The light from the desk lamp was playing across his bold dark features. She thought she saw a different kind of light glint in his eyes and stiffened her shoulders in readiness for him to throw something really nasty back at her like, Be grateful we have sex!
But he didn’t say that. In fact he didn’t saying or do anything but study her, and she felt herself begin to tremor, felt her inner self wanting to reach out for him with a desperation that made her want to cry. Simple eye contact and she was falling into that terrible pit. Her senses came alive, slinking terrible temptations down her quivering spine.
Then the heavy eyelids lowered even further. He began to straighten and her senses went haywire. If he starts walking, I start running, she told herself agitatedly. I don’t want him to touch me—I don’t! But what he did was unfold his arms and drop them to his sides before offering her one of those cold, curt formal bows he could demonstrate with such devastating effect.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘My apologies. Forgive my crass instincts,’ he begged.
There was nothing crass about his instincts. Nothing crass about the way he could turn himself into this coldly polite, lofty giant of a stranger who contrarily made her want to be very gentle with him.
Her stomach muscles quivered; her heart began to ache. ‘Rafiq…’
He turned away from the husky little murmur of his name, and picked up the papers she had just signed for him. ‘I will be leaving early in the morning and will not be returning here tomorrow night. Robert knows this, but please reassure him that I will ring before his bedtime.’
All of a sudden she didn’t know if she was standing on her head or her heels. Her emotions were flipping over from one thing to another; now she was experiencing stark fear.
‘Y-you mean you’re not coming back at all?’ she managed to stammer.
He sent her a glance, a fleeting glance. ‘A car will collect you on Friday morning. Please attempt not to be late.’
A car. Friday. Don’t be late. She almost sank to her knees in relief. Which said it all really, didn’t it? she accepted bleakly. I’m hooked. I can’t bear the thought of living without him.
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Goodnight,’ she said, and got herself out of there before her knees actually did give out.
Rafiq sat in the back of his chauffeur-driven car and stared out of the window at yet another cold, wet day in London. Beside him his aide, Kadir Al-Kadir, sat quietly. He was in shock, but then who would not be to find himself hauled out of his bed at six in the morning by a man who was not happy that his plans were already beginning to fall apart?
Hassan had not made it to London. Something had come up involving important matters of state. If he had not been so stubborn and had told Hassan exactly why he wanted him here then his half-brother would have left no stone unturned in his quest to be at his side on this day. But that had not been the way he wanted to play it. Hassan had met Melanie eight years ago, during the weekend they’d spent on the Maitland estate. He knew the history of their relationship and had no kind thoughts for Melanie. Given enough time and the opportunity, he would have tried to stop the marriage today.
But he had still wanted his brother at his side on this important day for him, so he had planned Hassan’s arrival to give him neither time nor space to voice his objections. As the old ones liked to say about meticulous planning, it simply begged to fall apart on you, he mused heavily.
He glanced at his watch. Thirty minutes to go. Melanie should be leaving home with their son and her cynical friend about now. ‘Check what is happening with the other car,’ he instructed Kadir.
The younger man located his mobile telephone. A few murmured questions later and he was putting it away again. ‘The car is still awaiting its passengers, sir,’ he informed him.
Rafiq nodded, slid a long finger across the tense line of his mouth and wished he hadn’t asked the question. He would not do so again, he determined. Which meant he now had to endure a very tense half-hour.
‘Ready?’ Sophia asked.
No, Melanie thought. ‘Yes,’ she answered quietly.
‘You look so pretty, Mummy,’ Robbie told her. ‘Doesn’t she look pretty, Aunt Sophia?’
‘Stunning,’ Sophia agreed with a touch of dry cynicism. ‘Now all she needs to do is smile to show she’s happy about this.’
‘Of course she’s happy.’ Robbie was jumping up and down with excitement. ‘She’s getting married to my daddy today.’
