Commanded by the sheikh

‘Yes.’ Her lips trembled even as she smiled. ‘It is a yes. But I have a lot of questions, Aziz. A lot of concerns.’

‘Of course you do. And, like I said, everything is up for discussion. We can make this work for both of us, I promise.’

‘I told you before, you can’t make promises like that.’

‘I can.’ He stepped towards her; the emotion rushing through him, he realised, was more than relief or hope. It was something frighteningly close to joy. ‘I can and I will. We’ll discuss anything you like. But not just this minute.’

She blinked up at him; he’d stepped closer so he was standing right in front of her. ‘Why not?’

‘Because right now I just want to kiss you. My bride.’

Her lips parted in both surprise and expectation and Aziz placed his hands on her shoulders, drawing her gently towards him. Her hair whispered against his face and her breath came out on a sigh as he dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers.

Oh, he’d wanted this again. He’d been waiting for it, dreaming of it, since he’d last kissed her. Both kisses reached a place inside him he’d thought had been closed off for ever. His heart. His soul. Everything in him wanted her, needed her, with an urgency that shocked him even as it made him bolder, deepening the kiss, pulling him against her so she could feel his arousal.

‘Aziz...’ His name was a moan as his tongue swept the softness of her mouth, his hand sliding down to cup the gentle swell of her breast.

He felt her sudden indrawn breath against his mouth and he broke the kiss, his heart thudding as he managed a wry smile. ‘I don’t think we’ll have any problems in that department,’ he murmured. ‘You drive me wild, Olivia.’

‘It’s mutual.’ She flushed as she straightened her clothes then gazed up at him, searching his face with a worried, wide-eyed gaze. ‘Can we really do this?’

Aziz cocked an eyebrow. ‘To what, exactly, are you referring?’

Olivia let out a hiccupy laugh and shook her head. ‘You know what I meant. This marriage.’

‘Of course we can.’

He drew her back into his arms, needing her to be there. Right now he didn’t want to discuss the practicalities, or make promises about how they wouldn’t hurt each other. Wouldn’t love each other.

Right now, he just wanted to kiss her again, so he did.

CHAPTER TEN

OLIVIA SAT AT the head of a large mahogany table, Aziz next to her, a pack of lawyers at the other end, a host of legal documents spread out on the table before them.

Her wedding was in one hour.

After Aziz’s kisses last night, he was all business this morning, dressed in a grey silk suit, a pair of glasses perched on his nose as he scanned a legal document whose endless tiny type had blurred in front of Olivia’s eyes.

Looking at him now, he seemed forbiddingly remote. A stranger. She hadn’t even known he wore glasses. Such a small thing, so unimportant, and yet in that moment it seemed critical. It reminded her rather painfully how little she knew this man, and yet after spending just forty-eight hours with him she was willing to pledge her life to him. Be mother to his child.

Which was what she needed to remember now, she told herself. Forget fairy tales, the castles in the air she’d been building in her head for the last twenty-four hours. She needed to remember what she was getting out of this bargain: companionship. Affection. A child. She would have a child.

Aziz, she thought suddenly, would make a good father. He would laugh and tease and tickle.

Do you really know what kind of father he’ll be? What kind of husband he’ll be? What on earth are you doing, Olivia?

‘Looking at point five...’ one of the lawyers said, clearing his throat, and Olivia snapped back to attention.

‘Yes,’ she murmured, gazing blindly down at her copy of the agreement, although she had no idea what point five, or any of the points, was.

Aziz leaned over and flipped the page over, tapping one lean finger in the relevant place.

‘Thank you,’ Olivia murmured, flushing. Point five, it turned out, dealt with her royal appearances, ‘as and when required’.

‘We can put a limit on them,’ Aziz said, turning to her. ‘No more than once a month, if you prefer.’ He spoke calmly, unemotionally, as if this was no more than a normal business meeting. It made Olivia feel like screaming.

She should be reassured by all the provisions Aziz was putting in place, she told herself. He was looking out for her, protecting her interests. She should want all these safeguards, because then she would know just what she was getting into.

