The Sheikh Crowns His Virgin Page 3

  ‘No, he is not,’ Raj told her emphatically. ‘Nor would he harm a hair on your head but he has kept his distance because he does not speak English.’

  ‘Then who is responsible for bringing me here?’ Zoe demanded, standing her ground, tensing her spine to keep her back and shoulders straight and her head high. Her favourite self-help book urged that even if you didn’t feel confident, it was still possible to fake confidence and by so doing actually acquire it.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you that,’ Raj countered flatly.

  Zoe’s green eyes flared as if he had slapped her. ‘Why not?’ she demanded.

  ‘It would serve no useful purpose.’

  Zoe breathed in very deeply to contain the temper she hadn’t known she had until that moment. He was so incredibly patronising, so superior and his attitude affected her like a chalk scraping down a blackboard, setting her teeth on edge. ‘That’s my decision to make, not yours,’ she said succinctly.

  Engaged in replacing his keffiyeh, Raj looked heavenward, involuntarily amused by that argument. She was like a doll with that tiny stature of hers and her phenomenally long blonde hair and she barely reached his chest.

  ‘You’re not taking me seriously,’ she condemned.

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ Raj conceded grudgingly. ‘I arrived here to sort this unfortunate mess out and that is what I intend to do.’

  ‘Is it indeed?’ Zoe snapped, incredulous that he had simply admitted his inability to treat her like an intelligent individual because, in her experience, most people lied on that score, denying that her diminutive size coloured their attitude towards her.

  Raj paced several steps away from her, having discovered that proximity was unwise. His attention kept on dropping to that soft full pink mouth, that shimmering fall of pale hair, the barely noticeable little feminine curves hinting at her physical shape beneath the robe. He shifted, a kick of lust at his groin exasperating him for it was inappropriate and Raj was always very appropriate in his reactions to women. He controlled his responses, he did not allow them to control him and he had never understood the intoxicating lust that he had heard other men talk about, because only one woman had ever tested his control and, even then, it had not overwhelmed him.

  ‘I intend to have you conveyed home as soon as it is possible...unless you are unwilling to give up the possibility of marrying my uncle, Prince Hakem, and becoming a princess,’ Raj murmured bluntly. ‘I suspect my aunt, his wife of many years, whom he recently divorced, would be relieved to have the ingrate back by default, little though he deserves her forgiveness and understanding...’

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘ARE YOU TELLING me that Prince Hakem was already married at the time he agreed to marry me?’ Zoe gasped in astonished disbelief, her triangular face tightening and losing colour at that horrendous concept.

  ‘Of course, you were already aware of that reality,’ Raj informed her with considerable scorn in his tone. ‘After all, he has been married for many years. He has four children and a very large number of grandchildren... However, I assume that your grandfather was unwilling to accept a polygamous marriage, so my uncle had to divorce his wife before he could be allowed to marry you...’

  Zoe was stunned by what she was learning. She wondered if her grandfather had been aware of those same unpleasant facts and then she told herself off for shying away from the unlovely truth that Stam Fotakis had wanted his granddaughter to become a princess regardless of what it would take to achieve that end. Prince Hakem had had to divorce his wife to take Princess Azra’s granddaughter as a bride! Zoe was appalled and mortified and guilt-stricken, feeling that she should’ve done her homework better and shouldn’t be in the position of finding out such a crucial fact when it was too late to change anything. Hakem’s poor wife! Raj was definitely correct in his conviction that her grandfather would never have accepted a polygamous marriage and would only ever have settled for his grandchild becoming the Prince’s sole wife.

  ‘I didn’t know... I swear I didn’t know that he was a married man!’ Zoe protested vehemently, a guilty flush driving off her previous pallor. ‘In spite of what you seem to think, I would never have agreed if I had known that he was getting rid of his real wife just to marry me for a few months.’

