CHAPTER SEVEN
Tamir rolled over, surprised at first to find a warm body beside him.
Olivia.
Guilt washed over him, as he blinked and fixed her still-sleeping face with a gaze of curious fascination.
Her blonde hair had been one of the first things he’d noticed about her. The night at the theatre, it had been a long mane of honey and sunshine. Now, it was a riot of corkscrew curls around her face. He reached out, unable to help himself, and lifted one, running his hands over it with a small frown of interest.
Though his touch was gentle, it was sufficient to disturb his bride. “Tamir,” she said on a sigh, her eyes wide as she gazed up at his face. She smiled, slowly, invitingly, and then grimaced. He recognised the minute she remembered where she was, and why, and he regretted instantly the pain he’d brought her.
However, it was done, and he could not simply ‘undo’ it.
“Good morning,” he said quietly.
She swallowed, and flicked her eyes away. “I slept so deeply,” she murmured. It had surprised her. She hadn’t stirred all night.
“Your hair is different,” he pointed out quietly.
“Curly.” She nodded, and lifted her eyes back to his face. She was self-conscious beneath his scrutiny.
“It is lovely.”
“Really?” She asked, pulling a face. “I always hated it.”
“Please wear it like this from now on.”
She pushed up onto her elbow, supporting her head with her palm. “Is that an order?”
He smiled at her, and shook his head. “Did it sound like one?”
“No,” she admitted begrudgingly. She ran her fingers through the curls. “They’re impossible to keep tidy.”
“Then don’t be tidy.” He had decided, somewhere before the sun had risen over Liya and painted the city with its orange glow, that he would give her time to adapt to her new situation. That he would give them both time to accept their new situation.
But her lips were so sweet and soft looking, and her hair so wonderfully distracting, that he couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers. Slowly and wonderingly, tasting her in the morning, and reminding her that whatever else lay between them, their bond was undeniable.
Olivia was surprised.
She didn’t feel sexy. First thing in the morning, she felt like she had messy hair and sleep in her eyes and furry teeth. But the moment Tamir’s mouth connected with hers, her body seemed to spark with a current of electrical energy that demanded indulging.
He had married her without her permission, and in his stupid country, that was apparently legal. She should hate him, but she didn’t. Oh, she didn’t. Her eyes shuttered closed, and her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down on top of her. She sighed as his chest pressed to hers, his weight a pleasing reminder of how his body felt.
“You’re beautiful,” he groaned, running his hands over her skin, lifting the nightgown so that he could connect with her naked warmth. He pushed aside the quilt and came to straddle her, unwilling to remove his lips from hers. His tongue invaded her mouth, warring with hers, promising pleasure that only they could generate.
She ran her fingers down his naked back, delighting in the smoothness of his skin. She shifted her head away, breaking their kiss, only so that she could lift her mouth to his shoulder and taste his flesh. So warm and clean. She sighed, breathing in his intoxicating scent. His erection pressed into her waist, and she wanted nothing more than to be with him.
For though their predicament was something she would have to address at some point, then, in that moment, she wanted to obliterate rational thought with sweet, intense sex.
“I want you,” she whispered into his ear, sneaking her fingers into the waistband of his shorts and touching the curved muscle of his buttocks.
He pulled away, looking at her with a warning glance. “I told myself I wouldn’t do this, you know.”
She bit down on her lower lip, and pushed his shorts lower, until he was able to kick them away.
“Why?” She whispered, tracing one of his nipples with her finger.
He groaned. “Is it not obvious?”
“Nope,” she said huskily. “You have me here. And we both want this. So why fight it?”
Because he’d taken away her liberty and forced her into his bed.
“You’re not making me do this, Tamir,” she said sharply, as though she’d read his thoughts. “I want you just as much now as I did in London.”
“I have your body, but never your mind? I have your body, but I’ll never have you?” He repeated her words back to her. It surprised Olivia that they made her feel hollow in her gut.
“Yes,” she said with a confidence she was far from feeling. “Exactly. And you know what else?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “I have your body, and I don’t think anyone will ever have your mind. So we’re even.”
