Lord of the Abyss & Desert Warrior (38 page)

“She is cold. She does not have your fire,” Tariq stated, as if it were a simple truth.

Jasmine’s eyes widened. “Do you really think so?”

“A man would be a fool to be captured by the glitter of false gold, overlooking the quiet, ageless beauty of purity.” He wasn’t looking at her and Jasmine didn’t know if his words were a compliment or merely a statement.

“Sarah never liked me. I don’t know why, but it hurt so much when I was younger. She’s my big sister and I wanted her to be my friend.”

Tariq was compelled to ease the bewildered pain in Jasmine’s voice. “She was jealous of you. I could see it when I first met her. As you grew older, you became competition, and Sarah is not one who would countenance such a thing.”

Jasmine snorted. “Thanks for the flattery, but I’m nowhere near her in the beauty stakes.”

He hugged her tightly. “Your fire burns not only in your hair but in your spirit. Your sister was aware that she would grow colder and colder until she felt nothing. She knew you would burn hotter with each passing year, your beauty growing apace with the unfurling of your wings.” He hadn’t meant to admit that much, wasn’t sure enough of Jasmine to show her that she was gaining a foothold in his heart.

“That’s the most wonderful thing anyone’s ever said to me.” The shimmering joy in her eyes soothed him. If letting Mina see that she mattered to him healed her hurts, then he would risk giving her this insight into his heart.

“Your sister…what is the word?…propositioned me, after I had made my interest in you clear.” He frowned at the memory. “She placed her fingers on my chest.”

Jasmine’s eyes widened. “No.”

“I found it distasteful. I simply removed her hand.” Implicit was the fact that he’d chosen her over Sarah.

Jasmine remained silent for a moment, mulling over that information. It put a new slant on Sarah’s utter viciousness while Tariq had been in New Zealand. She’d known that Sarah wanted Tariq, but not that he’d rejected her advances.

“Tell me the rest, Mina.”

Still unsettled, she continued, needing him to know. Needing him to love her despite her flaws. “Because of Sarah and how my parents always took her side, I never felt like I fit there. Then there were Michael and Matthew.”

“Your brothers hurt you?” Tariq’s dangerously calm voice startled her.

“Oh, no. Michael’s a certified genius. He’s older than me, and spent most of his life in his lab or with his head in his books. He was kind to me when he remembered my existence. Matthew’s just turned twenty-one. We were born…” she paused “…over a year apart. Matthew is the baby of the family. He’s also a natural athlete. He’s been studying in the United States on a football scholarship for the past three years.”

“I don’t see what you’re trying to say.” Tariq turned her around. She saw the frown on his face and knew that he was telling the truth.

“I was so ordinary.” Even now, her childish fear that he’d begin to treat her as her family had lay like a malevolent shadow over her heart. “I sort of got lost among those three and their brilliance. I was just…me.”

“Even in a crowd of a million people, Mina, you would stand out. I saw you with your family that first time and I saw only you.” His voice was quiet but the words roared through her. “Your family did not appreciate your worth. It is good you came to me.” With that, he folded her in his arms and dropped a kiss on her hair.

Seduced by his unexpected gentleness, she almost told him again that she loved him, but the part of her that needed so badly to be loved in return stopped her. She couldn’t bear it if he ignored her, or worse, looked at her with puzzlement, because that was clearly not the nature of their relationship. As they stood there watching the sun set, a vague sense of impending wrongness worried her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was going to lose Tariq.

However, as busy days drifted into sultry nights, her fears seemed to grow groundless and without substance, as airy as the desert wind. She convinced herself that she’d been imagining things, and stopped looking over her shoulder.

D
AYS LATER, DRESSED IN AN
ankle-length dress of pale green, her arms covered by full sleeves cuffed at the wrist, Jasmine circulated among Zulheil’s people in the palace gardens, bathed in the fading evening light.

“Jasmine al eha Sheik.” A touch on her elbow halted her.

She turned to smile at the elderly woman who’d stopped her. Absently, she made a note to ask Mumtaz exactly what the address meant. More than one person had greeted her that way this day. “Hello.” She attempted Zulheil’s native language.

The old woman’s wrinkled face lit up. “You speak the language of Zulheil?” she asked in the same tongue.

