Desert Prince's Stolen Bride

by Kate Hewitt

  ‘What is it? What has happened?’

  ‘Snakebite,’ Zayed said tersely. ‘Do we have an antivenom injection in the Jeep?’

  ‘I’ll get it.’ Jahmal left quickly, while Zayed stared down at Olivia, her body jerking in response to the venom flowing through her system, her gaze blank and unresponsive. Cobra bites were some of the most dangerous in the world, with a high mortality rate, especially in such remote areas as this.

  Damn it, why hadn’t he checked for snakes? After ten years of living in the desert, he was used to doing it, but he’d been so consumed by Olivia, by the promise he’d seen in her eyes, that he’d forgotten. And now he stood here, helpless, holding her hand, her life at stake, his life at stake...because she was his life. The realisation cut through him cleanly, leaving him dazed and reeling.

  He loved her, Zayed acknowledged with a terrible, sinking sensation, and once again he was going to have to stand by and watch as the person he loved most in the world suffered and died. It was more than he could bear. Not again. Not ever.

  ‘Hold on, Olivia,’ he whispered, trying to imbue her with his own strength. ‘Hold on.’

  The next few hours passed in a blur of grief and fear. Jahmal administered the antivenom medication, and Zayed watched, utterly helpless as Olivia writhed and retched, so clearly suffering and in pain that Zayed felt as if his own body, his own heart, were being rent apart. He wished he could take her pain, longed to ease her suffering, but just as before, just as always, there was nothing he could do. And he didn’t know if he could live through that again.

  ‘Will she survive?’ he asked the doctor he’d flown in from Arjah, thirty-six hours after Olivia had first been bitten. Zayed had barely left her bedside in all that time.

  The doctor gave him a sorrowful smile and shrugged. ‘It is impossible to say. A snakebite... As a man of the desert, Prince Zayed, you know how dangerous and even deadly these can be.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ Zayed’s hands curled into fists. ‘But a person can survive if the venom hasn’t spread.’

  ‘Yes, and we will not know whether that has happened.’ The doctor dared to lay a hand on his arm. ‘If it is fatal, it will be soon. We will have an answer in the next day or two.’

  An answer Zayed couldn’t bear to think about.

  Forty-eight hours after the serpent had first slithered away, Olivia stirred and then opened her eyes. She licked dry lips, her unfocused gaze moving around the room. Zayed leaned forward.

  ‘Habibi...’ The endearment slipped from his lips unthinkingly. He reached for her hand. ‘You’re awake.’

  Slowly, as if the movement made everything in her ache, Olivia turned her head to look at him, her expression still dazed. She opened her mouth to speak but only a sigh came out.

  ‘Don’t speak,’ Zayed urged her. ‘Don’t strain yourself, not now.’ Relief broke over him like a wave on the shore, followed by a deep, unsettling unease. If she was awake, if she was cognisant, she had survived. She would survive. And, as grateful as Zayed was for Olivia’s life, he didn’t know if he had it in him to withstand something like this again. How many risks would he have to take? He’d live his whole life in jeopardy, in fear, for the one he loved. For the heart that could break.

  Back in his own room, Jahmal was waiting with a grim look on his face, having just returned from Rubyhan. Zayed glanced at him, both irritated and alarmed by his aide’s gloomy face.

  ‘What?’ he demanded. He hadn’t slept in over two days and his mind was a haze of physical and emotional fatigue. ‘Why are you looking like the walls have come crashing down?’

  ‘Perhaps because they have, Prince Zayed.’

  Zayed stilled in the action of taking off the linen thobe he’d worn for far too long; he hadn’t bothered to change his clothes since Olivia had been hurt. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There was a message from Serrat back at Rubyhan. He says he is sorry, but his government is not willing to support your claim at this point.’

  Zayed sat heavily on the bed and raked his hands through his hair. After the success of the dinner with Serrat, he had hoped for better. Hell, he’d expected it.

  ‘Did he say why?’

  ‘He gave no reason, My Prince.’

  Zayed nodded slowly. ‘There will be others.’ But it was a blow—a big blow—that woke him from the stupor of grief and fear he’d been in for the last two days.

