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‘You knew who I was the whole time?’
‘Within five seconds. You have a memorable face, Princess. And very distinctive eyes.’
It was the first personal comment anyone had ever made to her and it took her by surprise.
She’d studied him on paper and committed all the facts to memory, from his year and place of birth to his impressive military career and his degree in engineering. She knew he was a skilled rider and an authority on the Arabian horse. She knew all that, but was only just realising that facts could only tell you so much about a man.
They couldn’t tell you that his eyes were darker than the desert at night or that the power he commanded on paper was surpassed a thousand times by the power he commanded in person. They couldn’t tell you that those eyes were capable of seeing right through a person to the very centre of their being. They couldn’t tell you that meeting those eyes would make your heart thunder like the hooves of a hundred wild horses pounding across the desert plain.
She was fast realising that a list of dates and qualifications didn’t convey strength or charisma.
Unsettled that the facts had given her such an incomplete picture, Layla remembered what her sister had said about the rumours. That Raz Al Zahki was a man who knew women. Before he’d fallen in love he’d been wild, and afterwards he’d locked it all away. Every emotion. Every feeling.
‘How do you know me?’
‘I make a point of knowing my enemy.’
‘I am not your enemy.’ And yet she could hardly blame him for thinking that, could she? His family had suffered terribly at the hands of hers. They stood on opposite sides of an enormous rift that had divided their families for generations.
‘Which brings me to my second question—where is Hassan? Or is he so lacking in courage he sends a woman with his messages?’
Layla shivered, but whether it was his tone or his words that affected her she didn’t know.
‘I’m not here because of Hassan. I was with my sister, Yasmin, but I fell from the horse.’ She saw his beautiful mouth tighten. ‘I’m sorry—I—you have to help me find her. Please. She’s alone in the desert and she won’t have a clue how to survive.’ The thought filled her with despair but still he showed no emotion. No sympathy. Nothing.
‘So where is Hassan?’
‘He could be back at the palace, or he could be out there looking for us. I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know? And yet this is the man you’re supposed to be marrying in a matter of hours.’
And if Hassan found Yasmin first—
His words slowly seeped into her numb brain. ‘You know about the wedding?’
‘I know everything.’
‘If you think I want to marry Hassan then clearly you don’t know everything.’ The tent was dimly lit, but there was enough light for her to see the flash of surprise in his eyes.
‘How did you leave, if not with his consent?’
‘We escaped. My sister loves horses. She took the fastest horse in the stables. Unfortunately she omitted to tell me she couldn’t control him.’ Layla rubbed her palm across her bruised back. ‘He proved too much for both of us.’
‘Both of you?’ A dark eyebrow lifted. ‘You rode one horse?’
‘Yes. We’re not that heavy and we didn’t want to be separated.’ Layla didn’t tell him that she’d never ridden before. This man was renowned for his horsemanship. She had a feeling he wouldn’t be impressed by the fact she knew everything about the breeding history of the Arabian horse, but nothing about the reality of riding one. ‘Something scared him and he reared up. I fell and he bolted with Yasmin on his back. She won’t be strong enough to stop him. She’s probably fallen, too.’ Panicking, she tried to stand up again, but her body protested so violently she sank back onto her knees just as two large dogs bounded into the tent.
Terror sucked the strength from her limbs. She was at eye level with the two beasts as they came to a standstill, teeth bared.
Raz said something to them and they whimpered and sank down to their bellies, huge eyes fixed on him in adoration.
‘Saluki?’ The fear was so sharp Layla could hardly breathe. ‘You own Saluki?’
‘You recognise the breed?’
‘Of course.’ Her mouth felt as if she’d swallowed all the sand in the desert. If dogs could smell fear, she was doomed. ‘The Saluki is one of the oldest breeds in existence. They have been found in the Pyramids of Egypt, mummified alongside the bodies of pharaohs.’ She didn’t reveal that her familiarity with the breed came from a darker, more personal experience. An experience she’d tried to block from her mind.
‘You said you were escaping. What was your destination?’