  Raj had no idea why she was bothering to defend her behaviour by pleading ignorance of the reality that his uncle had been a perfectly happy married man before her availability had ignited his ambition. Zoe Mardas might look convincingly like a storybook princess or a heavenly angel, but Raj had an innate distrust of that level of physical beauty and a cynical view of humanity. Beautiful on the outside but what less than presentable motives were she striving to conceal from him? He had discovered for himself that beautiful on the outside too often meant ugly on the inside.

  In any case, Zoe could not possibly be as naïve as she was pretending to be. She had to know her own worth in Marabanian terms. Thousands of delighted Banians would flood the streets to celebrate an alliance between a royal Prince and Princess Azra’s grandchild. His uncle had come very close to pulling off a spectacular coup in the popularity stakes.

  ‘I assume you are willing to go home now?’ Raj queried, marvelling at his own restraint in asking her that question because, frankly, he was determined to get her out of Maraban by any means within his power.

  ‘Of course, I’m willing to go home!’ Zoe shot back at him in reproach. ‘Good grief, I’m not wanting to marry a man I’ve never even met, who divorced his wife just to become my bridegroom! Do I look that desperate?’

  ‘I don’t know you. I have no idea what your motivations are or, indeed, were,’ Raj parried with the intrinsic hauteur that came as naturally to him as breathing, his exotically high cheekbones taut, his arrogant nose lifted, his hard jaw clenched.

  Zoe’s colour heightened, her eyes brightening with anger, for in a couple of sentences, he had cut her down to size, enforcing the distance between them while also underlining his indifference to her feelings about anything. He looked different with that headdress covering his riot of coal-black curls. While the keffiyeh framed and accentuated his superb bone structure and those dark deep-set eyes set below slashing ebony brows, it also made him look older and off-puttingly sombre.

  ‘I confess that I am surprised, however, that you have not even met Prince Hakem. While such traditional matches still occasionally occur in Maraban, they are no longer the norm and I would not have thought a woman from your background would have been prepared to accept a husband sight unseen,’ he admitted smoothly, dark eyes glittering back at her in cool challenge.

  A wild surge of temper rocked Zoe where she stood, thoroughly disconcerting her, and her small hands coiled into tight fists by her side. The derision lacing his intonation and his appraisal was like a slap in the face. He might say that he didn’t know her but she could see that, regardless of that reality, he had still made unsavoury assumptions about her character.

  ‘Who the hell do you think you are to talk to me like this?’ Zoe suddenly hissed at him, out of all patience and restraint because the way he was looking at her, as though she were some sort of lesser being, infuriated her. ‘I came to this wretched country in good faith and my trust has been betrayed. I was drugged, kidnapped and subjected to a terrifying experience! Now you start judging me even though you don’t know the facts.’

  ‘I agree that I don’t know the facts, nor do I need to know them,’ Raj countered, disconcerted by the passion etched in her heart-shaped face as she answered him back. He wasn’t used to that—he wasn’t used to that kind of treatment at all.

  He had been reserved from childhood, discouraged from letting his guard down with anyone, continually reminded about who he was and what he was and exactly what his rank demanded. After his mother’s tragic death, he had had to learn to conceal his feelings and his insecurities, had had to accept that such personal responses were out of step with his status. An accident of birth had imprisoned him in a separate category, denying him the relaxation of true friends or freedom. When he had finally broken out of that prison, he had discovered to his consternation that that often icy reserve of his, which kept people at a distance, was as much a natural part of him as his face.

  ‘Well, you’re going to hear the facts, whether you want to or not!’ Zoe snapped back at him curtly. ‘Prince Hakem approached my grandfather to suggest the marriage, not the other way round. I didn’t meet him beforehand because there was no need for me to meet him when it was never intended to be a normal marriage. I was to go through the ceremony and live quietly afterwards in the Prince’s home. He swore that he would treat me like a daughter and that no demands would be made of me. Then after several months I was to go home and get a divorce...’

