The man nodded. ‘It will be done.’
Jahmal was waiting in the Jeep when Zayed slipped into Olivia’s room for a private farewell. She was asleep, her face pale, her dark hair spread over the pillow, her lashes sweeping her cheeks. Her breathing was steady and yet so very light; she was barely a bump under the covers, her body fragile and slight.
Zayed sat next to her and took her limp hand in his. A dozen different memories ran through his mind in a bittersweet reel: that first explosive night; the way she’d cared for the women and children after Malouf’s attack. Seeing her in the palace garden, Lahela’s baby on her lap, looking so happy. The way she’d given herself to him, so freely and utterly. The stormy blue of her eyes, the sudden surprise of her smile. His insides twisted in an agony of indecision. Love hurt.
He didn’t want to leave her, but he knew he had to. And perhaps it was better this way; he’d never meant to love her, never meant to open himself to that kind of pain again. If he left now, he could gain the emotional distance he needed and so could she. Yes, it was better this way. Better for both of them.
Zayed squeezed Olivia’s hand gently and then brushed a kiss against her forehead. As he eased back, her eyelids flickered, but before she could open them properly she’d lapsed back into sleep.
With a wrenching pain feeling as if it were tearing him in two, Zayed backed out of the room and then headed for the Jeep, Rubyhan and the rest of his life.
OLIVIA WOKE SLOWLY, as if she were swimming up to the surface of the sea, the light shimmering and sparkling in the distance. Someone was speaking to her, saying her name, and she felt fingers on her wrist.
Her eyelids felt heavy, as if someone had placed weights on them. As much as she tried, she could not open them.
Olivia... Olivia...
Waves of fatigue rolled over her, making it even harder to hear that voice. Every muscle in her body ached, so she felt as if she’d been ruthlessly pummelled and punched. All she wanted to do was sleep, and so she did.
When she woke again the room was lost in twilit shadows, and although she still felt that overwhelming fatigue she was able to open her eyes. A man was sitting by her bed. In the shadowy darkness she thought it was Zayed and her heart leapt.
‘Zayed...’
‘No, Miss Taylor. I am Ammar Abdul, the Prince’s doctor.’
‘Oh.’ As her eyes adjusted to the dim room, she could see the man, tall and thin, looking nothing like Zayed. ‘Where...where is Zayed?’
‘Prince Zayed has returned to Rubyhan.’ There was a faintly repressive note to the doctor’s voice that made Olivia realise her question had been presumptuous.
‘I...see.’ Her mouth felt terribly dry. ‘Could I have a drink of water?’
‘Of course.’ With alacrity the doctor rose and poured her a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table, held it to her lips. Olivia took several grateful sips before subsiding back on the pillow, exhausted by even that small amount of activity.
‘What...what has happened to me?’ she asked. The last thing she remembered was Zayed taking her in his arms, telling her not to fight him. Not to fight them.
Tears pricked her eyes; her emotions felt so very raw, right up at the surface of everything. Why had he left her?
‘You were bitten by a snake, Miss Taylor. A desert cobra. You are fortunate to be alive.’
A snake. Briefly, distantly, Olivia remembered the stinging pain in her ankle. ‘How...how long have I been like this?’
‘It has been four days since you were bitten. For some time we did not know whether you would live or die. As I said, you are very fortunate.’
‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘How much longer will I be here?’
‘Prince Zayed wishes you to return to Rubyhan as soon as it is safe to do so, perhaps in another day.’
Olivia nodded, and after a few moments the doctor left her to rest. She stared into the darkness, her heart a leaden weight inside her. Four days, and her life at stake. And Zayed had left. No matter why or when, she couldn’t ignore that fact. She couldn’t move past it.
He never promised to love you, she reminded herself. He has a kingdom to run.
But the fact that he wasn’t here, that he’d chosen not to be here, felt like a hammer to her fragile hopes. It was a wake-up call to the reality of what she’d been about to agree to, and a much-needed one at that.
Olivia spent the day resting and trying to recover, and by the next morning Ammar Abdul deemed her well enough to be transported back to Rubyhan.
‘It does not appear that you will have any lasting effects from the snakebite,’ he told her after he’d checked her over. ‘But you will require another complete check in a few weeks to make sure. In the meantime, rest, sleep, eat and drink.’ He gave her a smile with sympathy. ‘You will feel a little better each day.’
‘That’s good to hear.’ She felt about a hundred years old at the moment, moving slowly, everything aching. The ride in the Jeep was torture, with all the bumps and jostling, and the short helicopter ride to Rubyhan was no better. By the time Olivia arrived at the Palace of Clouds, she was exhausted and aching more than ever, longing only for her bed...and Zayed.
He was not waiting at the helipad when she touched down and she didn’t see him as Anna escorted her into the palace. Although she knew she probably shouldn’t, Olivia couldn’t keep from asking about him.
‘How is Prince Zayed?’
Anna gave her a brief, inscrutable look. ‘He is quite busy at the moment, dealing with various issues of diplomacy, but I will let him know that you have arrived.’
‘Thank you,’ Olivia murmured, fighting that bone-deep disappointment she’d felt since she’d woken up and realised that Zayed was gone. That he didn’t care. Or was she being unreasonable, expecting him to sit by her bedside like some lovesick nurse? He had a country to run, duties to perform. She was being over-emotional and ridiculous, but she couldn’t help herself.
It was another full day before she actually saw Zayed. She’d spent most of her time in her room, resting or sleeping, trying to manage a few meals although she had no appetite. Then, the evening of her second day back at Rubyhan, Anna fetched her.
‘Prince Zayed would like to see you now,’ she said, and Olivia suppressed the sarcastic reply she wanted to make: what, now? He beckoned and she came, apparently.
Anna led her not to one of Zayed’s private, more casual rooms, but to a formal audience chamber on the ground floor, with marble pillars and walls adorned with gold leaf. Zayed stood at the far end of the room, dressed in a traditional thobe, embroidered with red and blue thread, and loose trousers. He could not have shown her more thoroughly that he wanted to create a distance between them.
What
