His Queen by Desert Decree Page 5

  ‘Is a sandstorm that dangerous?’

  ‘Some of them.’ Azrael watched her move past him to head round the corner into the front section of the cavern, which was open to the elements. ‘Don’t try to go outside,’ he warned her.

  Molly nervously skirted the giant black stallion tethered there and headed for the dark entrance to stare out in consternation at the thick brown band on the skyline that was already blotting out the sun and making late afternoon dark as night. A strong wind plastered her dress back against her body and made it impossible to stand her ground and, even worse, there was dust on the wind. A horrible choking cloud of dust engulfed her, flying into her mouth and her eyes until she retreated hurriedly from her viewpoint.

  ‘Couldn’t you have warned me what it would be like out there?’ Molly complained, shaking her hair and dress out to free them of dust and then wiping at her gritty face in disgust, grateful when Azrael passed her a water bottle.

  Azrael, who had not put his head cloth back on, raised a satiric black brow at the question. ‘Would you have listened to me? I think you prefer to reach your own conclusions.’

  Molly pursed her lips in acknowledgement as she folded down on her knees on the other side of the fire. She knew she was stubborn, didn’t need reminding of the fact and was well aware that she would never have ended up in her current predicament had she been of a more malleable disposition. ‘I’ve had to rely on my own judgement for years,’ she said defensively. ‘I live alone.’

  ‘You have no family?’

  ‘No...well, I have my grandfather but he has dementia now and he’s in a care home because he can’t be left alone while I’m at work. My mother died when I was very young and my father, a few years ago,’ she told him. ‘And you? Any family apart from Tahir?’

  ‘No parents alive either. I have Tahir’s father, who was once my stepfather, but it is not a family relationship since my mother’s death. I try, however, to maintain good relations with him because his country is on our border,’ he admitted bluntly. ‘And sometimes it is a struggle to maintain even that because his outlook differs so much from mine.’

  ‘In what way?’ Molly questioned curiously.

  ‘Quarein has lately cracked down on the freedoms of their minorities and some of those affected have fled over the border to claim refugee status here in Djalia. Despite his many other sins, the former dictator did not persecute minorities,’ Azrael explained with a wry quirk of his sculpted lips. ‘Sadly, Tahir’s father, Prince Firuz, fiercely disapproves of Djalian tolerance, but it is what my people want, and when I took the throne I promised to protect the freedoms of all Djalian citizens. Our refugees fall into the same category.’

  ‘I think being all-inclusive is good,’ Molly said thoughtfully.

  ‘But that has costs as well,’ Azrael pointed out ruefully. ‘Every decision leads to a reaction, and not always the one I want or expect.’

  ‘So, being a king isn’t all rainbows and kittens?’ Molly quipped.

  ‘No, it’s hard work and no fun,’ Azrael admitted grimly. ‘And I worry constantly about making a mistake that could damage my country.’

  ‘And then Tahir kidnapped me and dropped you in it,’ Molly commented softly, strangely touched by his honesty about what it was really like to be a glorious leader.

  Looking very sombre, Azrael nodded. In the firelight, his black hair had the glossy, iridescent sheen of a raven’s wing, feathering round his shoulders, framing that beautiful face of his, his cheekbones smooth cut and sharp as bronzed blades. But he was so serious, so incredibly serious, Molly registered with intense frustration. If he had a lighter side to his nature, he never showed it and she had yet to see him smile.

  ‘Smile...’ she urged helplessly.

  ‘Why?’ Azrael asked baldly. ‘There is nothing to smile about.’

  Molly laughed, easy humour tilting her full lips into a helpless grin. ‘You can be such a misery. But look at us... I would have died out there if you hadn’t found me. And you rescued me, for which I shall be grateful for ever. I’m fine, you’re fine, we’re both safe...even cosy,’ she selected, indicating the leaping flames of the little fire with a playful gesture. ‘You’ve got plenty to smile about now.’

  ‘Are you grateful enough to drop the idea of prosecuting my brother?’ Azrael shot at her, fighting the disturbing truth that her easy grin was captivating and made her eyes sparkle while the reflection of the flames picked out amazing rich copper tones in her wonderful hair. He could not afford to be sidetracked by his natural male instincts.

  Her grin immediately died. ‘I’m sorry, no...and that wasn’t a fair question. I thought we were talking off the record and I let my guard down... I was trying to be friendly,’ she extended uncomfortably.

