Shackled to the Sheikh(28)

‘He showed me he was a good man and I could not help but fall in love with him.’

Tora shook her head. ‘Nobody would ever guess you two started out like that.’

‘Don’t think I’m the only one—Marina and Amber had no easy path to love either. You see, there is something you must understand about these four men, Zoltan and Bahir, Kadar and Rashid—they are like brothers, only their bond is stronger, and duty is everything to them. They may not like it, they may strain against their fate, but ultimately they know what they must do.

‘But they are so focused on their duty they don’t take easily to the concept of love. None of them had an easy upbringing, and they all grew up looking after themselves. They are so used to being in control of their lives and their destinies that love is foreign to them. They are caught unawares how powerful love can be, but when they do fall in love, they fall hard.

‘It has been the same for Zoltan, Bahir and most recently Kadar. And now Rashid is one hundred per cent focused on his new role and, in truth, is probably still coming to terms with this change in his life, but you will see, in time, Rashid will come good, too. He will be a good husband to you.’

And Aisha sounded so certain that Tora’s uncertainties came brimming to the fore. ‘Except this is still a marriage of convenience. As soon as we’re divorced, he’ll no doubt marry a meek Qajarese woman with the right connections the first chance he gets.’

Aisha shook her head. ‘No, this cannot be true. I have seen you two together. I saw you during the coronation where Rashid’s eyes followed your every move. We all saw him watching you. I cannot believe he would let you go, now that he’s found you.’

Tora tried not to read too much into Aisha’s predictions. ‘He did ask me last night, to stay longer.’

Aisha smiled. ‘You see! It is happening already. Soon he will not be able to imagine living without you. Do you love him?’

And Tora looked away to escape from the other woman’s direct question and even more direct gaze. ‘I... I’m not sure. How do you know for sure if you love somebody?’

Aisha put a hand over her heart. ‘You feel it here, and—’ she touched her head ‘—you know it here and suddenly it consumes you and you need him with every fibre of your being. You know that without him, you can never be complete. And when you make love with the man you love, you are complete.’

Tora let go a breath she’d been holding.

Love.

That was how it had felt to her last night.

‘So,’ prompted Aisha. ‘Is it love?’

‘I think it is,’ she said, smiling at the flutter in her heart as she admitted it. ‘I think I’ve fallen in love with Rashid.’

‘So here you all are.’

Tora spun around at Zoltan’s voice, humiliated enough that he must have overheard her words, but no, it was worse than that, because there was Rashid, right beside him, and his eyes were as cold as the slabs of marble that lined the floor. She shivered from their impact as Zoltan leaned down and kissed his wife while the twins shrieked and came running to greet their father.

Tora looked away, busied herself looking anywhere but at Rashid and at those damning eyes.

Why would he be so angry, even if he’d overheard her? How could a few innocent words banish what they’d shared last night?

‘Have you had a good day?’ Zoltan asked, still leaning over his wife, their faces mere inches apart. That was love right there, thought Tora. Love in abundance.

‘The best,’ Aisha replied, aiming a conspiratorial smile towards Tora. ‘Just wait till I tell you.’

And a glance towards Rashid saw his eyes still locked on her, so cold and hard that she was almost sure she must have imagined last night in her dreams.

And if there was any love between her and Rashid, right now, it was one-sided. He stood in the terrace doorway looking as rigid and unmoving as if he’d been planted there and sent down roots.

‘Our plane is ready,’ Zoltan told his wife.

‘Already we must go?’ she said, smiling sadly in Tora’s direction. ‘It’s been so good to be here. So good to meet you.’ And she pulled Tora into a hug that felt bittersweet, because whatever her hopes and dreams, given the dark look on Rashid’s face, she had an uneasy feeling in her stomach that she would never see Aisha or the other desert wives again.

Tora went to Atiyah’s cradle, ready to take her inside, when Rashid suddenly stepped forward in her path. ‘No. Leave her. I will take my sister.’

And Tora’s gut clenched at the tone in his voice. Something was seriously wrong.



