The Sultan's Choice (7 page)

She shook her head. ‘I’m not teasing. Trust me.’

His face was suddenly all harsh lines and angles. ‘So that little performance out there in front of the mirror was real? Are you going to tell me who was the one who made you so averse to looking at your own reflection?’

Ice entered Samia’s veins. He was digging too deep, too fast. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She felt as if her skin was being pulled back so all of her insecurities were laid bare. ‘I wouldn’t know how to tease my way out of a paper bag, and I never could act.’

She stood up with as much grace as she could muster and watched the way his eyes dropped to the level of her breasts before returning slowly to her face.
You’re the tease!
She wanted to shout at him.

‘It’s been a long day, so if you don’t mind I’ll retire for the night.’
Brilliant. Now she sounded like a Victorian heroine.

Sadiq stood too, and inclined his head. He looked huge on the other side of the table. ‘By all means—be my guest. The car will pick you up at 10:00 a.m. tomorrow. I’m afraid I won’t be here for breakfast as I’ve got an important conference call to take with my ministers in the morning. It’ll run into a few hours. But I’ll see you for dinner tomorrow evening.’

The following day Samia was grateful for the chance to lie horizontal while she had her eyelashes tinted. She’d hardly slept a wink after that conversation with Sadiq, and now she’d had the wedding dress fitting and had then deposited in this opluent beauty salon just off the Champs-Elysées, with Simone issuing a stream of incomprehensible instructions to the team of therapists assigned to her. For someone who’d never had a facial or a massage in her life, the whole experience was a little scary—if faintly pleasurable.

She wondered how many of his women had been brought to the same place, and couldn’t stop a dart of something that felt awfully like jealousy from spiking in the pit of her belly.

One day in the library last week, when the others had been on a lunch break, Samia—much to her everlasting shame—had looked up archived newspaper reports about Sadiq. Of all of the women with whom he’d been associated just one name had popped up more than once, and it belonged to a well-known and beautiful European socialite. Their on/off affair seemed to stretch back to when Sadiq had been quite young, and immediately warning bells had gone off in Samia’s head.

She’d witnessed her own brother change for ever and become hard after a love affair gone wrong when he was nineteen. She knew exactly how men like her brother and Sadiq could shut themselves off after feeling exposed. That memory of Sadiq in the library of the Hussein castle had taken on new significance.

A relatively recent photo of Sadiq with the same woman had said more than words ever could. They were entering an exclusive hotel in Paris and Sadiq was looking down into her perfect face. The intensity of his expression alone told Samia that if this man had once had a heart, it was long lost by now.

That evening, after their dinner had been cleared away, Samia looked at Sadiq and tried not to notice the fact that he looked tired.

In a bid to distract him from sensing her concern, she blurted out, ‘How will this marriage be?’ He frowned slightly, and Samia cursed herself. ‘What I mean is … are you going to keep mistresses on the side?’ She stuck out her chin. ‘Because I won’t stand for that. I won’t be publicly ridiculed.’

Samia was surprised at the vehemence in her voice. Clearly she’d gone from assuming he would have to take a lover to stay satisfied to rejecting the notion with every cell in her body. The picture of him with that woman was burning a hole in her brain.

Sadiq smiled, and it was mocking enough to make Samia want to slap him.

‘First of all, I’ve never had
mistresses.
I’m a one-woman man. At a time.’

Samia cringed. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘I don’t currently have a mistress, as I would see it as incredibly bad taste to get engaged while entertaining another woman. And, contrary to what some people may expect—clearly all the gossips
you
were listening to—I have every intention of being a faithful husband.’

Samia flushed and said defensively. ‘I wasn’t listening to gossips … It’s not exactly a secret that you’ve had plenty of … lovers.’

A look of distaste flashed across Sadiq’s face. ‘My own father paraded his mistresses in front of my mother, and I always vowed not to disrespect a wife like that. It turned my mother into a recluse.’

A wife.
So impersonal. Did he regard her as just
a wife?
As if she even needed that question answered. Of course he did. And why did that suddenly not feel okay to her?

Wanting to avoid that line of questions and answers, she asked, ‘You didn’t get on with your father?’

