, pulling her against him, and more. So much more.
‘I’m sorry,’ Zayed said, his hand still on her arm. ‘That was a poor choice of words. I’m trying to see the bright side of things for you, but I understand that there doesn’t seem to be one at the moment. Please stay and finish the meal with me.’
Olivia knew she should tug her arm away from Zayed and keep walking out the door. Protect herself rather than let herself ache and yearn. But somehow she couldn’t. She wasn’t strong enough, and the thought of going back to her room and spending the rest of the evening alone made loneliness swamp her.
So she nodded and Zayed released her arm, a small smile flitting across his features.
‘Thank you,’ he murmured, and they both sat down.
* * *
It had been a stupid thing to say. Zayed saw that now. He saw it in Olivia’s pale face, in how her hands were not quite steady as she spread her napkin across her lap. He’d been trying to make her feel better and it hadn’t worked.
Hell, he realised, he’d been trying to make himself feel better. Because guilt was an emotion he couldn’t afford to feel. If Olivia could get something out of what had happened, if she could benefit, then he’d feel better about putting her aside.
The fact that he even needed such a sop to his conscience filled him with fury—and shame. For ten years he had let himself think of nothing but duty, fuelled by grief. When he closed his eyes, he saw the tormented face of his mother, dying simply because she had no more wish to live. He saw the helicopter in flames. He heard the anguished cries and shouts of his father and brother, even though he knew that was only in his imagination. It would have been impossible to hear over the sound of the blades and the flames. The headache he’d been trying to suppress for the last forty-eight hours flickered insistently at his temples.
He could not believe how weak and sentimental he was being. Why was he trying to make this woman, who meant so little, feel better? That was why he’d brought her to Rubyhan, Zayed realised with another rush of shame. Why he’d given her the sumptuous suite, the clothes. Why he was wining and dining her tonight.
Although that wasn’t quite true. No, it was worse than that—he was wining and dining her because he wanted to. Because he’d wanted to see her, be with her. Because even now, with so much at stake, he still desired this slip of a woman who should be completely forgettable to him. Why?
‘Zayed...?’ Olivia glanced at him uncertainly. ‘It’s late and I am sure you have many things to do tomorrow. Maybe I should go...’
She started to rise again, but Zayed stayed her with one upturned palm. He took a deep breath, willing the pain in his head to recede. ‘No.’
‘You seem...’ She hesitated. ‘Angry.’
‘I am angry at myself,’ Zayed confessed. Olivia gazed at him in confusion.
‘You mean for marrying me by mistake?’
‘Yes, that.’ His mouth twisted in something like a smile. ‘But also for wanting you even now, when I know I shouldn’t.’
It was as if he’d stolen all the air from the room in a single breath. Olivia froze, her eyes wide and stormy, her pink lips parted.
‘You do?’
‘Can you not feel it, Olivia? Why do you think we fell into bed together so easily?’
Colour touched her cheeks. ‘I thought... I thought it was just me.’
‘I assure you, it is mutual.’ Zayed sat back in his chair. He felt surprisingly glad he’d told her, that he’d acknowledged what throbbed between them. It was a relief, like lancing a wound, relieving the pressure. The trouble was, what was he going to do about it now? Again he felt the flicker of pain at his temples.
‘I’m...sorry,’ Olivia said after a pause, sounding unsure. Zayed let out a laugh, trying not to wince in pain.
‘This is not something you need to apologise for, Olivia.’ He studied her, the colour in her face, the slight upturn of her lips. Had he pleased her by acknowledging what he felt for her? Did she find it so hard to believe? ‘Have I given you another new experience, to have a man desire you so openly, so strongly?’
Her pupils flared. ‘You have given me many new experiences, Prince Zayed.’
‘I think we are past using my royal title.’
‘Are we?’ She gave a little shake of her head. ‘I don’t know where we are.’
And nor did he. But he knew where he wanted to be. He wanted to be in her arms, sinking himself inside her. The need throbbed inside him, obliterating every other consideration, overriding the pain growing inside his head.
