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‘Because they interviewed one of my former lovers and she said I’d been a gentleman throughout our relationship.’ He spoke matter-of-factly but Olivia still flushed. One of my former lovers. Images, provocative and craven images, danced through her head.
‘And what did she mean, you’d been a gentleman?’
He turned to her with a gently mocking smile. ‘So curious, Olivia.’
‘Maybe I am,’ she answered boldly. ‘Maybe I can’t understand how “gentleman” and “playboy” go together.’
‘It’s simple. Just choose women who don’t want anything from you but sex.’ As he spoke his voice hardened. He turned away, leaving Olivia even more curious.
‘Isn’t that all you’ve wanted?’ she asked after a moment. It certainly seemed as if it had been, judging from his many casual affairs she’d witnessed over the years.
‘Yes, of course it is. How could I ever want anything more?’ There was something mocking and bitter about his words, his voice, and Olivia didn’t understand it. By his own admission he’d chosen his lifestyle; he didn’t want serious relationships... Yet in that moment she wondered if at least part of him did.
Just as part of her did—that awake, alive part of her that was now clamouring for more.
‘We should look at these flowers,’ Aziz said, his good humour clearly and purposefully restored. He tugged her along by the hand. ‘I’ll have to say something about them when we leave the garden.’
That moment of intensity broken, Olivia gazed round at the unfamiliar shrubs and blooms. The placards indicating what everything was were in both English and Arabic, and she stepped closer to read one.
‘This is certainly beautiful,’ she said, indicating a deep red, overblown rose. ‘How do you say “beautiful” in Arabic?’
‘Jameel,’ Aziz said quietly, and when she turned she saw he was staring right at her, with the same intent look as before, only more so. There was more heat in his gaze. More obvious, unashamed desire.
Her heart started to thud. Her body swayed. She wanted him to kiss her, wanted it so badly her body shook. She wondered, distantly, if he could see how she trembled.
‘Let’s walk,’ Aziz said, his voice thick. Taking her by the elbow, he led her along the twisting walkways, vibrant blooms and bushes on either side of them.
Another intense moment had been thankfully broken, but Olivia couldn’t keep the ache of want from pulsing insistently through her.
‘What will you do as Sheikh?’ she asked when they were deep in the heart of the garden, the sounds of the city having long faded away. Time to be sensible and have a normal conversation. ‘I mean, what do you want to do? What do you hope to accomplish?’
‘That’s a good question.’ Aziz walked alongside her for a few moments, his contemplative gaze on the path in front of them. ‘I told you before that I wanted to be a good ruler—an honest and fair one.’ He glanced up at her with a wry smile that also seemed a little vulnerable. ‘Which is ridiculous, I know, considering the lie I’ve ensnared us both in now when I’ve barely started my rule.’
Olivia didn’t reply. She might not like the charade she’d got involved in, but she understood now how Aziz had been driven to it. And who was she, really, to talk about secrets and lies? She’d been harbouring both for ten years. ‘I understand why you’ve done what you did,’ she said. ‘Desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose.’
‘Yes, I suppose they do. But I hope I’ll be able to put all this behind me. I want to bring Kadar into the twenty-first century in so many ways.’ She heard a raw note of passion and purpose enter his voice, fuelling it. ‘I want to give women more rights and I want to nationalise healthcare and bring more international business and trade to Siyad.’ He let out a rueful laugh. ‘And now I’m really sounding ridiculous.’
‘No, you’re not. Those are all admirable things.’
‘And how do you suppose I will accomplish them?’ Aziz stopped and stared up at the hard, blue sky. ‘The people might never accept me as Sheikh.’
‘You say that, but I don’t see why they wouldn’t, in time. They certainly loved you out there.’ She swept an arm back towards the garden gates.
‘They loved the idea of my marriage, which might not even happen. I’m supposed to marry tomorrow and I’m no closer to finding Elena.’