Sadiq’s mouth twisted and he looked at her coolly, some
indefinable emotion flashing across his face. ‘Not exactly, no. He was an angry man for much of the time, for various reasons. And he took that anger out on my mother—and me—when it suited him.’

Samia had an immediate sense of a small boy being neglected and hated, and her heart contracted at that image. She wondered if that anger had ever turned physical. She’d got used to avoiding her stepmother’s free hands and could sense that Sadiq too had become adept at getting out of harm’s way. This hint of vulnerability was making all sorts of flutters take off in Samia’s belly, and she longed to ask him more, but couldn’t. He was already looking as if he regretted saying anything, and she was just beginning to realise how little he revealed of himself at all.

‘Does your mother live with you?’

Sadiq nodded. ‘She has her own quarters in the castle. You’ll meet her when you come to B’harani before the wedding to settle in.’

Samia’s belly tensed. Her eyes darted away from his intense gaze. That blue that seemed to sear right through her. She fiddled with the ring on her wedding finger, unused to its heavy weight.

‘What if …?’ She trailed off. What Samia really wanted to ask was what if she didn’t please him in bed? How could he honestly say then that he wouldn’t take a mistress? But instead she said, ‘What if we have problems with children … getting pregnant?’

‘Then I would divorce you and marry again.’

The speed of his response and its stark finality made Samia look at him again. Her mouth opened and shut. She was not sure at all how she felt about that, and was not liking the feeling. Finally she got out, ‘What if it’s
you
that has the problem?’

He smiled tightly. ‘It won’t be me.’

His insufferable arrogance made Samia sit up straight in her seat. ‘Well, of course it could be you. Not even you can tell the future. You might be the Sultan but—’

‘I
know.’
He cut her off. ‘I’ve had medical tests and there’s no evidence that there should be problems.’

Samia’s mouth closed. ‘But … why would you doubt your ability to have children?’

Sadiq sat back in his seat and a muscle twitched in his jaw. ‘When you tell me who it was that nurtured your lack of confidence, and why you can’t look at yourself in the mirror, then I’ll tell you why I believed it necessary to get checked out.’

Stalemate. No way was Samia going to open herself up to his pity and mockery.

He was grim. ‘I didn’t think so.’ He stood up then and loomed tall across the table. ‘I have business to attend to in my study, if you’ll excuse me?’

Samia half stood too, her mind whirling. He sounded accusatory, as if angry with her for bringing up these issues. ‘Of course …’

He stopped at the door and turned back. ‘When we arrive in London in the morning we’re going to give a press conference to announce the marriage, so wear something suitable.’ His mouth quirked as he obviously saw the terror dawn on Samia’s face. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll do the talking. You just have to stand there and look like you’re not walking the plank.’

As they stood in front of the world’s media the next morning, Sadiq’s arm was tight around Samia’s waist. She was tucked in to his side and tense enough to crack. Cameras flashed and questions were hurled out in about five different languages. Sadiq of course replied in kind, and with him
by her side, she had to admit that this wasn’t half as scary as she’d feared.

She’d be eternally grateful that Simone had called to the house that morning to drop off some photos of suggestions for accessories for the wedding. She had helped Samia pick out an outfit, and now she was wearing a plain shift dress in dark blue with a matching jacket.

Her hair was down after Sadiq had given her an express look on the private jet and said succintly, ‘Either you take it down, or I will. The hairdresser was told to leave it alone for a reason.’

To her utter relief Samia heard Sadiq announce that he would take a final question, and then a cheeky Cockney voice piped up from the back. ‘Give her a kiss, will you?’

Samia hadn’t really registered what he’d said until she was being turned into Sadiq’s body and his hands were on her arms. He was smiling down at her, a sardonic expression on his face. ‘They’re looking for a public display of affection—think you can manage it?’

Samia gulped and wanted to shake her head and say no, because suddenly standing in front of a baying pack of news-hounds was far less threatening than the fact that Sadiq’s head was coming closer and closer and she couldn’t move.

