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CHAPTER NINE
YOUTHOUGHTTHISwas a good idea why, exactly? Abby asked herself as the door finally closed behind Layla. She resisted the temptation to open it to see if the two large men were still stationed there... Were they to keep people out or to keep her in...?
It didn’t really matter though; the idea of anyone making it this far into a building that had a dizzying number of corridors and discreet but visible security was laughable. Though really, even if intruders got in they would never find their way out...there were probably skeletons of would-be thieves and assassins gathering dust in unknown marble-floored corners of the building even now.
She was too tired to smile at the fantasy image as the weariness, both mental and physical, went cell-deep. Even a cursory view of one of the bathrooms—the suite had two—did not tempt her to do more than brush her teeth and splash water on her face.
She stepped out of her borrowed dress, leaving it where it dropped. She could imagine her grandmother’s horror at such slovenly behaviour but was too tired to do anything more than pull her nightshirt over her head before flinging herself face down on the bed where someone had conveniently pulled back the silk sheets.
She had never seen a bed this big, let alone slept in one. Despite its size it actually looked small in her vast room, which was part of a suite of similarly palatial rooms, but then it was a palace.
Perhaps she could ask to be moved to something a little cosier tomorrow, if this place even did cosy...? She was still debating the question when sleep claimed her. She dreamt of the enormous bed she lay in but in her dreams she wasn’t alone...
As she emerged from a deep sleep the next morning the dreams that had dominated her night slipped away, leaving just an impression, an odd ache deep inside her and a tight feeling in her chest. As these too slipped away she experienced a moment’s total disorientation that tipped over into panic as she stared at the intricately coloured antique-glass panels in the delicately wrought brass chandelier that hung over the bed.
‘Where am...?’
Then she remembered, the previous day’s events trickling through her head like an old-fashioned slide show. With a groan she sat bolt upright, giving a startled gasp when she saw the young woman standing a few feet away holding a tray.
The girl’s smile slipped a little, but who could blame her being scared, Abby reflected, as her morning look tended towards super-scary even on good days? It didn’t matter how successfully she tamed her hair during the day, at night it went its own wild way, and, as she had no memory of removing any make-up last night, she probably had panda-eyes as well.
‘Good morning...you startled me.’ Just as well her tenure in the palace was temporary because she wouldn’t like to think of this as part of her morning routine...of course, Zain’s real wife might enjoy a very different sort of morning routine. She might wake beside, maybe even entangled with... Abby’s eyes half closed and her head extended to one side as she imagined lips moving up the curve of her neck, tracing a sensual path to her mouth. The kiss would be deep and slow, hungry... Her eyes shot open as she sucked in a guilty gasp through flared nostrils.
What are you doing, Abby?
A burn of shame joined the other burn already lit low in her belly and she responded to the young woman’s question of, ‘Coffee?’
‘Lovely, thank you.’
The girl sketched a little curtsey, put the tray on a table a few feet away and turned back.
‘The curtains...?’ she asked, nodding to the row of four floor-length windows along the opposite wall, all covered by heavily embroidered curtains.
Abby nodded and lifted a self-conscious hand to her hair as she pulled back the sheet and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The cartoon cat grinning on her chest tugged her lips into a twisted smile—her nightwear looked almost as incongruous in these surroundings as she felt!
That feeling didn’t diminish when the young woman approached with a floor-length dressing gown in oyster silk. They probably stocked such luxury items in a selection of sizes on the off-chance that an overnight guest might need one.
Or maybe one of Zain’s personal overnight guests had left it behind? The fabric might have been impregnated with this faceless woman’s perfume... The idea took hold and seemed so strong that Abby found herself taking a step backwards, the young attendant’s face making her realise that her own expression must be reflective of the deep repugnance she was experiencing.
She dug deep and forced a smile, standing still as the younger woman slid the gown over her arms. Thankfully it smelt of nothing but newness. Frowning faintly, Abby stepped away, fastening the belt around her slim waist and wondering why she had overreacted so much to the hardly surprising idea that Zain slept with women; it would have been naive...actually insane to assume he didn’t have an active sex life.
What would have been surprising would be the discovery that he lived the life of a monk. She smiled at the thought, ignoring the inexplicable nauseous knot that still lingered in her belly.
His sex life was not of any interest to her, she told herself, but what was of interest to her was the question of whether he intended to continue enjoying his bachelor lifestyle for the next eighteen months...yes, her interest in that was totally legitimate, she decided with some relief.
If she was expected to play her part this was exactly the sort of information she needed. If she was expected to look the other way and pretend she didn’t know about his affairs it would be good to know ahead of time what the royal etiquette for that would be.
Oh, yeah, Abby, that should be a really good Q&A session. What would be a good opening line...? I’m not interested in who you sleep with, but...
She spared a moment of sympathy for his real wife when he took one, though she supposed there was any number of women in the world willing to make quite a lot of compromises to occupy the position she had temporarily found herself in.
The knowledge would have been easier to live with if she had been able to pretend that it was his position, his status and conspicuous wealth that attracted these faceless women who in her head were stepping over each other to offer themselves to him, but Abby knew that, even stripped of all the trappings of his position, Zain had more earthy sex appeal in his little finger than any man on the planet.
She sucked in a breath, dispelling the disturbing image forming in her head. ‘Too much stripping, Abby.’
The expression of the petite woman who had been holding out the gown was wary as she shook her head to signal she didn’t understand what Abby had said.
‘Don’t worry, I’m mad but not dangerous.’
