Bound by His Desert Diamond Read online

  ‘It’s the second language in my country too, so that’s handy.’ Anna smiled at these two pretty young women. ‘And please, call me Annalina. “Your Highness” sounds far too stuffy.’

  The women nodded but something told Anna that they would struggle with such informality. ‘Can I ask your names?’

  ‘I am Lena and this is Layla.’

  ‘What pretty names. I’m guessing you are sisters?’ She tried another forkful of omelette.

  ‘We are. Layla is my younger sister by two years.’

  ‘Well, it’s very nice to meet you. Have you worked here in the palace long?’ If she couldn’t manage to eat much, at least she could distract them with conversation.

  ‘Yes, for nearly two years. Ever since the palace was built. We are very lucky. After our parents died we were given a home in return for serving the King and Prince Zahir.’

  So their parents were dead. Anna suspected there were going to be many tales of death and destruction in this country once ravaged by war. She wanted to ask more but Lena’s lowered eyes suggested to pry further would be insensitive. Layla, however, had edged closer to the bed, staring at her as if she had been dropped down from another planet.

  ‘I like your hair.’

  ‘Layla!’ Her sister admonished her with a sharp rebuke.

  ‘That’s okay.’ Anna laughed, looking down at the blonde locks that were tumbling in disarray over her shoulders. ‘Thank you for the compliment. It takes a lot of brushing in the morning, though, to get the tangles out.’

  ‘I can do that for you,’ Layla replied earnestly.

  ‘Well, that’s very kind of you but...’

  ‘We are honoured to be able to serve you, Your Royal Highness,’ Lena said. ‘Prince Zahir has instructed us to attend to your every need.’

  He had? Anna found it hard to believe that he would concern himself with such trivialities as her every need. ‘Well, in that case, I will take you up on your kind offer. Prince Zahir...’ Anna hesitated. She wanted to ask what sort of an employer he was, what sort of a man they thought he was, but suspected that they wouldn’t be at liberty to tell her and it would be unfair to ask. ‘Do you see very much of him?’

  ‘No. He is away from the palace a lot. And, even when he is here, his needs are very few.’

  ‘Do you have many visitors, here in the palace?’

  ‘Not so many. Mostly foreign businessmen and politicians.’

  ‘We’ve never had a visitor as pretty as you before,’ Layla offered conversationally. ‘Do all the women in your country look like you?’

  ‘Well, the women of Dorrada tend to be fair-skinned and blue-eyed. The men too, come to that. Your dark beauty would be much prized in my country. As I’m sure it is here.’

  ‘So, Prince Zahir...’ Layla continued. ‘You think him handsome?’

  ‘Layla!’

  ‘I am only asking.’ Layla stuck out her bottom lip.

  ‘Obviously she thinks him handsome. She wouldn’t be marrying him otherwise.’

  Anna suppressed a smile as the two sisters set about one another in their own language, waiting for them to finish before speaking again.

  ‘The answer to your question is yes—I do think him handsome.’

  The sisters exchanged an excited glance.

  ‘And it is true that you will be marrying and coming to live here in the palace?’ This time Lena asked the question, her curiosity overcoming her sense of decorum.

  ‘Yes, that is true.’ Saying it out loud didn’t make it seem any the less astonishing.

  Lena’s and Layla’s pretty faces broke out into broad smiles and they even reached to clasp each other’s hands.

  ‘That is very good news, Your Royal Highness. Very good news indeed.’

  * * *

  Staring at the screen, Zahir cursed under his breath. He had braced himself for a small photograph of the two of them on the bridge, prepared to suffer the mild humiliation of being caught kissing in public, or rather being kissed, when it was put in the wider context of the engagement party. But this wasn’t a small photograph. This was a series of images, blown up to reveal every minor detail. With his finger jabbing on the mouse, Zahir scrolled down and down, his blood pressure rocketing as more and more pictures of him locked in a passionate embrace with Annalina flashed before his eyes. There were even several close-ups of the engagement ring, worn on the slender hand that was threaded through his hair, before finally the official photographs of the party appeared, the ones he wanted the world to see. The ones where he and Annalina were standing solemnly side by side, displaying their commitment to each other and to their countries.