‘Go and check if the car is still there, Robbie,’ Sophia instructed. ‘The innocence of youth.’ She sighed as Robbie bounced out of the room and went clattering down the stairs. ‘One good look at your face and he would know you are about to fall into a maidenly swoon.’
‘Don’t be so Gothic,’ Melanie said. ‘I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep much last night.’
‘Missed your man?’
Missed him dreadfully, she thought hollowly. Which only made the ache she was carrying around inside worse.
A telephone began ringing downstairs. ‘I’ll get it!’ Robbie shouted.
‘The big man is checking up on you,’ Sophia wagered. ‘He can’t be certain that you are going to turn up.’
‘Yes, he can. He only has to think about his son to know that I am going to be there—You look fantastic,’ she put in when Sophia opened her mouth to say something Melanie knew she did not want to hear.
Her friend was wearing a dark purple suit that followed her hourglass figure to perfection. With her exotically dark colouring she made Melanie feel washed out and ordinary in her misty-blue outfit with its short straight skirt and nipped-in jacket edged with soft blue fake fur at the round neck and cuffs.
A rush of nerves suddenly washed through her, sending her heart down to her neat blue shoes. ‘I don’t think—’
Robbie came running down the landing ‘Can we can go now—please?’ he begged.
‘You’re not wearing something old,’ Sophia murmured as they moved down the landing.
Melanie wriggled her diamond ring at her.
‘Something borrowed?’
The hesitation was only slight before Melanie wriggled the self-same ring. Which said a lot as to how long she expected this marriage to last.
‘Who was on the phone, Robbie?’ she asked her son as they hit the downstairs hallway.
‘Uncle Jamie,’ he replied. ‘I told him you were getting married to my daddy today and he rang off without saying goodbye.’
Melanie’s footsteps stilled on the polished wood floor. But Robbie’s moved him onwards to pull open the front door. Ice-cold air rushed into the house and she shivered. A man wearing a dark overcoat stood just outside, holding up a huge black umbrella. He saw Robbie and Sophia into the car and out of the pouring rain first. As Melanie stood there on the doorstep, waiting for him to return for her, she experienced the only real moment where she actually thought she was going to change her mind. Then the driver came back to offer her shelter; his smile was warm. She stepped out of the house, closing the door behind her.
Rafiq was standing with Kadir in the elegant foyer belonging to one of London’s local government town halls when the entrance doors suddenly opened and his son, Melanie and her friend appeared. His son ran straight towards him. Miss Elliot became busy brushing away the few raindrops that had caught her clothes; Melanie looked at him and went perfectly still.
His heart began to pound against his ribcage; his legs suddenly felt heavy and weak. His son was talking away to him but he did not hear a single word. She was so lovely she tore at his senses, enchanting, shy and uncertain, like the younger woman he’d used to know.
‘Stay here, Robert,’ he instructed, and made himself walk towards Melanie. As he came to a halt in front of her he saw her eyelashes flicker just before she looked up at him. ‘So this is it,’ he said with a smile that did not quite make it.
‘Yes.’ The single word whispered nervously from her. Her gaze drifted away. Her cheeks were pale and her fingers were tre
mbling.
‘I’m sorry we’re a few minutes late,’ she said in a little rush. ‘The rain…’
The words became muffled by a smothering breathlessness as she picked up the aroma of his scent. He was wearing another midnight-blue suit made of a crease-free touch-temptingly smooth fabric. His shirt was so white it made his skin look darker and temptingly smooth like the suit. Her fingers twitched nervously against the little blue purse she was holding, and she kept her eyes averted in case she did something stupid like come jolting to her senses.
Was she really about to marry this tall dark beautiful man? ‘W-where do we go?’
It was all she could think to say in the circumstances.
‘Up the stairs.’ He offered his hand to her. ‘Shall we go?’ he said.