She must have seen the heat in his eyes, because she let out a shaky laugh and looked down. ‘Why me? I’m no one special. You must have had many women, Prince Zayed.’
‘Not as many as you think.’ A soldier’s life in the desert had prohibited prolonged affairs. ‘In fact, before you I had not been with a woman for many years.’
‘Many years?’ Her expression of astonishment was almost comical. Zayed smiled wryly.
‘There has not been much opportunity.’
‘That’s why, then. You probably wouldn’t look at me twice otherwise.’
‘Why do you put yourself down?’
‘I’m not.’ She looked surprised. ‘Just stating a truth.’
‘It is not a truth to me.’ Suddenly he felt the urge to show her how beautiful she was to him. How utterly lovely. ‘Trust me on that, Olivia.’ He held her gaze, willing her to see the desire in them. To feel it in herself.
And he knew she did; he heard it in the quickly indrawn breath, the way she touched her lips with her tongue. Neither of them moved.
Distantly, over the roar of his own heated blood, Zayed felt the pulse of pain in his eyes and spots danced before his eyes. Damn it, now was not the time for one of his migraines to torment him. Often he could simply will the pain away, but now Zayed feared it had gone too far. Already his vision was blurring at the edges, the room going cloudy.
‘Zayed...?’ Olivia’s voice was filled with alarm. ‘Are you all right?’
So much for his seduction. Zayed tried for a laugh, but nearly retched instead. The pain came like a tidal wave now, drowning out everything else, waves thundering through his head. ‘I...’ He tried to speak but couldn’t manage it.
‘Are you in pain?’ He felt Olivia’s cool fingers on his cheek and breathed in her lemony scent. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the pain, but it was too late. Far too late.
‘Headache,’ he managed to get out through gritted teeth. Stupid of him to ignore the pain, to be so intent on seducing Olivia. If he’d gone to lie down in a dark room with a cool cloth on his head, he might have been able to avoid the worst of it. Now it would overtake him.
‘A migraine,’ she corrected softly. ‘One of the Princesses gets them sometimes. They’re terrible.’
‘I just need to lie down.’ He forced the words out, his teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached, cold sweat prickling on his back. He hated that Olivia was seeing him in such a weak and helpless way.
‘Let me help you,’ she said. ‘Do you want me to call someone?’
‘No.’ He wanted to manage on his own, but he knew he couldn’t. Still, better to keep the knowledge of his condition as closely guarded as possible. No one wanted to see their leader weak and in pain, and there was enough for his staff to worry about already.
‘All right.’ She placed one slender hand under his elbow. ‘I’ll help you to your bedroom.’
He rose unsteadily from his chair, leaning far more than he would have liked on Olivia’s petite frame, yet she held his weight with surprising strength. She was slender and small, but she was not fragile. He felt the tensile strength running through her like a wire.
‘It’s not far,’ he managed, and then stopped, because the spots dancing in his vision had coalesced into unending blackness. Standing there, Olivia’s hand on his arm, her body bracing his, Zayed realised he could not see a thing. He was blind.
CHAPTER NINE
ZAYED STILLED AND Olivia sensed the shock in him, although at what she didn’t know. Everything had spiralled out of control so rapidly—his admission of desire, the blatant invitation she’d seen in his eyes. If he hadn’t developed a migraine, who knew what would have happened? Although Olivia could imagine it all too easily—and evocatively.
‘What is it?’ she asked because Zayed still hadn’t moved.
‘I...’ His jaw bunched. ‘I can’t see.’
‘Can’t see? At all?’
‘No.’ The single word was a gasp of pain. A light sheen of sweat coated his pale face and his eyes were glazed.
‘Let me get someone—’
‘No.’ The single word was like the snick of a blade. ‘I don’t want anyone else to see me like...this.’
‘All right.’ Olivia absorbed that, along with his sudden blindness. Here, at least, she could be as useful as she knew how to be. As needed. ‘Then we’d better get you to your bed.’