In that moment Sadiq thought how ironic it was as someone who’d never previously relished any kind of PDA, he found that he couldn’t wait to kiss this woman, despite the wall of media just feet away. He pulled her into his body and knew that surprise was making her more malleable. She felt so delicate, so
small,
and instinctively he curved around her as if to protect her. She was looking up at him like a deer caught in the headlights, eyes huge.

Anticipation lasered through his veins like a shot of adrenalin, and the first taste of her mouth against his was so impossibly sweet that he groaned softly. Her lips were as soft
as he’d imagined they would be. The room and all the people faded into the background as he slid his arms around her back to arch her into him even more.

He felt her hands cling on to the lapels of his jacket, but he was drowning in the sweet nectar of possibly one of the most chaste kisses he’d ever experienced. It was having anything but a chaste effect on his body—especially when he could feel the firm swells of Samia’s breasts pressed into his chest.

Everything was tightening and hardening, and he knew he had to stop and pull back, try and regain some sanity. But just at that moment Samia opened her mouth. He felt the tentative touch of her tongue to his and his brain went red-hot.

It was a long second before Samia realised that Sadiq had stopped kissing her and was practically pushing her back from him, hands on her arms. She felt dizzy and disorientated and her lips were tingling. Catcalls and whistles brought her back to earth, though, and with her face flaming she let Sadiq usher her off the temporary dais and out to the waiting car. Her legs were wobbly and she prayed she would stay upright.

He handed her in to the car, but didn’t follow. He was stooping at the door, looking in, and Samia felt bewildered and curiously emotional. It was as if an earthquake had just happened. But Sadiq looked so cool she wondered for a minute if they had even kissed.

His voice was as cool as he looked. ‘I’m staying here to take a flight to Al-Omar. I have to return to take care of government business—I’ve been gone too long. You’ll be well protected in the meantime, and I’ll see you in two weeks.’

Samia looked at the harshly beautiful face, the pristine suit and tie, her eyes glittering. Every inch of him was the stupendously powerful ruler who had taken care of sorting out a convenient wife. He’d come into her life like a whirlwind,
upending everything, and now he was leaving just as suddenly.

To avoid having him see the sudden confusion she was feeling written all over her face, she said, ‘Okay …’ and turned to face the front. As if she was absolutely unmoved by that kiss, and not feeling suspiciously
bereft!

‘I trust you’ll have enough time to get your affairs in order?’

Samia swallowed back the lurch of emotion that came from somewhere scary. He was making it sound as if she was going to die. And
was
she going to die a kind of death? Even as she thought that she could feel the blood pumping through her veins, making a mockery of her thoughts. She’d never felt
more
alive than in this moment. Not even when she’d battled the ocean on that boat.

Aware of Sadiq waiting for a response, she vigorously nodded her head. ‘Yes. It’ll be fine.’ She just wanted to be gone—away from his intense regard and those all-seeing eyes.

After an infinitesimal moment the door shut, and then the car was moving and she was being driven away from the tall figure. Samia didn’t turn around to look at Sadiq, so she didn’t see how long he stood there—long after the car had disappeared.

The shockwave that had gone through her body when Sadiq’s mouth had touched hers was still there. His effect on her had been nothing short of cataclysmic, but she could imagine just how mind-numbingly unerotic that kiss must have been for him. How could it have been anything else? She remembered the way it had taken her a second to come to her senses, only to realise that he was all but prising her off him. And in front of the world’s media.

Samia’s emotions were all over the place. Up till now they’d been pretty straightforward: she had agreed to this
marriage because quite simply she knew she had a responsibility and a destiny to fulfil. Except now … something had shifted inside her. Something had given way, and in its place were
emotions
and feelings. And that kiss hadn’t helped one bit. It had put those emotions right to the forefront. The kiss had made the desire she’d been trying to deny rise up, and now it would not be suppressed again.

In the past couple of days she’d seen chinks in the cool armour the Sultan wore so well. It had been easy to think of him as just a ruthless, cynical man, determined to get his own way. But she now knew—or at least suspected—that he’d once been in love. She knew that he’d had a less than perfect relationship with his father. He’d grown up alone, with no brothers or sisters. Despite the pain her stepmother had caused her, Samia wouldn’t have survived without her brother and sisters.