There was another moment of complete stillness while Melanie stared at his hand. They never touched, unless compelled to do so by that awful sexual force. Did he know that? Was he aware that his outstretched hand was breaking new ground here? Her mouth ran dry; she tried to swallow. From the sidelines she caught sight of Sophia, watching them. Her friend too had noticed her hesitation and was probably making her own deductions as to what it meant.
The fact that Rafiq had noticed Sophia studying him showed when he turned his head to flash her a look. Sophia dared to cock a mocking eyebrow. Hostility sparked into life. Melanie responded by lifting up a hand and placing it in his. The gesture brought his gaze flashing back her way, and his fingers closed gently round hers. Warm strength enclosed icy frailty; something very dramatic began to build in the air. As he turned them towards the elegant stairway that led to an upper foyer she noticed Kadir Al-Kadir standing quietly to one side, with his dark gaze fixed on Robbie as if he could not quite believe what his eyes were telling him.
By necessity Rafiq made the polite introduction, though Melanie suspected he did not want to speak at all. He was tense; she was tense. They moved up the stairs together, with Robbie dancing behind them, his hand tucked into Sophia’s, blissfully unaware of the stress-load weighing down everyone else’s shoulders.
Not twenty minutes later they were walking down those same stairs again. It had all been so quick, so efficient—so impersonal. But in those few minutes she had changed her name to Al-Qadim and was now wearing a wedding band on her finger. Even more disturbing was the ring Rafiq had given her to slide on his long brown finger.
That hand now rested at the base of her spine, and remained there until they stepped outside. The rain was still bouncing off the pavements. Three cars now stood in a row at the kerb, with three black-coated men standing beside them holding black umbrellas over their heads.
With a click of his fingers Rafiq brought one man running. With a brief word of thanks he sent Kadir on his way. Next came Melanie’s first shock, when the second man was brought running and she found herself being hugged by Sophia, who murmured, ‘Surprise, surprise. I am taking your son off your hands until tomorrow.’
‘But I don’t want—’
‘Not your choice any more, little sacrificial lamb,’ Sophia informed her dryly, only to be replaced by Robbie, who was demanding a hug from his mother and excitedly explaining all the things he and Sophia had planned for the day, before he was ushered beneath the umbrella and hurried away.
Standing there, shell-shocked beyond speech, Melanie found herself left alone with the man she had just married, watching another car move off, which left only one—a long, low-squatting animal thing with darkened glass and a distinct air of menace about it.
The snap of Rafiq’s fingers set her blinking; the return of his hand to the base of her spine had her tensing jerkily. The last black-coated man came running with an umbrella. She was directed beneath it and into the warm soft depths of black-leather car seats. Rafiq followed, the car door closed with a smooth soft thud and they were alone—really alone—encased in dark glass and hidden, even from the driver.
Silence arrived. It hummed between them. The car began moving away from the kerb. She turned to look at Rafiq and found him looking back at her. His wide shoulders hugged the upholstered corner of the car and one ankle rested easily across the other knee with a set of long fingers lightly clasping the ankle. He looked relaxed, at ease, like a lazy cat contentedly at peace. Indeed, slumberous lashes barely flickered as he studied her face. But there was nothing relaxed about those devil-dark eyes hiding behind the lashes. They glinted in a way that sent tiny hot frissons chasing down her spine.
‘I can’t believe you planned all of this without my knowledge,’ she said, jumping nervously into speech.
‘It is tradition for a newly married couple to spend this time alone.’
‘This isn’t a traditional marriage.’ That short ceremony they had just performed mocked the very word. ‘We did this for Robbie, so why shouldn’t he be here with us now?’
‘Robbie is perfectly happy doing what he is doing.’
Well, I’m not, Melanie thought, and with a pressing together of her lips she turned her face away. Beyond the darkened glass she could see London moving past at speed. They were crossing one of the bridges that spanned the river, she realised, and she felt those frissons chase through her again, because they didn’t need to cross the river to get to her house or even his apartment.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked sharply.
‘To a place where my sacrificial lamb can perform in complete privacy,’ he murmured silkily.
