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Cressida frowned. ‘Did you not make it clear to me in the beginning that you were not seeking a true wife?’
Khal stepped back as though burned. ‘Of course.’
‘Then I think it’s probably best for us to go back to our rooms...separately. Perhaps take some distance from each other over the next few days.’
‘Yes, of course. Retreat and regroup,’ Khal murmured, confused at his own irritation at her calm approach. He did not wish to have to dampen down the hopes of an overly sentimental virgin. He should be thanking his lucky stars at his good fortune. She nodded once, bidding him a very civilised goodnight before disappearing through the door of his office with seemingly effortless composure.
Khal waited until her footsteps had disappeared completely before leaving the office himself.
His feet seemed to know where to take him even before his brain registered where he was going. The open courtyards past the eastern wing of the palace led out onto a long tropical garden. Khal followed a marble path inset with aqua-blue stones that sparkled in the light of the full moon. The path sloped downhill to where a small stone fountain took precedence. It had been many years since he had come here. For a long time this had been his preferred place to sit and brood. Perhaps brooding was the wrong word to use—sorrow was the real emotion that one felt at this fountain.
A small marble square adorned the front of the fountain’s stone facade. A single aquamarine stone glittered in the centre of the square. Khal placed his hand over the stone, feeling the warmth of it seep through his skin. He had chosen this spot because the sunshine was uninterrupted here during the day. At the time, that had seemed important. There was no name inscribed on the stone, no words to mark the sorrowful reason this fountain stood on this particular spot.
His son had never taken his first breath, and in Zayyari culture that meant that he had not existed. There was no grave. No tomb at which to kneel and pray.
But he had prayed.
He had prayed for the infant son he would never know, and for the wife who had changed for ever. Something had died inside him the day he had been told that Priya had lost their child. He had been on the other side of the world, and protocol had meant he was not able to return for days after. By the time he had finally reached her bedside, the woman looking back at him was not his Priya any longer. Her own death had come less than a year later.
He had not discussed with Cressida the reasons why he had no desire for an heir of his own. For those brief moments, imagining that she might carry his child had made his insides turn to stone. He’d told himself time after time that a leader did not show his fears. This was a half-truth—just because he did not show it, did not mean that he didn’t harbour fears that ran deep into his soul.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CRESSIDA GASPED AS the helicopter swooped low to give them a panoramic view of the spectacular coastline of Valar. The city’s skyline was impressive, dominated by silver and glass high-rise buildings and ornate hotels. Further down in the distance she could see the swimming pools of the beach-side resorts, tourists no more than tiny black dots on the white sand. They set down on top of a building so high Cressida felt every muscle in her body clench. Reminding herself not to look down, she was jolted when Khal’s warmth slid closer to her on the leather seats as he spoke to the pilot, his voice barely audible over the roaring din of the chopper blades slowing to a stop.
She had barely seen him in the week that had passed since the night in his study. He did not eat breakfast with her, nor did he make any impromptu invitations to dine together in the evenings. She had missed the ease of their conversations but told herself it was for the best. He would never want a relationship with her beyond the sexual chemistry between them. A casual sexual relationship was simply not an option for a woman who was already married to the man in question. It would be utter madness to expect things to remain free of emotions, no strings attached.
She was escorted down from the helicopter by two of the security team but it was Khal who took her hand in his and guided her across the blustery rooftop to the lift. Once inside, she released a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding and heard a rumble of quiet male laughter erupt alongside her.
‘Did you fear I would allow you to fall off the rooftop?’ he asked, his hand still holding hers captive within his own. He spoke idly, his gaze fixed on the numbers on the display pan
el as the lift came to a stop and the doors slid open to reveal a square windowless hallway.
‘I’m glad you find my fear of heights entertaining,’ she quipped, a reluctant smile crossing her own lips as she looked up into a pair of dark brown eyes filled with mirth.
As usual, part of the security detail had already performed a sweep in preparation for their arrival. They were escorted into a spacious foyer and promptly left alone.
All thoughts momentarily left her brain as she was greeted with the most spectacular view she had ever seen. The large open-plan space was sumptuously decorated in bright modern monochrome and sky-blue, but the main attraction was the double height wall of curved plate glass that offered an unobstructed view of the entire city skyline, beautifully framed by a glimpse of the Arabian Sea on one side. The window was so wide and so clear, it was as though the marble tiles simply ended on a precipice, leaving the viewer at the risk of toppling over the edge. It made her stomach tighten, but still she could appreciate the view.
‘This city is...breathtaking...’ Cressida murmured, still making sure that she remained firmly in the centre of the room.
‘This city will soon be the future of Zayyar, thanks to you,’ he said, warmth in his eyes. ‘News of our marriage has already opened doors that once were firmly closed. Tonight’s celebration will solidify many new connections for us.’
Cressida had already been told by her advisors of the progress that had been made since their marriage had become public knowledge. Tonight’s formal celebration would bring politicians and foreign dignitaries from across the world here to show their support. However, there would not be a single member of her own family at the event. A fact that did not surprise her in the slightest. Her older sister, Eleanor, was on a charity mission in North Africa but had promised to come and visit soon, while her middle sister, Olivia, was busily setting up the headquarters of her literacy foundation in New York.
Her parents had openly refused the invitation, stating a scheduling conflict. They had half-heartedly organised an event to be held in Monteverre over the coming week and invited her and Khal for an official visit. A pathetic attempt at a show of power by her father, but still Cressida knew that his alliance was vital to Khal so she would dutifully attend.
She was to be on show to the world tonight for the first time as Sheikha. The thought terrified her almost as much as being up at this height did.
‘Come and see the view. The window is bulletproof, shockproof—very safe, I assure you.’ Khal moved to knock one hand against the glass pane.
Cressida raised one hand instinctively. ‘There is really no need to demonstrate!’
A dimple appeared in the corner of his mouth again, that mischievous half smile that made her stomach flip. He braced one hand on the glass wall, shifting so that his weight leaned against it as he looked out into the distance. ‘You get a much better view of the coastline over here than from all the way across the room. Just a suggestion.’
He was utterly mad; that was the only explanation for it. Who on earth could manage to look so serene and relaxed while seeming to hover on the edge of falling to their death?
‘Is this your way of proving what a fearless leader you are? It’s really not necessary.’