  ‘I’m never off the record,’ Azrael admitted flatly, while on another level he was trying to suppress he was wondering exactly what ‘friendliness’ encompassed in her parlance.

  During his six short months in London the year before, he had met women who offered him sex as casually as a handshake and as freely as if he were offering a workout at the gym. It had been a learning experience that had sent him from initially shocked to ecstatic and, finally and surprisingly, to a kind of repugnance he couldn’t adequately explain. He didn’t know whether it was his upbringing or some innate conservative streak somewhere inside him, but he had discovered that careless intimacy was a challenge for him. That was why he had considered getting married. But marriage would bring other difficulties and he thought he had enough to deal with without inviting more problems into his already very demanding life.

  ‘That’s unhealthy,’ Molly told him without hesitation.

  ‘No, it is a fact,’ Azrael shot back at her coolly. ‘I am who I am and I can’t change that or step back from it when it suits me. Everything I do reflects on my status and I will be judged for it.’

  Molly tossed her head in dismissal. Her copper ringlets danced round her flushed cheeks, her temper beginning to spark in the face of his relentless gravity. ‘I’ll be honest too, then. I very much resent your continuing apprehension on your brother’s behalf. I didn’t ask to be in this situation. He put me in it and he planned the kidnapping, which is even worse,’ she argued.

  Even before she had finished speaking, Azrael unfolded with angry speed from his seat on the sand. He moved so fast that she blinked, her attention unerringly caught by the seamless silent grace and tightly coiled energy that was so much a part of him. ‘We will not argue about that matter here and now,’ he stated, staring down at her with engrained arrogance.

  But Molly refused to be diverted. She had to plant her hands on the sand to rise upright again and it felt clumsy because she was ridiculously conscious of how much less agile she was in comparison with him. ‘I will argue with you if I want to,’ she responded, wishing that statement didn’t sound slightly childish to her own ears even if it was what he needed to hear.

  Azrael stalked down the length of the cave to grasp the lantern and carry it over the saddle bags resting by the wall. Molly was helplessly entranced by his fluid movements because he flowed like water without making a sound, while his perfect hawkish profile was etched in shadow against the wall.

  ‘Are you going to ignore me now?’ Molly prompted helplessly.

  ‘I am not in the mood for another...dispute,’ he framed impatiently. ‘Particularly not while we are stuck together in this cave for the duration of the storm.’

  Her teeth gritted together. ‘I would prefer to clear the air.’

  ‘We cannot clear the air unless you are willing to compromise,’ Azrael fired back at her, stalking back towards her, all seething masculine energy and soundless grace, dark eyes glittering a warning in the subdued light.

  ‘Why should I be willing to compromise?’ Molly demanded stormily, for throughout her childhood and adolescence she had been forced to make continual compromises. Unpleasant realities had limited her and removed her choices. She hadn’t been able to ch
ange the truths that her mother was dead, her father was indifferent and her stepmother disliked and mistreated her. As soon as she had attained adulthood and independence she had sworn never to be forced into compromises again and to put her own wants and wishes first. These days only Maurice’s needs came before her own.

  ‘Have an energy bar while you’re thinking about it,’ Azrael urged, dropping one into her hand, long brown fingers briefly brushing her palm, sending the strangest frisson of awareness travelling through her unprepared body.

  Involuntarily she collided with his smouldering dark gaze and it was as if fireworks broke out inside her, magnifying the leap of heat low in her pelvis that made her breasts tighten and her nipples peak. It unnerved her because she had never felt that way before and instantly she wanted to back away from him. It was attraction, of course, she realised that, but feeling that way even when she was angry with him unsettled her because she had always assumed that anger would be a defence against feeling anything she didn’t want to feel. Eager to lose that uncomfortable awareness of him, she turned hurriedly away and tore open the energy bar. Out of the corner of her eye as she ate she watched Azrael lead the horse to the pool, where it noisily drank its fill.

  ‘What do you call him?’

  ‘Spice.’ Azrael smoothed the stallion’s flank in a gesture of affection. ‘He is the best horse in my stable.’

  ‘I’ve never been this close to a horse before,’ Molly admitted. ‘I grew up in the country though. There were horses in the field next to the house but I was too nervous of them to get close.’

