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a heavy sense of sadness enveloped him. What had happened to his smart and wise-cracking Izzy? He felt the heavy beat of guilt, aware of the enormity of what he had done. In typical Tariq fashion he had seen and he had conquered. Selfishly, he had listened to the voracious demands of his body and taken her as his lover, refusing to acknowledge the thoughtlessness of such an action.
She had been too inexperienced to resist the powerful lure of lust when it had swept over them so unexpectedly. He should have known better and he should have resisted. But he had not. He had done what he always did—he had taken and taken, knowing that he had nothing to give back.
And now he was left with the growing suspicion that he was going to lose the best assistant he’d ever had. For how could they carry on like this, when much of her natural spontaneity seemed to have been eroded by the affair?
He could tell that something had changed. It was as if she was walking on eggshells. He noticed that she kept biting back her words—which usually meant that a woman was falling in love with him, that she was weighing up everything she said for fear of how he would interpret it. And all these negative feelings would snowball—he knew that, too. How could he possibly face her in the office if her reproachful looks were to continue and the gap between them widened daily?
‘Tariq?’
Her soft voice broke into his troubled thoughts. ‘What?’
‘I wondered if anything was wrong.’
‘Wrong?’
She looked at him questioningly, telling herself that it was her business to know what was going on in his life. But deep down she wanted to clear that scary look of distraction from his face. To have him talk to her. Properly.
‘The phone call you’ve just had from Khayarzah?’ she elaborated. ‘I hope everything’s okay with your brother?’
With an effort, he focussed on the conversation he’d just finished. ‘Zahid wants my help with a relative of ours.’
‘Oh?’
‘A distant cousin of mine, from my mother’s side,’ he explained. ‘Her name is Leila, and she’s in trouble.’
Isobel’s face blanched as she wondered if the gods were taunting her. Because hadn’t that expression always been a euphemism for a particular kind of predicament in which a woman sometimes found herself ? Was it possible that a cruel fate was about to inflict not one but two unplanned pregnancies on the al Hakam family?
‘Trouble?’ she questioned hoarsely. ‘What kind of trouble?’
‘It seems she’s decided she wants to junk university and go off to America to be a model. Can you imagine?’ He gave a grim smile. ‘Zahid thinks that she needs to be shown the error of her ways, and he thinks that I may just be able to sort things out.’
‘I see.’ Isobel nodded. Was she imagining the relief on his face—as if he was anticipating an adventure which would fully occupy him for the foreseeable future? As if he was pleased to have a bona fide reason to unexpectedly leave the country? ‘Why does he think that?’
‘He says that my uniquely western perspective might help persuade her. That I’ve seen enough of that kind of world to convince her that it’s all starvation and cigarettes and people who will try to exploit her.’ He shrugged. ‘Nothing that need concern you—but I’m going to fly out later tonight, if you could make sure the new jet is ready for me?’
Two things occurred to her at the same time. The first was that he still came and went exactly as he pleased—becoming her lover had not curtailed his freedom in any way at all. And the second was that she knew there was no way she could announce her momentous news. Not when he was about to go on some mission of mercy for his brother. Not when she hadn’t even had it confirmed. And until she did then surely there was always the chance that it was nothing but a false alarm?
But her decision didn’t give her any peace of mind. She was still left with nagging doubts. Tariq was leaving to go back to his homeland, and suddenly she didn’t know where her place in his life should be. She struggled to a find common ground.
‘Did...did your brother and his wife enjoy themselves in London last week?’ she asked.
‘I assume so.’
‘They didn’t mention it?’
He raised dark brows. ‘Should they have done?’
‘Just...well, I thought it was quite a fun evening, that’s all.’
‘Indeed it was.’ He gave a brief smile, preoccupied with his forthcoming trip and pleased to have something to take his mind off the damned tension between them. ‘But they have a hectic life, you know, Izzy. Pretty much wall-to-wall socialising wherever they are.’
It was the hint of aloofness in his tone which made Isobel stiffen. That and the patronising sense that she had stepped over some invisible line of propriety. As if she had dared to look on the King and his wife as some sort of equals, instead of people she’d been lucky enough to meet only on a whim of Tariq’s.
‘Silly of me,’ she said lightly.
There was a pause as she forced herself to acknowledge the tension which had sprung up between them and which now seemed there all the time. She didn’t know when exactly it had happened, but it wouldn’t seem to go away. Like a pebble dropped into a pond, the ripples carried on for ages after the stone had plopped out of sight.
She knew what was going on because she’d witnessed it countless times before. Tariq was beginning to tire of her and he wanted the affair to be over—with the least possible disruption to him.
