this man! She was now the wife of the future ruler of Behran! She carried his child inside her—maybe the next ruler of Behran after Raschid!
‘Why?’ she managed to breathe out frailly.
‘Because this visit is necessary,’ he replied. ‘To have avoided taking you home directly after our marriage would have given rise to the suggestion that I am ashamed of my western wife.’
He was talking pride here—defiance in the face of any dissension.
‘Wh-what is this going to mean?’ she asked, forcing the words past all the horrors that were trying to possess her. ‘Will I have to face them the moment we get off the plane?’
‘No.’ His fingers were squeezing hers tightly, urging her to trust what he was telling her. ‘We will transfer from the plane to a helicopter at the airport,’ he explained, ‘then fly directly to my private palace. The news will spread quickly enough that we are there together, and thereby lay to rest any suspicion that I am reluctant to bring you home. But you need see no one,’ he promised. ‘We will, in effect, be on our honeymoon, which will give you the chance to acquaint yourself with my way of life before we have to present ourselves officially as a couple.’
He meant to his father, though he was careful not to make the dreaded connection out loud.
Aware of his eyes still fixed intently on her, that he was tense, worried, and unsure as to how she was going to respond to this challenge he was setting before her, Evie lowered her eyes to their hands where they rested on her silk-covered lap, and tried desperately to pull her ragged senses together.
Raschid was a man of two cultures. He was used to slipping in and out of two different guises depending on which part of the world he was in. But she wasn’t. In all the time they had been together it had never once occurred to him to invite her to his homeland. She hadn’t even been invited to any of the functions Raschid had attended at his own embassy. For two long years she had not existed, as far as his people were concerned.
A few weeks ago they had certainly acknowledged her—by declaring her an enemy. Or, to be more precise, her baby was the enemy.
She shivered, recalling that memory, recalling too what had happened after it. Raschid felt that shiver and understood exactly what was causing it.
‘Look at me, Evie!’ he commanded. ‘Look into my eyes and see what you always see written there!’
Blinking herself into focus, she found herself staring at strong brown fingers tightly interlaced with delicate white ones like a love knot that was too intricate to break. And there, nestling amongst this mingling of brown and white, was a gold-crested wedding band that seemed to be telling her that this was it. The moment when she finally took on board what it really meant to be joined to this very special man.
You stand proudly beside him, and boldly take them all on—or why are you here at all?
And really, she told herself, she could have no argument with it. She had married him for good or bad. If the good was in looking forward to spending the rest of her life with him, then the bad had to be where they were going to live out that life.
Then she made herself look into those dark gold, passionately glowing eyes. Made herself see what he was insisting she see. Made herself acknowledge it. I love you! those eyes were telling her. You are my heart, my life—my soul! I would lay down my own life before I would let anyone get close enough to hurt you again!
‘Will I have to cloak and veil myself?’ she asked. ‘And make sure I walk two paces behind you?’
It took a moment—more than a moment—for what she was actually saying here to finally sink in. But when it came his reaction took her breath away. The husky growl of exultation he emitted was all the warning she received before she found herself flat on her back with him lying on top of her.
‘I knew you were brave,’ he uttered proudly. ‘I knew you were the right woman for me!’
‘I should really be telling you to go to hell,’ she said. ‘Get my own back on you for the way you refused to listen to reason about Julian’s wedding. But you like to pick your moments, don’t you?’ she sighed. ‘Nowhere for me to run,’ she dryly pointed out as her eyes made a rueful scan of their present surroundings. ‘Nowhere for me to—’
His mouth stopped the words of complaint with a kiss that was both hot and possessive. But before Evie could turn it into something much more satisfying he was, frustratingly, breaking them apart again.
‘No.’ He refused her yet again. Only, this time Evie was not offended—but challenged.
‘I’ll break that iron will of yours,’ she vowed as he made quickly for the door. ‘I will whittle away at it at every opportunity I’m offered.’
‘Part of my penance,’ he accepted with a sigh. ‘It will be interesting to discover how long I can hold out.’
Or how long I can maintain this brave face, Evie mused heavily when he had left her.
His father…She shuddered, turning to curl into a ball on her side as if making herself smaller would diminish the dread that name filled her with.
Did Crown Prince Hashim know they were on their way to Behran? Had Raschid told him?
She was to find out soon enough…
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IT WAS late into the evening local time when the plane finally touched down at Behran Airport. Dressed more casually now, in a turquoise silk wrap-around skirt and long-sleeved cotton top, Evie stared out of the window at a scene that was, as with most airports, a hive of activity irrespective of the lateness of the hour.
‘I didn’t realise that Behran Airport was such a busy one,’ she remarked to Raschid who was sitting beside her.
‘It isn’t—not by international standards anyway.’ He frowned, dipping his dark head so that he too could glance out through the small porthole window.
In the next second he was calling sharply for Asim who came hurrying down the aisle towards them. Reverting to Arabic, Raschid shot out a couple of curt questions that had Asim ducking his covered head to peer out of the window himself before he murmured something and walked off towards the flight deck.
And Evie felt the tension begin to seep back into her system because neither man looked happy. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked Raschid.
‘I don’t know yet.’ He was still frowning. Like herself he had changed just before they were due to land, only the difference between them was that he had reverted to Arab robes, and suddenly looked all the more alien for it with that black frown marring his face. ‘But there is too much activity out there for this time of night.’
Perhaps not the most comforting thing to tell her, Evie mused as she glanced out of the window again. They were still taxiing towards the main airport building. It was dark, of course, but the darkness had been diminished by the excessive amount of halogen lighting that seemed to be spotlighting the plane as it moved. And beneath the lights she could see people—lots of people standing watching their arrival as if they had nothing better to do.
Asim came back, his expression more sombre than when he had walked away. He relayed some information