  And it wasn’t just one newspaper. The whole of Europe appeared to be obsessed with the beautiful Princess Annalina, the press in France, the UK, and of course Dorrada itself taking a particular interest, feasting on the titbits that the photographer had no doubt sold to them for a handsome fee.

  A rustle behind him made him turn his head and there stood the object of the press’s attention, Annalina. At last—it was over an hour since he had sent servants to her room to find out what she was doing, giving orders that she should meet him here in the stateroom at her earliest convenience. Clearly he was going to have to be more specific. Dressed in a simple navy fitted dress, she looked both young, chic and incredibly sexy at the same time. Her ash-blonde hair was loose, tumbling over her shoulders in soft waves, falling well below the swell of her breasts.

  Zahir felt his throat go dry. He hadn’t been prepared for such hair, only having seen it secured on top of her head in some way before. He had had no idea it would be so long, so fascinating. He had had no idea that he would be fighting the urge to imagine how it would feel against his bare skin.

  ‘Have you seen this?’ Angry with himself, with his reaction and this whole damned situation, his voice rasped harshly. He hadn’t been able to concentrate all morning, hadn’t got through half the work he’d intended to.

  She glanced at the laptop, screwing up her eyes. ‘Is it bad?’

  ‘See for yourself.’

  A soft cloud of floral scent washed over him as she sat down next to him, tucking her hair behind one small, perfect ear. He almost flinched as she reached across him to touch the mouse, quickly scrolling through the images and scanning the text as she moved from one website to the next.

  ‘Well.’ She turned in her seat to look at him, her eyes a startling blue. ‘I guess it’s no worse than we were expecting.’

  ‘You, maybe. I certainly wasn’t expecting such mass coverage.’

  ‘Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now.’ She exhaled, the light breath whispering across the bare skin of his forearm and raising the hairs, raising his blood pressure. ‘Are the photos in the Nabatean newspapers too?’

  ‘Fortunately not. The official photographs from the engagement party are all that they will see. My people would not be interested in such a sordid spectacle.’

  He watched as she wrinkled her small nose. Her skin was so pale, so clear, like the finest porcelain.

  ‘What?’ He didn’t want to ask, he hadn’t even meant to ask. But her disrespectful gesture refused to be ignored.

  ‘I’m just wondering how you know that—if they aren’t given the chance, I mean. That sounds like censorship to me.’

  Temper snaked through him, slowing his heart to a dull thud. He narrowed his eyes, the thick lashes blurring his image of this infuriating woman. ‘Let me make something clear right from the start, Princess Annalina. I may, or may not, seek your views on matters to do with European culture and traditions that I am not familiar with. That is your role. However, you do not attempt to interfere with the running of my country. Your opinions are neither needed nor wanted.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘All I’m saying is...’ she raised finely shaped eyebrows ‘...you can’t have it both ways.’ It seemed she was determined to stand up to him. To have the last word. ‘If you are marrying me solely because I am a Western princess, because you want entrée into Europe that my family, my country, can give you, then you are going to have to accept this sort of media attention. It comes with the job. It comes with me.’

  Zahir scowled. Was this true? If so he was going to have to put a stop to it. He had no intention of becoming part of some celebrity circus. But then twenty-four hours ago he had had no intention of marrying at all.

  ‘I have to say, I am somewhat surprised that you would be happy for the first sighting the people of Nabatean have of their new princess to be a grubby little paparazzi shot of you wantonly pressing your body up against mine.’ He wished he hadn’t reminded himself of that now. Not when she was so close. Not when he knew he wanted her to do it again.

