The Sheikh's Hesitant Bride (Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 7) (15 page)

"I seem to remember there was a meal about to be served," she said looking back urgently toward the palace.

Zarif frowned and followed her gaze. He paused for a few moments and then nodded. He reached out a hand but Rachel took a step backward, maintaining the distance between them both. Zarif saw her gesture and frowned. Rachel chided herself for what she had just done, worrying that it would send the wrong signal to him, give him a false idea of what she was thinking.

But, right now, all she could think was that perhaps she had made a mistake. That look in his eyes had hinted at the depth of her miscalculation. She hadn't expected him to look at her with such obvious affection.

No.

It had been much more than that, Rachel told herself. There had been so much more in his eyes than mere affection.

There had been something much more shocking, much more troubling.

Rachel started to walk back toward the palace. Zarif walked by her side.

She tried to gather her thoughts, but found it almost impossible.

And then she had to admit it all to herself.

Zarif had looked at her with clear and obvious love.

CHAPTER TWELVE

She was an innocent, Zarif told himself later that night as he lay in his bed, trying to come to terms with the startling reality Rachel had revealed to him in the garden.
 

He forced himself to say the words to himself. What it all really meant.

Rachel was a virgin.

The woman he had been courting with such determination was a complete innocent. He could hardly believe it. But then he recalled the way she had been with him during their time in London. It explained so much. Her hesitation; her reluctance. What he had thought had been rejection of his coarseness, his clumsy attempts at seduction, could be partly explained by that startling truth.

Then he realized that some part of him had suspected there was something different about Rachel; something he'd never encountered in any woman he'd ever tried to court.

He ran the events of the day over in his mind for what seemed like the hundredth time. It had been one of the most incredible days in his life. It was that simple. He'd brought Rachel to his palace; tried to ensure she felt as much at home as possible; confessed his own troubled past to her; had listened as patiently as he could to her as she had opened up to him.

Truly, he felt like his world had been turned upside down. Was this what it felt like to be in love? He felt his heart race faster just at that one simple thought.

Zarif stretched out on the bed, feeling his nakedness beneath the thin sheet that covered his body. He hadn't been able to sleep this past hour, and he was beginning to wonder if sleep would come at all this night. Images of Rachel filled his mind. Not even the coldest of showers had brought relief to him. His body felt stiff with desire.
 

All he could think of was Rachel in her own room way down at the far end of the hallway. Would she be asleep? Would she be naked beneath the sheets? That thought made him groan. He laid a hand across his forehead and tried to figure out how it had all come to this.

They had returned to the table on the terrace and food had been brought. They had eaten and the conversation had been polite and very civilized. But something had changed between them, something that couldn't be spoken off. Zarif wondered what had happened in the garden after she had told him her most sacred secret. Had she panicked after telling him? Had he said something insensitive?

Zarif remembered how he had felt in the moments after she had told him. Then he realized how he had looked at her because of those beautiful, treacherous feelings which had taken hold of his heart.

He had looked at Rachel with love.

It had been that simple. The most obvious and natural thing in the world for him to do in that moment.

But, somehow, it had caused her to draw away from him. The way she had looked at him when he had reached out a hand had made his heart freeze.

The rest of the evening had passed politely enough. They'd talked about plans for the next day. They would travel into Qazhar city to meet with some of the people he knew with the right connections.
 

Business, he had thought, bitterly. Such a contrast with what had gone on before.

But, that was the reason she had come here. Wasn't it?
 

He recalled the way she had spoken of her former boyfriend. The man who had never been her lover, Zarif told himself, feeling an involuntary surge of gratification sweep through him. The man sounded like a total loser. But, he had hurt Rachel. Just like Alana had tried to hurt Zarif.

Well, it looked like they both shared something, at least. They had both been wounded by past acquaintances. Badly hurt.

But they had both survived, both fought to claim their own lives. They were both striving to forge a future for themselves.
 