He shook his head slowly, but she was right. Their sexual connection was too strong to ignore, even though it was all they’d ever share.
Besides, he didn’t want more from Olivia than sex… and apparently marriage. He’d had many lovers in the past, and it had never occurred to him to mind if there were limitations on the relationship. So why did he care now?
He intentionally entered her swiftly, removing any tenderness from their coming together. At least, that was his intention. But the way she arched her back with a swan like grace, and a lioness like growl, made him stare at her in total appreciation. He pressed a kiss to her décolletage and traced a line along the protruding bone with his tongue. His hands on her arms were gentle, whispering with his fingertips promises of desire.
He moved inside of her, already so familiar with what made her cry out in a complete haze of enjoyment. She crinkled her nose as he exhaled a long, slow breath against the sensitive flesh at the base of her neck, and her body sprouted a delicate lace of goosebumps.
He tangled his fingers with hers, pulling her arms gently to her sides, as he lifted her body onto a wave of pleasure. They rolled as one, so that she was on top of him, riding him with her eyes closed and her soul commanding his. As her body crested to a height of desire, she lifted his arms, high to his side, and he swore in his native tongue as the needs of his body lusted out of his command. He orgasmed, pushing himself up, so that he could wrap his arms behind her back to form a single, pulsing being.
It was incredible, and incredibly wrong.
Olivia’s breathing slowly returned to normal and her eyes pinched open. The Sultan of Talidar stared back at her, impossible to comprehend and terrifying to behold.
She moved away from him, her heart racing, and her heart closing forever more.
She lay beside him, on her back, staring at the ceiling without seeing it. This was her new reality. A world she had no control over. Where only her body existed in any kind of meaningful truth.
How could she be so pathetic?
She flipped away from Tamir, turning her back to him in every sense. She stared at the embossed wallpaper opposite, her breathing still drawn from her in harsh bursts.
She hated him but in some ways, she’d become insanely dependent upon him.
It was just sex, she reassured herself.
Only it wasn’t. There was something incredibly compelling about the man. Something she could not easily put into words, but that her mind rushed to acknowledge.
And yet he had used her. He’d believed the worst in her, and instead of giving her any credit, instead of allowing her the briefest moment to explain, he’d forced her into a scenario that was both terrifying and terrifyingly permanent. A single tear escaped her eyes, but she dashed it away.
She could not cry.
She would not.
Not in front of Tamir.
Despite her brave determination, he heard her intake of breath and saw the way her back shuddered. She was crying. For the first time in his adult life, Tamir had no idea what to say.
Olivia pushed up from the enormous bed and moved towards her bathroom. She was sore. Muscles that had not been tested for many years were groaning after a day’s systematic exhaustion. She moved gingerly and shut the door behind herself gratefully. The shower was enormous, but the bath tub was beckoning. She began the water running, and placed the plug in. As she sank into the half-filled bath a few moments later, she made a low sound of relief.
“Are you in pain?”
Tamir. Just outside the door stood the man who had done this to her.
Her breath hitched in her throat as she shook her head from side to side. Then, she realised he could not see, and tried to find her voice. “I’m fine.”
“May I … May I come in?”
Olivia reached for the taps and switched off the water. It was fast flowing and had almost filled the bath to the top. The water was topped with fragrant bubbles.
“I thought you weren’t allowed.”
Somehow, though she knew it to be impossible, she heard his smile through the timber doorway. “It will be our secret.”
Olivia reached for the bar of soap. “Fine.”
The door pushed inwards, allowing Tamir to step into her bathroom. He’d pulled on a pair of boxers – this time black – and he looked dangerously attractive. He sat on the edge of the bath, staring down at her.
“I married you thinking that I hated you. I married you wanting your body, even though I judged you harshly for your crime. I thought the worst of you. Yet I worry I have hurt you, and it makes me feel… guilt.” He shook his head. “I do not want to hurt you, Olivia.”
The water lapped against her breasts, and she sank lower into it. “I hardly know you, but I find that hard to believe.”
He sighed. “Why?”
