by Maisey Yates
“I don’t know how to speak in front of people.”
“I bet that isn’t true. You...” She searched for the right words. “You commanded men. You had to rally them before you went into battle. Didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“This is the same thing. It’s a rally cry. For your people. Things might look bad now. They might seem hard. But nothing is impossible. You have faced down enemies and triumphed. You will triumph now. And so will they.”
He arched a brow. “I feel that perhaps you should give the speech for me.”
“Too bad it’s never the spouse they want to hear from. Unless it’s a garden party. Perhaps the opening of the children’s hospital.”
“More things I must manage, I take it.”
“No,” she said, tempted to touch him. Knowing she shouldn’t. “I’ll be your softer side. You sound the battle cry.”
“That sounds doable. Oftentimes none of this does.”
“That’s marriage. I’m your other half. No, we don’t love each other. But I don’t think we have to in order to fulfill that. I have skills you don’t. And you carry this country in your blood. You’re a warrior. So many things I could never be. But together we will make this work.”
Just saying the words made her feel as if things were locking into place inside her. Gave her a sense of completeness, of rightness. Being a part of something instead of sitting alone in the dark.
He looked up, his dark eyes meeting hers. “I need you to be more than half right now,” he said. “Because I feel I have little to contribute.”
“That’s okay,” she said, swallowing hard, the lingering emotion from her earlier realization making her ache. “Sometimes you might have to be more than half for me.”
“Should that ever arise, I swear that I will.”
It wasn’t passionate. It wasn’t romantic. It was nothing like the declaration of love she and Marcus had shared over a dinner on his family yacht, followed by a brilliantly orchestrated proposal. And yet, she felt the weight of it.
There was meaning in it.
The girl she’d been five years ago wouldn’t have felt anything in those words. Would have found all of this dispassionate and unexciting.
The woman she’d become felt the binding quality of his vow down to her core.
“If you can promise the country what you’ve just promised me, I think your speech will be just fine,” she said.
“I’m good with vows,” he said slowly. “I kept my word to my brother for fifteen years. I devoted myself to my country. I gave aid when it was required. I never once saw my own pleasure above the safety of the nation. Unlike my brother, I am not a pleasure seeker. There is much more to life than that. When everything in a man’s life is stripped away, the only thing he has left is his purpose. If a man has put his faith in things that burn, then when the fires of this world consume, there will be nothing left behind. But if a man puts his faith in rock, no matter how hot the blaze rages, it cannot be consumed. This country is my rock. If I am left with nothing else, I will fight for that to my dying breath.”
Olivia looked to the intensity in his black eyes, and for just one moment she wished he could be speaking about her. Why couldn’t someone treasure her that much?
You don’t need that kind of ridiculousness. You don’t need to depend on anyone.
She swallowed hard. “Say that. When you get up to speak, that’s all you need to say. Yes, eventually policy will need to be addressed. But that can always be done with press releases. This nation is wounded, and I think those are the words that will heal it. You’re the man who will heal it.”
The man who might heal me.
The moment those words flitted through her mind she rebelled against them, panic fluttering in her breast like a terrified bird, raging at the cage of bone and flesh it was trapped in. She didn’t want thoughts like that. She must be insane. Attaching some kind of emotional meaning to his words was foolish. Marcus had loved her, but he hadn’t healed her.
Why do you suddenly think you need to be healed?
Really, her brain needed to calm down. Stop asking her questions she didn’t have the answers to.
“I will simply have to trust you,” he said.
“I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t regret that,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.
His expression remained stone, and she wondered why she bothered to try to inject humor into any exchange with Tarek.
“I will do the same,” he said finally.
“I have no doubt.”
“I have procured a ring for you,” he said after a small amount of hesitation.
Her heart scampered into her throat. “You have?” Why was she reacting to this? She was sitting in a man’s office, in a very average day dress, about to be presented with a ring that was more the seal on a business agreement than anything else.
Her heart was pounding as though she was back on that yacht. With roses and champagne. A man that she loved.
She fought against the urge to close her eyes and turn away, because that would only make her look crazy. She was being crazy. Maybe because while this was a business arrangement in many ways, it was one that would involve sex. Closeness.
Only as much as you want.
That was what frightened her. How much she wanted.
He moved behind his desk, opening a drawer and producing a little box, placing it on the wooden surface.
She walked forward, pausing on the other side of the large piece of furniture. It stood between them, and for that she was grateful. Otherwise she might do something ridiculous, like touch him again. There really was no telling.
She reached out, touching the top of the jewelry box and sliding it toward herself. “Who chose this?”
“I did.”
