he began but as he looked at her he caught the way her hand flashed up to hide the yawn she was unable to hold back. Her eyelids were drooping heavily and she was practically dropping in her seat.
‘You’re exhausted,’ he said and saw his pronouncement confirmed even as she tried to deny it by straightening in her chair, forcing herself to stay awake to continue their conversation. The half-eaten plate of food was in danger of sliding off her knee and it was only by making a grab for it that he stopped it from tumbling to the floor.
‘Go to bed.’
The struggle he was having to hold on to his determination not to take a reckless step into a situation where he still wasn’t sure of his facts made it sound more like a command than he had intended. Tired as she was, he saw the way she fought to lift her head enough to glare at him in defiance, though those beautiful eyes were cloudy with fatigue. Something twisted deep inside him and in spite of himself a small laugh escaped.
‘You really need some sleep, Aziza,’ he said, holding out a hand to help her to her feet.
She hesitated, then put her hand into his, letting him pull her from the chair. When she swayed where she stood, he almost lifted her off her feet to carry her to the bedroom. Hell but he wanted to do that. But the touch of her hand on his, warm skin on skin, and the wave of perfume mixed with her own personal scent, was temptation enough and he knew that if he did then it wouldn’t stop there. He’d acted on these instincts before; he’d believed in Sharmila, had had his trust totally shattered. The report he had ordered would not be presented in its final form until tomorrow. Surely he could wait twenty-four hours for total peace of mind? Besides, Aziza was clearly so worn out it would be cruel not to let her sleep tonight.
But his hand felt empty, his spirit too, as she took her fingers from his and stumbled towards the bedroom, swaying with tiredness. It was only when the door swung to behind her, slotting into its frame with a bang, that he remembered earlier that night, when they had been busy with the farewells to their guests, that a car had backfired sharply close nearby. He had barely felt the old tension twist in his nerves before he had sensed Aziza’s fingers, small, soft and gentle, slide into his and hold them reassuringly. Just for a moment. Just long enough for her to feel that he had relaxed, and then she had eased her hand away and turned her attention back to the conversation she’d been having with the French ambassador’s wife.
He could wait twenty-four hours, but no more. That report had better say everything he needed it to say. The thought of anything else was the stuff of nightmares.
‘WHY ARE WE HERE?’ Aziza demanded as soon as it was safe to speak openly.
The day hadn’t gone anything like the way she had expected. She had woken to find that the maid Nabil had assigned to look after her was in her dressing room, putting clothes into a case.
‘Madam, His Highness says that I am to pack for you.’
‘Why, where are we going?’
‘To the mountain palace,’ another voice had joined in. A male voice, deep and vibrant.
Nabil...
‘But why?’
He hadn’t answered her then, nor had he offered a word of explanation during the journey here. Having gone to bed with the hope that they had at least made some sort of progress from the way that they had talked the previous night, Aziza found this silence oppressive and disturbing. But, short of making a fuss in front of their driver, she had recognised that it was far better to remain silent until they actually arrived, and so had had to sit stiffly beside her supposed-to-be husband, hiding everything she felt from him.
But now at last they had reached the smaller, less formal mountain palace and she was left alone with him in the royal apartments.
‘Why have you brought me here?’ she demanded again when Nabil did not speak.
Nabil turned a dark, sidelong glance on her.
‘So that we can begin again.’
That caught her on the raw because she didn’t know how to take it.
‘Don’t you think that “begin” is actually the correct term? After all, nothing really started between us—did it? So why have you decided that we can begin something now? What about all your suspicions—your belief that I was involved in some sort of plot against you?’
‘I had you checked out.’
Nabil showed no hint of any feeling and his statement was so matter-of-fact it was almost totally blank.
‘So I presume I passed the test, then?’
‘If that is how you want to see it.’
‘What other way is there to see it? I didn’t know that there was to be an examination into how to be a queen, or that I’d have to wait until you decided that I was worthy of your attentions. After all you picked me. Didn’t you?’
‘I did.’ If it was a concession, it didn’t sound like one.
‘Oh, that’s good—because I thought that you had a check list that you handed out to your ministers.’
Something in his face attracted her attention, had her frowning as she looked deep into his eyes.
‘You did, didn’t you? Well that’s a pretty cold-blooded way of going about things.’
‘It was a rational way of going about things. After all, this is an arranged marriage—I understood that you knew what was expected of you. Would it help if I said that you passed every test with flying colours?’
‘Is that supposed to be a compliment?’
‘What do you think I was saying to you last night?’ Nabil countered. ‘Or were you too tired to take it in?’
Last night’s memories were hazy at best, the fog of exhaustion blurring them. But he had brought her food, had told her she had handled the ceremonials well. He had even shared the truth about his mother with her and so she had gone to bed feeling better than she had for days. But she had still gone to bed alone.
‘It wasn’t just you that I had to have investigated. I needed to know exactly what your father had planned.’
‘Oh, you needn’t have worried about that.’ Aziza refused to let that concession mean anything to her. ‘If he’d wanted to plan anything underhand, it wouldn’t have been me he’d have used. He’d never have expected that you’d choose me, for one, and he’d never believe I’d be capable of carrying it off. And, if you want to be sure that you can rely on him now, then the fact that you took his second daughter off his hands will probably ensure that.’
‘The spare...’ Nabil murmured, stunning her with the realisation that he really had been listening the night before. He was watching her, sharp, clear eyes, following every movement, every expression. It was as if he was waiting for something but she had no idea what.
‘I assume that you had my sister checked out too—but