Zarif wondered if Rachel could be part of his own future. The merest suspicion that she wouldn't be made his jaw tighten, made something fierce twist in his middle.

Of course, she was going to be his, he told himself.

There had never been any doubt that she was the one for him. Not since he'd been bowled over by her in London. Not since he'd held her in his arms; tasted her lips; savored her flesh; inhaled her sweet scent.

He felt his firmness even more now and reached down to confirm the effect that just thinking about Rachel was having on him.
 

She had always made him feel like this. She always would. He knew that with absolute certainty.

He breathed out a frustrated sigh and thought about Rachel again, trying to imagine how she would look beneath him. Naked. He pictured her eyes wide with desire and need, her arms stretching out to him; the feel of her warm nakedness; the scent of her passion. The feel of her tightness.

He swallowed and drew in a sharp breath. He drove his thoughts to
 
what was to come the next day. The mundane details; the phone calls he'd need to make; the meetings he'd need to set up.

It was all such a lie.

They both knew what was really going on between them.
 

Today had just been the start.

Once he had kept his promise to her, he would make sure she understood the real reason he had persuaded her to come to Qazhar.

Zarif had already made up his mind. Had done so a long time ago.

Rachel was the one for him. His innocent bride. His princess. She belonged in this palace, looked completely natural and at home here in a way that Alana never had.

It was ironic that, as an outsider, Rachel looked more like the princess he craved than Alana could ever be.

Zarif twisted into his side pulling the sheet around him.

He had already made up his mind, and nothing was going to stop him. Now that Rachel was here he had one chance to do what he knew he must.

Claim her as his lover and his bride.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Rachel flopped down on the sofa in the sitting room of her room in the palace and kicked off her shoes.

What a day it had been, she told herself. She and Zarif had spent the whole day in Qazhar city meeting with people already involved in the property business. She was amazed at a number of people Zarif already knew, but then soon realized that her Sheikh companion had connections at every level of Qazhar society.
 

How naive she had been to think it would be any other way.
 

Of course, the man who had persuaded her to come here would know everyone who was worth knowing. And that was how it had turned out. Meeting after meeting, promises had been made, and everyone had been unbelievably supportive and friendly. It looked as if Zarif's suggestion that Rachel would have plenty of opportunities if she started a business in Qazhar had real substance.

It was early evening, and Zarif had sent her back to the palace on her own, explaining that he wanted to tie up some agreements with some of the people they had met that day. It seemed that Zarif was determined to make things work out for Rachel.
 

The entire day he had been the perfect gentleman, courteous and sensitive to her every need. It seemed that all the awkwardness of the previous evening had been swept aside. Rachel was relieved at that. The last thing she had wanted was that their revelations to each other of their pasts would stand between them.

There was a knock at the door. Rachel turned and saw Irina make her way into the room. Just looking at the woman's stern face caused a chill to slide up Rachel's spine. She stood quickly and walked to Irina.

"I heard you had returned from your visit to the city," Irina said glancing around the room. "Has the Sheikh not returned with you?" she asked.

"Zarif decided he had some things still to do," Rachel explained.
 

Why had Irina simply assumed that Zarif would be here with her in this room? What did she think was going on between Rachel and Zarif?

"Do you need any help ma'am?" Irina asked.

Rachel shook her head. "I don't think so, Irina. Thank you. I think I'll be fine."

Irina turned and started to make her way toward the door. Rachel had a sudden thought and gestured to Irina. "Oh, Irina. I understand now."

Irina squinted inquiringly.

"About Alana. Zarif explained everything to me," Rachel explained.

Irina's features tightened, lips pursing. Was that a flash of irritation in the woman's eyes, Rachel asked herself.

"Everything, ma'am?"

