Claimed by the Sheikh (14 page)

Desire would not rule his country. Strong will and determination would. It was his destiny, his duty, and Amber was not and never should have been part of it.

She stopped by the car and turned to face him as he stood on the steps of the palace. He kept his eyes hard as he looked into hers, glad of the distance that now prevented him from reaching for her. That tightness clamped a little harder round his chest as her eyes met his and for a moment it was as if it was only them, nobody else existed.

This wasn't helping at all. ‘Goodbye, Amber.'

She didn't say anything. She just looked at him, head held high, body full of regal composure. Then she slipped her sunglasses on and for a moment longer watched him before getting into the car.

The driver shut the door; the noise, though hardly audible, banged in Kazim's head painfully. He remained tall and strong, not wanting anyone to know the agony that stabbed at him now, as if someone was actually putting a knife into his heart.

The car moved away from the palace; the darkened windows meant it wasn't possible to see Amber, to see if she felt the knife too. But why would she, when she'd wanted to leave all along? He took a deep breath and the pain intensified. Deep down he knew why, but he couldn't admit it now. Not whilst those who'd exposed her lies stood watching nearby. He had to remain focused. He had a duty to his people, his country and, as hard as it was to admit, to his father. Anything else was unthinkable.

CHAPTER TWELVE

S
UMMER
IN
P
ARIS
was nowhere near as hot as Barazbin, but relief from the heat scarcely made up for the pain in her heart. For two whole days Amber had given into despair and had stayed in the flat, not wanting food, not wanting anything other than Kazim. Finally, sense had prevailed.

This morning she had thrown open the windows of the flat, sounds from the streets below filtering in. Spurred on by the fact that Annie and Claude would soon be home, she'd set about bringing life back to the tired rooms.

Next she moved onto the task she'd been putting off—unpacking. She was back from Barazbin for good and it was past time to sort through everything she'd hastily packed a few days earlier. As she reached into the bottom of the case, her fingers touched the red silk of her
abaya
—the one she'd been wearing on that last night with Kazim, the one she'd allowed herself to bring home so that she could remember him.

Each time she saw that silk it would either take her back to the moments when he'd coldly accused her of lying, or to the moment when he'd seductively removed every trace of it from her body before making her his, one last time.

As if in slow motion she stood and lifted the garment up against her. She inhaled deeply, smelling the desert—and Kazim.

Why did she have to love him so intensely and so painfully?

That night in the desert had been a mixture of anguish and ecstasy. He'd refused to acknowledge her love, but his body had welcomed it. Then it had all changed by the time they'd returned to the palace. He'd become cold and distant.

She closed her eyes against the memory of the moment she'd left the palace. He'd been like a statue, firm and resolute. He had no emotion for her, not even sympathy, and she'd been forced to retreat behind her sunglasses as tears had welled in her eyes. Tears she would never let him see.

When he'd told her why she had to go it was obvious he was saying it out of duty. He was ending their marriage because of duty to his kingdom.

Well, so be it. He'd made his choice, one that was probably for the best. After all, she'd made it clear from the start she hadn't wanted to return to Barazbin. All that existed between them was passion. Her love for him had to stay buried. She had to think of it as a love affair, a wild and passionate few days that had come to an end.

It was time to move on.

There had been no word from him since she'd left. Nothing. Over the last few days she had come to accept that what they'd shared had been driven by lust—certainly on Kazim's part. Lust that had burnt itself out, finally overridden by duty.

But hadn't he married her out of duty? She frowned. If duty had been his motivation wouldn't he have wanted the marriage to work? Her head felt heavy with confusion. Even when she wasn't with him he could still muddle everything.

‘Enough!' She spoke firmly to her reflection as she brushed her hair and scraped it up into a ponytail.

She needed to focus her attention on more important matters. In a few days Annie and Claude would be back. Her life could return to normal and the last few weeks would fade into a dreamlike status.

But it isn't what I want.
She pulled hard to tighten her ponytail but the sudden jolt of pain wasn't nearly as sharp as the one that ripped through her heart each time she thought of Kazim.

She closed her eyes against that pain.
This is the last time. You have to move on
. She opened her eyes and glared at her reflection. ‘Stop this.'

There would be time enough to sort the unpacking tomorrow. Right now she felt enclosed; the short amount of time back in the desert had reminded her to be appreciative of space—and right now that was what she needed.