  ‘You should return to Rubyhan,’ Jahmal urged. ‘Speak to Serrat and reach out to Sultan Hassan again, before Malouf hears of these developments and grows even bolder.’

  ‘But Olivia...’ The words died on Zayed’s lips as he caught sight of his aide’s face, and the flicker of something almost like contempt that went across it. He was a prince—would be the King when he could return to Arjah and be crowned. He was a leader of men, of a people, a country, and he had a duty to them, to the memory of his family...and that came before any duty he had to his mistaken bride. Besides, Olivia was getting better, and the greatest danger was past.

  He gave Jahmal a terse nod. ‘Be ready to leave within the hour.’ Zayed did not miss the relief that broke across Jahmal’s face before he turned away.

  After washing and dressing in a fresh thobe, Zayed went in search of the doctor.

  ‘She seems better,’ he said, part-statement, part-question, and the man nodded.

  ‘Yes, the worst is past. But it will be some days before I can discover whether there has been lasting damage.’

  Zayed’s stomach clenched. ‘What kind of lasting damage?’

  ‘To organs, muscles, even the brain. I am hopeful, my Prince, that the venom did not spread so far, but I can make no promises at this juncture.’

  ‘Of course.’ Dread swirled in his stomach at the thought of Olivia facing such damage...and it would be his fault. His fault for bringing her here, for kidnapping her in the first place. ‘Give her the best care,’ he instructed. ‘And, when she is well enough, arrange for her transport back to Rubyhan.’

  The man nodded. ‘It will be done.’

  Jahmal was waiting in the Jeep when Zayed slipped into Olivia’s room for a private farewell. She was asleep, her face pale, her dark hair spread over the pillow, her lashes sweeping her cheeks. Her breathing was steady and yet so very light; she was barely a bump under the covers, her body fragile and slight.

  Zayed sat next to her and took her limp hand in his. A dozen different memories ran through his mind in a bittersweet reel: that first explosive night; the way she’d cared for the women and children after Malouf’s attack. Seeing her in the palace garden, Lahela’s baby on her lap, looking so happy. The way she’d given herself to him, so freely and utterly. The stormy blue of her eyes, the sudden surprise of her smile. His insides twisted in an agony of indecision. Love hurt.

  He didn’t want to leave her, but he knew he had to. And perhaps it was better this way; he’d never meant to love her, never meant to open himself to that kind of pain again. If he left now, he could gain the emotional distance he needed and so could she. Yes, it was better this way. Better for both of them.

  Zayed squeezed Olivia’s hand gently and then brushed a kiss against her forehead. As he eased back, her eyelids flickered, but before she could open them properly she’d lapsed back into sleep.

  With a wrenching pain feeling as if it were tearing him in two, Zayed backed out of the room and then headed for the Jeep, Rubyhan and the rest of his life.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  OLIVIA WOKE SLOWLY, as if she were swimming up to the surface of the sea, the light shimmering and sparkling in the distance. Someone was speaking to her, saying her name, and she felt fingers on her wrist.

  Her eyelids felt heavy, as if someone had placed weights on them. As much as she tried, she could not open them.

  Olivia... Olivia...

  Waves of fatigue rolled over her, making it even harder to hear that voice. Every muscle in her body ached, so she felt as if she’d been ruthlessly pummelled and punched. All she
wanted to do was sleep, and so she did.

  When she woke again the room was lost in twilit shadows, and although she still felt that overwhelming fatigue she was able to open her eyes. A man was sitting by her bed. In the shadowy darkness she thought it was Zayed and her heart leapt.

  ‘Zayed...’

  ‘No, Miss Taylor. I am Ammar Abdul, the Prince’s doctor.’

  ‘Oh.’ As her eyes adjusted to the dim room, she could see the man, tall and thin, looking nothing like Zayed. ‘Where...where is Zayed?’

  ‘Prince Zayed has returned to Rubyhan.’ There was a faintly repressive note to the doctor’s voice that made Olivia realise her question had been presumptuous.

  ‘I...see.’ Her mouth felt terribly dry. ‘Could I have a drink of water?’

  ‘Of course.’ With alacrity the doctor rose and poured her a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table, held it to her lips. Olivia took several grateful sips before subsiding back on the pillow, exhausted by even that small amount of activity.