‘You. You were my destination.’ Reminding herself that the dogs were unlikely to attack without provocation or command, Layla kept utterly still, watching the animals. ‘We were trying to find you.’
‘On the night your father died? From the lack of tears it would seem you have inherited his lack of sentimentality.’
Was that what he thought?
Shocked, Layla almost corrected him, but she knew this wasn’t the right time. Misunderstandings could be corrected later. Or maybe they didn’t even matter. ‘It was my father’s dying wish that I marry Hassan.’
The darkening of his eyes was barely perceptible. ‘So why come looking for me?’
She’d practised a hundred alternative ways to say what she wanted to say but every word vanished under that icy scrutiny. ‘You are the rightful ruler, but if he marries me that weakens your claim and strengthens his.’
There was a sudden stillness about him that suggested she had his full attention. ‘That still doesn’t tell me why you’re here.’
Only now did Layla realise just how much she’d been hoping he’d be the one to say it. He was praised for his intelligence, wasn’t he? Couldn’t he see for himself why she was here? Couldn’t he see the one solution that would solve this once and for all?
But perhaps he could see and chose not to look.
‘I don’t blame you for hating us.’ The words tumbling out of her mouth weren’t the ones she’d rehearsed but when she looked at him all she could think of was the loss he’d suffered. ‘If I could change who I am then I would, but I’m asking you to put that aside and do what needs to be done.’
‘And what,’ he prompted softly, ‘do you believe needs to be done, Princess?’
No man had ever asked her opinion. Not once since the day she took her first step to the day she and her sister had slid out of the window of their father’s bedroom. Not once had anyone treated her as anything but a weapon in the considerable armory of the house of Al Habib.
But this man had asked her.
This man was listening to her.
He was regal, she thought, proud and sure of himself. In that moment she caught a glimpse of why so many trusted him and protected him. He was as different from Hassan as the ocean from the desert.
‘You know what needs to be done. You have to take your rightful place. You have to end this before Hassan finishes what my father started. Before he ruins our country in the selfish pursuit of power...’ She paused, wondering whether to mention Yasmin again but deciding this man would be motivated more by his duty to his people than sympathy for her sister. ‘And to do that you have to marry me. Now. Quickly. Before Hassan finds me and takes me back.’
CHAPTER TWO
HE’D BEEN PLANNING to do whatever was necessary to prevent her wedding to Hassan taking place. Yet he had not considered the option of marrying her himself, nor had any of those surrounding him dared to suggest it despite the fact it was the obvious solution.
The tactician in him could see the benefit. The man in him recoiled.
He’d thought there was no price he wouldn’t pay to fulfil his duty.
He’d been wrong.
Tension rippled down his spine. He felt as if he were being strangled.
‘No.’ He’d trained himself to shut down emotion but that skill suddenly failed him and his refusal came from somewhere deep inside him. Some dark part of himself he no longer accessed. ‘I had a wife. I don’t need or want another.’ His voice sounded strange. Thickened by a hundred layers of personal agony. One of the dogs growled, a threatening sound that came from low in the animal’s throat. He saw her gaze flicker to the dog and sensed her fear although he didn’t understand it.
‘I know about your wife.’ Her brief hesitation suggested she was about to say something else on that topic, but then she gave a little shake of her head. ‘Obviously I’m not suggesting myself as a replacement. This would be purely a political arrangement, advantageous to both sides.’
Raz tried to detach his mind from the pain he carried around inside himself. ‘Political?’
‘Hassan’s position is precarious. Marriage to me is his way of securing his place as my father’s successor. He has no support in Tazkhan and has never taken the trouble to earn it. For him, ruling is about what he can gain rather than what he can give and that approach makes him neither popular nor secure.’
Raz hid his surprise. He’d listened to men talk for hours on the problems facing Tazkhan and yet this girl had summarised the situation in four blunt sentences, devoid of emotion, exaggeration or drama.
‘Perhaps he didn’t expect your father to die so soon.’
Again there was hesitation, and it was obvious she was being selective about what she told him. ‘Hassan knows that the only way he will be accepted is to marry me, and he is willing to do anything to make that happen. Do not underestimate him.’
