Midnight on the Sands. Оливия Гейтс
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It was true. She had. She was the image in his mind now, instead of grenades. When the crowd surrounded their town car in the market, he saw her face.
“I haven’t given myself to you.” She wrinkled her nose, as though the very idea disgusted her.
“I didn’t seem so repellent to you the other night in your bed,” he said, anger roaring through him immediately.
“That isn’t what I mean! Obviously I don’t … Obviously I … I don’t belong to you.”
“No, Katharine, you don’t. You could never belong to any man. It is far too passive a place for you to be. And you are anything but passive.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I do. I have the internal battle scars to prove it. I simply meant you have taken time with me. Taken the time to try and …” He didn’t like the word help. It seemed weak to him. And yet he’d needed it. And she had given it. “You have helped me.”
She looked down. “I needed to.”
His chest felt tight. “So that I can make a show of being a strong Regent to your country?”
She nodded, the motion jerky. “Of course.” She looked up, her green eyes wells of emotion so deep he could not see the end of them. And he didn’t want to. “Remember that it’s much colder in Austrich than it is here. The air is thinner, too.”
“Naturally.”
“What time do we leave tomorrow?”
“If we leave in the morning we should arrive with daylight left in Austrich. Eight o’clock?”
She forced a smile. “I guess coordinating wasn’t all that complicated.”
Maybe it wasn’t. But everything else was. Zahir wasn’t the kind of man who did complicated. Everything in his life was simple. Get out of bed, get through the day, try to find some rest in the sleep that always tried to elude him.
Not since Katharine had come. And he could truly say he didn’t want things back the way they were before she came.
But he wasn’t sure he could stand six years of denying himself while she lived in the palace, as his wife. Untouchable and more tempting than any woman he had ever encountered.
Green trees, capped with pristine white snow blurred together as their private plane landed on the airstrip that was positioned behind the palace in Austrich’s capital.
The deep saturation of color, after coming out of the washed-out landscape of Hajar was almost blinding in its intensity. Surreal as Katharine descended from the steps and onto the tarmac, her high-heeled shoe making contact with the icy ground.
It was never quiet in the desert. There was always the buzz of an insect or the sound of the wind skipping over the sand. But in Austrich, the mountains and trees offered insulation from noise, and brought a kind of silence that bordered on the surreal.
“You all right?” she asked, turning to face Zahir, who was looking at the sky, the gray, overcast sky that must seem completely foreign to him.
“Of course.”
“You haven’t … I mean, I know you and Malik went to school in Europe, but you haven’t traveled outside of Hajar in … “
“Five years,” he said, turning his focus to the craggy peaks that surrounded them.
“It’s very different here. I remember the first time I went to Hajar I was in shock. I felt like I was right next to the sun.”
He looked at her then, his dark eyes inscrutable. “You belong here.”
“It’s in my blood.”
She knew he meant she didn’t belong in Hajar. Didn’t belong with him. As much as she knew it, she couldn’t shake the feeling of foreignness that crept over her when she turned to face the castle, rising from the tall pine trees, towers gleaming in the faint glow of the sun.
This place, her home, it felt strange now. Stranger than it felt to be in Hajar.
“My father is expecting us.” She turned and strode to the limo, waiting to drive them the thousand or so paces to the castle.
She allowed the chauffeur to open the door for her and before Zahir got in on his side she blew out a hard breath and fought with the urge to cry or scream or something. Something that would tear into Austrich’s silence.
Something that would make her feel right.
She hadn’t felt right since that night in her room. She wasn’t entirely certain she’d felt right since the moment she’d walked into his office and proposed.
She closed her eyes. Had she even felt right before that? It had been a constant feeling, and she’d been used to it. But she wasn’t certain it was the way she was supposed to feel. She was finding something else in Hajar, and she couldn’t quite put a name to it.
The chill air from outside pierced the cocoon of warmth the limo offered, and Zahir slid inside beside her.
“Nice,” she said, touching the dark sleeve of his wool jacket.
“I haven’t had occasion to use it for quite a while.”
“Not a lot of heavy coat weather in Hajar.”
“No.”
He turned his focus to the passing scenery and Katharine closed her eyes, trying to shut it all out.
Far too soon, the car slowed and stopped in front of the main entrance of the palace.
“How is your father doing?” Zahir asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice choked. She hadn’t seen him in over a month and he wasn’t the kind of man who would admit to any frailty.
Their respective doors were opened for them in unison and they both stepped back out into the cold. Snow was falling now, sprinkling over the wide expanse of green lawn that dominated the palace courtyard.
There was no reticence in Zahir’s demeanor, but then, her father wasn’t a crowd. He strode ahead of her, his steps long and confident, and she tried to match them. Tried to feed off his strength, because for some reason, hers seemed to be failing.
She’d been treating Zahir like the enemy, because he’d hurt her, but she needed an ally now. Desperately.
The castle in Austrich was completely unlike the palace in Hajar. There were domestic staff everywhere, administrative personnel, visiting members of parliament and the occasional tour group. It was always busy, and it was never empty.
There were always flowers. And the most awful, gaudy garlands made of fresh vines and carnations strung over the public portions of the palace. High-gloss white marble floors and bright white, spotless walls with the matte impression of fleur de lis impressed upon them.
It felt foreign now, too, like the whole setting of the country had when she’d first stepped onto the tarmac. She moved a little bit closer to Zahir.
“This way,” she said, indicating which direction her father’s office was in. He would be there, waiting to greet her. Anything else would be far too casual. And anyway, this was a matter of State. Her wedding was about alliances and protection. Nothing more.
It would do her well to remember that.
They stopped in front of the heavy, dark walnut door that stood out in sharp contrast to the white walls, and Katharine took a deep breath, one she’d hoped would fortify her. It didn’t.
“Katharine.” Zahir touched her hand. “Look at me.”
She looked up into his eyes, at his handsome face.
You bring me back to myself.
That was how she felt, like he’d brought