  ‘What...what has happened to me?’ she asked. The last thing she remembered was Zayed taking her in his arms, telling her not to fight him. Not to fight them.

  Tears pricked her eyes; her emotions felt so very raw, right up at the surface of everything. Why had he left her?

  ‘You were bitten by a snake, Miss Taylor. A desert cobra. You are fortunate to be alive.’

  A snake. Briefly, distantly, Olivia remembered the stinging pain in her ankle. ‘How...how long have I been like this?’

  ‘It has been four days since you were bitten. For some time we did not know whether you would live or die. As I said, you are very fortunate.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘How much longer will I be here?’

  ‘Prince Zayed wishes you to return to Rubyhan as soon as it is safe to do so, perhaps in another day.’

  Olivia nodded, and after a few moments the doctor left her to rest. She stared into the darkness, her heart a leaden weight inside her. Four days, and her life at stake. And Zayed had left. No matter why or when, she couldn’t ignore that fact. She couldn’t move past it.

  He never promised to love you, she reminded herself. He has a kingdom to run.

  But the fact that he wasn’t here, that he’d chosen not to be here, felt like a hammer to her fragile hopes. It was a wake-up call to the reality of what she’d been about to agree to, and a much-needed one at that.

  Olivia spent the day resting and trying to recover, and by the next morning Ammar Abdul deemed her well enough to be transported back to Rubyhan.

  ‘It does not appear that you will have any lasting effects from the snakebite,’ he told her after he’d checked her over. ‘But you will require another complete check in a few weeks to make sure. In the meantime, rest, sleep, eat and drink.’ He gave her a smile with sympathy. ‘You will feel a little better each day.’

  ‘That’s good to hear.’ She felt about a hundred years old at the moment, moving slowly, everything aching. The ride in the Jeep was torture, with all the bumps and jostling, and the short helicopter ride to Rubyhan was no better. By the time Olivia arrived at the Palace of Clouds, she was exhausted and aching more than ever, longing only for her bed...and Zayed.

  He was not waiting at the helipad when she touched down and she didn’t see him as Anna escorted her into the palace. Although she knew she probably shouldn’t, Olivia couldn’t keep from asking about him.

  ‘How is Prince Zayed?’

  Anna gave her a brief, inscrutable look. ‘He is quite busy at the moment, dealing with various issues of diplomacy, but I will let him know that you have arrived.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Olivia murmured, fighting that bone-deep disappointment she’d felt since she’d woken up and realised that Zayed was gone. That he didn’t care. Or was she being unreasonable, expecting him to sit by her bedside like some lovesick nurse? He had a country to run, duties to perform. She was being over-emotional and ridiculous, but she couldn’t help herself.

  It was another full day before she actually saw Zayed. She’d spent most of her time in her room, resting or sleeping, trying to manage a few meals although she had no appetite. Then, the evening of her second day back at Rubyhan, Anna fetched her.

  ‘Prince Zayed would like to see you now,’ she said, and Olivia suppressed the sarcastic reply she wanted to make: what, now? He beckoned and she came, apparently.

  Anna led her not to one of Zayed’s private, more casual rooms, but to a formal audience chamber on the ground floor, with marble pillars and walls adorned with gold leaf. Zayed stood at the far end of the room, dressed in a traditional thobe, embroidered with red and blue thread, and loose trousers. He could not have shown her more thoroughly that he wanted to create a distance between them.

  What had changed since he’d drawn her in his arms and told her how good they were together? What had happened?

  Anna quietly closed the door behind her so Olivia was alone with Zayed—Prince Zayed, because that was how this felt. He was the Prince and she was the commoner. She swallowed hard and walked slowly to one of the gilt-covered chairs at the side of the room.

  ‘You’ll have to excuse me,’ she said stiffly. ‘I still cannot stand for long periods.’

  ‘Of course you must sit.’ Zayed took a step forward and then stopped as Olivia sank into a chair. His gaze, as unreadable as ever, swept over her. ‘You are looking far better than when I last saw you.’

  ‘And when was that?’ Olivia returned, a touch sharply. Zayed frowned and she looked away, biting her lip. There was no point in revealing her hurt feelings. It was clear they didn’t matter.

