Woman in a Sheikh's World

She stared at a point at the centre of his chest. ‘It might have helped if you’d actually included me in your plans.’

‘I’m very traditional. I wanted to ask you in a traditional manner.’

She pulled away, her narrow shoulders suddenly tense. ‘Yes, you’re traditional. And that brings us full circle. Even if you’d managed to ask me to marry you in the conventional way, face to face, you still would have expected me to give up my business.’

It was the elephant in the room. The thing they’d never talked about because it had seemed insurmountable. Even back then, when he’d been determined to make it work, he’d seen the difficulties because it was absolutely true that to run a business like hers would require a time commitment that the woman who married him would not be able to afford.

Mal hesitated for a beat but even that was a beat too long because he saw her shoulders sag as she took that fatal hesitation on his part as confirmation of her fears. ‘I would not have expected you to give up your business.’ But he saw from her cynical expression that she didn’t believe him and he sighed. ‘You wouldn’t have been able to work eighteen hour days, that’s true, but we would have found a way.’

‘A way that involved me giving up everything and you giving up nothing.’

‘No. We would have talked about it. Come to some mutual agreement, but we didn’t communicate as well as we might have done.’

‘If that’s the case then it’s your fault.’

And that made him smile because she sounded so much like herself and it was a relief. ‘I agree. My fault. Except for the part that was your fault.’ Noticing that the shirt was slipping again, he took her hand and led her out of the bathroom, ignoring her attempts to resist him. ‘Sorry, but we need to have this conversation somewhere that doesn’t make me think of you naked in the shower if we’re to stand any chance of actually resolving this. It would help if you could button the shirt to the neck.’

‘You’re thinking about sex at a time like this?’

He gave a wry smile. ‘Aren’t you?’

She dragged her eyes from his shoulders. ‘No. You don’t turn me on, Your Highness.’ His smile drew a shrug from her. ‘All right, maybe I am thinking about sex, but if anything that makes it worse because good sex cannot sustain a relationship. Good sex does not change the fact that our relationship is impossible.’

‘Not impossible.’

‘We want different things.’

‘Then we will compromise. It is just a question of negotiation.’

‘In other words you’ll bully me until you get your own way.’

They were in the living area now, with its sumptuous furniture and breathtaking views of the desert but neither of them was conscious of their surroundings. Just each other. Avery snatched her hand from his and took refuge in the furthest corner of the sofa, as far away from him as possible.

‘What time is the helicopter arriving to pick me up?’

‘It’s not.’ He paused, unwilling to give her the option to leave but knowing that he would never keep this woman by binding her to his side. ‘But if you still want the helicopter when we have finished this conversation to the satisfaction of both parties then I will fly you home myself. Fair?’

Her eyes skidded to his and then away. ‘Go on then, Your Highness. Slay me with your superior negotiation techniques.’

This time he didn’t hesitate. ‘You accuse me of being insensitive, and I admit the charge but you share some of the blame because I had no clue as to the depth of your feelings. You never told me. You were so busy protecting yourself—’

‘—something I was obviously right to do.’

‘No. If you’d trusted me—if we’d understood each other better—’ He felt a rush of exasperation as he remembered how much she’d held back. ‘Every time I tried to talk to you I came up against this tough, competent, ball-breaking businesswoman. Nothing could shatter that shield you put between yourself and the world.’

‘It’s not a shield. It’s who I am.’

‘It’s a shield. Why do you think I asked you to organise my wedding party?’

‘I thought we were already in agreement on that one. Because you’re insensitive.’ Her tone was flippant but he saw the pain in her eyes and that pain was matched by his.

‘You cut me off.’ His tone was raw, his grip on control as slippery as it always was around this woman. ‘You didn’t even give me the right to reply. You just told me that you weren’t prepared to make the “sacrifice” necessary to be my wife—a point which, by the way, hurt almost as much as the realisation that you were not prepared to fight for the survival of our relationship.’

‘Relationships end, Mal. It’s a fact of life. Fighting just prolongs the inevitable.’

‘Some relationships end.’ He realised just how deeply he’d underestimated the level of her insecurities. ‘Others endure.’

‘If I want endurance, I’ll run a marathon.’