The Sultan's Virgin Bride. Sarah Morgan

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possibility that he’d married someone in the five years since they’d met hadn’t entered her head, but of course he would have married. Even a man as commitment phobic as Tariq couldn’t avoid it for ever. It was his duty. Had she not recognized the pressures on him right from the start? Someone suitable and approved of by his wretched, interfering family. Why should she care? Why would it matter to her? She should pity the girl in question.

      ‘I don’t have a wife yet.’ His tone was silky smooth. ‘But you have led the conversation round to the reason for me being here this evening.’

      ‘You’re looking for a wife?’ Her tone was faintly sarcastic. ‘Then step back into the ballroom, Tariq. I’m sure they’ll be queuing up.’

      ‘They probably would be—’ he gave a dismissive shrug ‘—but there’s no need for me to look because the woman I intend to marry is standing in front of me.’ He inclined his dark head and his mouth hovered close to hers. ‘I’ve decided that I want you as my wife, Farrah. I have decided to marry you.’

      CHAPTER TWO

      FARRAH stood in shocked silence.

      I want you as my wife…I have decided to marry you.

      His words spun round and round in her head and when she finally spoke her voice was little more than a whisper. ‘Is this some sort of sick joke?’

      Once, to marry him had been her dream. And he knew it. Was he taunting her with her naïvety?

      ‘As you well know, I have never found the prospect of marriage even remotely amusing.’ Ebony brows locked in a frown. ‘Why would you accuse me of joking?’

      ‘Because you can’t possibly be serious? We’ve had no contact for five years! And on the last occasion we were together—which, by the way, was when you told me that you could never marry a woman like me—’ she supplied helpfully, ‘you informed me that I was perfect mistress material but nothing else!’

      Just saying the words aloud started her shivering again. You thought you’d recovered from something, she thought to herself as she tried to control her reaction, and then you realized that it had been there all along. Buried. Waiting to be uncovered.

      People who said that time healed were lying. You made adjustments. You learned to live with things that you couldn’t change. But that didn’t mean that healing had taken place.

      ‘Actually, I was wrong. Five years ago you were too young and innocent to be perfect mistress material.’ Tariq studied her thoughtfully and he lifted a hand to touch her flushed cheek. ‘The perfect mistress should be sexually experienced and emotionally detached. You were neither.’

      The colour in her cheeks deepened and she pulled away from him. ‘I’m not interested in your definition of the perfect mistress. It was a role I rejected, if you remember.’

      He gave a slow smile. ‘Oh, I remember. You were holding out for a much larger prize.’

      ‘I made the mistake of thinking that our relationship meant something.’

      ‘It did. We were good together,’ he said smoothly. ‘And, had you come to my bed, you would have experienced the true meaning of the word “pleasure.”’

      Her body heated with an explosive flash and she dragged her eyes away from the knowing gleam in his. ‘Had I come to your bed, I would have been a total idiot and would have discovered the true meaning of the word “regret.”’

      He inhaled sharply. ‘I made you an extremely generous offer.’

      ‘Generous offer? Sorry, but I don’t see what’s generous about inviting someone to have sex with you.’ She’d loved him, for goodness’ sake. Passionately. Deeply. To the exclusion of all others. She’d believed he’d loved her. ‘You’re supposed to have a brilliant brain and a razor-sharp intellect but you know absolutely nothing about relationships or human emotions!’

      ‘Being my “mistress” as you so quaintly call it, would have come with significant perks.’

      ‘So basically you were offering me money in exchange for sex.’ Her voice was filled with derision. ‘There’s a word for that, Tariq, and it isn’t nice.’

      His proud head lifted and the flash of his eyes was a reminder that he wasn’t accustomed to being challenged. ‘A marriage was not possible between us at that time.’

      ‘But now it is?’ She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice but he didn’t react.

      ‘Five years is a long time. You were very young. Much can be forgiven.’

      ‘Maybe. But I’m not the one that needs forgiving here.’ She was guilty of nothing more than being gullible and the injustice of the situation stung her deeply. She forgot he was the ruling Sultan of an oil rich state and one of the most eligible and influential men in the world. To Farrah, Tariq al-Sharma was just the man who had hurt her. She saw no further than that. Cared nothing for appearances or protocol. ‘You were utterly ruthless, Tariq. When I refused your “generous offer”, my father and I were forced to leave the country.’

      His expression revealed nothing. ‘In the circumstances, it was not appropriate for you to stay.’

      She thought of the desert and the beaches. She thought of the golden temples and the dusty streets. She thought of the mysteries of the souk and she thought of those precious early morning walks on the beach, warmed by the hot, hot sun. She thought of the Caves of Zatua and the legend of Nadia and her Sultan. ‘For a short time it was my home. I loved it. Leaving was hard.’

      But not as hard as it had been to leave Tariq.

      She’d felt as though a huge part of her had been left behind in the desert. The only part of her that mattered. She’d believed that he loved her and the discovery that his feelings had been no more than sexual had shattered her fragile self-confidence.

      ‘If you truly loved my country then you will be only too happy to return.’

      ‘I will never return.’ For her, Tazkash was a place that would always be linked with him. A place where there were too many painful memories. ‘You’re being ridiculous and I refuse even to have this conversation with you. I’m not one of your subjects or even one of your adoring women.’ And there were plenty of those, she thought grimly. Women prepared to do just about anything to gain his attention.

      ‘Once, Farrah Tyndall,’ he said softly, the pad of his thumb brushing over the fullness of her lower lip, ‘once, you begged me to marry you. You couldn’t wait to climb into my bed. It was I who slowed the pace because you were so young. Once, you adored me.’

      Her heart was thumping with rhythmic force against her chest. She didn’t want to be reminded of just how open and honest she’d been with him about her feelings. Most women played it cool. At the age of eighteen, in love with a staggeringly sexy man, she hadn’t understood the meaning of the word. How he must have laughed at her. ‘That was before I discovered that princes work better in fairy tales. Before I discovered what a cold, unfeeling bastard you are.’

      His head jerked back and his dark eyes narrowed in a warning. ‘Be careful. I have always allowed you more leeway than most but no one speaks to me in such a way—’

      ‘Which

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