She put her hands on her hips. ‘What do you want, Aziz? Do you want people to fall at your feet? Work with what you have. Go out to the desert tribes and visit them. Talk to them. You can do it.’ She stepped closer to him and heard the raw passion in her own voice. ‘You already are doing it, even if you don’t realise it. You were natural out there with everyone, chatting and laughing and listening. People like your sincerity, not that you’re some sophisticated playboy. The people of Siyad want a leader who listens and the people of the desert will want it too.’
He turned to look at her, almost seeming surprised by her impassioned speech. Olivia realised she had sounded rather fierce, but that was because she believed what she’d said. She believed in Aziz.
‘You sound like my school matron, back when I was sent to boarding school when I was seven,’ he said ruefully. ‘She told me to stop snivelling too.’
‘I didn’t tell you to stop snivelling,’ Olivia protested.
‘No, you didn’t. You said some very nice things, Olivia, and I thank you for them.’
‘It wasn’t just flattery. I meant it.’
For a moment he looked truly touched and at a loss for words. Olivia felt her throat close up with answering emotion. Aziz nodded once. ‘Thank you,’ he said simply.
They walked for a little longer, listening to the birds twittering in the trees above them, the silence between them companionable rather than tense.
‘So, your turn,’ Aziz finally said. ‘You gave me a another pep talk. I can give you one.’
‘I don’t need one.’
‘Don’t you?’ He turned to her with far too much perception in his silvery gaze. ‘Why have you hidden yourself away for so long, Olivia? What sadness is tying you to the past so you feel you can’t have a future?’
‘It’s not like that,’ she began feebly and he shook his head.
‘Why else would a lovely young woman like you hide herself in an empty house, tidying rooms that hardly anyone ever sees? That’s not what you want to do with your life, Olivia. It’s not who you want to be.’
‘You don’t know anything about it,’ she began, and Aziz took a step towards her, his expression suddenly fierce.
‘Then tell me.’
‘We were talking about you.’
‘And now we’re talking about you. Why do you hide from life, Olivia? What happened to make you so afraid?’
‘I’m not afraid,’ she protested. ‘It’s just...easier this way.’
‘Why?’
She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. ‘I lost someone,’ she finally said, and her voice sounded strange and distant. ‘Someone who was incredibly—incredibly—’ She stopped, her throat so tight she couldn’t get any more words out. She never talked about Daniel. ‘Important to me,’ she finally managed. ‘And when you lose someone like that... Well, it keeps you from trying ever again. It keeps you from feeling like you could try, even if you wanted to.’
She couldn’t look at Aziz, not without crying, which was something she had absolutely no intention of doing. But she could feel him looking at her, felt his hand skim her cheek, slide under her veil. ‘Did you love him very much?’ he asked quietly, and she knew he thought she was talking about a man. A lover.
‘I loved him more than life itself,’ she answered, because to say anything else would be a betrayal of Daniel and she’d already betrayed him once. She wouldn’t again. ‘I still love him and I always will.’
Aziz’s fingers lingered against her face and Olivia resisted the urge to lean into his hand, to take comfort from his caress. ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ he said, and Olivia managed a trembling smile.
‘It was a long time ago.’
‘Even so.’ His hand was still on her face and Olivia risked a glance upwards. The sympathy and kindness she saw in his eyes felt like a blow to the chest, to the heart.
‘Aziz,’ she whispered, although she didn’t know why she’d said his name, what she was asking him for.
But Aziz must have, for his eyes darkened and his hand tightened against her cheek as he lowered her veil and brushed his thumb over her lower lip. He took a step closer to her so she could feel the heat of his body, could inhale the dizzying scent of his aftershave.
‘Olivia...’ he said softly, and the way he said her name made those newly wakened parts of her surge and ache. Demand.
And then somehow—Olivia didn’t know who moved first—he was kissing her. She was kissing him. And it felt incredibly tender, wonderfully sweet, finally to be touching him as she’d wanted to for what felt like for ever. To have him touch her.
His lips moved over hers and her nails dug into his shoulders as she pressed closer to him. Sweetness gave way to urgency, a sudden, overwhelming need clawing its way out of her.