Rachel frowned. Why did Irina insist on referring to her as "ma'am"? It was so annoying. Almost as if she wanted Rachel to understand that she was a mere guest, and nothing more. Well, Rachel knew something that Irina didn't. Things between her and Zarif were different now. Even in spite of Rachel's reaction to the obvious affection she'd seen in Zarif's burning gaze in the garden.

"I know they were to be married. And, that it just didn't work out," Rachel said.

Irina shook her head slowly. "It was sad. They were so good for each other."

Rachel felt a surge of indignation. What was the woman talking about? Zarif and Alana had been nothing but bad news for each other. As far as Rachel was concerned, Zarif had managed to avoid something which would probably have wrecked his life.

"That's not how it sounded to me," Rachel responded.

Irina took a step toward Rachel. There was a grim expression in the woman's dark eyes. Her narrow features were set like stone and when she spoke her voice was even and cold. "Alana was the perfect woman for Sheikh Zarif," Irina said. "She would have made a fine wife."

Rachel was sure her cheeks had colored because she felt a sudden rush of heat to her face. Had Irina just ran her gaze up and down Rachel's petite figure as she'd said those words? Was she measuring Rachel against the sheikh's now absent ex-fiance? How dare she, Rachel exclaimed silently to herself. She was determined not to show emotion, not to give the servant the satisfaction of seeing that she had been affected by those words.

"Perfect, you say," Rachel said evenly. "In what way?" she demanded with a sarcastic smile.

Irina's gaze was resolutely even. "Alana was Qazhar born and bred. From a good family. She and Sheikh Zarif have known each other for many years." Irina shrugged. "It seemed to everyone that theirs was a natural and inevitable match. One that would have benefitted the kingdom and both of their families."

Rachel drew in a long breath and sighed. "My. That's quite a list you've got there," she said to Irina.

Rachel had to contain a smile when she saw a flash of irritation flicker in the servant's eyes. But, as quickly as it had appeared, it was buried behind an even stare.

"I feel positively alien, compared to that," Rachel continued. "But, then, I'm not Qazhar born and bred. I'm just English." Rachel peered into Irina's eyes. "Not quite the same, is it?"

Irina shifted on her heels and took a few steps away from Rachel, clasping her hands in front of her. She gazed around the room, as if remembering something. Then she turned to Rachel. "You know that this was the room Alana stayed in while she lived here before planning to marry the Sheikh," she said.

For a moment, Rachel was genuinely taken aback by that information. She'd had no idea. Suddenly the bed she had been sleeping in assumed an altogether different sense of importance. Rachel glanced into her bedroom, seeing the wide expanse of the bed. Had Zarif lain on that bed with Alana? She felt emotion tumble around in her middle, and turned away from Irina, determined to hide her reaction from the woman.

"In fact, Alana expressed the desire that after her marriage to Sheikh Zarif this would become their room."

Was the servant trying to dig a knife into Rachel? Was she deliberately trying to make her feel bad? Why would she do such a thing?

Rachel turned to Irina and shrugged. "That's all in the past, Irina. Sheikh Zarif made that absolutely clear."

"Really, ma'am?"

Rachel fixed the servant with a steady gaze. For a moment it was as if both women had locked horns. At least, that was how it felt to Rachel right at this minute. Something unspoken passed between Rachel and Irina.
 

"That's history, Irina," Rachel said evenly. "All in the past, and Zarif has moved on from all that."

Irina tried to shrug, tried to make what Rachel had just said meaningless, even untrue. But, Rachel knew that what she had said was the truth. Zarif had turned his back on the past. Alana was history. Zarif had made that clear to Rachel. There was nothing Irina could say which would alter Rachel's conviction that Zarif had embarked on a new course.
 

On more than one occasion he'd looked at her with that same look on his face, the one that had triggered such a strong reaction in Rachel the night before. In addition, throughout the day, there had been the little touches; taking hold of her arm when she needed help; placing his hand on her back when introducing her to someone; laughing at her jokes and her many pathetic, awkward attempts to be friendly with the myriad of strangers she'd had to meet.