As if on a mission, she grabbed her bag and, feeling slightly liberated, opened the door of the flat, humming as she quickly went down the stairs. It was gloomy in the corridor but sunlight streamed in as soon as she opened the old door that Kazim had been so disgusted with.

‘Oh!' she gasped, shock hurtling at her, and stepped back a pace. Had her imagination just done that? She blinked a few times and looked again. Kazim
was
standing on the street, a few steps below her, as large as life.

‘What have you come for this time? You've already made it clear that our marriage is over,' she snapped angrily at him. How dare he come back and upset the delicate balance she'd finally managed to achieve?

He moved towards her, his casual Western clothes allowing him to blend in with everyone on the street—almost. The wild untamed power he'd always radiated was still evident and his shiny black hair and handsome features meant he would never completely blend in; even in Barazbin he'd stood out. Just as he had when he'd found her at the club. The aura of power that surrounded him was undeniable.

Neither was she immune to him. Her heart rate accelerated, racing wildly, and, although she tried to tell herself it was nothing more than the trauma of seeing him on her doorstep, she knew it was him. Her husband.

She cursed herself for not being stronger. But how could she quash her love for him? It was almost impossible, even when it was obvious that he would never love in return.

‘We need to talk, Amber.' Eyes as black as midnight slipped quickly down her body and she fought hard against the sensation of tingles, as if he'd actually touched her. Did he have to do that, look at her with hot desire in his eyes whilst his voice sounded so aloof?

‘I don't think so, Kazim.' A prickle of indignation ran down her spine and she stood taller, thankful for her position above him on the steps. It made her feel in charge. In control. ‘You've said it all.'

‘No.' He moved up a step. Closer to her, but still leaving her able to look down on him. ‘No, I said only what I should have said, what it was my duty to say.'

She fumbled absently with the strap of her handbag and scrunched her eyes in confusion. Why did he have to talk in riddles all the time? Couldn't he just say what he needed and go?

What it was my duty to say.
The words sank in, seeping into her heart, and she knew she couldn't allow him to soften her mood. She shook her head in denial.

‘Can we go inside, Amber?' he said as he looked at his watch, the movement snagging her attention. ‘I only have a short time.'

That admission annoyed her more than she cared to admit. Once she'd left his palace she'd never thought she'd have to face him again and now here he was, demanding time with her and setting boundaries once again.

‘So in that short time you thought you'd just stop by and upset my life all over again, did you?'

He looked shamefaced as she glared down at him and her fingers suddenly gripped tightly onto her handbag as if it were a lifeline. Then his eyes met hers and he moved up a step, bringing them level with one another, and she felt the balance slightly shift.

Nothing else seemed to exist; the daily sounds of life in Paris became muted, her mind focused totally on him.

‘We can't discuss this here,' he said, his voice deep and firm. ‘Let's go inside.'

‘Sorry, Kazim, I have nothing to say to you.' She tried hard to sound upbeat and happy, when really she was dissolving inside. ‘All communication should now be through my solicitor.'

‘Do you have a solicitor?' His voice rose in question, his eyes glittering like ice crystals in the winter sun.

‘Not yet.' She growled the words at him, angry that he could even think he could turn up and try to undermine her.

‘Then how can I communicate with your solicitor?'

‘Don't be facetious.' Was he making fun of her, tormenting her on a new level? She could hardly control the buzz of attraction that raced through her, mixing with the hurt and anger at his continued rejection of her.

‘Amber...' He reached out to take her arm and she jumped back, scalded by the very thought of his touch.

‘Don't, Kazim, don't. In fact, just go.' She turned and opened the door of the flat, all thought of her earlier decision to go out and shop gone. She needed to escape him and the way his gaze, so dark and lingering, still affected her. All she wanted was to lock the door against him and her marriage.

‘Not until you've heard what I have to say and if it means saying it here on the street, I will.' His words were low but steely, firm with determination, and she knew she had little choice left.

She shook her head in a small movement of denial. If he was going to press home his point about duty and hurl accusations of deceit at her she couldn't take it any more. She'd heard enough.

She looked into his eyes and her heart almost stopped beating. In their depths she saw something she'd never seen before—uncertainty. It unnerved her and she wasn't even sure if she really wanted to hear what he had to say. She didn't want his decision to end the marriage reaffirmed yet again. What good would that do either of them?

