AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Don’t you think you should put some clothes on?’
‘Why?’ Nabil tossed back. ‘Because you’re dressed now? Believe me, Zia, that is a situation I have every intention of rectifying.’
He’d caught her on the raw there somewhere. She’d actually flinched and those clear golden eyes had closed briefly as if against some spasm of pain. It had crushed any reply she had been about to make and it caught on something unexpected to see her struggling to find the words to answer him.
‘Why do you have this hang-up where that name is concerned?’
But of course he knew the answer before he’d completed the question: the heir and a spare.
‘It’s the one my father always used. My father first,’ Aziza admitted. ‘The rest of the family just followed after.’
And it hadn’t been shortened in affection—that much was plain.
He had never liked Farouk, Nabil admitted to himself. A hard man with cold eyes and possibly an even colder heart. A man who was always looking for what he could get out of a situation. If he could have chosen anyone else’s daughter to secure the treaty and peace, then he would have done. But if he’d done that then he would have missed out on the opportunity to have Aziza in his bed—in his life. It was not something he cared to consider.
‘Don’t let them do this to you. You have a beautiful name. Why not use it?’
‘A beautiful name—but one that should have a particular meaning. Aziza means precious—special—beautiful. To my father, I was none of those.’
And through her life she had been made to feel just the spare, the second daughter, the ‘disappointment’. A fire of anger burned inside at the thought.
‘I know how that works—when your parents are so invested in what you can bring—the stability of a country, the inheritance of a crown, a valuable marriage. So I make you a promise: I will always use your proper name. You will always be Aziza to me.’
He might have been aroused and excited by the woman who had introduced herself just as Zia. But Aziza had fitted into his life as if she was the missing piece from a jigsaw.
‘I chose you. And you have never been a disappointment to me.’
Something had turned a light on behind her eyes. But it was one that didn’t stay. Instead it faded, drifted away again, leaving her gaze dark and clouded.
‘In bed.’
‘Is that not where a wife should be?’
‘And to bear your children.’
‘Naturally. I was thinking of my children when I chose you. You will be the mother they need.’
Was she supposed to respond to that smile? Aziza knew she couldn’t find it in her to do so. Responding meant agreeing, accepting, and she needed so much more than just that. He had made it plain that he had chosen her with his senses, not with his heart. Because she turned him on and because she looked like the sort of woman who would conceive easily—carry a child to term.
‘As Queen, and the mother of my heirs, I will give you the honour you deserve. Anything you want, you have only to ask.’
As the mother of his heirs.
‘Anything?’
She’d ventured over the invisible line he had drawn between them and she saw his head come up, his jaw tightening.
‘If you’re looking for love then I don’t have that to give,’ he stated flatly. ‘I don’t have love in me. I wouldn’t know it if I felt it.’
Well, that told her! Could he make things any clearer? So why did she have to keep on asking, keep on digging?
‘Are you saying you don’t have a heart?’
He actually laughed. But it was dark, hollow, no warmth in it at all.
‘I lost my heart once. All it taught me was to use my head very carefully from then on.’
He was talking about Sharmila, of course. Her brain was stormed by those appalling images, appalling memories. The passage of time had done nothing to dilute the terrible effect they had. She had never forgotten, so how could he?
‘But using my head I know that I want you. Since I met you I haven’t looked at any other woman, or thought of anyone else. I want you in my life, in my bed. It’s less than an hour since I was inside you and yet I’m hungry for you as if I’ve been starving for months.’
He made it sound as if he was paying her the greatest compliment in the world. To him, he probably was. He wanted her more than any other woman. For some that would have been enough. But was it enough to sustain her through a loveless marriage?