  ‘Five days ago.’ Zayed’s voice was cool. ‘I had to return to Rubyhan on official matters.’

  ‘Of course.’ Neither of them spoke, the silence between them a heavy burden that Olivia didn’t have the strength to bear. Not now, and maybe never. ‘What’s happened, Zayed?’ she asked quietly. ‘What has changed?’

  ‘Changed?’

  ‘Between us.’ She met his gaze directly, unafraid now. How much more could he hurt her? ‘I don’t remember much after the snake bit me, but I remember before. I remember you telling me to fight for us and drawing me into your arms.’ She swallowed. ‘Then, the next thing I know, I’ve been desperately ill for four days and you’re back in Rubyhan. I arrived yesterday morning and this is the first I’ve even seen you.’

  Zayed’s jaw was tight. ‘I’ve been busy.’

  ‘And when I do see you, it’s as if I’m some supplicant coming to beg a favour from the king.’ She gestured to the ornate reception room. ‘What is this? What are you trying to tell me?’

  Zayed was silent for a long moment and Olivia waited, holding her breath, because there was something. She just didn’t know what it was.

  ‘I’ve heard from Serrat,’ Zayed said at last.

  ‘Serrat? The French diplomat?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’ She searched his face, finding nothing, feeling cold. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘France is not willing to support my claim.’

  ‘Oh. I’m sorry.’ She absorbed the statement for a few seconds and then realised what it meant for her. ‘You are questioning whether my credentials matter any longer,’ she said slowly. Zayed didn’t answer. ‘Whether a western wife who can speak French and has a background in foreign service matters at all.’ It was suddenly so obvious and it hurt so much. Far more than she wanted it to. She nodded slowly, accepting, because what other choice did she have? She loved him, but he didn’t love her. She’d known that all along. ‘So, back to plan A?’ she asked with an attempt at levity that fell entirely flat.

  ‘There’s more.’ Zayed bit the words off, his jaw clenched tight. ‘Sultan Hassan has been in contact.’

  ‘Ah.’ She leaned back and folded her arms. ‘His temper has cooled off, I suppose?’

  ‘Something like that. He wishes to discuss my engagement to Princess Halina.’

  ‘Right.’ So it was all h
appening for him. She was no longer needed. And suddenly Olivia realised she was glad. No, not glad, never that, but relieved, because at least this had happened now and not in months or years, when the prospect of being set aside would have been utterly devastating. Her heart was broken, but it would mend. She would make sure of it. ‘Then all that remains is for me to book my plane ticket to Paris.’ Her lips trembled and she pressed them together, determined not to cry. Not to reveal one shred of heartbreak to Zayed. Not when he so clearly didn’t care at all.

  ‘I will arrange it for you,’ he said after a brief, tense pause. ‘But first I must ask you to do one last thing.’

  ‘Which is?’ Olivia asked, although she could guess already.

  ‘To accompany me to Abkar. Princess Halina wishes to see you, as does Sultan Hassan.’

  Olivia squeezed her eyes shut, steeling herself against the pain, and then snapped them open again. She could do this. She could survive. ‘Fine,’ she said, her voice as terse as Zayed’s. ‘When do we leave?’

  * * *

  This felt all wrong. Zayed gazed at Olivia’s pale, heart-shaped face and wanted nothing more than to sweep her into his arms and never let her go. Seeing her walk into the room, standing, recovered, alive, had been almost too much to bear. The last five days had been utter hell, the news from France and Abkar overridden by his fear and concern for Olivia. He’d had hourly reports on her condition from Ammar Abdul, and he hadn’t cared how it had made him look.

  But he’d still arrived at this moment and brought Olivia with him. Whatever had been between them was over. He had to put his country first. His duty first. The memory of his father and brother spiralling down to their death, his mother in his arms, they came first. They had to. The news of Hassan’s renewed interest on top of Serrat backing away had felt like an omen, a wake-up call. He had to stop pursuing his own pleasure, his own happiness, and do what was best for Kalidar.

  ‘We’ll leave tomorrow,’ he said. ‘The visit should be brief.’ He paused, swallowing past the jagged lump that had formed in his throat. ‘You can be in Paris in a few days.’