The Sultan's Virgin Bride. Sarah Morgan
that. Cared nothing for appearances or protocol. ‘You were utterly ruthless, Tariq. When I refused your “generous offer”, my father and I were forced to leave the country.’
His expression revealed nothing. ‘In the circumstances, it was not appropriate for you to stay.’
She thought of the desert and the beaches. She thought of the golden temples and the dusty streets. She thought of the mysteries of the souk and she thought of those precious early morning walks on the beach, warmed by the hot, hot sun. She thought of the Caves of Zatua and the legend of Nadia and her Sultan. ‘For a short time it was my home. I loved it. Leaving was hard.’
But not as hard as it had been to leave Tariq.
She’d felt as though a huge part of her had been left behind in the desert. The only part of her that mattered. She’d believed that he loved her and the discovery that his feelings had been no more than sexual had shattered her fragile self-confidence.
‘If you truly loved my country then you will be only too happy to return.’
‘I will never return.’ For her, Tazkash was a place that would always be linked with him. A place where there were too many painful memories. ‘You’re being ridiculous and I refuse even to have this conversation with you. I’m not one of your subjects or even one of your adoring women.’ And there were plenty of those, she thought grimly. Women prepared to do just about anything to gain his attention.
‘Once, Farrah Tyndall,’ he said softly, the pad of his thumb brushing over the fullness of her lower lip, ‘once, you begged me to marry you. You couldn’t wait to climb into my bed. It was I who slowed the pace because you were so young. Once, you adored me.’
Her heart was thumping with rhythmic force against her chest. She didn’t want to be reminded of just how open and honest she’d been with him about her feelings. Most women played it cool. At the age of eighteen, in love with a staggeringly sexy man, she hadn’t understood the meaning of the word. How he must have laughed at her. ‘That was before I discovered that princes work better in fairy tales. Before I discovered what a cold, unfeeling bastard you are.’
His head jerked back and his dark eyes narrowed in a warning. ‘Be careful. I have always allowed you more leeway than most but no one speaks to me in such a way—’
‘Which just goes to show what an unsuitable wife I would make. I thought you’d already made that discovery for yourself but it’s good to remind you of that fact.’ She shrugged her bare shoulders out of his jacket and handed it back to him. ‘Thanks, but I don’t need this. I prefer to go inside to warm up.’
He couldn’t be serious about marrying her. Why would he be? She didn’t understand what game he was playing, but she knew she didn’t want to be a part of it.
Something flickered in his eyes. Something dangerous. ‘You will come with me. Now.’ It was an unmistakable command and she gave a slight shiver of reaction.
No one argued with Tariq—she should have remembered that. His authority was absolute. Once, his status alone had been sufficient to render her tongue-tied, but not any more. She’d had plenty of time to reflect on what had happened between them. And she’d grown up.
‘Why would I want to go anywhere with you?’ She forced herself to speak lightly. Forced herself not to betray the effect he had on her. ‘So that you can show me the way to paradise? I’ve been there once before, Tariq, and I think I must have taken a wrong turning because, frankly, it wasn’t up to much. Excuse me, I’m going back inside.’
Long bronzed fingers caught her wrist in a steely grip. ‘I wish to talk to you properly. In private.’
‘But I don’t wish to talk to you in private, or in public, come to that. Five minutes in your company has been enough to convince me that you haven’t changed one bit so take my advice and quit while you’re only slightly behind.’
His glance reflected barely contained frustration. ‘You will come with me.’
‘Why? Because you order it? I don’t wish to go anywhere with you so what are you going to do? Kidnap me?’
His dark eyes were suddenly veiled. ‘I hardly think such extreme measures will be required.’
She risked a glance at him and realized with a jolt that he was deadly serious. He wanted her. Why? She wondered desperately. Because she’d finally managed to reinvent herself? Because, on the surface at least, she’d turned into the woman her mother had always wanted her to be? ‘Do you really think I’m going to walk back into your arms?’
‘If you’re honest about your feelings, then yes. It’s still there. Farrah—’ he used his superior strength to hold her fast when she would have run ‘—you can feel it and so can I. And I’m offering you what you’ve always wanted. Don’t let a childish tantrum deprive you of your dream.’
Her heart thundered against her chest. ‘Even for a sultan, you are insufferably arrogant,’ she gasped, trying to ignore the tiny shockwaves that gripped her body. ‘And any dreams I might have had about you ended five years ago. You had your chance with me, Tariq, and you blew it. End of story.’
Far from being disconcerted, his eyes gleamed and she remembered too late that Tariq thrived on challenge. He was a man who hunted for obstacles just so that he could smash them down and prove his superiority.
‘I am willing to play this your way for a while, Farrah, while you get used to the idea that we are going to be together again. But as my future wife you must abide by a certain code of behaviour. I understand you are to take part in the charity fashion show imminently.’
Farrah stared at him blankly. The fashion show? She’d forgotten all about the fashion show. The only thing on her mind since he’d walked on to the terrace had been escape. From him and from her jumbled feelings. His reminder of her commitment to the charity made her heart drop. She wasn’t at all sure she could make it through another couple of hours, especially not in such a public way. Everyone would be looking at her. Including Tariq.
She opened her mouth to tell him that she was going to make her excuses but his eyes flashed dark and menacing, his ebony brows drawn together in a disapproving frown.
‘I forbid you to take part.’
‘You forbid—?’ The word made her temper simmer and suddenly she struck on a foolproof way of removing him from her life again. After all, wasn’t her ‘inappropriate behaviour’ one of the main reasons he’d cited for being unable to marry her? ‘You don’t want me to be in the fashion show, Tariq?’ Suddenly she realized that appearing in the fashion show would be the perfect way of guaranteeing his rapid exit from her life.
‘As my future wife, it would not be appropriate.’
‘Good, that settles it, then,’ she said sweetly as she twisted her arm free of his grip, ‘because I intend to do the fashion show. So perhaps you’d better look elsewhere for the wife you so desperately need, Your Excellency.’
He inhaled sharply, disbelief flickering in his dark eyes. ‘You persist in this ridiculous pretence that you’re not interested. Do you understand what it is that I am proposing?’
‘Proposing?’ She tilted her head and her eyes sparkled with anger. ‘Sorry, I didn’t actually hear a proposal. I heard you ordering and forbidding and doing all the things that you’re really, really good at. You’re going to have to go and find someone else to command, Tariq, because I’m not interested.’
Without giving him a chance to respond, she walked past his bodyguards, back through the ballroom and into the room where they were frantically preparing for the fashion show. Her heart was thumping, her hands felt clammy and she felt physically sick as she joined the other girls who were modelling that evening.
His wife?
Why would he say such a thing?
Why on earth would he suddenly be talking about marrying her after five years of silence? What was going