Except she didn’t know what she was getting into, didn’t even know what she wanted to get into. Last night she’d told herself she’d chosen joy. She’d acknowledged how alive and whole and happy Aziz made her feel, and had made herself believe a marriage with him could work because it was still more than she’d ever had before. Had ever dared to have.

This morning she didn’t know anything.

‘Olivia?’ Aziz prompted.

‘Once a month is fine.’

‘Very well.’ He turned towards the team of lawyers. ‘Could you add that, please?’

‘As for point six...’ one of the lawyers said, and Olivia forced herself to focus on the next point, even though her mind was buzzing and the words blurred. She made out ‘issue resulting’ and she turned to Aziz.

‘Issue?’

‘Children,’ he murmured and her fingers tightened on the papers.

‘What is the provision for our children?’

‘We can discuss it, of course. This document is based on the one that was drawn up for Elena and me, but naturally things are different now.’

Not that different, Olivia thought with a clawing panic. This was still a convenient marriage. A cold-hearted business arrangement.

Was she selling her soul for a little happiness? Settling for a little more than a half-life, but still not enough?

The questions screamed inside her head so loudly she felt like covering her ears. That wouldn’t help. Nothing would help.

She forced herself to look at Aziz. His expression was impossible to read. ‘What was your agreement with Elena, with regards to children?’ she asked. Her voice sounded distant and strange.

‘We both needed heirs, so that was our priority. The first son would be the heir to Kadar, the child after the heir to Thallia.’

‘What if you didn’t have a son?’

He gave a small shrug. ‘Just about every king has faced that possibility. Perhaps by the time a child of mine accedes the throne, a woman could rule Kadar. I certainly hope so.’

She took a deep breath. ‘Any child of ours would remain in our home and not be sent away to school.’

Aziz nodded calmly. ‘Make a note, please,’ he told the lawyers.

‘No nannies or governesses.’

‘We would need some childcare provision, Olivia. You will have some royal responsibilities, even if they are kept to a minimum.’

‘Fine. Any childcare provider must be approved by me.’

‘And me,’ he answered lightly. ‘Fair?’

She nodded jerkily, hating that everything had to be a negotiation. Hating how cold it all felt, when all she wanted to do was throw herself into Aziz’s arms and beg him to love her.

Love her? Was that what she really wanted now? Was that why she was so panicked?

He gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment, his eyes narrowed, and then he nodded towards the lawyers. ‘Could you leave us for a moment?’

With murmured apologies and assents they left, the door clicking shut behind them. Aziz rose from the table.

‘What’s wrong, Olivia?’

She clenched her hands, her nails biting into the skin of her palms. ‘Nothing’s wrong.’

‘Are you having second thoughts?’ He stood there quietly, his arms folded. He didn’t look angry or uncaring, just...calm. Too calm. As if he was in a business meeting, which Olivia knew he was.

‘Not second thoughts,’ she said after a moment. ‘Not exactly. But this is so strange, Aziz. And now that we’re talking about all these details it makes it seem even stranger. More real and less real at the same time.’

‘So you are having second thoughts.’

‘I—I don’t know!’ She whirled away from him, suddenly near tears. Her emotions were so close to the surface now. They’d been buried deep for a decade, yet now the feelings bubbled up, impossible to suppress.

‘Olivia.’ Aziz came to stand behind her, his hands resting gently on her shoulders. ‘I know this is strange. It’s strange for me, too. But that doesn’t mean it can’t work—’

‘Like a washing machine?’ she filled in. ‘Like a...a blender?’ She let out a laugh that sounded half-wild and jerked out of his arms. He stared at her, frowning slightly.

‘That’s not the analogy I would have chosen, but I suppose it is appropriate.’ She shook her head, the movement as wild as her laugh, and his gaze narrowed. ‘What’s really going on here, Olivia? Analogies aside, what’s bothering you? What are you afraid of?’

‘I’m not afraid.’ Except, she was. She was afraid of all these feelings inside her, feelings Aziz had called up. Afraid of caring too much, of getting hurt.