  Raj’s spectacular eyes gleamed as darkly bright as polar stars while he absorbed that surprising information. He understood now why his aunt had agreed to the divorce without making a fuss. Hakem must have promised to remarry her once he was free again and, in support of her husband’s royal ambitions, Raj’s aunt had been willing to make that sacrifice. ‘But what was in this peculiar arrangement for you?’ Raj persisted with a frown of bewilderment. ‘It cannot surely have been enriching yourself when your grandfather is such a wealthy man...’

  ‘Status!’ Zoe almost spat out the word as if it physically hurt her and, indeed, it did. ‘I would’ve become a princess and, while that doesn’t matter much to me, it means a great deal to my grandfather and I wanted to please him. He’s done a lot for me and my sisters.’

  ‘Being a princess wouldn’t have been much of a consolation while you were living in Hakem’s home,’ Raj informed her very drily. ‘Hakem’s wife and children are well known and well liked and everyone who knew them would have been ready to loathe you on sight.’

  ‘Well, the marriage is not going to take place now, is it?’ Zoe cut in thinly, turning away from him to wander across to the far side of the tent. ‘After all that’s happened, nothing short of handcuffs and chains would persuade me to stay in Maraban!’

  Raj was disconcerted to find his brain sketching an erotic mental image of her chained to a bed, all flyaway blonde hair, passionate green eyes and little heaving pale pink curves for his private delectation. He stiffened and shifted restlessly while he fought to kill that untimely vision stone dead. But, sadly for him, there was nothing politically correct about his body and within seconds he was filled with desire.

  ‘You know, I don’t want to be rude or melodramatic,’ Zoe began shakily.

  ‘You may not want to be but you can’t help behaving that way?’ Raj incised hoarsely, knocked off balance now by his libido, that intimate imagery of her strengthening rather than fading and exercising the most extraordinary power over him.

  Zoe spun. ‘You’re the one being rude!’ she condemned, challenged to catch her breath when she clashed involuntarily with his intense gaze. ‘Acting like being kidnapped is normal and refusing to tell me who orchestrated this whole stupid charade!’

  ‘I am withholding that information because there is no possibility of the man involved being punished,’ Raj admitted hoarsely.

  What was it about that jet-dark gaze that made goose bumps rise on her exposed skin and sent little shivers running down her taut spine? Why did she suddenly feel so ridiculously overheated? Why did her tummy feel as though butterflies were fluttering through it? Instinctively she pressed her thighs together on the ache low in her core and she blinked in bewilderment and growing self-consciousness, her colour heightening as the explanation for her reaction dawned on her and shot through her like a lightning bolt. It was attraction, simple sexual attraction, and she was experiencing it for the first time ever. It made her feel all jumpy and twitchy, like a cat trying to walk across hot burning coals. Sheer shock crashed through her slender frame as she endeavoured to rise above her inner turmoil and focus on the conversation.

  ‘And why is there no possibility of punishment?’ Zoe demanded boldly.

  ‘I will not discuss that with you. Please get dressed and we will leave.’

  ‘To go where?’ Zoe demanded in surprise.

  ‘We are flying first to Dubai and then on to London, where you will be reunited with your grandfather,’ Raj explained. ‘As that arrangement is acceptable to him, I assume it is equally acceptable to you.’

  ‘Acceptable?’ Zoe echoed and she moved forward with a frown, her astonishment unhidden. ‘Are you telling me that you have actually spoken to Grandad?’

  ‘Of course.’ Raj’s intonation was clipped and businesslike. ‘He was very angry about your disappearance and I had to reassure him that you were safe and that I would personally ensure that you are restored to his protection as soon as possible.’

  But Zoe was still struggling to come to terms with the startling reality that he had already discussed the entire episode with her grandfather because that he should have boldly taken that step was utterly unexpected. Most people avoided Stam Fotakis in a temper and tried to wriggle out of accepting responsibility for anything that annoyed the older man. In fact, the only person she knew who ever stood toe to toe with her grandfather when he was in a bad mood was her sister, Vivi, whose temper matched his. Whoever Raj was, he was fearless, she decided enviously, for when her grandfather started roaring like an angry bull, Zoe simply wanted to keep her head down and take cover.

