The woman in the white abaya straightened and Imogen saw she was holding an empty silver tray and a tumbler of Scotch sat on the low table beside the sofa.
Imogen did a double-take when she realised that the woman was a servant who was now retreating from the room. Her mind had put two and two together and come up with ten. Maybe she was more tired than she’d realised...
‘You must be Imogen?’
Whirling around at the sound of a deep male voice, Imogen saw a man bearing a striking resemblance to Nadir standing over by the keyhole windows. He looked tall and imposing in his traditional white robes and matching headdress and Imogen knew that there was no way she would have missed him if she hadn’t been so riveted by the sight of Nadir’s impressive chest.
‘Imogen, this is my brother, Zachim. Zach, this is Imogen.’
Zachim nodded, his eyes glinting amber-gold in the softly lit room as he regarded her. ‘I remember you from the dance hall and it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.’
Feeling trapped by her pent-up emotions and unsure what Nadir had told him, Imogen was uncertain as to how to proceed. It seemed highly improper to let rip with the frustration and angst clawing at the inside of her throat and yet she didn’t want to wait till morning to discuss things with Nadir. It seemed important to do so now. ‘I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to interrupt. Perhaps you can let me know when you’re free.’
‘I thought you were going to bed?’
The easy familiarity with which Nadir spoke to her in front of his brother made her instantly defensive. ‘Why—because you told me to?’
‘No. Because you look like you’re about to fall over with exhaustion.’
Imogen glared at Nadir and felt even worse when his brother cleared his throat discreetly from behind her. ‘I think I should leave you both alone.’
‘No, please.’ She was horrified at what he must think of her. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt you.’
Prince Zachim smiled but it was weary. ‘You didn’t. My brother is being his usual obstinate self. Maybe you can talk some sense into him. He won’t listen to me.’
Imogen was about to say that Nadir didn’t listen to her either when he rose from the sofa and the sight of all those hard muscles rippling across his abdomen as he moved made the words fly out of her head.
‘I’m not going to change my mind, Zach.’
‘It’s your birthright.’
‘If you’re feeling guilty about taking something from me then don’t. I don’t want anything to do with Bakaan.’
‘Nadir, I know you’re still angry about the past but—’
Nadir made a motion with his hand that cut his brother off. ‘Goodnight, Zach.’
Zachim scowled. ‘All right, Nadir, You win this round.’
‘Hallelujah.’ Nadir’s voice held no enthusiasm and Imogen wondered what it was Nadir was still angry about and what exactly Zach was taking from him.
‘I have to fly to the mountains early tomorrow,’ Zachim said as he turned to go. ‘But I’ll be back by noon.’
‘I’ll be waiting.’
Zachim gave her a weary smile. ‘Lovely to meet you, Imogen. I’m not sure if I should congratulate you on your impending marriage to my brother or offer commiserations.’ His smile held a touch of irony. ‘But I definitely look forward to getting to know you and to meeting my niece over lunch tomorrow.’
Imogen smiled warmly. As handsome and dashing as he was, this brother didn’t tie her insides up in knots like Nadir did. ‘I look forward to it.’
Zach looked back at Nadir as if he wanted to say more but Nadir gave him a faint smile. ‘Give it up, Zach. You’re perfect for the role and you know it. And stop flirting with my fiancé.’
‘Nadir!’
His name left her lips in an appalled reprimand but Zach just laughed heartily.
‘You might not like being back in Bakaan, brother, but I like you being here’
* * *
Nadir watched his brother give him a mocking salute and stride out of the room and knew that he was doing the right thing in giving Zach the leadership role. They had different mothers and therefore vastly different experiences of their father and their homeland. And it wasn’t just anger or resentment at the past that stopped Nadir wanting to be the next King; it was also the painful memories that haunted him every time he was here. It was the sense of guilt his brother would never understand because Nadir had never told him of the cowardly role he’d played in his mother and sister’s deaths. The feelings of shame and ineptitude. A feeling of emptiness.
If he’d thought the people of Bakaan really needed him, if he thought he could add some value Zach couldn’t as leader then he might do it. But the fact was Zach was a capable military leader and was perfect for the job.
‘I apologise if I ruined your conversation with your brother. It wasn’t my intention.’
He eyed Imogen still standing in the middle of the room and picked up his Scotch, hoping it would distract him from his bleak thoughts. He knew a way she could distract him as well but he didn’t think she’d be as biddable as the Scotch. Unfortunately. ‘You didn’t; he was leaving anyway.’
She chewed the inside of her lower lip and he couldn’t take his eyes off the little movement.
‘Are you okay?’
Her soft question made him gulp a mouthful of the fiery liquid and he relished the burn of it down his throat. No, he wasn’t okay. ‘Concerned for my welfare, habibi? I’m touched.’
He saw her posture stiffen and regretted taking his frustration out on her. But hell, she was partly to blame. Sorting out the leadership issue would be over and done within a matter of hours. Sorting out the rest of his life with a wife and child... He didn’t want to contemplate how long that would take. Particularly given the light of defiance burning hotly in Imogen’s eyes. A defiance he had yet to fully understand.
‘Don’t be,’ she responded smartly. ‘It was an aberration that won’t happen again.’
He smiled. He hadn’t realised she was so feisty when they’d been together back in Paris. Back then she’d always been thrilled to see him, delight written all over her expressive face. And it had been catching. For those all too brief weekends he’d been happy too. Perhaps that had been her allure. That and the red-hot chemistry between them. ‘Whatever you’ve got to say can wait until morning.’
‘Really?’ Her eyebrows arched skyward. ‘Because you decreed it, My Lord?’
No, she definitely hadn’t been this feisty in Paris but part of him—the part that turned caveman every time she was around—liked it a little too much for comfort. ‘Yes. That and the dark circles under your eyes which suggest you need sleep more than conversation.’
