The Sultan's Choice

Just then her door opened and Sadiq filled the space, broad shoulders blocking out the light. Samia felt that awful rush of emotion and dampened it down. She was still angry with him. She had wanted to be able to turn her back on him when he’d come to bed the previous nights, but with awful predictability within seconds she’d been incapable of remembering her name, never mind saying no to Sadiq.

Conversation had been nil, but Samia had woken up during the night and found herself wrapped tightly in Sadiq’s embrace. She’d stayed awake for a long time, relishing the contact she knew he’d break free of as soon as he woke.

She strove for cool uninterest now. ‘Can I help you?’

Sadiq’s mouth twitched ever so slightly and Samia flushed. Even now he was laughing at her. But then he strode in and her mind blanked. He plucked the sheet of paper she’d been studying out of her hands and perused it, before calmly tearing it in two.

Samia looked open-mouthed from it to Sadiq. ‘What did you do that for?’

‘Because your secretary is going to draw you up a new schedule and it’ll consist only of the events that you wish to go to.’

Samia repeated stupidly, ‘Secretary? I don’t have a secretary.’

Sadiq indicated for Samia to get up and follow him, and said, ‘You do now. It sounds like you’re going to be busy enough to need one.’

Struck dumb, Samia followed Sadiq out of the room and into another one, much bigger, just down the hall. It was bright and airy, and the castle workmen who were busy putting up shelves stopped working and bowed deferentially.

Sadiq said brusquely, ‘Leave us, please, for a moment.’

The men filed out and Samia turned around. There was a huge desk, complete with computer, printer, fax machine. A small anteroom was obviously the secretary’s office.

She was almost too scared to look at Sadiq—afraid of what he might see on her face. ‘What is this …? Why have you done this?’

He sighed and she looked up. His face was unreadable. ‘The truth is that I did have a preconceived notion of the role my wife would fulfil, and was quite happy to acknowledge that it wouldn’t impinge on my own role at all. Merely enhance it.’ He smiled tightly. ‘I should have known that you wouldn’t be happy with that. I like your ideas. And I’m sorry for doubting your ability to start them and finish them. I watched my father do that for years—when he died and I took over he’d left behind him a trail of destruction and half finished projects. I vowed not to let that happen again. I’ve wielded control for so long that it’s challenging to allow myself to hand some of it over now.’

More moved than she wanted to show, Samia said quietly, ‘I thought this marriage would be a partner

ship … apart from everything else.’

‘It is, Samia. I want you to be happy here.’

Samia’s heart ached at his gesture, and ached in a different way at his impersonal words. She wouldn’t be truly happy here unless a miracle happened and the block of ice in Sadiq’s chest melted. But this was a start. She smiled, and her heart thumped when she saw his eyes flare. They had chemistry too, and that was something to build on.

Feeling optimistic for the first time in days, Samia said simply, ‘Thank you. I appreciate this, and I won’t let you down.’

Sadiq felt a physical pain somewhere in the region of his chest at the sheer happiness in Samia’s face. And he felt better than he had in days. A black mood had pervaded his whole being ever since their last exchange, and his conscience hadn’t allowed him to continue functioning until he’d rectified the situation.

Before Samia could see how her happiness seemed to be having a disturbing effect on him, he grabbed the two hard hats he’d left on the desk earlier and handed one to her. ‘Come on. I’ve something else to show you.’

A few minutes later Samia couldn’t stop the tears from stinging her eyes. Sadiq had brought her to the back of the castle, where construction work was already starting on a crèche and playground. That potent image of Sadiq and a little toddler rose up again and wouldn’t leave her alone. It was like a taunt.

When Sadiq turned and saw her glistening eyes, and asked sharply, ‘What is it?’ Samia panicked and muttered something about grit getting in her eye.

To her utter surprise Sadiq immediately picked her up into his arms and, despite her heated remonstrations that she was fine, took her straight to the castle’s full-time nurse. Samia was brick-red with mortification, absolutely certain that the nurse would see full well that she’d just been crying and had lied shamefully. But to her abject relief Sadiq said he had to go to a meeting and left her saying something about working late. Samia was too distracted to care.

It was only when she lay in bed alone that night that she frowned slightly, trying to remember that Sadiq had said. A little dart of emotion made her breath hitch. The fact was he’d done a great thing today, and changed the anatomy of their marriage and Samia’s role within it in one fell swoop. But apart from that, the distance between them was as great as ever.

Sadiq didn’t seem remotely interested in involving Samia in any aspect of his life that wasn’t about sex or official duties. There was no suggestion of dinner, or meeting for lunch. No suggestion of a relationship. And why should there be? she remonstrated with herself. She was the one yearning for more, not him. He’d got exactly what he wanted from this marriage, even if she was demanding a bigger role than he would have expected or liked.

But she couldn’t help thinking back to those few days of the honeymoon, when it had felt as if they’d really been getting to know one another. Samia had enjoyed spending time with him. They’d talked. But she didn’t need to be reminded that their conversation over dinner when he’d told her about his father had been their last conversation of any depth or substance. Clearly that had been an aberration that Sadiq had no intention of repeating.

Samia finally fell asleep, and tried not to mind very much that she had no idea where Sadiq was.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THREE weeks later Sadiq was sitting in his study with a glass of whisky in his hand. He grimaced at himself. This was becoming a habit. Work until his vision blurred, wait around, and then go to bed. Invariably when Samia was already asleep or half asleep.

Each night he told himself he would be strong enough to resist her lure, that he wasn’t some animal, a slave to his base instincts, but when he pulled back the covers and saw those delicate curves … that long hair … fire consumed him and he jumped into the pit. Every night. And she gave with the wild abandon he’d grown addicted to every night.