Azrael told her with gravity. ‘It was an inhumane system.’
‘It’s not my business anyway,’ Molly backtracked hurriedly, wondering how she had got led into such a discussion. ‘My only interest here is in how soon I can go home.’
Azrael opted for honesty. ‘I do not want to release you only for you to return to London to pursue Tahir’s prosecution. I will do almost anything to avoid that happening because I will not have Djalia damaged in the fallout from such an appalling scandal.’
It was his wording that unnerved Molly. Talk of ‘releasing’ her implied that she was not free to leave when she wished. ‘Am I a prisoner here, then?’
Azrael sidestepped that leading question. ‘I am determined to settle this affair for once and all with you before you go home.’
A pair of green eyes inspected him with a level of scorn Azrael had never met in a woman’s gaze before. ‘And how do you plan to settle it?’
Ironically, Azrael was grateful to be urged to that distasteful point. ‘By compensating you liberally for your ordeal in return for your silence.’
Molly was very much taken aback by that declaration. ‘You’re offering me money to keep quiet?’ she gasped in disbelief.
‘Compensation,’ Azrael framed, wishing he could gag her to force her to listen, wishing she weren’t acting shocked because he had been shocked by the concept too until Butrus had laid out all the possibilities before him. He did not wish to see any admirable qualities in her because it only intensified the attraction of something that could never ever be.
After all, in all likelihood he would be married in a few months. He would probably accept the bride from Quarein his stepfather had already suggested to him. Nasira was Prince Firuz’s niece and Azrael had met her when they were both still children, thinking even then that she was rigorously well behaved and very devout. Why did those worthy assets turn him off rather than turn him on? He didn’t want to think about that. He had yet to meet Nasira as an adult and if Prince Firuz’s wishes were followed, he would not get the chance to meet her before marrying her because that was the tradition in Quarein. Worryingly however, a veiled queen would be a retrograde choice in the eyes of his people, whose women had never worn the veil.
‘But money,’ Molly responded in unconcealed disgust. ‘I want justice, not money!’
‘Perhaps in an ideal world,’ Azrael countered. ‘Unfortunately, it is not an ideal world that we live in.’
‘My desire to have your brother prosecuted is stronger than my desire for money,’ Molly assured him fiercely. ‘I am not a forgiving woman.’
‘With respect, I suggest that you consider my offer,’ Azrael advised with icy cool, the hauteur of his finely sculpted features intense. ‘If you do not consider it, we are at stalemate and, as you have already said, you want to go home.’
Something inside Molly just snapped wide open and let out a flood of pent-up anger. Mr Gorgeous was a complete seven-letter word and she was tempted to land him a punch for his nerve in saying that to her. She had been drugged and kidnapped and now pressure was being put on her to accept financial compensation in place of a prosecution! How dared he? How dared he assume that she was the sort of woman who could be bought off? It was true that she was poor and had to work for a living and that more money would certainly come in very handy, particularly with regard to the cost of Maurice’s care, she acknowledged reluctantly, but she also had principles and she knew right from wrong.
‘A crime has to have a punishment,’ she shot back at him, her raised voice reverberating at an embarrassing volume up through the domed ceiling above them. ‘Nothing else is acceptable to me!’
‘If that is the case I am sorry for it,’ Azrael grated, thoroughly tired of the way she shouted at him. She was a hot-tempered virago of a woman, he decided, pleased to have found a fatal flaw hidden at the very heart of such beauty. As a man who rarely lost his own temper, he had little tolerance for those with less control. Furthermore, he hadn’t been shouted at since he was a soldier in training and it was one aspect of military life that he did not miss.
‘And I am sorry that you are a king who does not appear to know right from wrong,’ Molly fired back with an unconcealed contempt that sent Azrael’s stunning deep-set eyes flaring to a scorching rage-filled gold.
But, raised in a much harsher school than she had been, Azrael gritted his teeth and exerted restraint over the teeming volatile emotions he had learned to rise above as a teenager when, innocent of fault, he had been whipped and humiliated. He had taken his punishment like a man to protect his mother. He knew that he could withstand any punishment to protect his country. And what were words? Opinions? Was he so weak that he could even react to such a condemnation from someone who knew nothing of the sacrifices he had been forced to make throughout his life? No, he was not weak.
In a stormy tempest of fury, Molly raced back up the spiral staircase and felt momentarily dizzy, realising then that it was a very long time since she had last eaten. Gamila appeared with another tray while Molly was struggling to decide what to do next. This time, Molly accepted the meal, acknowledging that Azrael was unlikely to be planning to either drug or poison her. Was she being naïve though? Should she be scared? Azrael was determined to prevent her from returning home to report Tahir’s crime and clearly hoping that time would take care of her opposition.
Well, she had already lost her waitressing job. A failure to turn up for her shift was all that would take, she reflected gloomily. Was she being naïve about her safety in this desert castle? Wouldn’t it suit everyone here very well if she were simply to disappear? A cold shiver snaked down her spine despite the humidity. Nobody back home even knew where she was, nor would anyone find out. Her friend, Jan, would try to phone her and then might mistakenly assume that she had found more lucrative part-time work. Sadly, Molly worked such long hours that she had had little recent time free to catch up with Jan, who had recently given birth to her first child.
She shouldn’t have eaten that food, she thought fearfully. How could she possibly be safe in Djalia when so much appeared to hinge on her keeping quiet about Tahir’s crime? And here she was refusing and arguing with the Djalian King, who froze into an ice statue of chilly dignity every time she raised her voice. Not exactly the way to make friends and have a positive influence on people, was it?
But she was a victim and she wanted the perpetrator punished. Was that so wrong? Unnerved by her own flailing thoughts, Molly sat there wondering what to do next. She refused to be coerced into not doing what she had the right to do and that was reporting Tahir to the UK police. No doubt there would be some people back home just as eager to make the story go away if offending people in high places in an oil-producing country would result. No, she was not that naïve, but she was also determined.
And if Azrael wasn’t prepared to return her to the airport she would get herself there. It couldn’t be far away. Djalia was a tiny country, wasn’t it? She seemed to recall Tahir making some remark of that nature, a vaguely derogatory one. And if she had been recovered at the airport and brought to the fortress it was unlikely that the airport could be that far away, she reasoned, immediately feeling more upbeat about her prospects of escape under her own steam. Why should she sit here acting like a willing prisoner?
She was utterly innocent of fault in what had happened. But did Azrael believe that? Or did he suspect that she had encouraged Tahir in his delusions? She knew that there were women who would have encouraged Tahir simply because he was rich and willing to buy expensive gifts but she wasn’t one of them. But did Azrael know that or did he believe the worst of her? Sixth sense suggested that
