Desert Prince's Stolen Bride

‘Still, you speak several languages; you’ve lived in many countries. Whether you realise it or not, Olivia, you are a woman of the world.’

She looked away, colour touching her cheeks. ‘With very little experience of anything.’

‘You were as at ease with the tribe’s women a few weeks ago as you were with Serrat last night. Your lack of worldly experience does not discredit you.’

She shook her head, her gaze still averted. ‘What of the marriage alliance that was so essential to you?’

‘I took a risk when I attempted to kidnap Princess Halina. A knowing risk. It hasn’t worked out, so I can look elsewhere.’

‘Elsewhere?’

‘To France and other European countries. If they support my claim, I don’t need Hassan.’

‘You don’t need me, either.’

‘Not in the same way, perhaps,’ Zayed said after a moment. Jahmal had raised the same issue when Zayed had broached his proposition a few days ago. Surely, his aide had argued, there were other, more suitable women to be the Sultan’s bride? In Jahmal’s eyes Olivia was still nothing but a servant, even though Zayed knew he’d come both to like and admire her over the last few weeks.

Olivia turned back to face him, resolute now. ‘In what way, Zayed?’ she asked quietly. ‘In what way do you need me?’

It felt like a loaded question. Was she acting from the practical, pragmatic viewpoint he was determined to keep with regard to marriage, or was she asking about something more? About need...the way he’d needed her last night? Love, even? Zayed couldn’t tell anything from her face; her eyes were a stormy blue, her mouth compressed.

‘We are already married,’ he said, knowing he was prevaricating but unsure how to deal with her in this mood. She seemed very quiet and self-contained, her head slightly bowed.

‘Yes, but you were willing to set me aside before. Why not now?’

Zayed felt an uncomfortable twinge of guilt at those simply stated words. Yes, he’d been willing to put her aside. He’d had to be. But he felt differently now...and he realised he didn’t particularly like Olivia asking him why.

‘I’ve seen the advantages of our alliance,’ he finally said. ‘And since we are already married, and divorce or annulment is no small matter, it makes sense to stay married. Besides,’ he added, watching her, ‘we have a certain chemistry, do we not? That is no small thing.’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ Olivia answered shortly.

‘Nor perhaps would I,’ Zayed agreed with a small smile. He longed to lighten her mood; he wanted her to be happy about this, damn it. ‘Before you, Olivia, I had not been with a woman since my days at Cambridge.’

He’d surprised her with that. ‘Ten years? I know you said it had been a long time...’

‘As long as that.’ He shrugged. ‘My point is, we are good together. You are an asset to me.’

‘As asset,’ she repeated, and he had a feeling he’d chosen the wrong word.

‘I would be honoured,’ he said a bit tightly, ‘to have you as my wife.’

A tiny smile curved her mouth, lightened her eyes. ‘Is that a proposal?’

‘After the fact, but yes.’ He waited, feeling tenser than he wanted to be. Her answer mattered to him very much. He’d been hoping she was pregnant, and then there would have needed to be no discussion. The matter would have been resolved. As it was, he needed to convince her of the merits of their marriage. And if she said no? Would he let her go? The possibility caused him an unexpectedly strong wrench of feeling.

Olivia pursed her lips, her expression distant. ‘What kind of marriage would we have?’ she asked after a long, taut moment of waiting.

‘The kind anyone has. A real marriage in every sense of the word.’

‘Real?’ She finally met his gaze, her own startlingly direct. ‘A real marriage means a loving one.’

He recoiled a little, unable to keep himself from it. ‘Is that what you want? Love?’

Her mouth twisted in a sad smile. ‘I’ve dreamed of it, yes. I think most young girls do.’

‘True.’ He hesitated, wanting to appease her but knowing he could make no promises to love her. None at all.

‘I know you don’t love me, Zayed,’ Olivia said. She almost sounded gentle. ‘I’m not expecting you to proclaim your love or something like that.’ She laughed softly. ‘The expression on your face! You look horrified.’