His Queen by Desert Decree

by Lynne Graham

  In fact, Azrael was just about perfect in the husband stakes, Molly acknowledged helplessly. They had discovered that they both liked to keep fit and Azrael had a workout room on the ground floor where they exercised together early in the morning. Their values were also similar. On a spicier note, she was married to an urgent and exciting lover, who made her feel like the sexiest woman alive. He regularly gave her little unexpected gifts that ranged from perfume to jewellery to lingerie. Even the fact that he was quite embarrassed giving her the fancy lingerie that he loved to see her wear had made her love him still more.

  Azrael, she was learning by degrees, was not that much more sophisticated than she was, because his life had not accorded him much opportunity for self-indulgence. The depth of his concern for his people, the endless hours he worked striving to get everything right, hugely impressed her. She didn’t only love him, she also admired and respected him and she was incredibly happy being married to him.

  But there were still little moments that could cruelly burst her cocoon of contentment. A couple of weeks after that first day of intimacy when Azrael had not used contraception with her, her period had arrived as usual. In truth she had been a tiny bit disappointed that she had not conceived and had scolded herself for that disappointment for it seemed wrong to want a child in a relationship that most probably would not last. There was also the sobering fact that Azrael had to think the same because he had been scrupulously careful to ensure that they did not run that risk again.

  ‘At least you won’t have that worry, then,’ Azrael had commented, which had convinced her that he was thankful that she had not conceived.

  What he had left unsaid in that nebulous remark had haunted Molly for weeks afterwards, reminding her, as evidently she had reminded him, that their marriage was temporary and at that some yet unnamed time in the future they would part and go for a divorce. And the prospect of losing Azrael choked Molly as much as a gradually tightening noose round her throat because she couldn’t bear to contemplate the concept of suffering such a loss. In such a short space of time he had come to mean so much to her.

  It had often seemed to Molly that throughout her life she had been unlucky and pretty much unloved. Only her grandfather had cared for her but, as her only refuge, what choice had he had? She had had nowhere else to go. Her father had let her leave without even asking her to visit because his wife’s feelings had been more important to him than his daughter’s. When she was younger she had often imagined confronting her dad about his lack of love and interest but had lost her nerve, knowing that being told her father couldn’t care less about her would only hurt her more. And that was why she didn’t have the courage to challenge Azrael and demand to know where their marriage was going, because she was afraid to force the issue. That pressure could easily push Azrael into bringing their relationship to a premature end, she thought fearfully.

  Azrael’s cell phone jangled and he dug it out. Within seconds she knew he was receiving word of some crisis because his whole demeanour changed. He vaulted upright, dark eyes flaring gold as expressions of alarm, concern and annoyance flashed across his darkly handsome features in rapid succession. He shot staccato questions, clenched his fingers into fists and strode about the room like a tiger confined in a too-small cage, coming up against walls and redirecting his steps with ferocious tension and impatience.

  ‘I must leave,’ he told her tightly when he had finished the call.

  ‘What’s happened?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘You don’t want to know.’ Azrael muttered that dark assurance while his phone began to ring again.

  ‘Of course I want to know,’ she protested very quietly, reluctant to press harder when he was visibly under stress.

  It was clear that the second call was of a different nature. Azrael closed his eyes and gritted his teeth and spoke in short, studied sentences in a much quieter tone to the second caller. Molly frowned, convinced she had heard Tahir’s name, and she wondered how he was involved in whatever disaster had occurred. When Azrael had completed that call, he grimaced and by then Butrus was already knocking on the door, all flushed and troubled as if he had run up the stairs in a panic.

  ‘It’s a...er...diplomatic incident... I have to deal with this personally,’ Azrael told Molly urgently and he strode off, talking in a low voice to Butrus.

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ Molly opined to the empty room in her frustration, wondering why Azrael had turned all secretive when it was more normal for him to be frank with her.

  At Molly’s request, Zahra joined her for lunch. It occurred to her that her companion was unusually constrained and she asked her why she was so quiet.

