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.