  ‘I’m in a hurry. We will leave as soon as you are ready. My time here is limited,’ Raj admitted flatly, tension tightening his smooth bronzed features. ‘I would be obliged if you would be quick.’

  ‘Well, I would need my clothes back to be quick, and I don’t know where they are,’ Zoe told him thinly, lifting her chin.

  With an exclamation, he strode to the doorway and, a moment later, a little woman in tribal dress came running to do his bidding. Zoe’s garments were located and laid in her arms, freshly laundered and fragrant. She stalked into the bathroom to look longingly at the shower and then she thought defiantly, What the hell? I’m not putting on clean clothes unless I’m clean as well!

  As Zoe stepped beneath the flowing water with a deep sigh of relief, Raj strode out of the main tent, the old rules of polite conduct kicking in even though it felt like a lifetime since he had had to pay attention to such outdated beliefs. She was a single woman and he was a single man and he was in a very old-fashioned place where only his rank had granted him the right to speak to her alone. Even so, he had noted that the females in Omar’s family were hovering nearby to ensure that the proprieties were observed. He was relieved that her attack on him had gone unnoticed for that would have very much shocked the tribe, none of whom would have recognised the need for a woman to learn the skills to protect herself. Male relatives were supposed to protect the women in the family.

  Evidently, however, Zoe Mardas had not been protected, Raj reckoned thoughtfully, wondering what had happened to her, wondering why she had been so terrified and acknowledging that he would never know. He didn’t get into deep conversations of that nature with women. His relationships, if they could be called that, were superficial and consisted of lots of sex and not much else. He doubted that he would ever want anything more from a woman. Why would he? Love had once made him stupid. He had given up everything for love and had ended up with nothing but the crushing awareness that he had made a serious mistake.

  ‘Raj!’ Omar gasped as he surged up to him, red-faced from the effort and winded, a small, rather tubby man, who rarely hurried at anything he did. ‘You need to leave. One of the camel traders phoned to tell me...a bunch of military helicopters are flying in.’

  ‘Soldiers love to rehearse disasters. It’ll be some war game or something,’ Raj forecast, refusing to panic. ‘I told Zoe to hurry as politely as I could but you know what women are...’

  ‘Raj, if you’re caught on Marabanian soil, you could be arrested, imprisoned!’ Omar emphasised in frustration. ‘Grab that stupid woman and get in that helicopter and go!’

  The racket of rotor blades approaching made both men throw their heads back and peer into the sky.

  ‘Do you see those colours? That is the royal fleet, which means your father is on board!’ Omar groaned in horror.

  ‘It’s too late to run. I’ll have to tough it out.’

  ‘No, run!’ Omar urged abruptly. ‘Right now...leave the woman here. I think this was a trap. I think she was dumped with me because they knew I was sure to ask you for your help. In the name of Allah, Raj, I will never forgive myself if you come to harm because of my thoughtlessness!’

  A trap? Raj pondered the idea and as quickly discarded it. Why would his father, who had considered him a disappointment practically from the day of his birth, seek to trap him in Maraban? Sending Raj into exile, finally freeing himself from a son and heir who enraged him, had been the best solution for both of them, Raj reasoned ruefully.

  ‘My father always warned me that Tahir was very devious, very calculating,’ Omar breathed worriedly.

  ‘He is,’ Raj agreed. ‘But he has no reason to want to find his son breaking the terms of his exile. Why would he? That would only embarrass him. I’ll stay out of sight. Ten to one, he’s taken one of his notions to call a tribal meeting and hash over boundaries and camel disputes. He revels in that kind of stuff...it takes him back to his youth.’

  ‘The army craft are encircling the camp to land in advance,’ Omar informed him.

  ‘Standard security with the monarch on board,’ Raj dismissed.

  ‘No, I’m telling you,’ Omar declared in growing frustration at his friend’s lack of concern. ‘This was a trap and I don’t know how you’re going to get out of it...’

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