Exotic Affairs(58)

The muscles beneath her gripping fingers bunched, his lean dark profile clenching on the power of whatever it was he was trying hard to suppress here.

Evie watched and waited, his tension becoming her tension, the war he was having with himself becoming her war until the prolonged silence began to buzz like an alarm bell vibrating along tautly stretched nerve-ends.

Then he turned his head, saw her strained pallor, the anxiety that was darkening her eyes, and on a soft curse he surrendered.

‘Okay,’ he said, taking hold of her hand to grimly lead her back to the bed. Sitting her down there, he then looked around him for a chair and set it so that he could seat himself right in front of her. ‘I was going to leave this as long as I could before telling you,’ he admitted. ‘But I can see that what you’re thinking is possibly worse than reality. So…’

Leaning forward to take hold of her hands, he announced very gently, ‘I am taking you home, Evie. To Behran…’

Behran—Evie’s mind went up like a volcano, shock, horror, a bone-chilling sense of trepidation all straightening her spine on a constricted gasp of dismay.

‘You have nothing to fear,’ Raschid quickly assured her. ‘Do you think I would be doing this if I believed it would place you in danger?’

No, she didn’t think that, but it didn’t alter the fact that the very idea of going to his homeland was filling her with horror.

Yet—she should have seen this coming! Why hadn’t she seen it coming? She had just married this man! She was now the wife of the future ruler of Behran! She carried his child inside her—maybe the next ruler of Behran after Raschid!

‘Why?’ she managed to breathe out frailly.

‘Because this visit is necessary,’ he replied. ‘To have avoided taking you home directly after our marriage would have given rise to the suggestion that I am ashamed of my western wife.’

He was talking pride here—defiance in the face of any dissension.

‘Wh-what is this going to mean?’ she asked, forcing the words past all the horrors that were trying to possess her. ‘Will I have to face them the moment we get off the plane?’

‘No.’ His fingers were squeezing hers tightly, urging her to trust what he was telling her. ‘We will transfer from the plane to a helicopter at the airport,’ he explained, ‘then fly directly to my private palace. The news will spread quickly enough that we are there together, and thereby lay to rest any suspicion that I am reluctant to bring you home. But you need see no one,’ he promised. ‘We will, in effect, be on our honeymoon, which will give you the chance to acquaint yourself with my way of life before we have to present ourselves officially as a couple.’

He meant to his father, though he was careful not to make the dreaded connection out loud.

Aware of his eyes still fixed intently on her, that he was tense, worried, and unsure as to how she was going to respond to this challenge he was setting before her, Evie lowered her eyes to their hands where they rested on her silk-covered lap, and tried desperately to pull her ragged senses together.

Raschid was a man of two cultures. He was used to slipping in and out of two different guises depending on which part of the world he was in. But she wasn’t. In all the time they had been together it had never once occurred to him to invite her to his homeland. She hadn’t even been invited to any of the functions Raschid had attended at his own embassy. For two long years she had not existed, as far as his people were concerned.

A few weeks ago they had certainly acknowledged her—by declaring her an enemy. Or, to be more precise, her baby was the enemy.

She shivered, recalling that memory, recalling too what had happened after it. Raschid felt that shiver and understood exactly what was causing it.

‘Look at me, Evie!’ he commanded. ‘Look into my eyes and see what you always see written there!’

Blinking herself into focus, she found herself staring at strong brown fingers tightly interlaced with delicate white ones like a love knot that was too intricate to break. And there, nestling amongst this mingling of brown and white, was a gold-crested wedding band that seemed to be telling her that this was it. The moment when she finally took on board what it really meant to be joined to this very special man.

You stand proudly beside him, and boldly take them all on—or why are you here at all?

And really, she told herself, she could have no argument with it. She had married him for good or bad. If the good was in looking forward to spending the rest of her life with him, then the bad had to be where they were going to live out that life.

Then she made herself look into those dark gold, passionately glowing eyes. Made herself see what he was insisting she see. Made herself acknowledge it. I love you! those eyes were telling her. You are my heart, my life—my soul! I would lay down my own life before I would let anyone get close enough to hurt you again!