Monarch of the Sands

Unexpectedly, Zahid’s mouth quirked into a wry half-smile. How she surprised him. Time after time, Francesca O’Hara pulled something different out of the bag to remind him of how complex and remarkable she really was. ‘I didn’t know, not for sure—fakes are increasingly sophisticated these days, and only an expert can truly tell the difference. But looking at his behaviour towards you, he didn’t give the impression of someone who would spend thousands of pounds on a ring.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘What did he say?’

‘Oh, he blustered. Made threats—all of which I ignored.’ And it had felt good to stand up to him, Frankie realised—something which she would never have done in the past. She stared at Zahid, realising how much she had grown, and how much she had learned by being his mistress. She’d discovered that once you’d had the courage to tell a powerful king a few home truths, then standing up to a blustering small-town estate agent had been simple. ‘I told him to go ahead and sue me!’

‘Bravo, Francesca,’ he said softly.

The gentling of his voice was her undoing. No longer able to seek refuge in the subject of a worthless ring, Frankie looked at him, some of her bravado leaving her. If he was here with some valiant attempt to show that they still could be friends, well, she didn’t want to hear it. She wasn’t ready to be friends with him again. Not yet. Maybe not ever … Swallowing down the ever-present hint of heartache, she looked at him. ‘So what really brings you here today, Zahid?’

Sapphire light gleamed from her eyes and Zahid found himself lost for words as their gazes clashed. He realised that he could growl at her. He could pull her into his arms and kiss away that fierce look on her face. He could promise her a king’s ransom in the truest sense of the world.

But some bone-deep instinct told him that none of these would work, not in the long run—because Frankie was not a woman to be bargained with or bought, or seduced into his way of thinking. He wanted her in every sense, he realised—but most of all he wanted her to come to him of her own free will.

He said the words which once would have sounded like an admission of weakness. ‘I’ve missed you.’

I’ve missed you, too. I’ve missed you more than I thought it was ever possible to miss someone. But acknowledging that wasn’t going to change anything, was it? He was still unable to offer her any kind of future. Forcing herself to ignore the plaintive tug of her heart, Frankie shrugged.

His face darkened when she made no response and so, reluctantly, he was forced to elaborate—his words a growled statement. ‘And I can’t seem to stop thinking about you.’

Still she said nothing, nor gave any indication that she liked what he said—and suddenly Zahid realised the true meaning of the word courage. In his youth, during a spell in the Khayarzahian army he had fought bloody battles and known real hunger. He had slept beneath the stars in the most inhospitable parts of the desert, untroubled by the threat of the scorpions and snakes nearby. His physical daring was admired and feared in equal measures by his compatriots, and it was said that there was no more intrepid rider than Zahid Al Hakam.

But did he have the kind of courage to tell this woman what lay almost buried at the bottom of his heart? An admission which would make her realise the immense power she had over him?

‘I told you that I loved you, Francesca,’ he said. ‘But that I couldn’t marry you. And I guess I thought that I would get over it. You know, like a head-cold, or a broken leg. But the truth is that I haven’t. If anything the feeling is worse—’

‘Worse?’

Had that been the wrong word? he wondered dazedly. Had he implied that it was somehow a bad feeling, this love he felt for her? But it was a bad feeling, he recognised. A negative and destructive one—if this love was not allowed the room and the right to grow and mature.

‘My life is empty without you,’ he admitted. ‘I gave you up because I wanted to fulfil all the demands made of me by my country. But I now know I cannot rule without the woman I love beside me. And that is the truth.’

That did get a reaction. Francesca shook her head and bit down on her lips, like someone who had just witnessed something distressing.

‘Please don’t, Zahid,’ she whispered, her voice now perilously close to tears, despite her determination not to break down in front of him. ‘That’s not the point. You may love me—as you must know that I love you—and that’s rather wonderful. Because love is. But it doesn’t actually change anything, does it? And I can’t be your wife because I’m not Khayarzah born—’

‘I will have the law changed,’ he said arrogantly. ‘For I am the king and I can.’

She carried on as if he hadn’t interrupted her. ‘And I certainly can’t contemplate sharing you with three other wives—’

‘But you will be my only wife!’ he declared savagely. ‘For I have decided to renounce all my rights to take any others—this is what I have come here today to tell you! I will not rest until you are my wife. My only wife.’

Frankie could see what that statement had cost him, just as she could see the passion which had animated his dark and hawklike features. And even though her heart swelled up with an overwhelming wave of love and longing, she forced herself not to be swayed by his emotional declaration. Because short-term gain would inevitably produce long-term pain.

‘It won’t work.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it’s not enough, my darling,’ she said, her voice soft and trembling with emotion.

His eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean, it’s not enough?’

She swallowed. ‘I can’t … I can’t live in a country where I’m not even allowed to drive or women are discouraged from going to university.’

There was a long and disbelieving silence. ‘You come to me with no dowry—and I accept that without a murmur,’ he declared. ‘I renounce my rights to other women and tell you that you will be my only love—and still it is not enough? You are now asking me to change yet more laws of my land before you will consent to be my bride?’

She shook her head. ‘Of course I’m not. This isn’t some kind of bidding war we’re engaged in! I’m not asking you or telling you to do anything—just explaining what I must be true to. And I must be true to myself. You’ve made me grow as a woman and as a person, Zahid. I am no longer the innocent and naïve person who was duped by Simon. And while I thank you for that from the bottom of my heart—it is also something of a double-edged sword.’ She sucked in a deep breath. ‘Because I can’t now take a step backwards. I can’t do something which I think is fundamentally unsound—and I can’t live in a country where women are second-class citizens—no matter how much I love the man who leads that country.’

Silence hung heavily in the air as Zahid said nothing—for her words were too important to be answered without him giving them careful consideration. He turned and walked over to the French windows which overlooked the big garden which had so fascinated him during his growing up. Such a green and lush oasis it had always seemed to the boy from the desert. But there was no green today. Everything looked black and white. The frost was thick and the bare branches of the big trees looked as if they had been daubed in bleached and glittering brush strokes.

He sighed. Surely everything was black and white—in more ways than one? Francesca had had the temerity to tell him what he knew was frequently on the minds of many—sentiments which had been growing stronger over the years. For hadn’t he read the outraged leader pages in western newspapers—and once, in New York, come face to face with some banner-waving women who had been demanding equal rights for women?