The child hesitated. ‘Well—’
‘Tell me the truth, Lilia!’
‘Amara fell asleep,’ she said, hanging her head. ‘She ate her lunch and then she ate most of a box of sweets and then she said she would just sit in the sun and rest…’
The child’s mouth twitched. Joanna’s eyes flashed to Khalil’s face. Astonished, she watched his mouth begin to twitch, too, and then he squatted, held out his arms, and grinned.
‘Come and give me a hug, you little devil,’ he said. ‘I haven’t had one in days.’
Lilia laughed as he swung her into his arms. ‘I love you, Uncle,’ she said.
Uncle? Uncle?
He kissed the child on both cheeks, then set her on the floor and gave her a light pat on her bottom.
‘Go on,’ he said gently. ‘Find your puppy and play some other game. I shall speak to Amara.’
‘You won’t be angry at her?’
He sighed. ‘No.’
Lilia smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and then she turned to Joanna. ‘And thank you, for finding my ball.’
Joanna smiled, too. ‘You’re very welcome.’ The child skipped out the door and Joanna cleared her throat. ‘I didn’t expect—’ Khalil looked at her. ‘I, um, I never imagined… I didn’t know Lilia was your niece.’
‘It’s an honorary title,’ he said.
‘She’s very fond of you.’
‘Yes.’ His expression was impassive. ‘It is many years since any of us ate children for breakfast, Joanna.’
She flushed. ‘I never meant to imply that you—that your people…’
‘No.’ His expression grew cold and forbidding. ‘That’s true enough. You never “imply”. Why should you, when you are a veritable expert on our behaviour and customs?’
‘Look, I suppose I deserved that. But you can’t blame me for—for…’ She sighed. ‘She’s a sweet little girl,’ she said, after a minute.
Khalil nodded. ‘I agree. She’s the daughter of Amahl. He was one of my closest advisors.’
‘I’ve never seen—’
‘And you won’t.’ He snatched up the tray of first-aid equipment and stalked to the bathroom, Joanna trailing after him. ‘Amahl was killed during a skirmish.’ He yanked open the cabinet door and began slamming the first-aid equipment into it. ‘Lilia was alone to start with—her mother died in childbirth—but after Amahl’s death she had no one.’
Joanna could see the muscles knotting in his shoulders. Her throat tightened. She wanted to reach out, to touch him, to stroke away the tension that held him prisoner and tell him it was all right…
Prisoner? She was the prisoner, not he! She was—
Khalil swung around and faced her. ‘Abu is evil, Joanna.’ His voice was harsh. ‘If your father signs this contract with him, it will ensure that he has enough money to buy the arms he needs to defeat us!’
She stared at him, her eyes wide. The bathroom was mirrored, and she could see their faces in its silvery walls. Khalil’s and hers, their reflections seeming to slip into infinity.
What was reality and what was not?
‘Abu is the Sultan of Jandara,’ she whispered.
‘He is a tyrant, and your father knows it.’ Khalil reached out and clasped her shoulders. ‘He knows it, and yet he would fatten Abu’s coffers.’
‘You’re lying!’
‘I told you, Joanna, I do not lie.’
Joanna drew a deep breath. ‘I don’t understand. How can he be the rightful leader of Jandara if—?’
‘I am the rightful leader of Jandara! Abu snatched the throne from me when I was a boy.’ His face darkened, and she gasped as his fingers bit into her flesh. ‘My parents died in a plane crash when I was only a child. Abu and a council of elders were to rule until I came of age. Instead, he killed the elders he couldn’t corrupt and seized absolute power.’
Joanna shook her head. ‘If he did that, why did he let you live?’
Khalil smiled grimly. ‘Perhaps because I would be more dangerous dead, as a martyr, than I am alive.’
‘Then—then why haven’t you done something? Why haven’t you taken back the throne?’
‘There is a war raging here, Joanna! You haven’t seen it because it isn’t the kind that’s fought on great battlefields, or with planes and tanks. We meet the enemy when we can find him, we inflict damage—and wait for the day we can destroy him without destroying ourselves.’ His mouth twisted. ‘I cannot let my men offer their lives for me unless I am certain we can win.’
Joanna stared into Khalil’s burning eyes. She wanted to believe him—but if she did, then her father would be the liar. He would be a man who had knowingly struck a deal with a tyrant…
Joanna drew a shaky breath. ‘You talk about morality—and yet you deny me my freedom.’ She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. ‘If you want me to believe you—if you’re telling me the truth, let me go.’
Khalil’s face darkened. ‘It is out of the question.’
‘You see? You make speeches about what is right, but…’ She wrenched free of him. ‘It’s impossible. You stole me, Khalil. You’ve locked me away, kept me prisoner…’
He said a word under his breath, clasped her shoulders, and spun her towards him.
‘I took you for a reason, Joanna. I had no choice.’
‘Everyone has choices! Make the right one now. Let me go.’
Their eyes met and held. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I cannot.’
‘I’ll tell my father what you said about Abu, I promise.’
Khalil shook his head. ‘I have spoken, Joanna. I will not free you!’
Angry colour flashed across her cheeks. ‘You—you pig-headed, insolent idiot! Why should I believe anything you
say?’
‘Stop it, Joanna!’
‘I won’t stop it! You’re an arrogant, imperious bastard, and I can hardly wait to see you in chains!’
She cried out as his arms swept around her. ‘If you won’t keep quiet, I’ll silence you myself,’ he said, and kissed her.
Joanna twisted wildly in his arms. ‘Damn you,’ she hissed against his mouth. She bit down, hard enough to draw a bead of blood, but he only laughed and gathered her closer.
‘Fight me,’ he said, his arms holding her like bands of steel. ‘What does it matter, Joanna? Soon you will be crying out my name, moving against me and pleading with me to end this war between us in the one way we both understand.’
‘No,’ she said, ‘that’s not true!’
But it was. He wanted her, and she wanted him, and whatever remained of reason fled in Khalil’s impassioned kisses, kisses that demanded her submission yet promised his in return. Joanna gave a moaning sob. She wound her arms tightly around his neck and lifted herself to him, pressing her body to his, opening her mouth to the thrust of his tongue. He growled his triumph, lifted her into his arms, and carried her to his bed.
‘Joanna,’ he whispered.
She looked up as he lowered her to the mattress. He smiled a little, the triumphant smile of a man who knew what he wanted and was about to have it—and, with that smile, passion drained from her bones, leaving behind cold, harsh reason.
How could she let him do this to her? How could she help him to do this to her? He had stolen her! She was his prisoner, denied even the right to walk free in the sunshine, and he was telling her ugly lies about her own father and now here she was, in his bed, letting him use the weakness he’d found within her, use this terrible passion she had not even known existed, to make her not just his captive but his ally. She would become not only his hostage but her own, a hostage to her own sexuality.
‘Let go of me!’
She slammed her hands against his shoulders and he drew back instantly.
‘You’re clever,’ she said bitterly, ‘oh, yes, you’re very clever! I have to hand you that, Khalil.’ She edged upwards against the pillows, her eyes locked with his. ‘If you get me to sleep with you, you can’t lose! You’ll have me as a playmate so long as I’m here and as an insurance policy after I’m gone.’