by Mel Teshco
***
The meeting with his government advisers was even more tedious than usual. Tariq had listened to their same objections during the last two years when it came to implementing the proposals he and his brothers were passionate about, and although he’d gained ground with each successive month it was often as painful as bashing his head against a brick wall.
At least he knew it wasn’t down to his shitty diplomatic skills or his age. Both Jamal and Zafar faced the same opposition to change in their provinces.
At least the first community school was soon ready to open, even though he’d had to pull a fast one and wait until all the building regulations and approvals had been met before disclosing the school would be open for girls as well as boys.
With the few judicial replacements he’d made over the past year, he could count on half of his advisers being fully committed to modernizing their society. But not even the assurances that the boys and girls would be taught separately could get the few remaining die hard traditionalists on board, and they weren’t happy that they’d been overruled.
Not for the first time today, his mind wandered to his beautiful bride. What had she wanted to discuss with him this morning? She knew she had free rein to implement anything she wished in the running of the household.
He’d had no idea marriage could be so agreeable. Not only was she an enthusiastic and adventurous bed partner, the subtle changes she’d made in his official residence had turned it into a home he looked forward to living in with pleasure, instead of a grim fortress he inhabited because of duty.
To hell with it. He’d had enough of business today. He needed to see Sofia, to hear her laugh, and discover what she’d been up to. Who would’ve thought he’d ever care about a thing like that?
He smothered the grin that threatened to escape, and stood. “We will continue this in the morning,” he informed his advisers, several of whom didn’t look best pleased by the abrupt ending of the meeting. They’d be far more pissed off if they knew the real reason why he was leaving.
Because I want to have lunch in bed with my bride.
***
Sofia wasn’t in their personal apartment in the fortress, which meant she could be anywhere. He beckoned one of his servants. “Where is Her Royal Highness?”
For a second the man looked as though he’d been caught in a trap, but he recovered himself before Tariq could question him on it. “I’ll find out instantly, Your Highness.”
He watched the man scurry away. What the hell was that all about? It was almost as though his servant knew exactly where Sofia was, but didn’t want to be the one to tell him.
He huffed out a disbelieving breath. His impatience to see Sofia again was making him paranoid.
After a couple of minutes he strolled to the great hall, but of course she wasn’t there. Why would she? For the first time annoyance threaded through him. It was absurd that he couldn’t locate his own wife in his own home.
He didn’t even have her cell phone number. It was an unforgivable oversight but such a thing hadn’t even occurred to him. He’d rectify that as soon as he found her.
Where the hell is she? He frowned through one of the narrow windows that looked out into the walled courtyard, but which he had plans to transform into a secure family garden. Since their marriage she’d always been easily found as soon as he returned, and he’d taken it for granted she always would be.
He swung around at the sound of approaching footsteps. A different manservant to the one he’d first spoken to bowed his head, and two of Sofia’s maids were behind him.
“Yes?” He managed to mask his rising unease.
“Your Royal Highness, Her Royal Highness took a car and left the fortress earlier this morning.”
For a second he stared at the man as the words thundered around his head, making no sense. Sofia had taken a car? Why would she do that?
There was no reason for her to have left the fortress. She didn’t know anyone in Zanzar with whom she could visit, and besides no one would invite the sheikha anywhere without first clearing it with him.
And then another thought smashed through him, momentarily paralyzing him.
Has she left me?
He took a step toward the man, who looked as though he wished he was anywhere but here. Keep it together. The words choked him; he was her prince and should always know of her whereabouts, but he needed to ask, regardless. “Where did Her Royal Highness go?”
The man licked his lips. “Highness, the sheikha wished to explore the city.”
He released a measured breath, and the crushing weight on his chest eased. She hadn’t left him.
It was unconventional that she went out without first consulting him, but like him she’d been educated in the West. And after all, how could she contact him direct when neither of them had thought to exchange phone numbers?
Not that it mattered. He could easily contact her security detail and find out where she was. And tell her to return home, since he wanted her.
“Call Her Royal Highness’ head of security. I wish to speak with him.”
“Highness, the sheikha didn’t take her security detail. She left with only her bodyguard who accompanied her from England and two female servants.”
She’d what? For a moment he stared at his manservant in disbelief, as the words pummeled his mind.
Qutum wasn’t at war, but Zanzar bordered the hill tribes where rebels lurked and discontent still held sway. What the fuck was she thinking to leave the safety of the fortress without taking adequate security with her?
His chest compressed and hands were clammy as horrifying scenarios of Sofia being abducted and abused shredded his mind. Peace might reign in his homeland but that didn’t mean the El-Amin dynasty was without enemies.
“Then contact the women who accompanied the sheikha.” He shot the two maids a glare and they dropped their glances to the ground.
The manservant swallowed. “No one has the phone numbers of Luisa or Farrah, Highness.”
