it,’ he said. He wished the answer was that simple, wished there was someone in whom he could confide. ‘I will have the trip scheduled.’
‘So you can remove them a bit more from your life?’
‘You do not talk to me like that.’ ‘Here I do.’
‘Once I am married the twins will have a mother figure …’
‘Oh, please!’
He frowned at her inappropriate response, but that did not deter her.
‘Is it a mother for the twins you are selecting or a bride to give you sons?’
‘I’ve told you already: it is not for you to question our ways. What would you know …?’
‘Plenty.’ Amy retorted. ‘My parents divorced when I was two and I remember going to my father’s; I remember when he married his new wife—a woman who had no interest in his children, who would really have preferred that we didn’t inconvenience her one Saturday in two.’ She stopped her tirade. There was no point. This was about the twins, not her past.
But instead of telling her off again, instead of telling her her words were inappropriate, he asked questions.
‘How did you deal with it as a child?’ Emir asked—because it mattered. He did want to make things better for his girls. ‘Were you unhappy? Were you …?’
‘Ignored?’ She finished his sentence for him and Emir nodded, making her tell him some of her truth. ‘Dad bought me a dolls’ house.’ She gave a pale smile at the memory. ‘I spent hours playing with it. There the mum and dad slept and ate together. The kids played in the garden or in the living room, not up in their room …’ There she’d been able to fix things. Her smile faded and trembled. Here she couldn’t fix things.
She felt his hand on her bare arm, felt his fingers brush her skin as if to comfort.
It did not.
She felt his flesh meet hers and it was all she could think of. His dark hand making contact was all she could think of when her mind should surely be only on the twins.
She hauled her thoughts back to them. ‘Can I ask,’ she said, ‘that when you consider a bride you think of them?’
‘Of course.’
His voice was soft and low, his hand still warm on her arm and there was a different tension surrounding them, the certainty that she was but a second away from a kiss.
A kiss that could only spell danger.
Perhaps that was his plan? Amy thought, shrugging off his hand, turning again to the desert. Perhaps he wanted her to fall in love with him. How convenient to keep her here, to bind her a little closer to the twins, to ensure that she did not resign. For he deemed her better for the twins.
‘Leave!’ She spat the word out over her shoulder, but still he stood. ‘Leave …’ she said again. But there was no relief when he complied, no respite when she heard the door close. Amy choked back angry tears as she stood on the balcony, she wanted to call him back, wanted to continue their discussion.… wanted …
There was the other reason she had to consider leaving.
Despite herself, despite the way he had been these past months, when he made any brief appearance in the nursery, on the rare occasions when he deigned to appear, her heart foolishly leapt at the sight of him—and lately her dreams had allowed more intimate glimpses of him. It confused her that she could have feelings for a man who paid so little attention to his own children.
Feelings that were forbidden.
Hidden.
And they must stay that way, Amy told herself, climbing into bed and willing sleep to come. But she was nervous all the same, for when she woke it would be morning.
And tomorrow she would be alone in the desert with him.
‘COME in.’
Amy’s smile wasn’t returned as the bedroom door opened and Fatima walked in.
‘I’m nearly ready.’
‘What are you doing?’ Fatima frowned, her serious eyes moving over the mountain of coloured paper scattered over Amy’s bed.
‘I’m just wrapping some presents to take for the twins. I hadn’t had a chance before.’ She hadn’t had a chance because after a night spent tossing and turning, wondering if she’d misread things, wondering what might have happened had she not told Emir to leave, Amy had, for the first time since she’d taken the role as nanny, overslept.
Normally she was up before the twins, but this morning it had been their chatter over the intercom that had awoken her and now, having given them breakfast and got them bathed and dressed, five minutes before their departure for the desert, she had popped them in their cots so she could quickly wrap the gifts.
‘Their time in the desert is to be solemn,’ Fatima said.
‘It’s their birthday.’
‘The celebrations will be here at the palace.’ She stood and waited as Amy removed the gifts from her open case. ‘The King is ready to leave now. I will help you board the helicopter with the twins.’ She called to another servant to collect Amy’s case.
‘You need to take the twins’ cases also,’ Amy told him.
‘I have taken care of that.’ Fatima clearly did not want the King to be kept waiting. ‘Come now.’
Perhaps she had imagined last night, for Emir barely glanced at the twins and was his usual dismissive self with Amy as they boarded the helicopter. Amy was grateful for Fatima’s help to strap the twins in. The twins were used to flying, and so too was Amy, but what was different this time was the lack of aides—usually at the very least Patel travelled with them, but this trip, as she had been told many times, would be different.
Amy could almost forgive his silence and his lack of interaction with the girls during the flight, for she was well aware that this was a journey he should have been making with his wife. Perhaps he was more pensive than dismissive?
Emir was more than pensive: he looked out to the desert with loathing, and the sun glinting on the canyons made him frown as he stared into the distance. He remembered the rebels who’d used to reside there—men who had refused to wait for the predictions to come true, who’d wanted Alzan to be gone and had taken matters into their own bloody hands.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Amy commented as they swept deeper into the desert. She’d said it more to herself, but Emir responded.
‘From a distance,’ Emir said. ‘But the closer you get …’
He did not finish. Instead he went back to staring broodily out of the window, replaying battles of the past in his mind, hearing
