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‘I see.’ Jane could hardly get the words out she was breathing so heavily. She wanted to shout at him. To ask what right he had to insult her like that. To do something utterly uncharacteristic like picking up her plate and tipping the rainbow rice all over his arrogant head, before storming out of the club with a veiled suggestion about what he might like to do with his offer. Until she reminded herself that she was in no position to do any such thing. Why risk losing the job she loved just because her pride had been hurt?
Because Zayed needed her, she realised.
And maybe she needed him.
Why rail against him for merely stating the truth? She knew her limitations and she’d never been the kind of woman who men hit on. She didn’t dress to attract. She didn’t pore over fashion magazines or experiment with make-up. She’d always relied on her mind and never bothered about her appearance—she’d left that to her mother and Cleo.
Cleo.
Jane’s heart contracted painfully. Cleo, who owed so much money that men with threatening voices had started making sinister phone calls to her. Had she forgotten about that? Forgotten the fear which had fizzed through her veins when she’d spoken to her sister earlier that day and heard her on the brink of fearful tears? She had agreed to this unexpected dinner with Zayed partly because she’d been planning to ask him for a loan, or maybe a pay-rise—but perhaps his outrageous proposition had put her in a much more advantageous position than that. A powerful bargaining position. He wanted her hand in marriage—so why not ask him for something in return?
‘You think I could bear to be married to a man like you for six months?’ she questioned, trying to keep her voice steady.
‘I think you could bear it very well. For a start you would get to visit Kafalah,’ he said, his seductive tone mimicking that of a hypnotist who was dangling a swinging object before his goggle-eyed subject. ‘Why, you’d even get to stay in the famous royal palace.’
His insolent words took Jane’s breath away. So he was manipulative, as well as arrogant! Did he really think she’d be content to endure months of his unbearable company in order to see first-hand some of the antiquities she’d spent most of her adult life studying?
No. Sheikh Zayed Al Zawba was going to have to pay a much higher price than unlimited access to the treasures of Kafalah. She stared down at the pristine white linen napkin which lay neatly over her tweed skirt, aware of needing to choose her words carefully, because once said they could not be taken back. It would be wonderfully satisfying to refuse him outright. To look down her nose at him and tell him that his suggestion was inappropriate and insulting and she could think of no worse fate than being stuck with him for half a year. But she couldn’t afford to turn his offer down. Not if the price were right. It would mean having to tolerate the company of a man who made her hackles rise, even while he managed to make her body ache in places it had never ached before. His presence was infuriating, intoxicating and yet ultimately dangerous to her sense of worth. She suspected that peace of mind would not come easily if she became his bride, yet—if she was being realistic—how much time would she actually have to spend with him, even if they were married?
She knew Kafalahian custom meant the monarch was all-powerful and that these royal marriages were not modern marriages. It wasn’t as if they’d be sharing chores or doing the weekly shop together. Zayed would doubtless be having diplomatic meetings in the palace or charging round the countryside on one of his famous black stallions. They wouldn’t be expected to spend much time together—only to give the appearance of being married—leaving her free to explore the glorious palace and all its gems.
‘If I were to agree,’ she said, lifting her gaze from the napkin to find those black eyes trained unwaveringly on her, disconcertingly making her think of a bird of prey... She swallowed. ‘I would expect some kind of recompense.’
‘Recompense?’ he echoed, a frown creasing his brow. ‘You mean money?’
She heard the faint distaste in his voice, as if he’d just been reminded that everybody had their price, and a flush of guilt flooded to her cheeks until she forced herself to remember that he wasn’t her friend. She didn’t owe him anything and she certainly didn’t need his approval. He was quite prepared to exploit her love for
his country to get her to consent to marry him—so why not exploit his grossly inflated bank account in order to save her sister’s skin? Only rich people, she thought grimly, could be so dismissive of other people’s worries about money.
‘Of course I mean money,’ she said. ‘Don’t you think I should be rewarded for having to enter into such a union as this?’
He glowered. ‘You would obviously be given a settlement after the marriage has been annulled. Surely your greed could be tempered until then?’
‘Not really. I need it now,’ she said, more urgently than she’d intended.
‘Oh?’ He looked at her and his voice grew cold. ‘And why is that?’
She opened her mouth to tell him, before thinking better of it. Zayed was reckless, yes, but he was also clever—and completely unscrupulous. They said that knowledge was power—something he already had more than his fair share of. Why reveal more about herself and her family than she needed to, when she had no idea how he might use that power?
‘Oh, just personal reasons,’ she said lightly. ‘Which I won’t burden you with. I’m sure it would bore you, Your Highness.’
A look of irritation crossed his face and Jane suspected he was one of those men who only wanted something when he was told he couldn’t have it. So start showing some strength. Put him on the back foot.
‘So,’ she said. ‘Do we have a deal, or have you changed your mind?’
‘How much?’ he demanded.
Quickly doing sums in her head, Jane gave him the amount which Cleo had mentioned and added a reasonable sum for interest—but his face gave barely a flicker of reaction as he nodded his head in agreement.
‘Satisfied now?’ he questioned archly.
‘Not quite. There’s just one other condition which needs clarification before I agree to become your wife.’
‘More conditions?’ he snapped. ‘You drive a hard bargain, Jane Smith. Hurry up and tell me, because my patience is wearing thin.’
This bit was much more difficult but Jane was determined to go through with it because—although she intended making a sacrifice for her sister—she would not be made a fool of.
‘You say you wish the marriage to be dissolved within six months on the grounds of non-consummation.’