CHAPTER TEN
HIS reply tugged her face around to him again. He was smiling, but it wasn’t a nice smile. Obviously he had overheard Sophia and, despite appearances to the contrary, he was actually as angry as hell.
‘I am nobody’s sacrifice,’ she objected.
‘Shame,’ he drawled. ‘I was looking forward to watching you lay yourself out on some softly sprung, silk-covered altar, then offer yourself to me.’
His description conjured up exactly the image it had aimed to. Heat stole into her cheeks; she bristled in annoyance with it. ‘Back to sex again,’ she derided.
‘Would you prefer it if we discussed other things?’
‘Like what?’ she asked warily.
‘Jamie,’ he inserted with velvet precision. ‘Our son tells me he spoke to his uncle Jamie on the telephone this morning, but he rang off before he could invite him to come to our wedding.’
At last she understood where the anger was coming from. ‘I never said that—’
‘Our son has a very generous nature,’ he cut in. ‘He seems to hold a great affection for his uncle Jamie. Do you think this affection has anything to do with how close he came to having Jamie as his father instead of me?’
Melanie released a sharp gasp. ‘That is a terrible thing to say!’
‘But the truth.’
‘You don’t know the truth!’
‘He is still in your life. That is a clear truth.’
‘I don’t—’ 155
‘Do not begin this marriage by lying to me,’ he gritted warningly.
Melanie took a deep breath to stop herself from exploding. ‘I was about to say that I don’t think that is any of your business,’ she said coldly.
‘From now on everything that you do is my business.’
‘Does that mean everything that you do is my business too?’ she tossed back. ‘In this country we believe in equality. So why don’t you tell me all about Serena Cordero.’
‘You are trying to divert me from the main issue here.’
‘That is because I have nothing to say on the subject,’ she declared stubbornly.
‘Then let me assist,’ he offered. ‘I took a call from your step-cousin Jamie last week in William’s study. This morning my son took another call from him. To me your step-cousin mentioned a—proposition. With Robert, he simply rang off when he discovered that you were marrying me today. Maybe if you are wise you will explain the proposition, and why this man is still so much a part of your life that my son calls him uncle!’
The sleeping cat had
awoken. Melanie watched with increasing wariness as the long fingers slid away from his ankle and his shoulders began to tense. She lost every scrap of colour and spoke without thinking. ‘Anyone would think you were jealous—’
He moved like lightning, catching hold of her nearest wrist and pulling her across the gap separating them. She landed with a thud against his shirt front; her silk skirt slithered up her thighs as he hauled her onto his lap. Her fingers clawed at his shoulders; her breath panted into his face. His eyes had turned silver; she had never seen them do that before.
‘Start talking,’ he gritted.
She trembled all over, but held onto this one promise she had made to herself. ‘Jamie is not up for discussion between you and me.’
‘He was your lover eight years ago. I will not be betrayed by you twice!’
She struggled against him. ‘Let go of me. You’re hurting!’
To her absolute surprise he set her free. She slithered onto the seat beside him, too shaken to notice the new expression in his eyes. ‘I apologise,’ he said curtly. ‘I don’t usually forget my own strength. Where did I hurt you?’
‘My wrist.’ She was rubbing it, though it didn’t really hurt. It had been the fear that he was close to hurting her that had made her tell the white lie.
Careful fingers took the wrist from her; very gently he began stroking the pink area with the smooth pad of his thumb. It was a stupid thing to react so badly to, but her pulse suddenly went crazy. He felt it happen and the thumb-pad stilled; she released a strangled little sigh. The mood flipped from anger to electrified awareness so quickly that it threw her into a state of confusion.
But not him—not him. He simply accepted the change with a shrug and a grimace, then lifted the wrist to his mouth and stroked the pink area with his tongue.
‘So we’re back to the sex again.’ It was a supposed to be a withering condemnation, but it didn’t quite come out like that.
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