The Ice Maiden's Sheikh. Alexandra Sellers

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ was why she clung so firmly to what she did feel. She knew how difficult it was to find a sense of belonging. Such things didn’t come at will.

      At the time of the coup some three decades ago, her parents had been newly married. Her mother, one of the daughters of the Sultan’s French wife, Sonia, and her father, scion of a tribal chief allied by blood and marriage to the al Jawadi for generations past, had both been in grave danger from Ghasib’s squad of assassins. They had fled to Parvan and taken new identities, and the then King of Parvan, Kavad Panj, had put the couple on the staff of the Parvan Embassy in London.

      Jalia had passed her childhood in a country that was not “her own,” raised on dreams of the land that was. As she grew older, she began to fear the power of those dreams that gripped her parents so inescapably, and to resent that distant homeland from which she was forever banished. From a child who had thrived on the tales of another landscape, another people, another way of being, she had grown into a sceptical, wary teenager determined to avoid the trap her parents had set for her.

      When she turned sixteen they had told her the great secret of their lives—they were not ordinary Bagestani exiles, but members of the royal family. Sultan Hafzuddin, the deposed monarch who had figured so largely in her bedtime stories, was her own grandfather.

      Jalia had been sworn to secrecy, but the torch had to be passed to her hands: one day the monarchy would be restored, and if her parents did not live to see that day, Jalia must go to the new Sultan….

      Her parents had lived to see the day. And now Jalia’s life was threatened with total disruption. Her parents, thrilled to join the great Return, were urgent that their elder daughter should do the same. But Jalia knew that in Bagestan something mysterious and powerful threatened her, the thing that had obsessed her parents from her earliest memories.

      And she did not want to foster the empty dream that she “belonged” in an alien land that she neither knew nor understood. That way lay lifelong unhappiness.

      Attending the Coronation had been an inescapable necessity, but it had been a brief visit, no more—until her foolish cousin Noor had undertaken to fall madly in lust with Bari al Khalid, one of the Sultan’s new Cup Companions, and promised to marry him.

      “Showing the way for us all!” Jalia’s mother declared, wiping from her eye a tear which in no way clouded its beady gaze on her elder daughter.

      Her mother had been convinced then that Jalia had only to flutter her lashes to similarly knock Latif Abd al Razzaq to his knees, and was almost desperate for her daughter to make the attempt.

      Princess Muna had wasted no time in checking out the handsome Cup Companion’s marital status and background: not merely the Sultan’s Cup Companion, but since the death of his father two years ago, the leader of his tribe.

      “He’s called the Shahin, Jalia. No one’s sure whether the word is an ancient word for king or really does mean falcon, as the myth says, but the holder of that title is traditionally one of the most respected voices on the Tribal Council. Not that Ghasib ever consulted the council, but the Sultan will.”

      Although Jalia hadn’t believed for a minute that the fierce-eyed sheikh was attracted to her, the mere thought of what complications would ensue if he or any Bagestani should declare himself had terrified her. She had gone home as soon as politeness allowed.

      Of course she couldn’t refuse to return to Bagestan for the wedding, but this time she had come with insurance—Michael’s engagement ring on her finger. Now when she was asked whether she intended to make the Return, Jalia could dutifully murmur that she had her future husband to consider. No one could argue with that.

      “Why do you say this is a wild-goose chase?”

      The Cup Companion’s voice broke in on her thoughts. Jalia jolted back into the here and now and gazed at him for a moment.

      “You think Noor ran of her own accord, do you?” she said at last.

      “She was seen driving the car herself.”

      “And if that’s so, it means she’s changed her mind about the wedding?”

      “Do you doubt it?”

      Jalia shrugged. That wasn’t her point. “That being the case, do you honestly imagine that, even assuming we find her, we’re just going to bring her meekly back to marry Bari?”

      “Women do not always know their own minds,” Latif said with comfortable masculine arrogance.

      It was the kind of thing that made her want to hit him. Jalia sat with her fists clenching in her lap.

      “Is that so?”

      “Your powers of persuasion may have undermined her. But she will return to her senses when she realizes what she has done. Then she will be glad to know that there is a way back.”

      “Or perhaps she’s come to her senses!” Jalia countered sharply. “That’s why she ran. It’s a pity it took her so long, that’s all.”

      “But of course—she did not come to her senses until she agreed with you!”

      The sarcasm burned like acid.

      “She was rushing into marriage with a complete stranger, which would entail a total transformation of her life, and on the basis of what? Nothing more than sex! Would you encourage someone to do what Noor was doing?”

      He turned and gave her a look of such black emotion she almost quailed. “Why not?” he demanded grimly.

      If Noor had simply bolted, it was going to cause hideous embarrassment all around, but surely anything was better than to marry in haste? Noor had been totally swept away by Bari’s looks and wealth and sex appeal, but that was no foundation for a marriage, still less for uprooting from everything she knew and transplanting to Bagestan.

      “For a start, because she’s not in love with him! She’s blinded by—”

      “If she does not love him yet, it will not be long coming. Bari will see to that, once they are married.”

      Jalia’s mouth fell open, angry irritation skittering along her spine. “Oh, a man can make a woman love him, just like that?”

      “What kind of man cannot make his own wife love him?”

      Her eyes popped with reaction to the arrogance; her mouth opened.

      “And how exactly does a man go about it?”

      At the look in his eyes now she gasped as if she’d been punched in the stomach.

      “Who is your fiancé, that you do not understand a man’s power over a woman?” asked the Cup Companion.

      Four

      Jalia sat up with a jerk. A chasm seemed to be opening up before her, and without having any idea what it represented, she knew it was dangerous.

      “What are you talking about?” she said mockingly.

      The car stopped at a traffic light on the outskirts of Medinat al Bostan. Below them, in the magnificent tapestry that was the city, sunlight gleamed from the golden dome and minarets СКАЧАТЬ