“When I was in Liya before – years ago, admittedly – I thought this was an incredibly beautiful country. Traditional and enlightened at the same time.” She bit down on her lip. “You scare me, Tamir.”
“Scare you? Why?”
She laughed, for it was such an absurd question. “Since the moment you saw me, you have bullied me and berated me. You have pursued me in a way that bore no opposition. And here I am. Your wife, though I did not know it until well after the fact.” She shook her head. “You have treated me like little more than an object, and yet still I don’t seem able to resist you.” She ran the bar of soap over her shoulders in an effort to distract herself. “Ours is not a marriage, and I am not your wife. And I wish, with all my heart, that you’d never married me.” Her voice cracked as the sob she’d been fighting found its way into her mouth. “I could have handled being your mistress. What we share, undeniably, is a mutual sexual interest. So we could have indulged it. I would have. Happily. And though I know it would have hurt, when you decided to end it, I would have walked away with my head held high.” She sobbed again. “But what now? What do I have?”
He refused to let her see that she was eating into his confidence. “What do you mean?’
She reached down and pulled the plug out. The water began to gurgle rapidly down the drain and Olivia stood, reaching for a towel in one smooth movement. She wrapped it around herself, then turned to face him. “I have nothing. I have no say over what we are. I have no ability to walk away from you. You own me, and always will.” She was shaking, so great was her rage. “I will always hate you for this.” Her eyes sheened with tears. “You have robbed me of so much. The ability to marry for love. The proposal I was due. The ability to look down at my wedding ring and sigh with happiness, for the moment of perfection that donning it had given me. I just don’t understand why you did this to me, Tamir.”
Nor, frankly, did he. But he’d never admit that to his wife. He couldn’t. On some instinctive level, he knew that showing her weakness would be the beginning of the end for them. “You are my wife. It is done.” He reached over and touched her curled hair, compelled to feel the soft blondness between his fingers. “Do not think about why. Or what if. Simply understand that this is now fact. Wishing it were different will change nothing, Azeezi.”
Her throat was raw from the pain of unshed tears, but she somehow kept a grip on her emotions. “Fine.”
He nodded, strangely proud of her. “You have much to do today. You will have your own assistants arrive shortly to prepare you.”
Olivia was stricken. “Tamir,” she murmured, reaching out for his hand. It surprised him, and he paused, looking down at her small, pale fingers wrapped around his wrist. “Are you going somewhere?”
A frown flicked across his face. “I have a meeting with the King of Janina.”
“Oh.” She looked away. “I see.”
He sighed wearily. Why had he married her? What had he been thinking? Love and affection had never entered his mind, and yet the thought of leaving her like this was a physical pain. “I must go, Olivia. It is an important discussion, and this meeting has taken months to convene.”
She squared her shoulders in an attempt at bravery. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”
“Your assistants will be here shortly.” He turned to leave before her desperation could puncture his resolve completely.
He was doing the right thing, he assured himself, a little while later, when he sat in his breakfast meeting. King Kibab of Janina was across from him, broad and fat from years of ruling a thriving kingdom. They were in the final stages of negotiations, and Tamir’s attendance was almost a formality. Nonetheless, he listened intently as the final details were arranged, only allowing a small portion of his brain to dwell on the sadness he’d felt from Olivia.
Their marriage had been unavoidable, hadn’t it? Kalil was a distant cousin, and had served him conscientiously for years. His position as security chief was highly regarded, and Kalil himself was a man of high esteem. Yet Kalil heralded from a far more conservative background. He had made his disapproval of Tamir’s moderate politics obvious, and Tamir had seen the pure delight Kalil had tasted at the discovery of Olivia’s crime. To discredit the lover of the Sultan in a multi-million pound theft would have been a sweet victory for the right wing puritans who lived in Talidar.
Might there have been another way to protect Olivia?
Perhaps.
But certainly not one that Tamir could easily have discovered. His authority was ultimate, but to let a woman get away with such a bold crime, simply because she had legs that went forever, would plant a seed of discontent in his people.