Her words were like the scrape of a knife over an open wound because he’d done exactly that. In his righteous arrogance he’d thought himself untouchable and as a result he’d lost someone he’d loved deeply.
‘You seem very familiar with the workings of his mind.’
‘I’ve studied him. I think there is a strong chance he is clinically disturbed. He demonstrates some of the elements of a sociopath, shows no remorse or guilt for any of his actions.’
Her words were serious, those beautiful, almond-shaped eyes steady on his.
‘He has no care for the feelings or opinions of others and an overinflated idea of his own importance. He is a dangerous man. But you already know that.’
‘Yes.’ He did know. What surprised him was that she knew.
Raz realised he’d made assumptions about her based purely on her bloodline. He also knew she was right that the marriage had to be prevented. He didn’t reveal that he’d had his own plans for making sure it didn’t happen.
There was no doubt her plan was better. Permanent.
And safer for all concerned.
Except for him.
For him, it meant breaking a vow.
His tension levels soaring into the stratosphere, Raz paced the length of the tent.
Whichever way he looked at it, it felt like a betrayal. It pulled him down and tore at him. ‘I cannot do it.’
‘Because I am the daughter of your enemy?’ She spoke in the same calm voice. ‘Aristotle said “a common danger unites the bitterest of enemies”. We have a common danger. I am proposing we unite. It is the right thing to do and you know it.’
Raz turned with a snarl that drew the dogs to their feet. ‘Never assume to guess what I am thinking, Princess.’
Her head was slightly bowed but he could see her eyes were fixed in terror on the two animals now crouched low on the floor of the tent.
‘I beg your pardon.’ She held herself absolutely still, her voice barely more than a whisper. ‘It seems a logical solution to me. I assumed it would seem so to you.’
It did. The fact that his emotions defied logic frustrated him. ‘Do you apply logic to everything?’
‘I didn’t apply logic when I chose to steal a horse and point him towards the desert, so the answer has to be no, not to everything. But to most things. I find generally the outcome is better if the action is given the appropriate consideration.’
He’d never met anyone as serious as her.
He wanted to ask if she’d ever laughed, danced or had fun, and then wondered why he was even interested.
‘You are suggesting something I cannot contemplate.’
‘And yet you know it is the right thing for Tazkhan. So your reluctance must be because you once had a wife you loved so very much.’
Raz felt the blood drain from his face. The tips of his fingers were suddenly cold. Anger sharpened his brain and tongue. ‘Logic, if not an instinct for self-preservation, should be warning you that you are now treading on ground that is likely to give way beneath your feet.’
‘I did not bring up that topic to cause you pain, but to try and understand why you would say no to something that is so obviously right.’ Her fingers shook as she smoothed the robe she was wearing. ‘You loved her and exchanged promises, and now you never want to marry again. I understand that.’
‘You understand nothing.’ He heard the growl in his own voice. ‘You have condensed a thousand indescribable emotions into one short sentence.’ The force of his anger shook him, and it clearly shook her too because her eyes flickered to the entrance of the tent, gauging the distance. Raz felt a rush of shame because whatever his sins, and God knew there had been many, frightening women wasn’t one of them.
She spoke before he did. ‘I’m sorry.’ Her tone was a soothing balm against the raw edges of his pain. ‘And you’re right, of course. I don’t understand what you’re feeling because I’ve never loved anyone that way. But I understand that what you lost is somehow linked with your decision never to marry again. And I just want to make clear that what I’m suggesting has nothing to do with what you had before. Ours would be a marriage of political necessity, not of love. Not a betrayal of her memory, but a business arrangement. If you marry me, you take your rightful place as ruler of Tazkhan. You would be unchallenged.’
Not a betrayal of her memory.
So maybe she did understand him better than he’d first thought.
‘You think I’m afraid of a challenge?’
‘No. But I know you love your people and want to give Tazkhan a peaceful and prosperous future.’ Suddenly she sounded very tired, very alone and very young.
Raz frowned as he tried to remember her age. Twenty-three? Younger?
