Defiant in the Desert(83)
Isobel’s face blanched as she wondered if the gods were taunting her. Because hadn’t that expression always been a euphemism for a particular kind of predicament in which a woman sometimes found herself ? Was it possible that a cruel fate was about to inflict not one but two unplanned pregnancies on the al Hakam family?
‘Trouble?’ she questioned hoarsely. ‘What kind of trouble?’
‘It seems she’s decided she wants to junk university and go off to America to be a model. Can you imagine?’ He gave a grim smile. ‘Zahid thinks that she needs to be shown the error of her ways, and he thinks that I may just be able to sort things out.’
‘I see.’ Isobel nodded. Was she imagining the relief on his face—as if he was anticipating an adventure which would fully occupy him for the foreseeable future? As if he was pleased to have a bona fide reason to unexpectedly leave the country? ‘Why does he think that?’
‘He says that my uniquely western perspective might help persuade her. That I’ve seen enough of that kind of world to convince her that it’s all starvation and cigarettes and people who will try to exploit her.’ He shrugged. ‘Nothing that need concern you—but I’m going to fly out later tonight, if you could make sure the new jet is ready for me?’
Two things occurred to her at the same time. The first was that he still came and went exactly as he pleased—becoming her lover had not curtailed his freedom in any way at all. And the second was that she knew there was no way she could announce her momentous news. Not when he was about to go on some mission of mercy for his brother. Not when she hadn’t even had it confirmed. And until she did then surely there was always the chance that it was nothing but a false alarm?
But her decision didn’t give her any peace of mind. She was still left with nagging doubts. Tariq was leaving to go back to his homeland, and suddenly she didn’t know where her place in his life should be. She struggled to a find common ground.
‘Did...did your brother and his wife enjoy themselves in London last week?’ she asked.
‘I assume so.’
‘They didn’t mention it?’
He raised dark brows. ‘Should they have done?’
‘Just...well, I thought it was quite a fun evening, that’s all.’
‘Indeed it was.’ He gave a brief smile, preoccupied with his forthcoming trip and pleased to have something to take his mind off the damned tension between them. ‘But they have a hectic life, you know, Izzy. Pretty much wall-to-wall socialising wherever they are.’
It was the hint of aloofness in his tone which made Isobel stiffen. That and the patronising sense that she had stepped over some invisible line of propriety. As if she had dared to look on the King and his wife as some sort of equals, instead of people she’d been lucky enough to meet only on a whim of Tariq’s.
‘Silly of me,’ she said lightly.
There was a pause as she forced herself to acknowledge the tension which had sprung up between them and which now seemed there all the time. She didn’t know when exactly it had happened, but it wouldn’t seem to go away. Like a pebble dropped into a pond, the ripples carried on for ages after the stone had plopped out of sight.
She knew what was going on because she’d witnessed it countless times before. Tariq was beginning to tire of her and he wanted the affair to be over—with the least possible disruption to him.
She thought of how the situation might pan out. He might decide to stay longer in Khayarzah than he’d intended. Or he might slot in lots of extra trips abroad which would seamlessly and physically separate them. And when they finally came face to face back in the office so much time would have passed that it would be easy to consign the whole affair to history.
Easy for him, perhaps—but not for her. She hadn’t done this kind of thing before. Unlike him, she was no good at pretending.
Wasn’t it better to face the truth head-on—no matter how difficult that might be? To confront reality rather than trying to airbrush it away? Wouldn’t that at least go some way to restoring her pride and making sure she didn’t whittle away at her self-respect until there was nothing left but an empty husk?
She forced a smile. ‘Tariq, I’ve been thinking.’
Something in her tone made his eyes narrow. ‘Oh?’
Her heart was hammering, but she forced herself to look directly into his eyes. ‘I’m due a lot of holiday—and I was wondering if I might take the chance to use up some of my entitlement while you’re away? Fiona’s pretty much up to speed, and she’s perfectly capable of running your office.’
Tariq stiffened as he heard the sudden formality of her tone. Holiday entitlement. Fiona running his office. He met her tawny gaze and felt a brief spear of something like pain as he realised what she was doing. Izzy was clever, he conceded. Clever enough to sense that he was cooling towards her.
‘Is that really necessary?’ he said.
It was a loaded question. She knew it, and he knew it too. Isobel nodded her head. ‘I think so. I think we need to give each other a little space, Tariq. This...affair has been pretty amazing, but I suspect it’s run its course—don’t you?’ She stared at him, willing him to say no. Longing for him to pull her into his arms and tell her she was out of her mind.
Tariq looked at her and felt a wave of admiration underpinned by a fleeting sense of regret. For, although he knew that this was the perfect solution, he was going to miss her as a lover. But relationships never stayed static. Already he could sense that she wanted more from him. More than he could ever give. And if he allowed her these weeks of absence mightn’t she come back refreshed and able to put the whole thing behind her? Couldn’t they go back to what they’d had before? That easy intimacy they’d shared before they had allowed sex to complicate everything?