Postcards From Paris. Sarah Mayberry
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‘Well, yes. As it is with you.’ Dark eyebrows raised and then fell again, taking Anna’s stomach with them. ‘But that doesn’t mean we can’t be happy.’
‘Then you might want to tell your face.’ Raising a hand, he cupped her jaw, his hand so large that it covered her chin and lower cheeks, seductively grazing her bottom lip. Anna trembled, his touch halting her cold breath painfully in her throat. ‘What is it that you fear, Annalina? Is it the thought of tying yourself to a man such as myself? A man ignorant of the manners of Western culture, more at home in a desert sandstorm, or riding bareback on an Arab stallion, than making polite conversation in a grand salon or waltzing you around a palace ballroom?’
‘No...it’s not that.’
‘I am not the cultured European prince you were hoping for?’ Suddenly bitterness crept into his voice.
‘No, it’s not that, Zahir. Really.’
‘What, then? I need to know.’ The searing intensity in his eyes left her in no doubt about that. ‘Do you fear that I am such a difficult man to please?’ His voice dropped.
Yes. ‘Impossible’ might be a better word. Anna stared back at him, tracing the map of his face with her eyes: the grooves between eyebrows that were so used to being pulled into a scowl, the lines scored across a forehead that frowned all too easily. Had she ever even seen him smile? She wasn’t sure. How did she have any hope of pleasing such a man?
‘I fear I may need time to learn the ways to make you happy.’ She chose her words carefully, trying to avoid snagging herself on the barbed wire all around her. Trying to conceal the inbuilt dread that she might not be able to satisfy him. Her abortive night of shame with Henrik still haunted her, plagued her with worry and self-doubt. And the way Zahir had dismissed it had done nothing to allay her fears either, merely demonstrated that he no idea of the scale of the problem. That he didn’t understand.
‘All being well, time is something we have plenty of, my princess.’ The very masculine gleam in his eye only made Anna feel a hundred times worse. ‘A lifetime together, in fact.’
‘Yes, indeed. A lifetime...’ Her voice tailed off.
‘And learning to please one another need not be such an arduous task.’ His thumb stroked over her lower lip.
‘No, of course not.’ Anna’s heart took up a thumping beat. His gentle touch, the depth of his dark stare, spelled out exactly the sort of pleasure he was talking about: intimate, sexual pleasure. It shone in his eyes and it clenched deep down in Anna’s belly.
She had spent so long worrying about how to satisfy Zahir that it hadn’t even occurred to her that sex was a reciprocal thing. That he might be thinking of ways to pleasure her. Now hot bolts of desire ricocheted through her at the thought of it. Of Zahir’s large rough-skinned hands travelling over her naked body, moving between her thighs, pushing them apart, spanning the mound of her sex before exploring within. A shiver of longing rippled through her and she had to squeeze her muscles tight to halt its progress.
‘I must go.’ Releasing her chin, Zahir let his thumb rest against her lip for a second, gently dragging it down. Then he took a step away. ‘Your father has meetings arranged for me all morning. However, I have set aside this afternoon for us to spend some time together.’
‘You have?’ Anna couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice, nor cover up the leap of excitement that coloured her cheeks.
‘After your little lecture about the role of a host, I assume you will be willing to show me around Dorrada?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Time is limited—I leave for Nabatean first thing tomorrow—but I should like to take in some of the sights before I go.’
‘You’re going back to Nabatean tomorrow?’ This was news to her.
‘Correct.’
‘Alone?’
‘I take it that won’t be a problem?’
‘Not for me, I can assure you.’ Anna fiddled with one of her plaits. ‘So does this mean you finally trust me or am I to be surrounded by your minders?’
‘No minders.’ Zahir narrowed his eyes as he contemplated her question. ‘But trust is not something I find easy to give. Once you have suffered the sort of betrayal I have, it is hard to ever completely trust anyone again.’
‘I’m sure.’ Anna lowered her eyes. At first she had thought he was talking about her, what she had done on the bridge in Paris. But the pain in his eyes ran deeper than that, far deeper. She wanted to ask more but Zahir was already pulling down the shutters, aware that he had said too much.
‘However, I’m prepared to give you the freedom to prove yourself.’ He levelled dark eyes at her. ‘Just make sure you don’t let me down.’
* * *
‘I suppose we should be getting back to the castle.’ Night was starting to close in, the first stars appearing in the sky, and reluctantly Anna felt in her pocket for the car keys. Their whistle-stop tour of Dorrada was nearly over, something that disappointed Anna more than she would ever have imagined.
Zahir hadn’t bothered to hide his surprise when she had pulled up in front of the castle in the battered old four-by-four vehicle and gestured to him to get in beside her. Warily easing himself into the passenger seat, he had shot her one of his now familiar hooded stares, leaving her in no doubt that this was a situation he did not feel comfortable with—whether that was being driven by a woman, or her in particular, she didn’t know. And didn’t care. She was a good driver, she knew the roads around here like the back of her hand, and the challenging conditions of this wintry climate posed no problems for her. And even if he’d looked as though he was coming perilously close to grabbing the wheel off her a couple of times—especially on some of the spectacular hairpin bends that snaked up through the mountains—he had just about managed to restrain himself, travelling every inch of the road with his eyes instead.
Deciding where to take her guest had been difficult. Dorrada was only a small country but the scenery was spectacular and there were so many places Anna would have liked to show him. But time was short so she had limited herself to a trip up into the mountains, with several stops to admire the views, including the place where an ancient cable car still vertiginously cranked tourists down to the valley below. Then she had given him a rapid tour of the town of Valduz, unable to stop because she’d known they would attract too much attention. People turned to stare at them as they passed anyway, rapidly pulling out their phones to take a photo, or just waving excitedly as their princess and her exotic fiancé drove by.
The last stop on Anna’s tour had brought them to this mountain lakeside, one of her favourite places. Originally she hadn’t intended to bring Zahir here but somehow it had happened and now she was glad of that. Because as they had crunched their way along the shoreline, stopped to take in the stunning sunset rippling across the crystal-clear water, she knew that Zahir was feeling the beauty of the place every bit as much as her. Not that he said so. Zahir was a man of few words, using communication as a mere necessity to have his wishes understood or his orders obeyed. But there had been a stillness as he’d gazed across the water to the snow-capped mountains beyond, an alertness in the way he’d held his body, that had told Anna how much he was feeling the magic of this place. They hadn’t needed any words.
‘There’s no rush, is there?’ Zahir turned to look at her, his face all sharp-angled lines and shadows in the dim light.
‘Well, no, but it’s getting dark. There’s not much point in me taking you sightseeing if you can’t see the sights.’
‘I like the dark.’ Zahir laid the statement baldly before her, as if it was all that was needed to be said. Anna didn’t doubt it. She already thought of him a man of the night, a shadowed, stealthy predator that would stalk his prey—would curl his hands around the throat of an enemy before they even knew of his existence. ‘Is