And it was true. Molly was feeling the pressure that she had not appreciated would go with the role she had accepted because she didn’t want to stumble and embarrass Azrael by saying or doing the wrong thing. It was the kind of responsibility she had never had before, the kind of responsibility she had belatedly realised that Azrael carried daily during the three days she had stayed at the palace before leaving for London.
He had not returned to the bedroom she had slept in, even though it was supposedly his bedroom. Butrus had casually let drop that Azrael often worked late into the night and slept on the couch in his office and that Prince Firuz, Tahir’s father, had kept Azrael up talking until the early hours that first night. Regardless, Molly had barely seen Azrael except at mealtimes while he racked up office hours dealing with his duties. She had slept alone, which she had told herself was a good thing. Sex would muddy the waters of their relationship, making it personal when it was supposed to be a practical arrangement to get Azrael out of a tight corner. In addition he was paying her for her services and she could hardly sleep with a man in that scenario and either still respect herself or feel that their relationship could have a future.
No, Molly believed that she was much more worldly wise than that and she was determined to protect herself from getting her heart broken. Beautiful Azrael was not going to settle for an ordinary woman, who had once cleaned and served drinks, as a wife. He had admitted that he felt trapped and resentful and when he felt the time was right and the bridal fuss was only a memory he would move on from her without a backward glance.
Looking a little awkward, Jan passed her a Sunday newspaper supplement. ‘I wondered if you’d seen this so I kept it for you...there’s an article about Azrael and Djalia.’
‘No, I hadn’t seen it. I’ll read it when I get back to the hotel,’ Molly said, tucking it into her new capacious leather bag with enthusiasm.
‘It’s not very nice...the article, I mean,’ her friend admitted uncomfortably. ‘Please don’t be annoyed with me for giving it to you.’
‘Of course not.’ But Jan’s warning ensured that Molly had the magazine open even before the limousine carrying her set off back to the hotel.
The horrid photograph of her arriving back from Djalia featured and she groaned out loud. Her hair was frizzy because she hadn’t had conditioner when she’d washed it in Djalia. She wore no make-up because she hadn’t had any with her and the jeans and sweater she had travelled out there wearing were plain and serviceable rather than elegant. Frowning at that unflattering photo, she took a moment or two to appreciate that there was a photo of another woman alongside her own...a sort of comparison set-up, she registered in consternation. And, worst of all, the photo showed Azrael in profile with the glossy brunette.
The brunette was Princess Nasira of Quarein, the niece of Prince Firuz and the young woman whom Azrael had reportedly been expected to marry. Nasira had gorgeous almond-shaped eyes and elegant black hair in an up-do that glittered with diamond pins. Not only was she a beauty but she also had a degree in politics from the Sorbonne in Paris, spoke half a dozen languages and ran a children’s charity in Quarein. The contrast between Molly and Nasira and her many accomplishments, not to mention the Princess’s impeccable pedigree, could not have been more painful or obvious, the slant of the article suggesting that Azrael’s choice of a British bride was both controversial and surprising. Molly turned pale and chewed her lower lip, wondering why Azrael had never mentioned Nasira to her. He had asked Molly if she had anyone in her life! Why hadn’t it occurred to her to ask him the same question?
For pity’s sake, was that why Prince Firuz had visited the palace that very first evening? Had he arrived on behalf of his niece to demand an explanation from Azrael regarding his sudden acquisition of a foreign bride? Was that why Azrael had slept apart from her? Molly reddened, admitting that she was in conflict when it came to that issue. She had sat up waiting for Azrael to reappear that night and then had lain awake for hours mentally listing all the reasons why she should not have sex with him.
In fact she had been all worked up to give him those reasons when he finally reappeared but he had proved a no-show that night and for the two nights that had followed. She never had got to make the speech she had prepared and, although he had phoned her to chat every evening since she had left, it wasn’t really the sort of conversation she wanted to stage on the phone...was it?
* * *
On the same day as Molly struggled with her wildly see-sawing emotions and urges, Azrael was, most ironically, having a similarly disturbing experience. The British press had done an in-depth investigation into his bride’s modest background, which had provided an unpleasant surprise.