His gut twisted and an icy dread gripped his heart. For all his harsh education and brief military action before he’d been discharged in order to take over Zanzar, he’d failed to ensure his princess had the most basic of backup security in place.
If anything happens to her because of my incompetence… He snapped the thought before it could consume him. Nothing would happen to her. He wouldn’t allow it. I can’t lose her.
He pulled out his phone and called his head of security. He’d find Sofia even if he had to rip Zanzar apart himself, stone by fucking stone.
Chapter Twelve
As they drove through the security checks at the gates of the fortress, Sofia peered through the window. Soldiers were everywhere. Unease slithered through her. What was going on?
A servant opened her door and as she slid from the car Tariq gripped her hand. Relief that the unusual activity wasn’t because something had happened to him she smiled and squeezed his fingers. It wasn’t like him to touch her in public, and actually it was unheard of for a prince of her region to help a woman alight from a car.
Once she was standing, he dropped her hand as though it was a branding iron and her smile froze. Something was wrong.
“Follow me.” His voice was clipped as he strode into the fortress ahead of her, and all her warm and fuzzy feelings that she’d hugged to herself since she’d visited the school vaporized.
She managed to keep her dignity and silence intact until they were inside and out of view of the soldiers, and then she hurried up to his side and grabbed his arm.
“Tariq, what’s the matter? Has something happened?” It was the only explanation for why he was first of all home hours before she’d expected him, and secondly for his oddly hostile greeting.
He came to an abrupt halt and glared down at her. Startled by the fury glowing in his eyes she released his arm and took an unintentional step back.
“How dare you leave the fortress without my permission?” His voice wa
s low, for her ears only, and throbbed with regal disdain.
She blinked, shaken by the venom in his words. And then his actual meaning penetrated her numb mind. Surely he wasn’t serious?
“I don’t need your permission to leave the fortress.”
His smile was grim. “The hell you don’t. You’re my wife.”
A terrible, scalding pain wrapped around her heart. This was the Tariq of her nightmares before she’d met him, not the man she’d married.
“Yes, I’m your wife.” She managed to keep her voice just above a whisper, so they weren’t overheard, even if every servant in the vicinity would have to be dead not to know what was going on. “Not your captive, as you once reminded me.”
A muscle tensed in his jaw, and even though her heart was hurting, she still wanted to wrap her arms around him and tell him she was sorry for causing him concern.
No. She was a princess as much as he was a prince, and she wouldn’t debase herself. She had nothing to be sorry for. He wasn’t concerned for anything but his manly pride and she’d be damned if she’d apologize for injuring that.
He grabbed her hand and hauled her through the fortress to their private apartment. She had to almost run to keep up with him, and with every undignified step, her righteous injustice expanded until she could barely breathe.
How dare he treat me with such disrespect?
He pulled her inside their small antechamber and kicked the door shut. She wrenched free, her hands fisted, and glowered at him. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
He towered over her and even though he was dressed as a Western businessman, there was no mistaking the haughty, autocratic lineage of her proud desert prince.
“I’m your husband.” He ground the words out as though they disgusted him, and her heart cracked. “And you’ll damn well obey me as a good wife should.”
Is this the real man behind the mask? Her eyes stung at how she’d been blinded by her own foolish dreams when it came to Tariq. While she’d spun fairy tales in her head of how they could create a life together, all he wanted from her was his definition of a good wife.
“I won’t be trapped in a gilded cage simply to satisfy your chauvinistic worldview.”
“I’m not caging you.” He had the nerve to sound offended, but his glare didn’t alter. “You’re free to leave the fortress so long as I know where you’re going and you take your full security detail with you. I won’t have my wife strolling around the city without adequate protection.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “You call that free? What happened to all your fine talk of me being the perfect role model for your people, because I’m an educated woman?”
He gripped her arms and for one surreal moment she thought he was going to shake her like a rag doll. But all he did was glare into her eyes, as though she was the one in the wrong.
“Of course you’re the quintessential role model. You’re an educated woman who knows the importance of marriage and family. I couldn’t ask for anyone more perfect.”
Every word was a sucker punch and her throat ached with the tears she’d never cry in front of him. Instead she pulled back, and with seeming reluctance he released her.
“You hypocrite.” Her voice shook, despite how hard she tried to keep it steady and for a fleeting second hurt flashed across his face, but she had to be mistaken. Nothing she said mattered that much to him. “You pay lip service for wanting to bridge the gap between men and women, but when it affects you the first thing you do is drag out the chains. How does that look to your people, Tariq?”
For a moment she thought he was going to take issue with her comment, but then he drew himself up to his full height and looked down his aristocratic nose at her. “I refuse to discuss this matter further.”
And with that he turned and left her alone in their room.
***
She’d spent hours tossing and turning in bed, trying to get to sleep, as Tariq’s scornful words burned through her mind. He hadn’t joined her for the evening meal, the servants he’d hired for her were unnaturally subdued and when she was finally alone with Luisa all the older woman would say was rumor had it Tariq had been frantic when he couldn’t find her.