‘Five minutes.' She relented and opened the door. Without a backward glance to see if he was following, she marched back up to her flat.

‘It may take a little longer than that.' His deep voice drifted up to her and her body reacted to the sensuous undercurrent of sexiness that seemed to be weaved into every word.

She stopped by her front door. Did he really think he could charm her so easily? ‘Say what you have to, Kazim, then leave. For good.'

She walked into the small flat and dropped her handbag down onto the kitchen worktop. The stillness of the flat careered into her turmoil. She couldn't get over how quiet the place was without Annie and Claude, and Kazim's brooding presence only intensified it.

She heard him shut the door and her mind raced back to the moment in the dressing room of the club. Was it really only a few weeks ago? He'd stood resolutely against the door, barring her exit and forcing her to listen. She turned to face him and a little smile tugged at her lips despite the wild array of emotions rushing through her. With his arms folded across his chest, he stood with his back to the door, his body completely overwhelming the small corridor.

‘Come through,' she said and led the way into the small living room, which was considerably lighter than the hallway. She hoped he would appear less intimidating there, but as he entered the room she knew it was useless. The power of his presence would never be overruled. He was a born leader, a man who exuded command and, to her shame, she could hardly drag her gaze from him.

He looked at his watch again and irritation crept over her. ‘Okay, what is so important, Kazim?'

‘I want you to come back to Barazbin.' His firm words were loaded with intent and for a moment left her speechless. This couldn't be happening, not again.

‘Why? Is the great Kazim Al Amed not able to get the divorce he wants?' She tried really hard to keep the spike of hurt from sounding in her voice, but it was as if he was twisting a knife in her heart. Why did he have to be so cruel and why did she have to allow it to hurt so much?

What was worse was that she knew if he just said the right words that she'd go. But he would never do that. Kazim didn't do love. For some reason unknown to her, he didn't want to allow her love into his heart, his life. He hadn't when they'd married and he certainly hadn't when she'd told him she loved him. He'd thrown it back at her.

She whirled round and marched back to the door of the flat and opened it, glad now she'd made him move away from it. At least this way he didn't have control of the situation.

‘No,' she said as an ice-cold sensation slid over her. ‘You've said what you needed to, now go.'

He stood in the doorway of the living room, sunlight flooding in behind him, and she glared at him, her breathing deep and hard, determined not to be distracted by him. For a moment he looked at her, his black eyes almost piercing into her soul, and she wondered if he could read the confusion within her.

‘You are wrong about the divorce,' he said slowly and took a step towards her, but she held her ground and stood holding onto the door of the flat. ‘After what was revealed about you, divorce was the only option to be considered.'

‘Ah, yes, back to duty again. Correct me if I'm wrong, Kazim, but haven't we already had this conversation?'

‘Yes, Amber, we have.' He took another step closer and she swallowed hard. She had to remain calm. ‘And it is duty that has brought me back to you.'

Why couldn't it have been love?

* * *

Kazim took another step towards her and reached for her hand, firmly but slowly peeling her fingers away from the door. He wasn't going anywhere yet.

Her eyes widened in surprise and for a moment he thought he saw the same spark of desire he felt just from touching her mirrored in her eyes. She'd had that effect on him since the very first time they'd met but he'd been too proud to acknowledge it. Too determined to deny it.

‘What duty?' Her voice was barely above a whisper as he shut the door quietly, his every move full of purpose. He looked down at her and the rush of desire he'd known the first night of their marriage resurfaced, but this time he didn't want to push it harshly to one side. He wanted to face it, to explore it.

‘My duty as your husband.' He took one more step towards her, bringing her so close he could have wrapped his arms around her at any moment. She smelt good and he breathed her scent in. ‘A duty I failed in.'

‘Did you?' She looked up as she asked the question in a tremulous whisper.

He couldn't help himself as he reached out and smoothed her hair back from her face. The sigh that escaped her lips spurred him on. She was not immune to him, despite the hard bravado she hid behind.

The attraction that had simmered between them from the very first moment their eyes had met was still there and much more intense. He could feel the tension emanating from her—she still desired him and it gave him the courage he needed to face the most difficult thing he'd ever done.