leaving him feeling vaguely soiled, as if debased by his own physical needs. In short, once the deed had been done, he had been out of there. But with Annalina it had been different. He had felt stronger for having made love to her, calmer, more complete. Somehow made whole. But then with Anna everything was different.
But his euphoric peace had been short-lived, shattered first by howls and then sounds of destruction that he instantly knew had to be his brother. In his haste to go to him he had abandoned Annalina, not thinking that she would follow him, that she was the one who was in danger. That she would end up being attacked.
A surge of impotent energy saw him retracing his steps back up to the bedroom where she was sleeping, startling the young servant, Lana, who for some reason had taken it upon herself to keep a bedside vigil. Curtly dismissing her, he had taken her place, the realisation of what he had to do growing with every minute that passed as he gazed down at Anna’s peaceful face. He had been wrong to marry her, to bring her here. No good would ever come of it. If he wanted to protect her, he knew what he had to do. He had to set her free.
* * *
Anna opened her eyes, at first startled, then feeling her heart leap when she saw that Zahir was at her bedside, staring at her with silent intensity.
‘What time is it?’ She started to push herself up against the pillows. What day was it, come to that? Crossing time zones, the glorious wonder of sex with Zahir, the terror of Rashid’s assault meant she had totally lost all sense of date and time. Her hand went to her throat as the dreadful memory came back. It felt slightly tender, nothing more.
‘About four a.m.’ Zahir shifted in his seat but his eyes never left her face.
Anna sat up further, brushing the hair away from her face. ‘What are you doing here?’ Something about Zahir’s still demeanour, the dispassionate way he was observing her, was starting to alarm her. She moved her hand across the coverlet to find his but, instead of taking it, he folded his arms across his chest, sitting ramrod-straight in his chair. ‘Is it Rashid? Has something happened to him?’
‘Rashid has been sedated. He will give us no further trouble tonight.’
‘Well, that’s good, I suppose.’
‘You should go back to sleep. The doctor said you must rest.’ Zahir rose to his feet. For a moment Anna thought he was going to leave but instead he moved round to the end of the bed where he stood watching her like a dark angel. A couple of seconds of silence ticked by before he spoke again. ‘Your neck.’ His voice was gruff, as if he had been the one with the hands around his throat. ‘Does it hurt?’
‘No.’ His obvious anguish made Anna want to lessen his burden. ‘Honestly, I’m fine. But what about you? The marks on your chest, Zahir, they looked bad.’
‘They are nothing.’ He immediately closed her down. They were obviously to be covered up by more than the loose white shirt that now clad his chest.
‘I’m sorry that I made the situation worse by swooning like a Victorian heroine.’ She pulled an apologetic face. ‘I don’t know what came over me. I think it must have been the shock.’
‘You have nothing to apologise for.’ His hands gripped the end of the bed. ‘It is I who should be sorry.’
‘What happened, Zahir?’ She lowered her voice. ‘Why did Rashid go berserk like that?’
Zahir looked away into the darkness of the room. ‘Apparently he failed to take his medication when he was in Dorrada.’
‘And that...that fury was the result?’ She bit down on her lip. ‘But why did he target me, Zahir? Rip up my clothes, try to attack me? What does he have against me?’
‘He had no idea what he was doing. He attacked me too, his own brother.’
‘But only because you were trying to stop him from trashing my room.’ She hadn’t been sure until that moment, but now she saw that she was right.
‘It seems he regards you as some sort of threat.’ Zahir still couldn’t meet her eye. ‘In his deranged state, he’s somehow confusing you with the person who killed our parents.’
‘Oh, how awful.’ Anna’s heart lurched with compassion and maybe a tinge of fear. ‘Poor Rashid. Maybe if I tried to speak to him—when he’s calmed down, I mean.’
‘No.’ Now his black gaze bored into her.
‘Well, is he having any other treatment, apart from medication? Counselling, for example? I’m sure there will be a doctor in Europe who could help him. I could make enquiries?’ She looked earnestly across at his shadowed form.
‘That won’t be necessary. Rashid is my problem and I will deal with him.’
‘Actually, I think he is my problem too, in view of what you’ve just told me... In view of what happened tonight.’ Hurt at the way Zahir curtly dismissed her offer of help hardened her voice.
‘That will never happen again.’
‘How can you be so sure when we’re both living under the same roof?’
‘Because you won’t be for much longer.’
‘What do you mean? Are you going to send him away?’
‘No, Annalina.’
The seed of a terrible truth started to germinate. She stared at him in frozen horror.
‘You’re not saying...?’ She swallowed past her closing throat. ‘You are not intending to send me away?’
‘I’ve come to the conclusion that bringing you here was a mistake.’
‘A mistake?’ The dead look in Zahir’s eyes sent panic to her heart. ‘What do you mean, a mistake?’
‘I’ve decided that you should return to Dorrada.’
‘But how can I go back to Dorrada when you are here in Nabatean?’ She spoke quickly, trying to drown out the scream in her head. ‘I am your wife. I should be by your side.’
‘That was a mistake too.’ A terrible chill cloaked the room. ‘The marriage will be annulled.’
‘No!’ She heard the word echo around them.
‘I have made up my mind, Annalina.’
This wasn’t possible...it couldn’t be happening. Pulling back the covers, Anna scrambled across the bed until she landed in front of Zahir with a small thump. He took a step back but the desperation in her eyes halted his retreat. He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t be ending their marriage, casting her aside just like that. Could he? But one look at the determined set of his jaw, the terrible blackness of his eyes, told her that he could. And he was.
Anna clasped her hands on either side of her head as if to stop it exploding. Had she failed again so spectacularly that Zahir was prepared to end their marriage without even giving it a chance? And to do it now—when she had only just accepted how deeply she had fallen in love with him—felt like the cruellest, most heart-breaking twist of all. Seconds passed before one small question found its way through the choking fog.
‘But
