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The Sheikh's Prize(22)

By:Lynne Graham

       
           



       

'It's been a long day and it is after midnight,' Zahir conceded wryly. 'But first there's something I'd like to tell you.'

Alert to the guarded note in his dark deep drawl, Saffy felt her   adrenalin start to pump. The jet took off and drinks were served. She   undid her belt, let the stewardess show her into the sleeping   compartment where she freshened up, and then she rejoined Zahir, made   herself comfortable and sipped her fresh orange juice. 'So?' she   prompted quietly, proud of her patience and self-discipline while she   wondered what he had to unveil. 'What is it?'

Zahir straightened his broad shoulders and settled hard dark eyes on her   without flinching. 'I've bought the Desert Ice cosmetics company.'





CHAPTER EIGHT



SAFFY BLINKED IN astonishment, for of all the many surprises she had   thought Zahir might want to disclose that one staggering confession had   not figured. She set down her glass and stood up, her mind in a bemused   fog. 'You bought the company? But why? Why the heck would you do  that?'

'It was a good investment.' Zahir loosed a sardonic laugh that bluntly   dismissed that explanation. 'But I bought it only for your benefit. I   knew the company had a cast-iron contract with you and I didn't want   anyone putting pressure on you while you were pregnant.'

Eyes slowly widening, Saffy stared back at him in rampant disbelief,   while she wondered what strings he had pulled to learn the contract   terms she had been on with the company. 'I can't believe that you would   interfere in my career to that extent!' she admitted in stunned   disbelief, anger steadily gathering below the surface of that initial   reaction. 'Nobody was putting pressure on me at the meeting I attended   with their campaign manager this week.'

Cynicism hardened Zahir's expressive mouth, making him look   inexpressibly tough in a way far different from the younger man she   remembered. It was a look that was hard, weathered and unapologetic and   she refused to be intimidated by it. 'Naturally not. By that time, I  was  the new owner, so of course there was no pressure. They can film  your  face as much as they like while you're pregnant but they'll be  doing it  in Maraban.'

'In...Maraban?' Saffy parroted as though he had suggested somewhere as remote as the moon.

'I don't want you forced to travel thousands of miles round the globe   now that you're pregnant. It would be too stressful for you.'

'And what would you know about that?' Saffy demanded hotly. 'What do you know about what a pregnant woman needs?'

'I don't want you exhausted,' Zahir asserted grimly. 'I appreciate that   the baby is a development that wasn't planned or, indeed, expected, but   adjustments have to be made to your working schedule.'

'You're not the boss of me!' Saffy hissed back at him in helpless   outrage. 'You know, the one phrase I heard you speak most clearly was,   "I don't want..." This is about you, your need to clip my wings and   control me. Isn't it enough that I married you? What about what I want?   What about what I need? This isn't all about you!'

'I'm not trying to control you.' Eyes now smouldering with anger, Zahir   gazed back at her, his hard jaw line set at an unyielding angle. 'But   the security needs alone that are now required to ensure your safety   would be impossible to maintain in some of the exotic locations where   you have recently travelled.'

'I don't have security needs!' Saffy flung at him in a bitterly   aggrieved tone of fury. 'It's taken me five years to build my career and   I didn't get where I am by being difficult!'

Zahir didn't bat a single absurdly long eyelash. He stared steadily back   at her, those twin black fringes round his remarkable eyes merely   adding to the intensity of his scrutiny. 'As my wife, you have security   needs. Just as I could be a target, you could be as well. I will not   allow your headstrong spirit to tempt you into taking unnecessary risks.   This is not about your career. This is about you accepting that your   new status will demand lifestyle changes. You are no longer Sapphire   Marshall, you are a queen.'

'I don't want to be a queen!' Saffy sobbed in a passionate rage at the   logic he was firing at her. Memories were flooding back to her of   long-buried quarrels during which she had raged while Zahir shot down   her every argument with murderous logic and practicality. 'You never   told me that. I just thought I'd be your wife, your consort, your plus   one or whatever you want to call it!'                       
       
           



       

'The last queen was my mother, who died when my younger brother was   born,' Zahir commented grimly. 'It is time you saw sense. You can't have   thought you could marry me and ignore who and what I am.'

Saffy was so worked up she wanted to scream. Over the past week she had   thought of many, many things, like dresses and wedding breakfasts and   guest lists and babies, but not once had she pondered her future status   in Maraban. In fact she hadn't wanted to think about Maraban at all   because once she had been very unhappy there.

'I didn't think about it,' Saffy muttered in indignation, furious with   him, wondering in a rage how on earth he had broken the news about the   Desert Ice company and then contrived to roll over his indefensible   interference in her career to put her on the defensive with the news   that she was apparently a queen. 'I don't want to be a queen. I'm sure   I'm not cut out for it. In fact I bet I'm totally unsuitable to be   royal.'

'With that attitude you probably will be,' Zahir shot back at her with   derision. 'I think you tried harder at eighteen to fit in than you are   willing to try now as an adult.'

Saffy's lush mouth dropped open as temper exploded in her like a   grenade. 'I was a doormat at eighteen, a total stupid doormat! I wanted   to please you. I wanted to please your family. I was so busy trying to   be something I'm not-and getting no thanks for it! I had no space to be   me!'

'Times have changed. Maraban has been transformed and brought into the   twenty-first century. But I have changed as well,' Zahir breathed on a   taut warning note, his gaze burning gold in its force. 'I will tell you   now how things are and I won't keep secrets from you again.'

'Secrets?' Saffy shot back at him jaggedly, entrapped by that one word   of admission, her nervous tension seizing on it. 'What secrets?'

'Five years ago, I kept a lot from you in an attempt to protect you. I   didn't want to hurt you but this time I will employ no lies and no   half-truths. I will tell it like it is...'

Other women, Saffy was thinking in despair, a sharp wounding pain   piercing her somewhere in the chest region. What else could he be   talking about? When he had found no satisfaction in the marital bedroom   he had gone elsewhere. Maybe out to that remote desert palace where his   late father had kept his personal harem, very discreet. Hey, Saffy,  you  dummy, a little voice piped up at the back of her mind...maybe he  wasn't  on army manoeuvres all those times he was gone. Maybe he was off  the  leash having fun, the kind of fun you couldn't give him then. And  what  shook Saffy most at that moment was that instead of confronting  him on  that score and demanding an explanation, she instead wanted to  stay  silent and withdraw, conserve some dignity, protect herself from  painful  revelations that she did not at that moment feel strong enough  to bear.  Every atom of ESP she possessed urged her to leave the past  where it  belonged.

Saffy lifted her golden head. 'I'm tired. I'm going to bed but thanks   for making our wedding night almost as dreadful as the first we had,'   she murmured with stinging scorn.

And she saw right then in his lean darkly handsome face that he had   forgotten it was their wedding night. And really that said it all,   didn't it? She had already travelled from being the object of intense   desire to being the pregnant wife, apparently shorn of attraction.

Zahir gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to talk back to her in a   similar vein. Had she really thought he would stage their wedding night   on a plane when she was exhausted and already under strain from all the   challenges of the past weeks? He suffered a hollow sensation of horror   even recalling that first catastrophic wedding night, her sickness,  fear  and distress, his own incomprehension and sense of defeat. She had  been  too young, far too young and naïve at eighteen, he knew that now.  Guilt  assailed him as Saffy ducked into the cabin, her lovely face  taut and  pale awakening memories he would have done anything to avoid.  So much  for honesty, so much for trying to clear the air, he reflected  bitterly.