Tamir lifted his water glass and drank from it thoughtfully. At least in marrying her he had guaranteed her protection. As his lover, she had been vulnerable. He thought of his many other mistresses. Some had been able to remain secret in his life. Most – particularly those from the West, with hair like honey and skin like sand – had become objects of scorn. He’d never felt bothered by that. After all, they had all walked openly into their relationships with him.
But Olivia was so different.
He had singled her out and virtually hunted her. Oh, her desire had been real. From the moment they’d first touched, he had known she was as shocked by the overpowering current of electricity that ran between them as he had been. But he, Tamir, had made her a prisoner to it. He’d forced her to acknowledge it, and he’d made it impossible for her to resist.
He thought of her that very morning, when she’d woken and been so sweet and relaxed. It had only lasted for a brief moment, before the anxiety of her new position had broken through, but it had been there. And those moments of happiness were like sunshine yolking over the valley – perfect and serene.
Tamir realised, with a flash of blinding certainty, that he did care about Olivia. That her happiness was something he enjoyed experiencing. And that her sadness and worry were burdens he now carried equally. He had to remove them from her shoulders.
* * *
Fatima had the same jet black eyes as her son, and her daughter Selena. They were set in a face that had been wrinkled by life; a face that was beautiful despite those wrinkles, for it seemed to burst with brightness. And like Tamir, Fatima Al’ani was as astute as they came.
She sat in a gold chair that had a purple velvet cushion, a small figure in an enormous room. With the exception of the security personnel who lined the walls on both sides, they were alone.
Olivia hesitated for a moment on the threshold. She had already met with her staff, and been provided with a mind-blowing rundown of how her days were likely to operate. She’d been given a detailed tour of the palace, and she’d found it fascinating. But it had been too brief! Every room housed different tapestries and pieces of art, many of them unseen by the art world. How she’d wanted to linger, to examine and touch, to explore on her own! Only the certainty that she would one day have that opportunity had allowed her to continue with the tour without showing the extent of her frustrations.
Tamir had been right. His artefacts were stunning. His palace beautiful. And her day had been exhausting and enormous. Though it was nearing dusk, the heat of Talidar showed no signs of abating, and in this formal sitting room, overlooking a rolling green lawn, the heat seemed thick like a wall.
She looked to the ceiling, and saw that the fans were spinning, but all they seemed to be doing was circulating the warmth around the room.
“Innani,” the older woman spoke, her voice resonant and clear.
Innani? Olivia closed her eyes and tried to remember. Come? Welcome? Hello? She shook her head. Her grip on Talidarian had been slight, and it had been many years since she’d needed to use it.
Olivia moved across the room, impressing her mother-in-law with her graceful poise and elegant gait. She had been dressed in a ceremonial robe for her first day as a princess; it was cream, with gold running through it, and it flattered her complexion.
Olivia’s attendants had prepared her for this meeting. She knelt before Fatima, showing her respect, and only lifted her face to meet Fatima’s when the older woman had acknowledged her.
“Sit,” she said with a nod towards a second chair.
Olivia did, smiling nervously. “Do you speak English, ma’am?”
“Little,” the older woman said with a shake of her head.
“Oh dear,” Olivia laughed. “And I hardly speak Talidarian.” She frowned, and switched to French. “Perhaps another language will work?”
To her surprise, Fatima’s face lit up, and she responded in the same ancient language. “Why do you know this language?”
“Many of my clients are French,” Olivia said with a smile of relief. “And in England, it is routinely taught at school.”
“Your accent is excellent,” Fatima complimented.
“As is yours, your highness,” Olivia returned.
Fatima dipped her head forward in acknowledgement. “My mother was French. My father used to say he’d plucked her out of the middle of the Boulevarde st Germain when his cavalcade was driving down it. He saw her and knew that he wanted to marry her.”
“And so he did,” Olivia murmured, thinking of Tamir’s very similar arrogance and certainty.
“And so he did, yes,” Fatima smiled softly. “I understand my son has quite overpowered you with his own determination to turn you into princess of Talidar.”