  ‘I’m aware that you’re dealing with a trying situation today,’ the other woman remarked with an apologetic look on her pretty face.

  Molly tensed. ‘Situation?’ she repeated.

  ‘With Prince Tahir’s arrival. I am sure the King does not wish to be dealing with such a problem either. On the one hand the Prince is his little brother seeking his support and on the other he is his wife’s kidnapper, who frightened her a great deal,’ Zahra extended uncomfortably. ‘But it is a fact of life that a spoiled teenager who has been...er...disciplined and denied his usual freedoms will overreact—’

  ‘I wasn’t aware that you knew about the kidnapping,’ Molly confided, wondering why Tahir had arrived in Djalia seeking his older brother’s support.

  ‘What the Prince did made such a big stink... I can call it that?’ Zahra queried uncertainly as Molly nodded. ‘Few with diplomatic connections remain ignorant of the true passage of events. Much has been learned from the exaggerated deference Prince Tahir received at the London Embassy in the King’s name. Such a crime should not have been possible. Those who should have known better did not interfere to stop the Prince out of fear of causing offence and a bigger scandal. And I can never apologise sufficiently for being the woman who recommended that you teach the Prince.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, that’s not your fault!’ Molly exclaimed. ‘Tahir’s sins are his own. I can understand that people were afraid to blow the whistle on him lest it rebound on them. But please tell me what Tahir has done now—’

  ‘I will take care of that,’ Azrael informed her drily from the doorway and Zahra shot upright and bowed very low, muttering apologies in her own language.

  ‘Well, I shouldn’t have had to ask Zahra,’ Molly proclaimed defensively in receipt of a censorious appraisal from her husband. ‘Why should I be the only person in the building who doesn’t know what’s going on?’

  ‘Because I didn’t want to upset you,’ Azrael advanced bluntly as soon as they were alone again. ‘Once again, Tahir has screwed up and I am involved in damage control. Although to be fair in this instance I would hold his father more to blame for his flight—’

  Her brow furrowed. ‘His...flight? He’s run away from home?’

  ‘Not only that.’ Azrael’s mouth took on a sardonic curve. ‘He drove through a border checkpoint without stopping, hotly pursued by Quareini soldiers. There was a standoff between the forces on both sides of the border. The soldiers demanded the return of their quarry and the border guards refused because, when Tahir finally did stop, he was recognised and found to need medical attention. He has also claimed refugee status.’

  Green eyes wide, Molly studied him in lively astonishment. ‘Refugee status? Tahir?’

  ‘He is legally within his rights...just,’ Azrael said very drily. ‘And I am torn between anger and sympathy while Prince Firuz is in an incandescent rage.’

  ‘Tahir really does know how to dig himself into a deep hole.’ Molly sighed, shaking her head.

  ‘I am sorry my brother is here under this roof. That is distressing for you.’

  Molly slid upright, her face troubled. ‘No, it’s not, Azrael. I am not that sensitive. It is more distressing for you to be plunged into this drama through no fault of your own.’

  ‘You are generous,’ Azrael
breathed between gritted teeth. ‘But as you say in the West I am caught between a rock and a hard place. He is my brother and I pity him because I know what he is going through right now...his father had him whipped in punishment for what he did to you.’

  Molly turned white, horror flipping her stomach, because while she had wanted Tahir punished to discourage him from any similar behaviour in the future she felt sick at the thought of that much physical violence being employed as a deterrent.

  ‘Firuz always goes way over the top,’ Azrael declared heavily. ‘Tahir was cosseted and spoiled from birth because he is an only child, but you cannot raise a future leader with such selfish indulgence and then expect him to take brutal punishment like an adult. Tahir is distressed and overwhelmed by what he has brought on himself. After he has cried in my arms like a frightened child, how can I force him to return to Quarein with his father?’

  Molly was pacing and thinking fast. ‘Let him stay until the dust settles and tempers have cooled. There’s nothing to be gained from allowing an immediate confrontation between father and son. I would concentrate on keeping a lid on the whole business.’

