At the Sheikh's Bidding(33)

He had told her  once that he thought love was overrated, but his casual   dismissal of the  emotion clearly did not include his feelings for his   father. He loved  the King, and she could not bear to think of his   heartbreak if the  elderly monarch should not recover. These past few   days Zahir had shown  her that, far from having a heart of stone, he had   a side to him that  was kind and patient, gentle, even tender at  times.  But just because her  heart ached for him, it didn't mean she  cared  about him she reassured  herself firmly. She had far more sense  than to  fall in love with  him-didn't she?

‘Zahir?' He looked drawn, almost grey, and on  impulse she flew across   the tent and flung her arms around his waist.  ‘I'm so sorry about your   father. I'm sure he'll be all right.' She  wished she could wave a  magic  wand and restore the King to full health,  but of course that was   impossible. All she could do was offer Zahir her  support.

He stared down at her, frowning slightly, and she had a  feeling that   his mind was focused on the events unfolding at the palace.  But then he   cupped her chin and tilted her face, his dark eyes meshing  with hers.   ‘You have a ridiculously soft heart, kalila. I would like to  share  your  misplaced optimism, but father is eighty years old and I am  well  aware  that he cannot live for ever. Your concern is touching,' he   added  coolly, ‘but I'm afraid I don't have time to take you to bed  right   now.'                       
       
           



       

Erin immediately dropped her arms to her sides, blushing  furiously   because he had clearly mistaken her gesture of sympathy. ‘I  didn't   expect you to. I wasn't suggesting … I was simply trying to show  you that   I'm here … if you need me.' She bit her lip, and said in a hurt  tone,   ‘How can you think I would expect you to make love to me when  you've   just received news that your father is seriously ill?'

‘I wasn't complaining about your eagerness for sex, merely about your timing,' Zahir drawled.

His  eyes narrowed when she paled, and he resisted the urge to pull her   into  his arms. He wanted to distance himself from her. The past five   days  he'd spent with her had been more relaxing than he had expected,   and he  was surprised at how much he had enjoyed her company-both in bed   and out  of it. But now it was time to return to the real world. He'd   felt ill  when he'd first learned of his father's heart attack, but   mixed with  concern had been an unexpected feeling of regret that he   would have to  curtail the honeymoon.


Irritation swept through him. For  reasons he did not understand Erin   had got under his skin. It would be  good to get back to the routine of   palace life. Once he was immersed in  affairs of state he was confident   he could relegate her to a small  corner of his mind.

‘As soon as we arrive at the palace it will  be necessary for me to meet   with my advisors, and I've no doubt our  discussions will continue all   day,' he informed her. ‘Naturally I will  also visit my father, and   tonight we will host a pre-arranged banquet in  honour of a visiting   dignitary.'

The thought of the long hours  ahead until he could take her to bed   settled like a lead weight in his  chest, and he lowered his head to   claim her mouth in a brief, hard kiss.  Her instant response sent a   surge of satisfaction through him, but he  forced himself to step away   from the temptation of her gorgeous  silk-clad body. ‘We will both have   to learn to curb our impatience,  kalila. My days will be devoted to   duty, but I will expect you in my bed  every night.'

Was that to be her only role in his life-as his  glorified whore? Erin   brooded miserably. She'd thought they had become  friends this past   week, but perhaps he had only spent time with her  because he'd had   nothing else to do? ‘You make it sound as though sex is  the only thing   between us,' she said quietly.

Zahir had walked  over to the tent entrance, but he turned at her words   and his brows  lifted. ‘It is the only thing between us,' he replied   coolly. ‘What else  could there possibly be?'



As Zahir had predicted, his  team of advisors were waiting for him when   they arrived back at the  palace. Even on the journey across the desert   he'd had his mobile phone  clamped to his ear, and Erin had sat  silently  beside him, lost in her  thoughts. The honeymoon was over, and  he had  made it abundantly clear  that he now viewed her role as his  wife as a  walk-on part-or perhaps a  lie-down part would be a better  description?  she thought bitterly. But  what had she expected? She had  married him  for Kazim and he had married  her for sex-and they had each  got what  they wanted.

At least she  had Kazim, she consoled herself later that evening, when   she tucked the  toddler into bed. She had missed him desperately, and   his evident  delight that she was back was a comforting balm to her raw   emotions. She  was Zahir's wife, a member of the Royal Family of  Qubbah,  and no one  could ever take him away from her now.

But as she prepared for  the state banquet her insecurities returned and   she felt sick with  nerves. She had been horrified when first Bisma  and  then her two maids  had addressed her as ‘Your Royal Highness', and   even though she was  wearing a stunning couture gown-a floor-length   cream silk sheath with  long sleeves and a decorous neckline-she didn't   feel in the least  ‘royal'. She was a fraud, she thought dismally, and   even the fabulous  and no doubt priceless pearl and diamond necklace   that Zahir had given  her on their wedding day, which complemented her   breathtaking diamond  solitaire engagement ring, could not magically   transform her into a  princess.

It felt as though butterflies were fluttering in her  stomach when she   walked down the sweeping staircase, and she was so  intent on balancing   on her three-inch heels that she missed the flare of  heat in Zahir's   gaze as he waited for her to join him. She glanced up  to find him   watching her intently, his eyes hooded so that she had no  idea of his   thoughts. She wished he would smile at her, maybe take her  hand with   the easy familiarity he had shown her in the desert. But he  was stern   and unsmiling and utterly gorgeous in his black dinner jacket  and white   silk shirt.                       
       
           



       

Tonight he was the urbane and sophisticated  head of the royal family,   but on their honeymoon she had been blown  away by his raw masculinity.   And although she was glad to be back with  Kazim, part of her wished  she  was still at the camp with her desert  prince. She had decided this   morning that she would not allow him to  treat her like a favourite  from  his harem, that she would not be  available for sex whenever it  suited  him. But one look at his handsome  face and the sensual curve of  his  mouth and she knew she was kidding  herself. Her pride was  non-existent  where he was concerned, and she  would take whatever he  offered in their  marriage-even if it was only his  expertise between  the sheets.


Praying that she did not look  as nervous as she felt, she took Zahir's   arm so that he could escort her  into the banquet. She was unable to   restrain a little shiver of  excitement when he bent his head and   murmured, ‘You are so very  beautiful, kalila, and I fear this is going   to be a very long evening.'

He  was right. The seven-course meal seemed to drag on for ever, and   after  several hours Erin's jaw ached from smiling politely while she   struggled  to make conversation with the elite guests from the   wealthiest echelons  of society in Qubbah and its neighbouring Arab   states. Fraught with  nerves, she'd developed a headache soon after she   had taken her place at  the table, and had stared at the vast display  of  silver cutlery set in  front of her in despair.