Haltingly, Jasmine answered. “I try but…I am slow.”

The woman patted her on the arm with the warm familiarity that the people of Zulheil seemed to feel toward their rulers. It was as if they were considered part of every single family in the land. She found the easy acceptance wonderful.

“You are of Zulheil. Soon you will speak the language well. My name is Haleah and I come from the farthest corner of Zulheil.”

“A long journey.”

Haleah nodded and fixed her with a shrewd eye. “I was sent to look at the new sheik’s wife by the chieftain of our tribe.”

Jasmine knew from her visit to Zeina that Zulheil’s system of government was made up of a number of chieftains who exercised local power. In turn, they’d sworn allegiance to their sheik and followed his dictates with unswerving loyalty and even fiercer dedication.

“And what will…you tell…them?” She continued to speak in the beautiful lilting language of her sheik’s land, not discomfited by learning the reason for Haleah’s presence. For the past month, she’d been on the receiving end of such scrutiny from a number of messengers.

Haleah gave her a slow smile. “I will say that you have hair like fire and eyes like the blue of the sea on our coast. I will say your heart is open and that you will love our people as you love our sheik.”

Jasmine’s composure fractured. “I…thank you.”

Haleah squeezed her arm. “No. I bring you the gratitude of my tribe for making our sheik feel happiness again. The sadness in his heart was felt keenly by all.”

Jasmine bent and accepted the kiss on her cheek. Haleah moved away with a wave, heading for the car that would take her back to her lodgings and then to her home.

A tug on her arm brought Jasmine around to face Mumtaz.

“As your advisor, I have some information.” Mumtaz’s eyes held an amused look.

“Spit it out,” Jasmine said, easy in the presence of this woman who’d become her closest friend.

“Keep your eye on that one.” Mumtaz nodded discreetly toward an exotically beautiful woman.

“Why?” Jasmine hadn’t talked to the woman, but had
admired the way she managed to dress demurely yet still look sexy.

“Hira’s family is the most powerful one in Abraz and they wished for her to become Tariq’s wife. She was also happy with the idea. Then you came. It does not hurt to know those who might bear you grudges.” Mumtaz raised her brows and blended back into the gathering.

Though her confidence had grown since her marriage, Jasmine found it a shock to come face-to-face with her competition.

He’ll forget you the minute some glamourpuss princess comes along.

Like a bad dream, her sister’s contemptuous laughter whispered out of nowhere, perfectly describing Hira’s lush sensuality. That same voice taunted that with women as stunning as Hira around, it was a wonder Tariq had married her at all. Love was a fool’s dream. Jasmine gritted her teeth and fought off the ghosts. Tariq had married
her
and he wasn’t a man who felt lightly.

T
ARIQ WATCHED
J
ASMINE MOVE
about the garden. Her smile was bright and her grace unique. She was at home among his people, a confident woman, sure of herself. No hint remained of the needy child-woman who’d hurt him so badly that he’d had to return to his homeland to heal.

After her emotional confession, he’d made sure that she understood that she was accepted without question or hesitation. It had taken time, but his reward for patience had been seeing her faltering smile grow in brilliance. He was fascinated by her gentle blooming. Four years ago, she’d been a barely open bud who’d been badly mishandled, even by him. It was a hard thing to acknowledge,
but he did it with the same ruthless honesty that made him a good leader.

He’d been older and emotionally far stronger. His wife’s family had not nurtured the fragile confidence of his Jasmine, and as a result, she’d been easily bruised. He’d put pressure on a vulnerable eighteen-year-old to choose him against her family—an unfair choice. He could understand that child-woman’s fears when faced with his arrogant demands, and even forgive her for the choice she’d made. And yet he couldn’t deny that he still needed her to choose to fight for him, needed her to love him so much that fighting for him was the only choice she’d ever make.

The last time the choice had had to be made, her family had used her powerful need for acceptance to emotionally beat her into submission. Seeing this new Mina, he couldn’t help but wonder whether, if the choice had to be made again, she’d stand firm and refuse to give him up.

Could it be so simple? The difference between the weakness of a child and the gentle strength of a woman? Perhaps he could chance trusting this lovely woman. This woman who quite simply took his breath away.

