chose one of them.’
‘But he didn’t love her,’ Erin said, her voice ringing with conviction. ‘He loved Maryam. He talked about her all the time, and I know that her death left him heartbroken. Why did Faisal have to elope with her? Why couldn’t he have married her and stayed in Qubbah?’
‘Because Maryam was promised to another man,’ Zahir said flatly, and something in his tone caused Erin to stare at him curiously.
‘Another arranged marriage?’ she guessed. ‘But Maryam didn’t love the man she was expected to marry—she was in love with Faisal. It’s like something from the Dark Ages. Surely your father wanted his son to be happy? Why couldn’t he have relented and allowed Faisal and Maryam to be together?’
‘Because it would have been an unforgivable insult to his fiancée and her family,’ Zahir explained harshly, his eyes narrowing when he noted Erin’s disapproving expression. ‘Things are done differently in my country. I don’t expect you to understand,’ he told her dismissively.
‘You’re right—I don’t understand,’ Erin told him hotly. ‘I believe that the only reason two people should marry is because they love each other, as Faisal and Maryam did. Yet it sounds as though they were hounded out of Qubbah like criminals…’
‘They were not,’ Zahir snapped furiously. ‘My father is not some cruel despot. But he is bound by his duty to the kingdom. He was torn…’ He shook his head, belatedly remembering that Erin had no idea his father was the King of Qubbah.
The tense silence was shattered by the ring of his mobile phone. It was a welcome interruption, and he answered the call, listened intently, and then barked a few terse instructions in Arabic before turning back to Erin. ‘My driver has been following the weather reports and says that more snow is forecast. We will have to leave immediately. I cannot risk the possibility of being stranded here for days,’ he added impatiently, when Erin gaped at him.
‘You can’t expect us to come with you now?’ she faltered, tension making her voice sharp as it dawned on her that Zahir expected exactly that. ‘I can see that because your father is ill I’ll have to bring Kazim to Qubbah for a short visit, but not today! The idea is ridiculous. I’d have to pack. And it’s late. In a couple of hours it’ll be Kazim’s bedtime…’
‘He can sleep on the plane,’ Zahir informed her coolly. ‘We’ll be travelling on my private jet, and one of the bedrooms on board has already been prepared for him. It is not necessary for you to bring anything for him. He has clothes and toys, everything he could possibly want, in Qubbah. Everything is taken care of. You can quickly pack your own personal possessions if you wish,’ he added graciously. ‘And may I suggest you change into a more suitable outfit to travel in.’ His eyes briefly skimmed her faded jeans with such a disdainful expression that Erin itched to slap him. ‘Something lightweight—it is considerably hotter in Qubbah than here.’
He was the most arrogant, overstuffed…Erin ran out of adjectives and glared at him with such heated fury that he should have fried on the spot. ‘Now, look here…’
Behind her the library door creaked open. She swung round, breathing hard, and forced a smile when Kazim peeped into the room.
‘Hey, have you had your tea? I’d better come and run your bath.’
Bathtime had become something of a battlefield lately, and Kazim shook his head mutinously. He seemed fascinated by Zahir, and although he was usually shy with people he did not know, he trotted across the room and grinned when his uncle swung him into his arms.
‘Instead of a bath, how would you like to fly on my plane, Kazim?’
The little boy’s eyes widened and he nodded his head eagerly. ‘A real plane?’
‘Sure it’s a real plane. It’s a jet, and it will take us all the way to the desert—’
‘Hold on a minute,’ Erin interrupted in a fierce whisper meant for Zahir’s ears only. ‘I’m not convinced it’s a good idea for Kazim to travel tonight.’ She wasn’t convinced that she should take him to Qubbah at all, but Zahir was like a bulldozer, flattening anything that got in his way and trampling on her misgivings with arrogant disregard.
Zahir’s eyes hardened on her before he smiled at the child in his arms. ‘Kazim wants to come with me—don’t you?’ he prompted the toddler lightly. ‘But if Erin doesn’t want to come, just you and me can go—how about that?’
Erin’s heart missed a beat when Kazim rested his head on his uncle’s shoulder. He appeared to be completely dazzled by Zahir—and he was not the only one, she acknowledged grimly as she recalled those few moments when he had crushed her against his chest and she had inhaled his tantalising male scent.
‘Erin’s coming on the plane too,’ Kazim announced firmly, grinning at her from his high vantage point in Zahir’s arms.
Some of Erin’s tension left her. Zahir might be Superman in Kazim’s eyes, but he still needed her, and she smiled back at him, her smile fading as she glared at Zahir. ‘That was a dirty, low-down trick, and you know it,’ she said furiously.
He shrugged uninterestedly. ‘I’ll play dirty if I have to, and you would be wise to remember that,’ he advised her coldly.
The implied threat in his voice sent a shaft of fear through her.
He sauntered over to the door, still holding Kazim. ‘Come, Kazim, let’s go and play with your toys while Erin packs.’ He laughed at the toddler’s excited nod, but his expression was deadly serious when he looked back at Erin. ‘You have half an hour,’ he drawled, glancing at his watch. ‘I suggest you get a move on—or risk being left behind.’
CHAPTER THREE
IT HAD stopped snowing when they left Ingledean. The evening air was crisp and cold and Erin shivered in the cream linen skirt and jacket that she had changed into for the journey. Zahir had warned her that it would be hot in Qubbah and she only hoped he was right.
At least she no longer looked like a ‘menial domestic’, she thought, recalling his scathing description of her when he had first learned that she was Faisal’s widow. Stung by his remarks, she had taken time with her appearance and had teamed her suit with a pale blue silk blouse, swept her unruly curls into a knot on top of her head and even added a touch of make-up—just a soft taupe shadow on her eyelids and pink gloss on her lips.
She had felt supremely self-conscious when she’d walked down the stairs to where he’s been waiting in the hall with Kazim, and the flare of sexual heat in his eyes had caused her heart to jerk painfully beneath her ribs.
Her doubts about taking Kazim to visit his family in Qubbah were intensifying by the minute, but she seemed to have little choice. Zahir had swept into their lives with the force of a tornado and she was still reeling from his impact.
She and Kazim would be back at Ingledean soon, she reassured herself as the car swung out of the drive, and she turned her head for one last glimpse of the house that was the only real home she had ever known. She loved Ingledean. The wild beauty of the surrounding moors was a stark contrast to the soulless concrete tower block where she had grown up.
If Zahir’s father was as ill as he’d described, then surely he would not want them to make a prolonged visit? She would stay in Qubbah long enough for Kazim to meet his grandfather and other relatives,
