Modern Romance Collection: May 2018 Books 5 - 8. Кейт Хьюит
‘That you took advantage of the situation,’ Zayed said evenly, ignoring the flicker of unease that rippled through him. Olivia had gone very still, her blue eyes wide, her expression strangely fathomless.
‘Advantage,’ she said after a moment, her tone as fathomless as her face.
‘Yes, advantage. As a lowly governess, essentially a servant in the royal household with few prospects, you saw the advantage in being my wife. Being Queen.’
‘Queen? Of what?’ Contempt rolled off every syllable. ‘A huddle of tents in the desert?’
Zayed flinched under the words, although he knew they were more or less true. ‘I will regain my inheritance,’ he said in a near growl. ‘I promise you that.’
‘When? And why would I take such an enormous risk?’ She hitched the towel higher, her face flushed now, her eyes bright with anger and even hurt. ‘You are contemptible to suggest such a thing.’
‘What am I supposed to think?’ Zayed demanded. ‘There were any number of opportunities for you to tell me who you were.’
‘I didn’t realise I needed to! Why should I?’
‘And what about after?’ Zayed took another step towards her; he could smell the freshness of her damp skin, almost feel her quiver. ‘What about the wedding night?’
She set her jaw, although her hands shook on the towel. ‘What about it?’
‘You fell into my arms easily enough. Too easily, I think.’
‘It is to my own shame and regret that I did.’ Tears trembled on her lashes and she blinked them back. ‘Whatever you believe.’
‘What woman falls into bed with her kidnapper, without even knowing his name?’
‘What man seduces a woman without checking who she is first?’ Olivia snapped. ‘I accept I was seduced, and far too easily at that. But you are the one who kidnapped me, Prince Zayed. You are the one who took me from my home and forced—’
‘I did not force.’ The words were low and deadly.
‘Not...not that. But the wedding ceremony. You didn’t even explain—’
‘I thought you knew.’
‘Then you made a lot of assumptions, and now you are paying the price, as am I.’ With her chin held high, Olivia went to move past him, but Zayed grabbed her wrist, feeling the fragile bones beneath her skin.
‘We are not done here.’
She whirled around to face him, fury tautening her features, the towel slipping so her breasts spilled out, golden and perfect. Despite everything, or perhaps because of it, desire arrowed through Zayed, impossible to resist. He drew her towards him and she came, willingly, her lips parting, her features already softening. It was that easy. Her instant acquiescence hardened something inside him and he dropped her wrist.
‘Even now you are willing,’ he said, not bothering to hide his disgust, and Olivia flushed crimson as she yanked the towel back up.
‘As were you,’ she choked. ‘Don’t deny it.’
‘I am not now,’ he told her coldly, and then turned away, only to still when he saw Jahmal coming over the hill. How much had his aide seen?
‘My Prince.’ Jahmal’s gaze flicked to Olivia and then away again quickly. ‘Forgive my interruption, but a message has just come through.’
‘A message?’ Zayed tensed, wondering if Hassan had already heard, was already angry. If he broke the betrothal... Except, of course, Zayed had already broken it by marrying another woman.
‘It is Malouf.’
Olivia might not have understood the Arabic, but she clearly understood that name, for she gasped softly.
‘What has he done?’ Zayed demanded.
‘He sent some men to raid a village two hours’ ride from here. There are wounded.’
Zayed swore. Malouf wreaked his bloody war to no purpose and innocents paid the price.
‘Let us depart at once.’ He started to stride from the oasis when Olivia’s voice stopped him.
‘Wait!’ she cried, and Zayed turned around impatiently.
‘What is it?’
She stretched out one slender hand. ‘Take me with you.’
OLIVIA WATCHED AS Zayed’s eyes flared with both impatience and irritation and knew he would consider no such thing. She was a liability, a burden, in every possible way. He despised her, it seemed, for having given in to him...just as she despised herself.
And yet she didn’t want to be abandoned. Who knew when Zayed would come back? He might leave her here to languish; conveniently forget about her while he pursed his political destiny. And, more importantly, she wanted to do something, to feel useful, rather than sit and wait and worry. If she went with Zayed, she could help.
‘Take me with you,’ she said again, her voice stronger now. ‘I have training in first aid, and I can help if any women or children have been hurt.’ She pulled the towel around her more tightly, conscious of the other man’s carefully averted gaze. ‘I can be of use; I know it.’
Zayed’s lips thinned and his eyes narrowed. ‘But you don’t speak Arabic.’
‘I speak enough.’ Olivia lifted her chin, willing him to agree. She was afraid to be left here, alone with strangers. Zayed might hate her at the moment, but at least he knew her. He knew her all too well.
Zayed glanced at the other man, who was keeping a deliberately neutral expression. Then he gave a terse nod. ‘Very well. Suma will see you have the appropriate clothes. Jahmal will fetch you in five minutes.’
He strode away from the oasis, followed by Jahmal, and Olivia’s breath came out in a whoosh of both relief and trepidation. What had she just got herself into? Yet anything was better than staying here and waiting, wondering. The future seemed like so much fog, impossible to know...and yet terrifying at the same time.
Back at the tent Suma brought her some more clothes—desert boots and a headscarf to keep out the sand. Olivia finished dressing quickly, her fingers shaking as she did up the laces on her boots.
Zayed’s horrid accusation ricocheted through her brain, filling her with both shame and fury. How could he think she’d somehow planned this? But what was he supposed to think, when she’d fallen into bed with him so willingly, so instantly? Olivia didn’t know what was worse—Zayed thinking she was a scheming gold-digger or a wanton woman.
Exactly five minutes later Jahmal entered the tent and Olivia followed him out, her heart thudding in her chest.
Prince Zayed was waiting in front of a desert camouflage Jeep parked outside the camp, looking both fierce and royal in combat boots, loose trousers and a camouflage shirt that clung to the muscles of his chest and arms. His agate gaze swept over her, giving nothing away. With one brief nod he indicated she should get into the back of the Jeep, so Olivia did. Zayed climbed into the driver’s seat and Jahmal slid in next to him.
The sky was a hard, bright blue, the unforgiving sunlight illuminating the barren desert landscape Olivia had been unable to see last night. She’d glimpsed a bit of it on the way to the oasis but now, as the Jeep started away from the camp, she grasped something of the utter isolation of their location.
Undulating sand dunes swept to the horizon, interspersed with large, jagged-looking boulders. She felt as if they were a million miles from anywhere.
The Jeep jostled over the sand and Olivia leaned back, fatigue crashing over her now that the initial