Aisha and Zoltan and the children were gone and Rashid must have spirited Atiyah off somewhere because she—along with Yousra—hadn’t made an appearance since she’d returned to the suite.

But what had she done between this morning and this afternoon to deserve such a cold-shouldering? Other than to be overheard saying that she loved him?

Even if she hadn’t intended blurting it out as she had, was that so serious a crime?

She sat down on the sofa and switched on her tablet. Maybe there would be some good news waiting for her, something to lighten this cloud of impending doom that she’d sensed in Rashid’s cold eyes.

There was an email from her cousin she groaned at but ignored—no doubt Matt wondering where the money was—because there was one from Sally that demanded her attention—one that had the subject header Prayers needed!

Feeling sick to the stomach, she opened it up and read its contents as the cloud of impending doom circling above her head rained its poison down on her.

Oh, my God—please, God, no!

And the news was so awful, so devastating, that she had to tell someone, had to share this burden. She ran to her door and pulled it open, confused when she found two palace guards waiting outside, blocking her exit. She swept tears from her cheeks as she asked, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘By order of the Emir,’ one proclaimed, ‘you must remain where you are. You are now a prisoner of Qajaran.’





CHAPTER FIFTEEN

TORA STOOD IN the centre of her suite, too uptight to sit, too frozen by fear to move. There were guards on the terrace, too, and behind the interconnecting door to Rashid’s suite. Guards everywhere, but why? On a day where it was sweltering outside, inside she felt chilled to the core.

Tora clutched at her goosebumped arms, her face still streaked with tears she’d shed in protest and shock at being arrested in a palace halfway around the world from her home.

A palace where nobody would ever find her, even if they knew where to come looking. And the vulnerability of her situation hit her. A lone woman, a long way from home, at the mercy of a man she’d thought she was beginning to understand—beginning to love.

Fool!

But what had she done to deserve being treated this way?

Nothing! She was sure of it.

She sniffed. She would make sure she told Rashid the same too.

A guard marched across the terrace in front of her windows. ‘I want to see Rashid!’ she called out.

The guard didn’t so much as twitch in response, just kept right on marching as if she hadn’t spoken.

‘I demand to see the Emir!’

Tora waited, her heart thumping so loud in her chest, but nothing changed. Nobody was listening.

Nobody cared.

And her grief and pain and confusion coiled together inside her like the smoke from a candle flame that had been extinguished, acrid and swirling, until a new emotion rose out of it.

Fury.

It turned her shock to resolve and her tears to ice, setting her jaw to aching tight and her fingernails clawing into her arms. So the guard wouldn’t tell Rashid she wanted to see him. So he wanted to make her wait. Well, let him. Because when he eventually arrived, she would be ready for him.



There was a thunder cloud hanging over him. Dark and threatening, it weighed heavily down upon him, blackening his world and poisoning his mood.

Tora.

He had not expected to be betrayed by her. Maybe at first he would have thought it possible. A woman picked up in a bar who coolly demanded a quarter of a million dollars when asked to name a price—why wouldn’t he expect a woman like that to want to take advantage of the situation?

But that would have been at first.

Because since that time she’d worked her way into his life and under his skin. Floating on the air as she seemed to do in her silk robes, displaying an insight into economic and social matters he hadn’t expected, telling him that he was strong.

And to top it all off, giving herself to him like a coronation gift, as if she were offering water to a man who’d been in the desert too long.

All the while it seemed she’d been scheming.

All the while waiting.

Well, now she could wait in her apartments. By the time he got to her, she would be a pathetic mess. She would apologise—profusely and with tears—and beg for his forgiveness, but there would be none. He would not fall for her ways again.

Why the hell was he waiting? He would tell her now. He stormed to his feet, upsetting a low table, and his anger went ballistic.

It was high time he told her.



Her door was flung open, and Tora held her breath. Rashid. At last!

He nodded to the guard who pulled the door shut, and then he looked grim-faced to where she stood in the middle of her room, her arms still crossed, her chin still high.