Olivia’s cheeks flamed pink, and she lowered her green gaze from the Queen’s enquiring stare. She had not thought the subject of their hasty marriage would come up. Not so explicitly. She had no idea how to respond. The very small, very angry part of her wanted to pour scorn on Tamir’s head, and tell his mother just what an arrogant dictator he was. But when she thought of his handsome face, she was quiet. There was something about him that made her pause for far too long. Something about him that communicated a deeper sense of morality than she’d appreciated. Olivia lifted her face.
“We were both surprised by the speed with which everything developed.” It was a polite lie, wasn’t it? Olivia’s heart was pounding her chest. She couldn’t let herself think about Tamir as a true husband. As someone she might one day come to care for. He’d tricked her into this marriage, and he’d bullied her into being his mistress. Okay, she’d signed up for one night. And the sex had been amazing. But how could she actually like someone who had been perfectly complacent about taking her freedom from her?
Fatima’s cackle surprised Olivia. “An excellent answer.” She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. “I will not pry, daughter. But let me warn you. My son is a good man. An excellent man. Very like his father was. But he was born with the certainty that he would steer his kingdom. He has one great love in life, and it is for this land, and this palace, and the history that it is built upon. Do not expect more of him than he gives – he might care for you, but he will never love anyone as he does his duty.”
Olivia ignored the frisson of tension that sledged down her spine. She had no expectations of love from Tamir. And no desire for his love, she reminded herself fiercely. That was absolutely not what this union was about.
So what was it? She kept her expression neutral, but her mind was a swirling torrent of frustration. Tamir had claimed that he’d been protecting her by marrying her. That he’d saved her and Jack from prosecution in a country that would not give them an ounce of kindness. But how could that be the real reason? Surely, as Sultan, he would have had other ways to make Jack’s stupid attempted theft go away. What else did he gain from this marriage?
“I have upset you.” The older woman asked quietly, leaning forward. “You love him?”
Olivia shook her head, and forced a bright smile to her face. “You haven’t upset me, ma’am.”
She steered the conversation to safer ground, but nonetheless, she felt like she’d been through the ringer when she emerged from the salon less than an hour later. She hadn’t seen Tamir all day, and it occurred to her that she needed to see him.
But she couldn’t need to see him. She couldn’t start to think like that! To let herself believe any part of this was real or good. It was all a terrible mess.
Two of her assistants, who had waited while she met with Fatima, followed in her wake, but their constant presence was enervating. She stopped walking abruptly and turned to face them. “I would like to walk on my own, please.”
They looked from one to the other, uncertainly. “I apologise, your majesty. We have been told to remain with you.”
Olivia narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
Neither spoke, but she could see by the way her primary aide, Yasmin, lowered her eyes, that they were embarrassed to announce their reasons.
“Why?” She pushed, more forcefully.
And then, she realised. She was a security risk!
Though she was technically a princess, she was still a prisoner. The possibility that she might steal, or do something equally nefarious, was a cloud of accusation that was following her everywhere. “Where is my husband?”
Yasmin looked to the other assistant, her expression concerned. “His highness is still in meetings, ma’am.”
“Where?” She hissed between two teeth.
“We will lead you to him,” Yasmin finally conceded quietly.
Olivia gritted her teeth. “Fine.”
His meetings were taking place in the other wing of the palace, and it took them almost ten minutes to walk there, even at a good pace. Yasmin cast Olivia one last look. “Are you certain you would like to interrupt?”
“Yes,” she muttered darkly.
Yasmin nodded and raised her fist to the door. She knocked on it three times, then stepped back guiltily. If Olivia had been less incensed, she might have stopped to realise that she was putting the poor woman in a position that was untenable. As her assistant, Yasmin was obliged to follow Olivia’s orders, but more than that, she served the Sultan and the palace.
The door opened inwards, to a large, elegant office. Tamir stood there, on his own, but for the servant who’d opened the door.
Olivia looked around to be absolutely certain, and then expelled an angry breath when she saw that he was indeed alone. “Wait here,” she said to Yasmin. Her temper only flared hotter when she saw her assistant look past her, to Tamir, for approval.
“Oh, for goodness sake,” Olivia said wearily, stalking into the room and planting her hands on her hips.