  ‘It doesn’t bother me.’ She tossed her head, her hair rippling over her shoulders, deliberately countering his pomposity with a throwaway remark. It felt to Zahir as if she was throwing his weakness for her back in his face too, even though he had gone to great pains to cover it up.

  ‘Well, it should bother you. It is hardly becoming.’ The pomposity solidified inside him, holding him ramrod-straight.

  ‘Look. The paparazzi have been following me all my life. I’m used to it—it’s part of the role I was unwittingly born into. There are probably hundreds of images of me being unbecoming, as you put it.’

  Zahir felt himself pale beneath his olive skin. This was worse than he’d thought. In his haste to arrange a suitable match for his brother it appeared he hadn’t been thorough enough in his research. He knew there had been a
broken engagement but what was she telling him now? That she had a history of debauched behaviour? This woman who he now had to take as his wife.

  ‘It’s okay!’ Suddenly she let out a laugh, a light-hearted chuckle that echoed between them, seeming to surprise the cavernous room as much as it did him. ‘There’s no need to look like that.’ Now she was reaching for his hand, laying her own over the top of it. ‘I haven’t done anything really terrible! And, who knows, maybe now that I’m officially engaged the paparazzi will lose interest in me, find someone else to train their zoom lenses on. Especially as you are not well known in Europe.’

  ‘Unlike your last fiancé, you mean?’

  Annalina withdrew her hand, all traces of humour gone now, colour touching her cheeks at his mention of her former partner. If he had wanted to snuff out her sunshine, he had achieved it.

  ‘Well, yes, Prince Henrik was well known to the gossip columnists. When that relationship ended it was inevitable that there was going to be a feeding frenzy.’

  There was silence as Zahir refilled his coffee cup before returning his gaze to Annalina’s face.

  ‘I expect you want to know what happened.’ She twisted her hands in her lap.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I will tell you if you ask.’

  ‘I have no intention of asking. It’s none of my business.’ And, more than that, he didn’t want to think about it. She continued to stare at him, a strange sort of expression playing across her face, as if she was trying to decide where to go from here.

  ‘I suggest we concentrate on making plans for the future.’ There, he could be sensitive, moving her on from what was obviously a painful subject.

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘I see no reason for a long engagement.’

  ‘No.’ Now she was chewing her lip.

  ‘A month should be ample time to make the arrangements. I’m assuming you’ll want some sort of society wedding in Dorrada? If we follow that with a blessing here in Nabatean, that should suffice.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘So I can leave you to organise it? The wedding, I mean? Or hire people to do it, or however these things work.’ At the mention of the wedding she seemed to have gone into some kind of stupor. Wasn’t the idea of arranging your wedding day supposed to be appealing to a young woman? Clearly not to Annalina. A thought occurred to him and he leant back in his chair. ‘If it’s money that is concerning you, let me assure you that is not a problem. No expense is to be spared.’

  But instead of lessening her worry his statement only furrowed her brow deeper and was now coupled with a distinct look of distaste in her eyes. Perhaps talking about money was distasteful—he had no idea, and frankly he didn’t care. Or perhaps he was the thing that she found distasteful. He didn’t want to care about that either. But somehow he did. Abruptly scraping back his chair, he pushed himself to his feet, suddenly needing to end this meeting right now.

  ‘Perhaps you will inform me of the date of the wedding as soon as you know it.’

  He looked down on Annalina from the superior position of his height. He heard himself, cold and aloof.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS?’

  Anna was wandering around the palace when one of the servants came to find her. She had spent the last hour pacing from one room to the next, still fuming too much over Zahir’s abrupt departure from their so-called meeting to pay much attention to her opulent surroundings. The way he had just got up and walked out, ending their discussion with no warning, no manners!

