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Sometimes she would wake early when the baby was still asleep and the palace all but silent. Once, unable to get back to sleep, she had gone to the stable complex, just as Zuhal was dismounting from his horse after his morning ride. Hidden away in the shadows, he hadn’t seen her, but Jasmine had watched as he’d peeled a silk shirt from his torso. Like a woman hypnotised, she had observed his slow striptease with a racing heart which had threatened to burst out of her chest. With hungry eyes she’d drunk in the gleam of his burnished skin and bronzed definition of his powerful physique. There wasn’t an inch of surplus flesh on his hard body and his washboard abs were glistening like the cover shot of a fitness magazine. She’d found herself wanting to run over and to slowly slide her way down over his body. To lick her tongue over his chest, revelling in the taste of each salty bead of sweat, knowing they were all a part of him. And then to unzip his jodhpurs and feel his proud length springing free, first against her fingers and then into the moist and waiting cavern of her lips.
She began to question if she’d been too hasty. If she had driven him away with her proud stance, which had masked her fears about getting intimate with him again. Yet how was she ever going to find out whether they were compatible if they were never alone? When the days were ticking away, bringing closer the formal signing of the papers which would make Zuhal the official ruler of Razrastan. She hadn’t actually ruled out marriage, had she? She’d just told him she wanted to get to know him better before she committed. So maybe it was time for action instead of all these fractured thoughts. Maybe she should take Zuhal at his word and book herself an appointment to see him, since he obviously had no intention of backing down himself.
Which was how one sun-dappled morning she found herself in Zuhal’s offices in the south-west corner of the palace, which overlooked a sylvan courtyard of trees. At its centre was a cool pond, in which red-gold fish swam—giving the place a curiously peaceful feel. Inside, it was completely different—a modern hive of activity hiding behind the ancient doors. Assistants tapped feverishly at the keyboards of sleek computers and rows of clocks indicated different time zones from around the world. She was asked to wait in an anteroom, before being shown into an inner sanctum for a meeting with Zuhal’s chief aide—a shuttered-faced man in traditional Razrastanian robes, who looked up from his desk as she was ushered in.
‘Miss Jones,’ he said smoothly, rising to his feet to greet her. ‘My name is Adham. This is an unexpected pleasure.’
Jasmine recognised his voice instantly. She would never forget it, not in a million years. A chill rippled down her spine. This was the same aide who had blocked her attempt to tell Zuhal she was pregnant all those months ago. Was that why his face was so unfriendly when he looked at her? Why she detected a glimmer of darkness in his expression as she entered his plush office? Or was he just more open about expressing what she suspected most of the palace staff really felt about her? Quashing down her instinctive apprehension, Jasmine composed her face into a look of polite enquiry. ‘I hope I’m not disturbing you?’
‘Not at all, Miss Jones,’ he said, his forced smile seeming to contradict his benign words. ‘What can I do for you this morning?’
Jasmine felt the sudden pounding of her heart, recognising that this was the moment. She was here to try to deepen her relationship with the father of her child and to address seriously the possibility of being a future queen. So maybe it was time to start acting like one. To show Adham that she was no longer some inconvenient lover he could dismiss as if she didn’t matter, but part of Zuhal’s life, whether he liked it or not.
Adopting the wide smile which had always been super-effective when dealing with tricky customers at the Granchester boutique, she gestured towards the sunlit garden outside. ‘It is an exceptionally beautiful morning, isn’t it?’ she observed, with diplomatic politeness.
‘Indeed. The weather in Razrastan is especially temperate at this time of year,’ Adham answered, the faint elevation of his eyebrows silently urging her to get to the point.
Jasmine did exactly that. ‘I’d like to see the Sheikh, please.’
‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Miss Jones. His Royal Highness is busy at the moment. I’m sure you are well aware of the demands on his time at this key stage in the country’s future,’ he said, his tone smooth and pleasant, although the icy gleam of his eyes suggested a certain insincerity. ‘In fact, he is on the phone to the Sheikh of Maraban, as we speak.’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean right now,’ said Jasmine quickly. ‘Obviously, he’s tied up most of the time. I appreciate that. I just wondered if you could make an appointment for me to see him.’
A flicker of incredulity passed over the shuttered features. ‘An appointment, Miss Jones?’
‘If you would. Zuhal did say we should coordinate our diaries in order to make time for one other.’
‘His Royal Highness mentioned nothing to me.’
‘Does Zuhal run everything past you, then, Adham?’ questioned Jasmine innocently.
It was the first time in her life that she’d ever pulled rank—not that she’d ever had any rank to pull before now—and to her astonishment it worked. As if realising that this time she wouldn’t be thwarted, the aide reluctantly bent his head to study the leather-bound diary in front of him before returning his shuttered gaze to hers. ‘Very well. I believe I can fit you in, if you are prepared to be flexible. Shall we say tomorrow morning at ten o’clock? His Royal Highness has a window of thirty minutes he can allot to you, after his morning ride.’
Thirty minutes! Not even an hour alone with the man who had asked her to marry him! And just around the time when Darius would be having his post-breakfast playtime, which wasn’t what you’d call convenient. But if this was the best she could hope for, then she was going to grab it with both hands. ‘Perfect,’ she said brightly.
The aide consulted some sort of grid chart in front of him. ‘If you would like to make your way to the Damask Room at the allotted time, His Royal H
ighness will join you there.
Jasmine nodded. ‘Thank you, Adham.’
Despite the somewhat lukewarm response she’d received, Jasmine felt a fizz of excitement as she returned to her suite, where Darius was waiting with Rania. The baby gurgled with pleasure as she held out her arms to him and her mind was buzzing as she wondered how to make the most of her time alone with Zuhal tomorrow.
Was that being super-needy?
No, she told herself, as she waved a noisy rattle in front of the baby’s nose. Not needy at all. It was being grown-up and sensible. Accepting that she wasn’t dealing with just any man. She closed her eyes with pleasure as Darius wrapped his chubby little arms around her neck and snuggled up close. Zuhal was a man who would soon be King and she needed to make allowances for that.
But that night, during a pre-dinner drinks reception for a cluster of visiting Argentinean diplomats, she looked up to find the Sheikh’s eyes fixed on hers more often than usual. The expression in their ebony depths was one she couldn’t decipher, but it was enough to set her heart racing as she walked forward to meet the line of guests.
She had decided to treat these functions in the same way she used to regard shopping evenings at the Granchester boutique, trying to put people at their ease—and for the most part this made them bearable. Yet tonight it felt different. Or maybe it was just she who felt different. She’d broken the deadlock and from tomorrow, she would start learning more about the Sheikh whose narrowed gaze was currently sweeping over her like a dark spotlight. She wished he wouldn’t look at her like that in public. Making her dress feel as if it had suddenly become two sizes too small. Making her brow break out into tiny little beads of sweat beneath her carefully coiffed hair.
As usual, she and Zuhal left the reception at exactly the same time but tonight, instead of going to his own suite, he insisted on accompanying her to Darius’s room where he remained while she checked on him, before dismissing Rania for the night. The main reception room of her private suite seemed very large and echoing as she shut the door to the nursery and turned to Zuhal, realising that, for the first time in a long time, they were completely alone. She swallowed. She could detect the subtle yet very masculine scent of sandalwood radiating from his powerful body, making her uncomfortably aware of his raw virility as she regarded him with cautious question in her eyes.
‘I understand you paid a visit to Adham this morning,’ he said, without prompting.
‘I did.’
‘And insisted on a meeting with me tomorrow morning.’