He planned to go to Sydney in a week, and this time, he decided, he wouldn’t leave Mina behind. The woman his Jasmine had grown into deserved to be free. And she deserved his trust.

Seeing that she was having a quiet moment by the small reflection pool in the corner, he strode toward her.

“W
HY SO QUIET, MY
J
ASMINE
?” Tariq’s question was whispered against her ear.

“I’m amazed each time I realize that your people have
accepted me.” It was neither a lie nor the whole truth. Haleah’s words had made her wonder just how obvious her love for Tariq was. If his people could see it, why couldn’t her husband?

The pensive look in his green eyes gentled. “You are my wife. There was never any question.” He touched her lower back. “Now, tell me what is truly on your mind.”

His perception startled her. “Hira.”

His brows rose. “One of my advisors needs to learn discretion.”

“She’s my advisor now, thank you very much,” Jasmine retorted. “I appreciate being in the know.”

Tariq’s eyes glinted with male amusement. “Gossip, you mean.”

“Essential information.” She smiled in return. “So?”

“How can women say so much in one word?” He squeezed her when she opened her mouth. “Hira’s family wished a political match. I didn’t.”

The practicality of his words calmed Jasmine. “She’s very beautiful.”

“Beautiful women cause men only trouble.” His eyes lingered on her, but it was the tenderness of his tone that made her heart stop beating.

Touched by the subtle compliment, she did something she rarely indulged in, unsure how Tariq would react. Reaching up on tiptoe, she dropped a quick kiss on the corner of his lips. “Ditto for outrageously handsome men.”

His surprised laugh drew all eyes their way, bringing smiles to the faces of their audience. However, the royal couple weren’t disturbed.

“What does Jasmine al eha Sheik mean?” she asked,
since she had him to herself for a few minutes, and the hand curved over her hip told her he was quite happy to be there.

Tariq’s smile held an unusual hint of mischief. “You will not like it, my independent little wife.”

She tilted her head to the side, struck by his tone. Unless she prompted him, her husband was rarely so playful. “What?”

“The literal translation is ‘Jasmine who belongs to the sheik.’ The sheik’s Jasmine. They know you’re mine.”

She smiled and shook her head. “They are as bad as you.”

He shrugged, unrepentant. “It is an address of honor. If they had not liked you, they would have called you this.” He rattled off an unfamiliar phrase.

“What does that mean?”

“It means, ‘One who is married to the sheik.’”

She frowned. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Strictly speaking, it is respectful, but if a sheik’s wife is addressed as such, the people do not believe that she is the one who should stand by their ruler’s side.”

“How strange. Does that mean you’re Sheik al eha Jasmine?”

Tariq grinned but didn’t get a chance to answer, because at that moment, a couple interrupted them to say their farewells. Kanayal and Mezhael were ambassadors from another corner of Zulheil.

“I wish you good journey.” Tariq’s demeanor underwent a subtle change. He remained warm and approachable, but the mantle of authority settled around him like an invisible cloak. It made Jasmine aware of just how different he was with her when they were alone.

Kanayal bowed at the waist, approval on his face. Mezhael clasped her hands together and bent her head in respect.

“We will go back to Razarah with joyful news for our tribe.” Kanayal’s eyes rested briefly on Jasmine. “I will tell them of sunsets and blue skies.”

“All is well in Razarah?”

Jasmine knew that Tariq’s question was more an issue of protocol than real inquiry. This afternoon, when the ambassadors had arrived, they’d both been invited to a private meal with Tariq. Her husband had insisted that Jasmine attend, telling her that he valued her intuitive insights.

Kanayal’s hazel eyes were warm. “All is well in Razarah.”

“As always, you will be in our prayers.” Mezhael’s eyes met hers. “Jasmine al eha Sheik, I will sing for you.”

Not understanding the undercurrent in Mezhael’s statement, Jasmine nevertheless knew that it was offered as a compliment. She inclined her head, imitating Tariq’s regal action without conscious thought. “Thank you. I wish you good journey.”

When they left, Jasmine saw that they’d been the last guests. The others had drifted out, happy to communicate their goodbyes through Hiraz, Mumtaz or the other advisors scattered around.