‘And what do you gain from this arrangement, Princess? How do you benefit from entering into a marriage where feelings play no part?’ In the flickering candlelight he could see a hint of smooth cheek beneath the voluminous robes, but very little else except those eyes. And her eyes were mesmerising—as dark as sloes and framed by long, thick lashes that shadowed that smooth skin like the setting sun. Suddenly he wanted to see more of her. He wanted to reach out and rip off the robes that concealed her and see what lay beneath the folds of fabric. He’d heard whispers about the beauty of the elder princess and ignored them all because her physical attributes had been of no interest to him.
Disturbed by the sudden flare of his own curiosity, he stepped back. ‘How do you benefit from this “business arrangement”?’
‘If I am married to you, then I cannot be married to Hassan.’
‘So I am the lesser of two evils?’ Could that truly be the reason? Raz struggled to decipher her intentions. She seemed innocent and yet she came from evil. She appeared to speak the truth but those who surrounded her spoke only lies. Feeling the weight of responsibility, he suppressed his instinct to trust her. ‘You are expecting me to believe that you crept out of the Citadel tonight, stole a horse and rode aimlessly into the desert in the hope of tripping over me so that you could propose marriage?’
‘I had more to lose by staying than leaving. And it is well known that there are plenty of people who know your whereabouts, Your Highness. I trusted that someone would bring me to you.’
She’d called him ‘Your Highness’. It was an acknowledgement he wouldn’t have expected from her, given that they were on opposite sides.
Raz narrowed his eyes. ‘Your loyalties are easily shifted.’
‘My loyalties are to Tazkhan, but I understand that you are afraid to trust me. I do have other reasons—more personal ones.’
‘What other reasons?’
‘If he finds her, Hassan intends to send my sister to America.’ Desperation shook that steady voice. ‘He wants her out of the way.’
‘Why would he want her out of the way?’
‘Because we are stronger together than we are apart and he wants to weaken us. Because my sister has an uncomfortable habit of speaking her mind and she becomes harder to control with each passing day. She is dreamy, passionate, and challenges everything. And Hassan hates to be challenged.’
‘And you don’t challenge him?’
‘I see no point in poking an angry dragon with a stick.’
‘And where is your sister now?’
‘I don’t know.’ There was fear and anxiety under the veneer of calm. ‘The horse galloped off. I’m scared she might have fallen and been injured. I’m scared Hassan’s men will find her before you do.’
Raz lifted an eyebrow. ‘That is almost inevitable since I’m not looking for her.’
‘But will you look for her? Once I’m your bride, will you also offer your protection to my sister?’
So that was why she was here, he thought.
She’d risked everything for love. Not romantic love, perhaps, but love all the same.
‘So to keep your sister with you, and protect Tazkhan, you would marry a stranger. That is the least romantic proposition I have ever heard.’
‘Possibly. But we’ve already established this is not about romance. You wouldn’t want that and neither would I.’
‘Why wouldn’t you?’
‘I am not a romantic person, Your Highness.’
That matter-of-fact statement might have been unremarkable had it come from someone several decades older than she was. Her eyes were dark, luminous pools of pain and he wondered how those eyes would look if she smiled.
‘You don’t believe there can be love between a man and a woman?’
‘Yes, I do believe there can be. Just not for me. I’m not like that. I don’t have those feelings. I’m a very practical person,’ she said with disarming honesty. ‘As you don’t want love either, I assume that won’t be an obstacle for you.’ She brushed it aside as easily as the desert winds shifted sand.
She had no idea, he thought. No idea that love was the most powerful force known to man. No idea how much havoc could be wrought by that emotion.
But he knew.
He’d been caught in the wake of devastation and still ached from his injuries.
‘You say that this is a political arrangement to secure the future of Tazkhan, but for a marriage to be legal and binding in our country it requires more than simply the exchange of vows and rings.’
Her spine was rigid and her eyes were fixed on the ground in front of him. ‘I am aware of that. It’s important that Hassan isn’t able to challenge our union so I’ve already familiarised myself with Tazkhan marriage laws.’
Raz found himself intrigued and exasperated in equal measures. ‘So you understand what marriage entails?’