  A slow appreciative smile formed on Azrael’s wide sensual mouth while he watched her lovely pensive face. ‘What do you think I have been doing? Molly, you are a wife in a thousand not to demand that I throw Tahir out.’

  ‘By the sounds of it, he’s paid for what he did to me...’

  And if he hadn’t kidnapped me, I’d never have met you, she was thinking, but she bit back that revealing statement, her cheeks warming to a hot pink and a deep, visceral sexual awareness darting through her slender body as she collided with Azrael’s striking dark golden gaze.

  Stray recollections of the night before teased at her memory and the heat in her cheeks arrowed down into her pelvis, encouraging a wanton warm slickness at her feminine core. She shifted position and folded her arms with a jerk, ashamed that Azrael could make her so weak and needy at the most unsuitable moments. Her breath caught in her dry throat.

  ‘I will still make arrangements to have him moved elsewhere once the doctor gives us permission,’ Azrael declared with determination, stalking over to the window to detach himself from the carnal thoughts that afflicted him whenever he was in his wife’s presence. It was a lust, a primal need and hunger that never dimmed no matter how often he enjoyed the glories of her lush body. Having Molly in his bed had only spawned a powerfully addictive craving.

  ‘Is he that bad?’ Molly questioned in consternation.

  Bold profile silhouetted against the light, Azrael jerked his strong chin in grim confirmation. ‘Firuz has acted like an idiot and his own worst enemy. He has lost his son’s love and trust and it will take a long time to rebuild their relationship.’

  ‘He did the same to you.’

  ‘But I was not of his blood and I was a good deal tougher than Tahir has ever had to be. Unfortunately, what Tahir did to you seriously frightened his father. Firuz has a great fear of scandal and sexual licence and he could not countenance that misbehaviour in anyone, least of all his own son. Now what is done is done and there is no easy solution.’

  Molly wandered over to him and rested her hands on his rigid shoulders. ‘None of this is your fault. You’re stuck in the middle but don’t get worked up about it. Tahir did wrong and now his father has done wrong. Keep that in mind.’

  Azrael swung back to her. ‘I hate that this is happening, because I didn’t want you to be reminded of your ordeal,’ he admitted grimly.

  ‘Sometimes I think you just love an excuse to beat yourself up and take the worries of the world on your shoulders,’ Molly censored him gently. ‘You didn’t ask for this and you can’t magically solve it. Tahir and his father must sort it out. Will the newspapers write about this?’

  ‘No. Thankfully our press are restrained. There will be rumours but nobody will see any benefit in embarrassing our closest neighbour or in embarrassing me because Tahir is my brother,’ he completed wryly. ‘He is so irresponsible, so explosive in his defiance of his father—’

  ‘Stop thinking about it,’ Molly urged.

  ‘We have to go out this evening. There is a reception at the Quareini Embassy to which we have been invited. Firuz is presiding over it. It will be a gloomy occasion in the mood he will be in. Even before he arrives he is demanding that his son be returned to him.’

  ‘We’ll manage,’ Molly responded quietly.

  His lean brown hands came up to frame her face and tilt up her mouth for the descent of his marauding mouth. The kiss smouldered hotter than fire and she melted down deep inside and shifted closer, leaning into the hard, muscular strength of his big body. He lowered his hands to curve them round her waist until an urgent knock sounded on the door and his head lifted and he loosed a low groan of frustration.

  Accustomed to such interruptions, Molly retreated several steps, her cheeks flushed, her mouth swollen from the erotic demand of his. Azrael called out an invitation and Molly headed off to dress for the embassy reception, deciding that if she was finally going to meet Tahir’s father, the difficult Prince Firuz, she would opt to wear something traditional, rather than fashionable.

  ‘Should I wear the emeralds tonight?’ she asked Azrael when he strode past her, stark naked, to step into the shower she had had completed by telling Butrus to get hold of a plumber who knew how to install a shower, which the castle plumber evidently did not. She savoured her view of her husband’s lithe bronzed beauty. ‘I don’t want to remind your stepfather of your late mother.’