She looked at him, unbearably curious about what would make a man like him select a piece of jewelry over another. If it had anything to do with her, or with something else. It was like studying a rock wall for secrets.
And he wasn’t going to tell her. Of course he wasn’t.
She picked up the ring box and opened it slowly.
Her indrawn breath settled in the back of her throat, never making it all the way to her lungs. It was a simple ring, with a large square-cut stone the color of the crystal-blue water in the pristine lakes found in Alansund. An oasis in this desert. She couldn’t help but see it that way.
She had removed her engagement ring and wedding band before leaving Alansund, because there was no point wearing them when she was anticipating wearing another man’s ring. Still, the idea of putting on one that was so different in style was both strange and a relief.
She wanted to ask him why. Why this ring?
But she didn’t.
Instead, she took it out of the box without ceremony and slipped it onto the fourth finger of her left hand. “Even fits,” she said.
“An accident.”
“Or a sign,” she said.
“If you believe in such things.”
“I suppose,” she replied. The man was impenetrable. And he refused to allow her to form a connection, no matter how small.
“There is much to prepare before the party.” His forehead wrinkled. “I cannot quite fathom that I am attending a party.”
She couldn’t help but laugh, and it was a relief. There’d been too much tension inside her. “I can see that you aren’t the most party oriented of men.”
“I don’t know how to have fun,” he said, sounding completely mystified by the concept.
A scene flashed through her mind, unbidden, of her hands moving over his bare back, her legs wrapped around his hips as he drove in deep. That, she had a feeling, would be fun. She swallowed hard. “I’m sure you know some ways. Or at least some ways to reliev
e stress.”
“I am fond of spending a few hours a day doing drills with my sword.”
She blinked, biting the inside of her cheek. “Is that a euphemism?”
“I am speaking of an actual sword. What were you thinking?”
Her face got hot. “Nothing.”
“I often feel we are speaking a different language sometimes.”
“That could be because we’re usually speaking your second language.”
“I do not think that’s it,” he said, his black eyes intense on hers.
She sensed it was her opportunity to push for information, but she withdrew. Because she was tired of pressing only to be pushed away.
“It’s a beautiful ring anyway. See, you did that well. No language barriers.” She determinedly lightened things.
“It will send the proper message, one hopes,” he said. “That we are moving forward unified, as a couple. For the sake of the nation.”
“I think it will. I will handle coordinating the staff to organize the menu planning, music, things like that. You just focus on...smiling when people smile at you.”
He put his hands into his pockets and he smiled. It was the saddest attempt at the facial expression she had ever seen. She found herself helpless to do anything but smile right back. And in that moment, the twist of his lips changed into something much more genuine. And her heart fluttered.
“Good,” she said, the word tight, rushed. “Very good. You’re going to be fine. All of this will be fine.”
She wasn’t sure if she was saying it for his benefit or for her own.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THIS WAS HER DOMAIN. Not the empty, echoing corridors. Not the feeling of being shrouded in a tomb. But this ballroom, glittering, full of people. An excuse to wear one of her beautiful custom-made gowns that had often been front-page news around the world when she was queen in Alansund.
The ballroom here in Tahar was different. With a high, domed ceiling, ornate golden detail and gems set ablaze by the lights suspended above. Everything was done up to perfection, and uniquely reflected Tahar and its beauty.
She was at ease here. But it was clear Tarek wasn’t.
Tarek was solid stone beneath her fingertips. Were it not for the heat radiating from his body, she would have thought he’d calcified entirely. Obviously, while this might be her comfort zone, it wasn’t his. She had expected as much, but she’d also had the feeling that there would be no preparing him for the moment. He simply had to live it.
She felt strangely protective of him. Odd, because she knew for a fact there was not a single person in this room he could not neutralize physically. But this wasn’t his battlefield. Social settings, the thrust and parry, the sneak attack that came with a tongue and not a sword, were where she was most deadly. And she stood by, ready to defend.
She sneaked a sideways glance at him and her stomach tightened with unmistakable desire. There was no use pretending it was anything else. He was beautiful. That thought had scrolled through her mind often over the past few days.
His hair reached the top of his collar, curling slightly, but adding no softness to the shape of his face. His square, blunt jaw was so tempting to touch. She wanted to press her lips just beneath it, on his neck, right where his pulse beat, steady and hard.
When they were married, she would have that right.
A sliver of ice slipped through her veins, a shiver working its way along behind it.
She wasn’t sure at all if he wanted her. She couldn’t read him, the beautiful rock wall of a man. Perversely, that only made her want to rail harder against him. To try to force a crack.
But she knew better than that. Creating conflict was overrated.