Slowly they walked from the room, Zayed gripping her hand tightly as she put her arm around him and guided him with halting steps.
‘I don’t actually know where your bedroom is,’ she said in a low voice when they’d reached the thankfully empty hall outside the room where they’d been dining. ‘Can you direct me?’
‘Yes.’ Zayed drew a quick breath. ‘To the right, up the stairs, and then along the hallway.’
‘All right.’
Each step felt painstakingly slow, as Zayed felt his way and battled his pain. Olivia could tell from his tightly clenched jaw just how much pain he was in, and her heart ached for him.
On the upstairs hallway Zayed suddenly went still, then shrugged away from her, even though Olivia could see that it cost him.
‘What...?’ she began in a whisper, but Zayed shook his head, a flinch of pain crossing his face.
Then his aide, Jahmal, came down the hallway. Zayed straightened.
‘My Prince,’ Jahmal said. He gave Olivia a cursory, curious glance and then looked away, dismissing her. ‘Is everything well? I thought you were dining downstairs.’
‘I’m finished.’ Zayed spoke tersely. ‘I will work in my room. I don’t wish to be disturbed, please.’
Jahmal glanced at Olivia again, a frown marring his forehead. ‘Very well...’
‘Miss Taylor is helping me with a matter.’
Jahmal’s frown cleared. ‘The message to Sultan Hassan?’
‘Yes. Leave us now, please.’
Jahmal sketched a short bow and strode down the hallway. After a few tense seconds Zayed expelled a low breath and then leaned against Olivia again; she took his weight, wrapping her arm around his waist.
‘Get me to my room,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘Before I humiliate myself even further.’
‘There’s no shame in pain.’
‘You are wrong in that, at least for me.’
They didn’t talk further; all their energy was expended on making it down the hallway.
‘Here,’ Zayed said when they were in front of an arched door that looked like any one of the dozen others along the corridor.
‘How do you...?’
‘I counted.’
Olivia turned the handle and the door swung open into a room that was sparsely furnished and masculine in every detail. She led him to the king-sized bed in the centre, and then guided him down onto the soft mattress. Zayed stretched out with a groan, one arm thrown over his eyes.
‘Let me get you something,’ Olivia suggested quietly. ‘A damp cloth? Some tablets?’
‘There’s medicine in the bathroom.’
‘All right.’ She went into the sumptuous en suite, feeling as if she were invading his private space as she rifled through his medicine cabinet looking for the painkillers. She shook two out of the bottle and then poured a glass of water from the tap. She found a flannel and dampened it, and then brought it all back to Zayed.
‘Here,’ she said, perching on the edge of the bed. She pressed the tablets into his hand and then guided the glass of water to his lips. He swallowed in one powerful gulp and then subsided back onto the pillows. ‘And this too,’ Olivia said, and she gently laid the damp cloth across his forehead.
Zayed reached out his hand and found hers, lightly squeezing her fingers. ‘Thank you.’
‘I wish there was more I could do.’
‘This has been more than I deserve.’
Deserve? It seemed an odd turn of phrase. ‘Surely everyone deserves care when they’re hurt?’ Olivia said quietly.
‘That depends,’ Zayed murmured. Her hand was still encased in his. Olivia watched his powerful chest rise and fall in steady breaths. Outside the sun was setting, sending streaks of light sliding across the floor, the sky lit up with the most vivid pinks and purples she’d ever seen. She wondered if she should go, if Zayed wanted to be left alone.
As if sensing her uncertainty, he squeezed her fingers again. ‘Stay,’ he entreated in a low voice. ‘Stay with me.’
Something warm and wonderful unfurled in Olivia’s heart, like a hug from the inside. She realised how much she’d wanted to stay, wanted him to want her to. ‘Okay,’ she said softly. ‘Of course I will.’
She settled herself more comfortably against the pillows and Zayed drew her hand to his chest, still in his, so she could feel the thud of his heart against her palm.