‘I would like to know more about you,' he told her, realising with a jolt of surprise that it was the truth, and not simply a ploy to take his mind off his need to make love to her. ‘You said last night that you had been desperate to prevent Kazim growing up in care, as you had done after the death of your mother. How old were you when she died?'
‘Ten,' Erin replied unemotionally. She sensed that Zahir was waiting for her to continue, but she had no wish to revisit her past. She tried to keep the memories of her childhood locked away, but images floated into her mind of the squalid flat that had been her home for her early years, of her mother, painfully thin, with long red hair that hung lank around her pinched, white face. She still had a clear picture in her head of Jeannie Maguire's unhealthy pallor, the dull eyes that had seemed sunken into her skull, and her expression of blank uninterest in anything other than her need for her next fix.
Zahir was staring at her, clearly curious. ‘Was she killed in an accident?' he queried, and the unexpected gentleness in his voice brought a lump to her throat.
He was a prince who had grown up in a world of unimaginable luxury-he could have no comprehension of her deprived childhood, when her mother's addiction to hard drugs had meant Erin had frequently gone hungry for both food and basic care.
‘She was ill.' The social worker who'd been appointed after Jeannie's death had said that drug addiction was a disease, but Zahir did not need to know the sordid details. Like how her mother had paid for the drugs by prostituting herself.
‘And after she died, was there no one in the family who could have cared for you?'
‘She didn't have a family.' Erin hesitated, and then added, ‘She told me once that she had run away from home when she was fifteen, after her stepfather abused her. I don't know any other details, and Social Services never traced any relatives who might have taken me in. I know you suspect my motives for adopting Kazim, but I swear my only reason was because I believed he had no one else who would love him. And to a child love is more important than anything,' she finished huskily.
Zahir felt something tug at his insides. He had been a similar age to Erin when his mother had left Qubbah, and he had never forgotten how badly he had missed her. He'd been lucky that he'd still had his father and brother and sisters around him, but Erin had had no one.
He had convinced himself that she was a heartless gold-digger because it had suited him, he acknowledged grimly. It had been the only weapon at his disposal to fight his ferocious attraction to her. But what if he had been wrong about her? What if she really had adopted Kazim so that she could give him the love she had been denied during her childhood? It made his treatment of her seem even worse-particularly the way he had trapped her in a marriage she hadn't wanted, simply because of his selfish determination to take her to bed.
‘You told my father that you loved Faisal,' he muttered, voicing the thought that had been gnawing at him. ‘But you must have been lying. Because last night I proved conclusively that you were never a proper wife to him.'
‘I did love him,' Erin insisted. ‘As a brother and my best friend.' She gave a faint smile. ‘Faisal trusted me at a time when no one else would. I had been sacked from my first job as nanny to two little girls because I'd refused to sleep with their father. Mr Fitzroy told everyone that he'd had to fire me because I flirted with him and begged him for an affair.' She wrinkled her nose in disgust. ‘He was old enough to be my father, for heaven's sake. The employment agency refused to keep me on their books, and I was afraid I'd never get another job. But Faisal believed me. He employed me to look after his baby son, and I'm so glad he did-because I fell in love with Kazim at first sight.'
The silence that followed her last statement seemed to stretch interminably, but at last Zahir turned his head and stared at her. ‘So Kazim really is the reason you married me?' he said, in a casual tone that disguised an overwhelming urge to slam his fist into a punchball for as many times as it took to relieve the tight knot of anger that had formed inside him. ‘You were a sacrificial virgin in every sense, weren't you?' he murmured sardonically. ‘But even though I now accept that your love for Kazim is genuine, I will never let him go. You accuse me of blackmailing you into marriage, but last night you wanted me, Erin-and, as I have already said, desire is as good a basis for marriage as anything. Particularly when it is combined with our mutual determination to give Kazim a happy and loving childhood.'
He had walked back over to the bed, and Erin gasped when he suddenly whipped back the sheet and swept her up into his arms. ‘We have a duty to Kazim to make our marriage work,' he told her as he strode out of the tent. ‘I rushed you last night, perhaps even frightened you.' He frowned blackly at the thought. ‘But I am prepared to be patient and give you time to adjust to married life.'
Despite the early hour the sun was hot, and Erin blinked in its brilliant glare when Zahir set her down on a flat rock by the edge of the pool. She wasn't sure what he wanted from her, and her confusion increased when he casually untied the cord around his waist and let his trousers fall to the floor.
‘What are you doing?' she demanded in a strangled voice. Last night she had been too absorbed in the feel of his warm, satiny skin sliding against hers to look at him properly, but the sight of his body revealed in all its muscled glory beneath the bright sunlight made her heart stop. She had never even seen a man completely naked before, but Zahir was a truly magnificent specimen of masculinity, and she longed to reach out and stroke her fingers over his golden skin.
‘I told you I would let you out of bed occasionally to swim,' he drawled, amusement glinting in his eyes at her stunned expression. He turned and stepped into the crystal clear pool, affording her a tantalising glimpse of his taut buttocks before he glanced back at her and held out his hand, ‘Are you going to join me?'
‘I didn't bring a swimsuit.' She knew she was staring at him, but she could not drag her eyes from the formidable width of his chest, the whorls of dark hair that arrowed down over his flat stomach, and lower still …
‘As you can see, neither did I.' He saw her glance anxiously towards the staff quarters and smiled. ‘No one can see us through the trees, and the servants will not disturb us.' His smile faded and he added seriously, ‘You're quite safe with me, Erin. I gave my word that I will not lay a finger on you and I will abide by that promise.'
‘What a pity.' The words spilt from her lips and she immediately blushed scarlet, but when he tensed and gave her a questioning stare she held his gaze, her heart thudding at the flare of undisguised hunger in his eyes. He had always been honest about his reasons for marrying her: he wanted Kazim to live at the palace and he wanted her in his bed. Now it was time for her to be honest too.
He had fascinated her from the moment she had met him at Ingledean, and when he had made love to her last night she had proved that she was utterly incapable of resisting him. He didn't love her, and she had no expectations that he ever would now he'd stated that love was an overrated emotion, but he desired her. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps passion and their mutual love for Kazim was as good a basis as any for a successful marriage?