So many people talked about speaking your mind. Standing up for yourself. What was the worst that could happen, and all that.
She knew.
The worst that could happen was you laid yourself bare before the people you loved most and they stared blankly back. Offering nothing. Giving nothing.
She couldn’t think about that. Not now. Not when so much was going on around them. Not with members of international press stopping them to try to get Tarek to speak. Not with diplomats, politicians, social-program coordinators and businessmen all jockeying for Tarek’s attention while he grew increasingly tense beneath her fingertips.
This was the physical representation of the paperwork that stacked up on his desk every day. The verbal version of the written requests he had to process constantly while being so unfamiliar with the task.
With the added issue of the media being in attendance, watching his every move.
She wondered if Tarek knew how vicious the press could be. He was very closed off about exactly what had transpired over the past fifteen years. But it was clear he had spent his time away from civilization almost entirely.
He wasn’t familiar with computers, nor any modern conveniences. She wasn’t certain whether or not he could drive a car. She didn’t know if he’d ever faced the media before.
Another army that could be more vicious than one carrying weapons.
Tarek was making the official announcement about their engagement during his speech. And she had felt it would be best for them to open the evening with the speech. That way, people wouldn’t be needling him for information beforehand. At least, that was the idea.
Also, she was afraid that the anticipation would be nothing more than a slow painful death for her. Maybe she was projecting her concern on to him. Especially as he seemed as immovable as ever.
But then, with him it was impossible to tell.
Either he felt less than the average man, really and truly, or he simply buried it deeper beneath the surface.
She imagined it was the latter, but she wasn’t sure even he knew that.
In response to that thought, she let her hands drift over his forearm, and she felt him tense beneath her touch. Still, his expression remained the same.
“Are you ready to give your speech?”
“Yes,” he said. There was no uncertainty in him. It went a long way in calming her riotous nerves.
“Good.”
“What would you have done if I had said I wasn’t ready?” he asked, and if she didn’t know better, she would be certain there was a note of amusement in his voice.
“I would have rushed the front of the room and created a diversion so you could escape,” she said.
“Would you have made the speech for me?”
“If not that, perhaps I would’ve done an interpretive dance.”
The ghost of a smile toyed with the edges of his lips. “I cannot imagine that.”
“Liar. If you weren’t imagining it, you wouldn’t be smiling.”
“Did I smile?”
“Yes,” she said. Warmth bloomed in her chest, spreading down to her stomach.
She had been so excited to have the room filled with people only moments ago, and now she wished they would all go away. All the better to focus on Tarek.
The ache she felt, the intense desire to know him, had only grown over the past week. And unfortunately she had found very little to satisfy it.
“I do not know any of these people,” he said, looking around.
“I recognize a few of them,” she said.
She hadn’t made it public that she would be in attendance. In fact, she had called Anton and requested that he keep any connection between herself and Tarek secret. Things hadn’t been certain, and she didn’t want rumors preceding certainty.
Though tonight he would make the announcement. Tonight there would be certainty. She would have a place again.
“Who?” he asked.
“Well,” she said, “Miranda Holt is a reporter. She covers a lot of society things in the States. I’ve known
her for years. She used to attend gatherings my family would throw.” By gatherings she meant grand galas. But details weren’t important. “And over there is the ambassador of Alansund and her husband. Others I know from their attendance at various functions there.”
“Do you suppose they think it odd you’re here with me?”
“I’m sure they are curious.”
“Are you afraid they’ll think you are betraying your husband’s memory?”
His words burned for some reason. “It’s been two years.”
“But people think of you with him. Not with me.”
“That will change.”
“And what about you?” he asked. “Do you still think of yourself as being with him?”
It was a strange question. Tarek never seemed possessive of her. He seemed indifferent to her when he wasn’t working directly with her on a project, so why he would ask something like that of her now she couldn’t fathom.
It was personal, and his interest in her was nothing like personal.
She had to linger over the question. As she did, a strange sensation washed over her. “I don’t,” she said, the words soft. “Marcus and I lived very separate lives. We were...a team in many ways. But I can’t claim a link with him that transcends the grave.”
“You smile when you think of him,” Tarek said, and if she didn’t know better she might imagine that he was jealous.
“He gave me a lot of things to smile about.”
That much was true. But suddenly, standing there, she had to acknowledge the gulf that had stood between herself and her husband. Had to acknowledge it because she felt it so keenly now. They had been two people walking side by side, toward a common goal. But their lives had not been intertwined. Losing him had left her cold, grieving. She had lost a cherished companion. But she had not lost a part of herself.
“A testament to the man,” Tarek said. “I imagine you did not have to teach him how to smile.”