Midnight on the Sands. Оливия Гейтс
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you felt so strongly for him,” Zahir said, his words stiff, his dark eyes closed off.
“I felt very strongly about the arrangement. That’s one reason I fought so hard for it. It’s the right thing.”
“And yet … since I will give you an out, you’re more than willing to take it.”
Shame made her face hot. “Yes,” she said, the words a whisper.
“What’s changed?”
“The thought that maybe I could have something else. Something more.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “And in the meantime, you make yourself a human sacrifice.”
“Haven’t we both?”
“True. I know why you do what you do. Do you know why I am the Sheikh of Hajar? Why I didn’t pass it to one of my distant relatives?” His voice was rough, his words halting. “Because I am the only one left to fight. And even if I have to fight for my people from a desk, I will do it until there is no more breath in me. Because I’m all that’s left.”
Her heart seized in her chest, the aching, emptiness of his loneliness swept through her, left her breathless. The move to touch him was reflexive, an instinct she couldn’t fight. She covered his hand with hers and his body jerked, but his hand remained there, beneath hers.
He didn’t speak, he only looked at her. But the look in his eyes became more focused as he did. His gaze drifted down to where her hand covered his, so pale next to the deep golden tone of his skin.
“I am sorry about before,” she said, her voice a whisper.
He was silent for a moment, his hand tense beneath hers. “As am I.”
She slid her hand away from his, but she felt the lingering heat from him. From his skin. “I spoke to my father and brother today.”
“And?”
“My father is thrilled, of course, well, in his way, and … Alexander doesn’t really know the circumstances. I don’t want him to. He’d hate to know that I was doing this for him. He’s only sixteen and he simply wouldn’t understand. And neither of them know that this is … temporary.”
“I see. When did you understand you were to marry a man your father selected?”
She laughed softly. The memory of that day was one she tried her best to block out on most occasions. “Maybe twelve.
It came up at dinner. My mother had passed away just a couple of years earlier and Alexander was just a toddler. My father mentioned that he’d begun looking for … I think he used the words appropriate suitors for me. I was appalled.”
“I would imagine so.”
“I had posters of my favorite singer on my wall and I was going to marry him. Somehow I didn’t think a pop star would pass muster.”
She was gratified when his lips turned up into a slight smile. “I would think not.”
“What about you?”
“Malik was the one who had to think about advantageous marriages.”
“Yes, that was meant to be me.”
He looked at his wineglass. “I was going to marry for love.”
Her stomach tightened. Before the attack, he meant. “You still can. After.”
He shook his head. “I think not. I don’t believe in it anymore. And even if I did, I know I can no longer feel it.” He pushed up on the edge of the table, his movements jerky. “Thank you for dinner.”
“Thank the chef,” she said, trying to suppress the sadness that was mounting in her.
“I will.” He inclined his head and turned away from her, leaving her sitting at the table alone.
KATHARINE had been in Hajar for more than a week and the walls of the palace were starting to crush her from the inside out. She was feeling a definite need to get out and see more of the country, or at least see more than the inside of the palace, beautiful though it was.
She’d heard they had some magnificent upscale shopping centers in Kadim, the capital city, but she’d yet to see anything beyond the airport and Zahir’s home.
At least now she was on her way out. She’d spoken to Kahlah that morning about obtaining security detail for a shopping excursion and her needs had been met quickly. Now, just an hour later, she was headed into the city.
She hadn’t spoken to Zahir, but he hadn’t been in his office or the gym, and it wasn’t as though he’d given her a way to contact him. She was beginning to wonder if he ever left the palace.
A sickening weight settled in her stomach. He was like a prisoner in some ways, and yet, he was the one who’d sentenced himself. But she could sense it. Could sense that there was a dark energy in him that was boiling beneath the surface. And that he held it back, along with so many other things.
She could see the skyline of the metropolitan city beyond the highway, providing an elegant and unexpected backdrop to Old Kadim, which was still prominently in the foreground. The buildings made of stone, the narrow roadways lined with open-air markets.
There was a flavor to it, unexpected so near the modern, gleaming brilliance of the city beyond. It fascinated Katharine. Called to her.
As the car passed one of the markets, Katharine craned her neck to see. It was crowded, people out doing daily errands, and tourists who were enjoying the Old World atmosphere of the open-air shopping.
“I’d like to stop here for a while, if that’s all right.”
The two men in front exchanged glances, then nodded and the driver pulled the car into the nearest parking spot—a spot Katharine was a bit skeptical was in fact designed for parking, but that seemed to be driving in Hajar. People following their own arbitrary rules.
The security team got out before her, in a move that seemed a touch obvious, then came and opened her door. “Thank you,” she said.
The men were glued to her side as she made her way from the car down into the main hub of the market. “You can walk behind me,” she said. “Just a little bit.”
When she went shopping in Europe she always had security with her, but they weren’t usually so big. Or hulking. Or obvious.
She breathed in, the sharp scent of meat, spice and dust mingling together, tickling her throat. It was loud here. Talking, laughing and music melting together, indistinguishable from each other.
“I’m going this way,” she said to her detail.
They followed silently, their expressions stoic, their manner no less obvious than it had been a moment earlier.
The crowd was thick and people rushed past her, some nearly running into her. Strange to think that this would be her home for the next few years. It was so different to anything she was used to.
She watched as a mother bent down and picked a screaming child up from the ground. So different, but the same, too. She smiled and turned to one of the stalls, touching one of the glittering necklaces that was tacked onto a flat of velvet with a small nail.
“What is this?” Zahir’s voice, hard, angry, cut through the noise of the market like a knife.
She released her hold on the necklace. “This is me … shopping. How did you know where I was?”
“Kahlah. I certainly didn’t hear it from you. Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?”
People were pausing to stare. Truly, they were gaping openmouthed at Zahir. From what she knew of him, he never made public appearances. He had a face for radio