Desert Prince's Stolen Bride

‘But you can return to the palace in Abkar when all this is over,’ Zayed insisted. ‘I will make sure of it.’

‘I am not sure you will be able to arrange such a thing,’ Olivia answered quietly. ‘Sultan Hassan has entrusted me with the care of his precious daughters. I’m meant to be an example of womanhood to them—quiet, submissive, modest womanhood.’ Her lips twisted. ‘No matter how discreetly things are managed, word will get back to him and to them that...’ She gestured between them with one slender hand. ‘I have compromised myself.’

Zayed’s mouth thinned into a hard line. ‘And in the letter, we can explain that it was not your fault.’

‘And have you take the blame? That would jeopardise your marriage negotiations, surely?’

Yes, it would. Zayed stared at her in frustration, disliking how he’d put her in such an untenable position. After the events of the last few days, he realised how unfounded his suspicions were.

Olivia was not a scheming gold-digger, trying to get the most out of this unfortunate arrangement. It would have been easier to maintain such a fiction, but he couldn’t, not when he’d seen her help the women and children at the camp; not when she’d shown so much concern for his welfare as well as that of his country.

‘Still,’ he persisted. ‘I will give you a handsome settlement. You will want for nothing.’

‘That is very generous of you, Prince Zayed.’ But she didn’t sound entirely pleased by the prospect, and he didn’t understand why.

‘You could travel,’ he continued, determined that she see some benefits. ‘Or start over. Work somewhere new.’

‘Yes.’ She laid down her fork, her appetite seemingly gone.

‘Does none of that appeal to you?’

‘It’s only...’ She sighed. ‘Abkar has been my home for four years, the only home I’ve ever really known. Sultan Hassan is my employer, I know, but he’s been kind to me, and more like a father than my own, who I barely knew. I’ll miss that.’

So not only had he robbed her of her innocence and livelihood, but he’d taken her family and home as well. Guilt corroded his insides like acid. There had to be some way he could make this right.

CHAPTER EIGHT

OLIVIA TOOK IN the frown settled between Zayed’s straight, dark brows and wondered what he was so worried about. What did it matter to him if she travelled or got a new job? Or was she simply a burden to his conscience, and it would be far easier for him if she quite happily toddled off into whatever future remained for her?

‘I’d like to travel,’ Olivia said, injecting a note of enthusiasm into her voice that she didn’t quite feel. ‘I’d like to go to Paris. My godmother lives there.’

‘Your godmother?’ Olivia saw the unmistakeable relief on Zayed’s face and knew she had been right. He wanted her dealt with, taken care of.

‘Yes, an old friend of my mother’s. I haven’t seen her in years. It will be good to see her again.’ Which wasn’t quite true. Her godmother was elderly and practically a stranger, and she’d welcomed Olivia during her few, brief visi

ts with a sense of obligation rather than enthusiasm. But Olivia knew what Zayed wanted to hear, and it was her instinct, as ever, to say it. Whether it was her father having needed to be reassured that she was fine at school, or Halina that she didn’t mind it when she went off with other friends, or even the little Princesses, needing to be soothed and petted, Olivia couldn’t help but give people what they wanted. It was so much easier, and being useful was almost as good as being loved.

Zayed gazed at her, eyes narrowed, the relief fading from his face. ‘Why are you trying to make me feel better?’

His perception surprised her. ‘You don’t want to worry about me. You don’t have to.’

‘You’re my responsibility.’

‘Not really.’ She met his gaze levelly. ‘And, as for money, I don’t need any. I have savings of my own and I’d prefer not to be paid off.’ Just the thought of accepting money from him after everything they’d done together made her feel cheap. Cheaper than she already felt.

Zayed shook his head. ‘Like I said, I have a responsibility—’

‘And I’m absolving you of it.’ Olivia managed a smile even though her heart felt as though it were being wrung out like a sponge. She understood she couldn’t stay with Zayed; she didn’t even want to, not really. But neither did she feel confident or courageous enough to embrace the unknown future. ‘At least you don’t think I’m some scheming witch any more,’ she said lightly, ‘trying to trick you into staying married to me.’

He had the grace to look abashed. ‘I’m sorry. I have come to realise that was unfair of me.’

‘When did you realise that?’

‘Over time,’ he said slowly. ‘When I saw you helping at the settlement yesterday. Or perhaps the way you seemed to care more for my situation, my people, than you did for yourself.’

His admiring words caused a warm glow to start inside her. ‘You have a lot more at stake, Zayed. Plenty of people are your responsibility, so I don’t need to be one of them.’

He didn’t look convinced, and Olivia decided it was time to change the subject. There was only so much reassuring she could do, especially when the truth was the thought of her unknown future made her stomach churn. She didn’t have that much in savings; Sultan Hassan paid her a pittance because she was also given food and board. Her employment skills were limited to being some kind of governess, but she’d hardly get a reference from the Sultan.