Frantic? What did that even mean? He was annoyed because she hadn’t been at his instant beck and call when he arrived home?
“Sofia.” The familiar voice weaved through her fractured dreams and she sighed. Tariq.
“Sofia.” The voice was insistent, and she forced open her eyes. Tariq was looming over her, and in the dim glow from the lamps she could see deep groves marring his brow.
He wants to make things right…
“I’m so sorry, Sofia. We’ve just had word that your father’s suffered a heart attack. I’ve arranged for you to go to him at once.”
Chapter Thirteen
Sofia had arrived in Bahmen ten days ago, and finally her father was out of danger. With her sister Amina, who was nearest to her in age although still fifteen years her senior, she walked in the secluded, walled garden that she remembered so well from her childhood. It was the first time they’d been alone together, and Sofia still wasn’t sure how they’d managed to elude all of her personal entourage that Tariq had insisted she take with her.
Oh, Tariq…
He’d texted her every day, formal little missives enquiring as to the health of her father and herself. No apology for the way he’d treated her. No indication he accepted he’d been completely unreasonable.
He hadn’t even asked when she was returning to Zanzar. Does he even want me back?
That possibility haunted her. She was still furious with him, but she didn’t want their marriage to end this way.
I don’t want my marriage to end at all.
She just wanted Tariq to change. Was that really too much to ask?
“So.” Amina took her hand and they sat on a worn stone bench opposite a small pool. The water from the fountain created a soothing ambience that calmed her jagged nerves and she sighed heavily. “Tell me, Sofia. How do you find married life?”
The expected response was I find it very much to my liking. But this was Amina, and despite their great age difference, since Sofia’s mother had died a new closeness had grown between them. It didn’t matter that they rarely saw each other. They often talked on the phone but since her marriage she hadn’t spoken to her sister at all.
“I…” she hesitated. She hadn’t even told Luisa how much she missed Tariq. “I can’t stop thinking about him.”
Amina cocked her head. “And this displeases you?”
Did it? She fell asleep at night thinking of him, woke up in the morning with a headache because of her broken night, and during the day she replayed their devastating last conversation on a continual loop.
He’d treated her like chattel. She should despise him. But the longer they were apart, the less certain of everything she was.
“I thought he wanted an equal partnership in this marriage. I was wrong. He wants to keep me locked up like a child.”
“And yet it’s well known how permissive the El-Amin brothers have been since they inherited their provinces.” Amina squeezed Sofia’s fingers and there was a determined gleam in her eyes. “If he’s cruel to you, don’t fear, Sofia. You needn’t return. Rashad will protect you.”
“Tariq isn’t cruel.” Heat flooded her at the notion that anyone, least of all her sister, should dare think such a thing. “He would never hurt me.”
“Yet he keeps you locked up. Isn’t that cruel?”
“He doesn’t—“ She bit her words off and stared into Amina’s beautiful, concerned face. He’d never threatened to lock her up. That was her interpretation of the words he’d flung at her. Unease threaded through her. “He doesn’t want me to leave the fortress unless he knows where I’m going and I must always take my security detail with me.”
As she said the words aloud they didn’t sound so very terrible after all. But they struck at the heart of who she was, who she w
anted to be.
“Ah.” Amina nodded as if she understood. “You had so much freedom in London, Sofia. But here, as the wife of one of the El-Amin brothers, you could so easily become a target. If he didn’t insist on you having a full complement of guards accompany you at all times, I should find him greatly lacking.”
The unease magnified, unfurling through her blood until she burned from the inside out. Tariq hadn’t forbidden her to go outside the walls. He’d just wanted her to have adequate protection, but she’d jumped all over his comments and drawn the worst possible conclusions.
She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut. He’d behaved like an arrogant bastard, but maybe she should’ve apologized for taking only Borak with her. She hadn’t thought twice at the time but now, looking back, what had she been thinking?
She was no longer an obscure youngest princess from a once grand empire. She was the wife of an influential desert prince, and she should’ve acted like one.
Sure, Tariq should’ve given her a chance to explain instead of issuing commands like a warlord. But she had firsthand proof that he really was trying to bring equality to his land. As he’d once told her, change took time.
“Shit.” It hadn’t been all his fault. He was trying to change things. She was the one who’d behaved like a spoiled brat.
“Fortunately,” her refined, regal sister said, “shit can be cleaned up.”
***
The last two weeks had dragged without Sofia in his life. Tariq prowled across the bedroom, and even now could still detect a trace of his wife’s evocative scent in the air.
He’d messaged her every day, but not once had she tried to talk about what had happened. What the fuck had happened, anyway? He’d been so relieved she was safe, and so livid that she’d put herself in unnecessary danger, he could hardly remember their conversation at all.
He remembered one thing though.
You hypocrite. The words had stung a whole lot more than just his damn pride. Hell, they still burned like acid two weeks later.