  She had thought she would try and distract herself by finding her way around this grand edifice but it was all too huge, too daunting, each room grander than the last, all domed ceilings, brightly coloured marble floors and micro-mosaic decorations. But there was nothing homely about it. In fact it had a new, unlived-in feel to it, as if no laughter had ever echoed through its stately rooms, no children’s feet had ever raced along its miles of corridors or young bottoms slid down its sweepingly ornate banisters. Which, no doubt, they hadn’t. This was a show home, nothing more. A monument erected as a display of wealth and power, a symbol of national pride for the people of Nabatean.

  ‘Prince Zahir has instructed that you are to meet him at the palace entrance.’ The servant bowed respectfully. ‘If you would like to follow me?’

  So that would be right now, would it? This was how it was to be—Zahir issued his orders and she was expected to obey. Just like any other member of his staff. Instinctively Anna wanted to rebel, to say no, just to prove that she wasn’t at his beck and call. But what would that achieve, other than deliberately antagonising him? Something which she strongly suspected would not prove to be a good idea. Besides, she had nothing else to do.

  A wall of heat hit her when she stepped out into the searing afternoon sun. Shielding her eyes, she could see Zahir standing by the limousine, waiting for the chauffeur to help her inside before getting in beside her.

  ‘Can I ask where we’re going?’ She settled in her seat, preparing herself to turn and look at him. It still gave her a jolt every single time her eyes met his, every time she stared into his darkly rugged features. It was like a cattle prod to her nervous system. He had changed into a sharply cut suit, she noticed, so presumably this wasn’t a pleasure trip.

  ‘The Assembly House in the town square.’ He returned her gaze. ‘I have arranged a meeting with some officials, members of the senate and the government. It will be an opportunity to introduce you to them, so they can put a face to the name.’

  A face to the name? His cold phrase left her in no doubt as to her role here—she was nothing more than a puppet, to be dangled in front of the people that mattered, jiggled around to perform when necessary and presumably put back in her box when she wasn’t required. It was a depressing picture but she had to remember that this was what their union was all about, a mutually reciprocal arrangement for the benefit of both of their countries. Nothing more. She needed to catch her sinking stomach before it fell still further.

  Breaking his gaze, Anna turned to look out of the window as the limousine swept them through the streets of Medira. It was a city still under construction, enormous cranes swinging above their heads, towering skyscrapers proudly rocketing heavenwards. The place certainly had a buzz about it. Lowering her head, Annalina peered up in awe.

  ‘I hadn’t realised Medira was such a metropolis. Is it really true that this whole city has been built in under two years?’

  ‘It has, in common with several other major cities in Nabatean.’

  ‘That’s amazing. You must be very proud.’

  ‘It has been a great responsibility.’

  Responsibility. The word might as well be indelibly etched across his forehead. In fact it was, Anna realised as she turned to look at him again. It was there in the frown lines that crossed his brow, lines that furrowed into deep grooves when he was lost in thought or displeased. Which seemed to be most of the time. There was no doubt how heavily responsibility weighed on Zahir Zahani’s shoulders, that his duty to his country knew no bounds. He was prepared to marry her, after all. What greater sacrifice was there than that?

  ‘But you have achieved so much.’ For some reason she wanted to ease his burden. ‘Surely you must allow yourself a small acknowledgement of that?’

  ‘The acknowledgement will come from the people, not me. They are the judge and jury. Everything we are doing here in Nabatean is for them.’

  ‘Of course.’ Anna turned to look out of the window again. It was pointless trying to reason with him. Through the shimmering heat she could now make out a mountain range, grey against the startling blue of the sky. She was used to mountains—Dorrada had plenty of them—but these were not like the familiar snow-capped peaks of home...these were stark, forbidding.

  ‘The Jagros Mountains.’ Zahir followed her gaze. ‘They form the border between us and Uristan. They look deceptively close but there is a vast expanse of desert between us and them.’

  Just as well. Annalina had no desire to visit them. She remembered, now that he said the name, that they were the mountains that had been the scene of terrible fighting during the war between Nabatean and Uristan.