Tamir dragged his eyes over her slowly, and felt an answering anger bite into his already dark mood. “Go now,” he encompassed his own servant in the command. Instantly, they were alone.
Olivia stared across at him, and her breath caught in her throat. A whole day apart, and her body instantly jolted to a state of awareness. He was handsome and he was sexy, but he was a ruthless bastard. She needed to remember that.
“My assistants won’t leave me alone. Apparently, they suspect I’m going to stuff royal treasures into my robes and make for the border.”
He forced himself not to show his amusement. “Their job is to protect you. Even from yourself.”
“I don’t need protecting from myself,” she snapped, lifting her fingers to her temples and rubbing her tired head. “I am not a thief, and I’m not a princess. I don’t want to be with people all day.”
“They’re not people, they’re assistants.”
Olivia glared at him. “That’s ridiculous.”
He nodded. “I don’t mean that they’re of less value,” he added quickly. “Only that their job is to be invisible. They are there in case they are needed. Until you require them, you ignore their presence.”
“I can’t do that. And I don’t like feeling like I’m being watched all the time! Do you really think I’d be stupid enough to steal from you, Tamir?”
He sighed. “It is a concern, yes.”
“Your concern?” She pushed.
He was silent, and Olivia’s anger trebled. She stalked towards the door, shaking her head with a fulminating rage. “Damn it, I thought you believed me. I thought I’d got through to you. I will not be treated like a criminal. If those women have to go everywhere with me then I simply won’t leave my room.”
Tamir followed her, catching her easily. He put his hand on hers, gently pulling her to a stop. He was surprised to see tears shimmering in her eyes. “Why are you crying?” He demanded, dropping her hand but remaining right before her.
She dashed her hands over her eyes and glared up at him. “I’m not.”
He shook his head, and pressed a finger to her cheek. He traced a tear then lifted his finger to his mouth and kissed it. “Salt for sadness.”
She was mesmerised by the gesture. By his lips, and his finger, and his darkly watchful eyes. “I’m not sad. I’m… I’m angry.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
“God, Tamir, if things had been different,” she said with a slow shake of her head. The unfinished sentence hung between them. Tamir lifted his hand to her cheek, touching her skin, seeking answers.
“If things had been different?” He finally prompted.
Olivia sucked in a deep breath. This could have been real. She bit down on her lower lip. But things weren’t different. And this wasn’t real. “I don’t want to be followed.” She lifted her chin. “You have me here. I am a prisoner in this beautiful palace of yours. Without the constant presence of my attendants, I will still be your prisoner. Bound by marriage and by the fact that I don’t doubt you wouldn’t hesitate to have Jack sent to prison if I were to attempt to escape.”
Tamir’s gut clenched so hard he was almost crippled. He felt like he’d been sucker punched. “I gave you my word that your friend would be safe.”
She shrugged. “You also told me I was to come to Talidar with you. You implied I would be here as your lover.” She closed her eyes. “Not your wife.”
Tamir turned away from her. His whole life, he had known black and white, good and bad, and he’d never doubted his motives nor his actions. The mirror she held up to him showed something he didn’t like. It was grey. Murky. Muddied.
“I have explained…”
“And so have I,” she interjected forcefully. “When it comes down to it, you don’t believe me. And I don’t believe you. So we’re stuck.”
He nodded. She was right. He would never be certain that she hadn’t been complicit in Jack’s would-be theft. Particularly not when she’d admitted she knew of his proclivities. Even if she hadn’t been consciously planning the heist, her role was the same as a friend who took an alcoholic to a bar. As for their marriage, even he didn’t completely buy his cover story. Yes, he’d wanted to keep her away from Kalil’s prosecution, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think that was his only reason.
He dragged a hand through his hair and stared out at the dusky orange sky. If she was a prisoner, then he was also. Trapped by a force that neither of them comprehended.
“I will ask your attendants to wait upon you only when you request it.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, turning from him and leaving before anything else was said. The words were building up inside of her like a strange bank of water being dammed in. She could not let the dam wall fall.