and then stopped, because the spots dancing in his vision had coalesced into unending blackness. Standing there, Olivia’s hand on his arm, her body bracing his, Zayed realised he could not see a thing. He was blind.
ZAYED STILLED AND Olivia sensed the shock in him, although at what she didn’t know. Everything had spiralled out of control so rapidly—his admission of desire, the blatant invitation she’d seen in his eyes. If he hadn’t developed a migraine, who knew what would have happened? Although Olivia could imagine it all too easily—and evocatively.
‘What is it?’ she asked because Zayed still hadn’t moved.
‘I...’ His jaw bunched. ‘I can’t see.’
‘Can’t see? At all?’
‘No.’ The single word was a gasp of pain. A light sheen of sweat coated his pale face and his eyes were glazed.
‘Let me get someone—’
‘No.’ The single word was like the snick of a blade. ‘I don’t want anyone else to see me like...this.’
‘All right.’ Olivia absorbed that, along with his sudden blindness. Here, at least, she could be as useful as she knew how to be. As needed. ‘Then we’d better get you to your bed.’
Slowly they walked from the room, Zayed gripping her hand tightly as she put her arm around him and guided him with halting steps.
‘I don’t actually know where your bedroom is,’ she said in a low voice when they’d reached the thankfully empty hall outside the room where they’d been dining. ‘Can you direct me?’
‘Yes.’ Zayed drew a quick breath. ‘To the right, up the stairs, and then along the hallway.’
‘All right.’
Each step felt painstakingly slow, as Zayed felt his way and battled his pain. Olivia could tell from his tightly clenched jaw just how much pain he was in, and her heart ached for him.
On the upstairs hallway Zayed suddenly went still, then shrugged away from her, even though Olivia could see that it cost him.
‘What...?’ she began in a whisper, but Zayed shook his head, a flinch of pain crossing his face.
Then his aide, Jahmal, came down the hallway. Zayed straightened.
‘My Prince,’ Jahmal said. He gave Olivia a cursory, curious glance and then looked away, dismissing her. ‘Is everything well? I thought you were dining downstairs.’
‘I’m finished.’ Zayed spoke tersely. ‘I will work in my room. I don’t wish to be disturbed, please.’
Jahmal glanced at Olivia again, a frown marring his forehead. ‘Very well...’
‘Miss Taylor is helping me with a matter.’
Jahmal’s frown cleared. ‘The message to Sultan Hassan?’
‘Yes. Leave us now, please.’
Jahmal sketched a short bow and strode down the hallway. After a few tense seconds Zayed expelled a low breath and then leaned against Olivia again; she took his weight, wrapping her arm around his waist.
‘Get me to my room,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘Before I humiliate myself even further.’
‘There’s no shame in pain.’
‘You are wrong in that, at least for me.’
They didn’t talk further; all their energy was expended on making it down the hallway.
‘Here,’ Zayed said when they were in front of an arched door that looked like any one of the dozen others along the corridor.
‘How do you...?’
‘I counted.’
Olivia turned the handle and the door swung open into a room that was sparsely furnished and masculine in every detail. She led him to the king-sized bed in the centre, and then guided him down onto the soft mattress. Zayed stretched out with a groan, one arm thrown over his eyes.
‘Let me get you something,’ Olivia suggested quietly. ‘A damp cloth? Some tablets?’
‘There’s medicine in the bathroom.’
‘All right.’ She went into the sumptuous en suite, feeling as if she were invading his private space as she rifled through his medicine cabinet looking for the painkillers. She shook two out of the bottle and then poured a glass of water from the tap. She found a flannel and dampened it, and then brought it all back to Zayed.
‘Here,’ she said, perching on the edge of the bed. She pressed the tablets into his hand and then guided the glass of water to his lips. He swallowed in one powerful gulp and then subsided back onto the pillows. ‘And this too,’ Olivia said, and she gently laid the damp cloth across his forehead.
Zayed reached out his hand and found hers, lightly squeezing her fingers. ‘Thank you.’
‘I wish there was more I could do.’
‘This has been more than I deserve.’
Deserve? It seemed an odd turn of phrase. ‘Surely everyone deserves care when they’re hurt?’ Olivia said quietly.
‘That depends,’ Zayed murmured. Her hand was still encased in his. Olivia watched his powerful chest rise and fall in steady breaths. Outside the sun was setting, sending streaks of light sliding across the floor, the sky lit up with the most vivid pinks and purples she’d ever seen. She wondered if she should go, if Zayed wanted to be left alone.
As if sensing her uncertainty, he squeezed her fingers again. ‘Stay,’ he entreated in a low voice. ‘Stay with me.’
Something warm and wonderful unfurled in Olivia’s heart, like a hug from the inside. She realised how much she’d wanted to stay, wanted him to want her to. ‘Okay,’ she said softly. ‘Of course I will.’
She settled herself more comfortably against the pillows and Zayed drew her hand to his chest, still in his, so she could feel the thud of his heart against her palm.
His eyes were closed, dark, spiky lashes feathering the rugged planes of his cheeks. His mouth looked surprisingly lush and mobile on that harsh face, now softened as his breathing evened out. It could have been an hour or only a few minutes, but eventually Olivia realised he was asleep.
She’d lost track of time, of herself, in watching him, taking in every beautiful detail of his face and form, along with things she hadn’t noticed before—a scar on his temple, another by his ear, both now faded to pale white streaks. Beneath his button-down shirt she could see the ridges of his chest and abdomen, perfectly and powerfully muscled.
She remembered how those muscles had felt under her questing hands, and she closed her eyes, trying to banish the memories for her own sanity, even though they were so
