Desert Jewels. Annie West

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СКАЧАТЬ to tuck the polar bear next to Azzam, then straightened up. ‘You know, we’ve never met any of Tariq’s girlfriends before,’ she said.

      Isobel wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She didn’t really feel like his girlfriend—more like an employee, with benefits. But she could hardly confess that to the Sheikh’s sister-in-law, could she? Or start explaining the exact nature of those ‘benefits’? Instead, she smiled.

      ‘I’m very honoured to be here,’ she answered quietly.

      Francesca hesitated. ‘Sometimes Zahid worries about Tariq. He thinks that surely there’s only so much living in the fast lane one person can do. It would be nice to see him settle down at last.’

      Now Isobel felt a complete fraud, because she knew very well that Tariq had no intention of settling down. Not with her—and not with anyone. He’d made that more than clear. Because when a man told you unequivocally that he never wanted children he was telling you something big, wasn’t he? Something you couldn’t really ignore. And if she’d been labouring under any illusion that he hadn’t meant it—well, she’d discovered tonight that he had. With his stony countenance and disapproving air, he’d made it pretty clear that children didn’t do it for him.

      And if Zahid and Francesca thought that her appearance here was anything more than expedient—that she and Tariq were about to start playing happy-ever-after—well, they were in for a big disappointment.

      ‘I don’t know whether some men are ever quite ready to settle down,’ she told the Queen diplomatically. ‘He isn’t known as the Playboy Prince for nothing!’

      Francesca opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something else, but clearly thought better of it because she shut it again. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s go and eat dinner. I want to hear all about life in England—the fashion, the films. Who’s dating who. What’s big on TV. I get a whole load of stuff off the internet, of course, but it’s never quite the same.’

      And Isobel nodded and smiled, feeling an immense sense of relief that the subject of Tariq’s inability to commit had been terminated.

      Dinner was served in the lavish dining room which led off the main room, its table covered in snowy linen and decorated with white fragrant flowers. Heavy silver cutlery reflected the light which guttered from tall, creamy candles, and the overall effect was one of restrained luxury and taste.

      ‘This looks wonderful,’ said Isobel shyly, realising that this was the first time she’d been given an insider’s experience of Tariq’s royal life.

      ‘A dinner fit for a king!’ said Francesca, and they all laughed as they took their places around the table.

      The evening passed in a bit of a blur. Isobel was aware of being served the most amazing food, but it was mostly wasted on her. She might as well have been eating bread and butter for all the notice she took of the exquisite fare. She could hardly believe she was here with Tariq—meeting his family like this. It had the heady but disconcerting effect of almost normalising their relationship—and she knew that was a dangerous way to start thinking. Just because you really wanted something, it didn’t necessarily mean it was going to happen.

      So she joined in as much as she could, though she felt completely lost when the two brothers began speaking in their own language.

      ‘They’re discussing the new trade deal with Maraban,’ confided Francesca.

      Isobel put her knife and fork down. ‘Do you speak any Khayarzahian?’ she questioned.

      ‘Only a little. I’m learning all the time—though it’s not the easiest language in the world. But I’m determined to be fluent one day—just as my sons will be.’

      ‘They’re such beautiful babies,’ said Isobel, a sudden note of wistfulness entering her voice almost before she’d realised.

      ‘Not getting broody, are you?’ Francesca laughed.

      It was perhaps unfortunate that the brothers’ conversation chose that precise moment to end and Tariq glanced up. He must have heard what they’d been saying, Isobel thought, her skin suddenly growing cold with fear. He must have done. Why else did he fix her with an expression she’d never seen before? A calculating look iced the ebony depths of his eyes which made her feel like some sort of gatecrasher.

      ‘Of course I’m not!’ she denied quickly, reaching for a glass of water and horribly aware of the sudden flush of colour to her cheeks. Why was he looking at her like that—with his eyes full of suspicion? Did he think she was trying to ingratiate herself with the monarch and his wife? Or did he think she really was getting broody?

      One moment she had been part of their charmed inner circle—warmed by its privileged light—and now in an instant it felt as if she had been kicked out and left to shiver on the darkened sidelines.

      By the time the evening ended her feeling of despondency had grown—though she managed to maintain her bright air of enjoyment until the car door had closed on them and they were once more locked within its private space.

      She settled back in the seat, unable to shake off the feeling of having been judged and found wanting, aware that Tariq did not slide his arm around her shoulder and draw her closer to him. And suddenly she was reminded of that very first time she’d had sex with him. When she’d been driven home—knickerless and confused—after first dropping him off at the Maraban Embassy.

      Back then she had been painfully aware of him keeping her at a distance, and he was doing it again now. Even though in the intervening weeks they had been lovers it was almost like being transported back in time. Because nothing had really changed, had it? Not for Tariq. She might be guilty of concocting fast-growing fantasies about how hand-chosen pieces of jewellery meant that he was starting to care for her—but that was just wishful thinking. Like some young girl who read her horoscope and then prayed it would come true.

      ‘You seemed to be getting on very well with Francesca,’ he observed, his voice breaking into her thoughts.

      ‘I hope I did all right?’ she questioned, telling herself that any woman in her position would have asked the same question.

      ‘I thought you carried it off superbly.’

      ‘Thanks,’ she said uncertainly.

      But Tariq leaned back in his seat, unable to dispel the growing sense of unease inside him. The whole evening had unsettled him, and it wasn’t difficult to work out why. Zahid in jeans—with no help for the children—and in a hotel suite which looked as if it had just been burgled.

      He shook his head in faint disbelief. It was scarcely credible to him that his once so formal and slightly stuffy older brother was now like putty in the hands of his wife.

      But it hadn’t just been the sense of chaos which had unsettled him. Something about their close family unit had opened up the dark space which was buried deep in Tariq’s heart. Watching his brother playing with his children had reinforced his sense of feeling like an outsider. Always the outsider.

      He shot Isobel a glance, remembering the way their gazes had met over the dark curly head of his nephew. Had that been wistfulness he’d read in her eyes as she’d held the baby in her arms? Was she doing that clucky thing which seemed to happen to all women, no matter how much they tried to deny it? Especially if they knew that a man was watching them…

      But СКАЧАТЬ