‘You’re referring to the physical side and, yes, I understand that. I know it has to be a full and proper marriage. I accept that. It won’t be a problem.’ She’d dipped her head so that the folds of her robe almost obscured her features. ‘From what I’ve read, it shouldn’t be a problem for you, either. A man doesn’t need love in order to be able to perform the sexual act.’
‘Perform?’ Raz was torn between amusement and disbelief as he stared down at her. Under the protective folds of the robe she was shy, fragile and clueless. ‘What exactly have you been reading? Whatever it is, it sounds an unusual choice for a girl like you.’
‘I’m not a girl. I’m a woman.’
Not yet. The thought flew into his head and he stared at her for a long moment.
‘You are contemplating a lifetime with a man who cannot love you.’
‘But you will respect me.’ Lifting her head, she looked him directly in the eyes. ‘You will respect me for making the decision to do the right thing for Tazkhan. And that is all I need.’
Raz stared at her for a long moment.
Respect.
Was that really all she needed?
It sounded like very little, and yet right now he wasn’t sure he could deliver even that.
Feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on him like a thousand tons of sand, he turned and strode to the doorway of the tent. ‘I need air.’
* * *
I need air.
Layla sagged. She needed air, too. She couldn’t breathe. She was suffocating under the heavy fabric of the robes and the stifling heat in the tent and she was terrified she’d blown everything by mentioning his wife. And as for the rest of it—she’d never thought talking about sex could feel so uncomfortable. It was a natural act, performed by animals—of which man was one—since the dawn of time. Why a discussion on the topic should leave her hot and shaky she had no idea.
It was him.
There was something about him—a raw physicality that made her understand for the first time why women talked about him in dreamy tones.
Confused, exhausted and desperately worried about Yasmin, all Layla wanted was to strip off the robes she’d taken from her father’s rooms and lie down.
She looked longingly at the low bed covered in richly coloured silks that dominated the far side of the tent.
His bed?
Just for a moment she had an image of him lying there, strong limbs entwined with the beauty who had been his wife, sharing their love. The image shocked her. Apart from images of the sculptures of Michelangelo she’d never seen a man naked, so she had no reason to be imagining one now.
Her body ached from head to foot and she wanted to stretch her limbs and examine her bruises, but she was too afraid to move with the dogs guarding her.
She watched them as she carefully tried to ease herself into a different position.
The bag she’d tied under the robes pressed uncomfortably against her hip and she pulled out the two books she’d taken from the library. One was her favourite—a book she’d read so many times she almost knew it by heart. The other—
‘What is that?’ His voice came from the doorway of the tent and Layla jumped and dropped both books onto the thick rug that carpeted the floor of the tent.
‘Books. Just books. I brought them from home.’
Before she could snatch them back he stooped and picked one up. And of course it was that one.
There was a tense silence while he scanned the title of the volume. Dark eyebrows rose in incredulity. ‘The Kama Sutra?’
‘If I’m proposing marriage then it’s important I have some knowledge of what is required. There is no skill that cannot be mastered with sufficient studying. I’m ignorant, and in my experience ignorance is never bliss.’
She could hear the blood throbbing in her ears. She felt her mouth dry as if she had swallowed all the sand in the desert and her heart pounded like the hooves of the Arabian stallion who had thrown her onto the sand with such disdain.
His prolonged silence was more humiliating than a refusal and she was grateful for the semi-darkness of the tent that gave her at least some protection from his scrutiny.
Her expectations of this encounter had been modest. She hadn’t exactly expected him to embrace the idea of marriage with enthusiasm, but she’d thought he’d say something. She certainly hadn’t expected him to walk out of the tent.
But perhaps the thought of marrying her sickened him. Perhaps people were wrong and Raz Al Zahki wouldn’t do anything that needed to be done for his country. Perhaps even he wouldn’t stoop so low as to marry the daughter of the man who had destroyed his family.
Perhaps he didn’t want a woman whose knowledge of the world had been gained from the contents of her father’s library.
‘You’re not going to need this.’ He handed the book back to her and her face burned like the desert in the midday heat
Tears formed a hot burning ball in the back of her throat and she almost choked on it.