  ‘She never wore them again after my father’s death,’ he dismissed. ‘Wear them.’

  Azrael frowned a little when he saw her garbed in the long embroidered Djalian dress. ‘Why are you wearing that?’

  ‘Your stepfather isn’t very westernised, is he?’

  ‘My wife should ignore such prejudices. Wear your own clothes,’ Azrael advised.

  A little flushed by the effort of changing again at the very last minute, Molly donned her form-fitting green dress and high heels and Azrael clasped the emerald necklace for her. ‘You look gorgeous,’ he murmured huskily, poised behind her so that she could drink in his reflection in the mirror. ‘I plan to ravish you later but only after you take that devil’s garment off.’

  Recalling his struggle with the super-stretchy dress, Molly giggled, feeling wonderfully carefree after the challenging events of the day. But before they could head down the stairs to leave, Azrael was intercepted by Butrus, who announced that the doctor wished to consult him about Tahir’s condition.

  Ten minutes later, having been assured that Azrael would join her as soon as he was able, Molly walked alone into the reception being staged in a drab, scantily furnished room. A small, spare man with a tight little mouth, forbidding dark eyes and a greying goatee beard headed straight for her accompanied by the ambassador, who performed an introduction. Even as she explained that Azrael had been delayed, Molly was very tense. The coldness in the Prince’s gaze was no surprise to her because she knew that she had to be the very last woman he would have wanted Azrael to marry. Even worse, she was the young woman whom Tahir, his son, had kidnapped.

  ‘Your Highness,’ she said smoothly, having been coached well by Zahra.

  Polite conversation was exchanged but the strain in the atmosphere was unmistakeable. Molly assumed that everyone present was aware of Tahir’s unsanctioned flight from Quarein and his father’s guardianship as well as his current residence within his brother’s household. The ambassador was hailed by a guest and moved to the other side of the room.

  ‘You are, I must assume, a very clever woman,’ Prince Firuz remarked stiffly.

  Molly’s slim shoulders straightened as she decided to take the comment at face value and not look for double meanings. ‘Why do you think that?’ she parried quietly.

  ‘First you tempt my son to the edge of madness and then you seduce and marry my stepson,’ the older man murmured in an embittered undertone. ‘But I assure
you that you will never be Queen here.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Molly queried without any expression at all, determined not to be drawn into defending herself. He was an unpleasant man and she had been well warned of the fact but that didn’t mean that she had to stoop to the same level.

  ‘My niece, Nasira, will be Queen of Djalia when Azrael takes her as his second wife. She will be his true wife,’ he proclaimed with a pitying smile. ‘You are only a distraction, an amusement, and if you are not prepared to share your husband with another wife I would advise you to bow out now.’

  Molly could feel perspiration beading her brow but she refused to react. Her legs felt as weak as cooked spaghetti under her, her knees trembling with the rigidity of her stance. She felt sick, literally felt the blood ebb from below her skin. A second wife? She refused to even consider that possibility but knew that it was yet another subject that she and Azrael had not discussed and she had no idea of his views. She knew his grandfather, the infamous Hashem, had had multiple wives. One extra wife might even seem quite modest in comparison, she found herself reflecting insanely.

  An arm settled against her stiff spine and Azrael’s voice sounded above her head as he engaged the older man in conversation in their own language. She guessed that he was bringing the Prince up to date on Tahir’s condition and there was a freezing silence at one point before Firuz simply glowered and turned on his heel without another word to stalk out of the room.

  ‘We’ll circulate for half an hour and then we’ll leave,’ Azrael breathed tautly. ‘You should’ve brought Zahra with you—’

  ‘We were already running late and she had gone home for the evening. It seemed pointless to disturb her when you were still expecting to come,’ she fielded, proud that her voice was level.

  But it seemed that Azrael was much too acute an observer to be fooled. ‘You’re very pale. What did he say to you?’

  ‘I’ll tell you later...not here,’ she muttered uncomfortably, not even sure she wanted to share what had been said to her.