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She was done expecting unavailable men to start valuing her! She’d wasted her whole life feeling meaningless and purposeless only because her father hadn’t valued her. She’d spent years waiting for any little crumbs of praise that he wanted to pass her way… there was no way she’d go through that miserable maze of rejection again. Not even for the man she’d married!

Raffa would never give her what she wanted – there was no hope that they’d be more than civil to one another. Civil co-parents, and co-rulers. There were other silver linings to her marriage, though. For one, the charity work she’d been free to undertake since moving to the city would continue regardless of where she lived. She loved her work – that gave her all the validation her father, and now husband, had withheld.

As for love? Malik loved her, and she loved him. After her father’s death, he’d been the only one who’d understood.

‘He failed you, child, except in one way. This marriage is the best thing he could have done for you. Here, you will be happy at last. You’ve always belonged here, even that first summer when you were little more than a fairy.’ And he’d hugged her in a rough embrace, his body – once strong and big – now a smaller version, his fingers trembling a little in that way they did now. He’d understood that she had been unloved and in small ways, he’d made sure she felt secure in her life in Ras El Kida.

He, alone, had welcomed her.

‘Do you remember when you came here, as a child? You would run the halls, singing, and I knew you belonged here. That you were a part of this Kingdom, even with your white hair and your pale skin.’

What foolish dreams she’d had when she’d entered into this marriage! To think that she could marry a man and suddenly ‘belong’!

That she’d ever belong anywhere.

How childish it had been of her to think Raffa had carried any intention of their marriage being more than a convenience to placate both their fathers!

Well, she wasn’t a fool anymore, and she was going to see their marriage for what it was: a means to an end. They were going to try for a baby, which would mean they were going to be intimate, but Chloe was determined not to let his touch affect her. No matter how good he was in bed, she would remain cold! And if that wasn’t possible, she’d damned well pretend! He wouldn’t have the satisfaction of knowing that one look from him could spike her blood pressure dramatically. She wouldn’t be another woman to stroke his oversized ego when it came to his bedroom prowess!

In the afternoon, having dealt with several emails pertaining to her charity, and taken a walk around the palace to re-familiarise herself with the place, she’d found there were many hours until night time.

When would he come? Would it be early in the evening? Late at night? Should she be dressed? Or, she gulped, naked, waiting for him? Would it give her more control if she showed herself to be accepting of their situation? More mature of her to seem sophisticated and to take this all in her stride?

The waiting was killing her.

In the early evening, she decided to allay her anxieties by going for a walk. It took some doing, but she managed to convince Aysha that she was safe to explore on her own. After all, the extensive gardens were well-guarded. There was a golf course, an artificial beach, an ancient forest that had been cultivated with great care. It grew alongside the same cliff that gave way to the palace, sharing its side with the Sheikh’s suite, and developing into the waterfall that fell into a pool in his living area.

She had wandered through this forest a few time over the years, and even in the first few days of their marriage – when she’d still entertained hopes that her husband would come to her and treat her like the woman she was sure, deep down, she really was.

Now, when she stepped under the lush canopy of trees, her ant

icipation was different, because it was borne of fact. He would come to her, on this night. She would be made his. She moved deeper into the forest, looking for familiar landmarks, but so much had changed with the seasons. Large trees remained, but smaller shrubs had given way, so too the colours of the flowers, so Chloe had to mentally map the forest almost from scratch. As she moved higher, though, the sound of flowing water reminded her of the natural landscape, the way the water gathered pace through these cliffs and mountains until it formed an overwhelming weight at the top of the cliff.

She weaved alongside it for some time, before a sudden movement startled her into utter stillness. Save for the frantic racing of her heart, she was motionless. Were there predatory animals in the forest? She had never been told so; then again, she’d never wandered this far, even as a curious little girl holidaying in this grand palace. Besides, she reassured herself, desperate to quell her raging pulse, there were guards around. Perhaps it had even been a guard who had startled her?

She took a tentative step forward, and then another, before the movement caught her attention once more. Now, she followed it, homing in on first the stone as it hit the water and skipped several times before thudding beneath the surface, then to the arm which had cast it, and then to his face. She gasped when she saw him, for the child was so like Raffa that she knew instantly who stood before her.

“Amit,” she said the name aloud, almost as a talisman to herself, and yet he heard, and his own expression was startled.

He hadn’t realized she was there. He wore a simple pair of black trousers and a loose-fitting white top, and to his right there was a stash of stones.

He picked one up, running his fingertips over the smoothness of it before standing. He met her eyes, which was a welcome change from the palace servants.

“Amit,” she said again, more confidently this time, wanting to reassure him.

He was so like Raffa, and yet different too. He had Raffa’s intelligent eyes and assessing gaze, his generous lips. But he was gangly and tall, slim and uncertain. Even as a teenager, Chloe doubted Raffa had ever been anything other than muscular and warrior-like.

“No one usually comes up here,” the teenager said defensively, echoing so many of her own teenaged resentments that she could do nothing but nod.

She tried to marshal her thoughts, to quickly recollect all that she knew of her husband’s love child. He’d been conceived when Raffa had been only twenty years old, and the woman was rumoured to be the love of Raffa’s life. They’d never been able to acknowledge their relationship, but though it remained shrouded in secrecy, she’d been living at the palace, leaving little doubt as to their bond.

A frisson of emotion trickled down her spine. That was all palace gossip, whispered between her maids when they’d thought she hadn’t been listening. Talk of how the Sheikh’s marriage had always been destined to fail, given that he was still in love with the other woman. And now she was face to face with the physical proof of that love.

“What are you doing?” She asked, with natural curiosity, moving closer to the boy.

He eyed her thoughtfully, the intensity of his gaze so like Raffa’s that she felt almost as if she knew him already. “Skimming rocks,” he said after a moment, evidently deciding to trust her.

“I see.” She had two options. Leave, or stay.

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