  ‘Come here...and meet him,’ Azrael urged, extending a long-fingered brown hand in a fluid invitation.

  ‘I’d really rather not.’

  Azrael studied her in astonishment. ‘And yet you walked out into the desert without fear?’

  ‘That was different. Ignorance was bliss. I didn’t know what it would really be like. I’ve never even been abroad before,’ Molly heard herself confide as her feet moved her closer because, as soon as Azrael had recognised her fear, her pride had come into play and forced her forward.

  ‘Never? You’ve never visited another country?’ Azrael queried in amazement, for he had always assumed that in an era of cheap travel all Western people travelled widely.

  ‘I could never afford to travel,’ Molly advanced reluctantly. ‘It’s always been at the top of my wish list, though, but necessities come first, you know...although I suppose you don’t know what I’m talking about, given the wealth Tahir seemed determined to splash in my direction.’

  ‘Unlike his, my life has not always been one of wealth, comfort and security. Perhaps, had he had my experiences, he might have grown up a little faster than he has. For many months, when my mother and I were being hunted, we lived in this cave—’

  ‘You lived...here?’ she pressed in astonishment. ‘You were hunted? By whom?’

  ‘Hashem. He had executed my father and he wanted to remove me from my mother’s care. She lived here in very trying conditions for my benefit, a princess who had never known hardship in her life,’ he explained heavily. ‘She could have gone home to her family in Quarein but she was afraid that the man who was then ruling Quarein would insist on handing me over to Hashem.’

  ‘What age were you?’ Molly exclaimed, shaken by what she was learning about his past because it lay so far outside her naïve expectations.

  ‘Ten years old.’ Azrael had never before had to explain his background to anyone because all his people naturally knew his history, and he wondered why he was confiding in her. Was it the magnetic warmth of compassion in her eyes and her dismay on his behalf? He questioned why her reaction should break through his usual innate reserve.

  ‘Ten?’ Molly gasped helplessly. ‘What sort of horrible person would even consider handing over a child to the man who had executed his father?’

  Azrael swallowed hard, for he was even less used to having to admit the relationship that had weighed him down with shame from birth. ‘Hashem was my father’s father, my grandfather, and had he sworn not to harm me his claim to me would have been acknowledged because after my father’s death, I became Hashem’s heir.’

  Molly was poleaxed as she put those facts together. ‘Your grandfather executed his own son?’ she whispered in horror.

  Azrael’s chin lifted in a grim nod of acknowledgement. ‘My father led the rebel forces before me,’ he proffered in a harsh undertone, emotion unconcealed in the flare of his nostrils and the narrowing of his amazing gold-tinted eyes. ‘But twenty years ago those forces were not strong enough to depose Hashem and the coup failed.’

  ‘And your father paid with his life,’ Molly completed for herself.

  ‘Out of respect for him and the many who died at Hashem’s hands, we prefer to refer to him as the dictator, rather than the King,’ Azrael completed, using the opportunity to clasp her hand and draw it down gently over Spice’s smooth, warm neck. ‘Hashem tarnished the throne with his hunger for absolute power.’

  ‘But your people obviously don’t hold that against you or you wouldn’t be King now,’ Molly said for herself, taken aback when the horse nudged her shoulder, evidently enjoying her attention and wanting more of it.

  ‘I must always be careful not to betray their trust.’

  And an international scandal unleashed by the King’s half-brother could well cause a lot of trouble, Molly found herself thinking with regret, and then she was annoyed with herself for thinking along such lines. After all, she was British, not Djalian, and Azrael’s dysfunctional family history should have no bearing on her righteous wrath over what Tahir had done to her. She petted the horse, striving to suppress a fresh leap of anger at her predicament.

  ‘I could’ve had an adverse reaction to that drug Tahir used on me and been injured. Many things could have gone wrong,’ she pointed out.

  ‘But luckily they didn’t,’ Azrael interposed softly.

  ‘I’m afraid I still want Tahir to face the full consequences of what he did,’ Molly murmured thinly.

  ‘I would agree if he were an adult, but he’s not.’

  Molly’s brow furrowed, her eyes widening. ‘What do you mean...he’s not an adult? Of course, he is! How old is he? Twenty-two? Twenty-three?’

  Azrael stared back at her, his stunning dark golden eyes frowning at her question. ‘I assumed that you knew his age. How could you mistake Tahir for an adult? My brother is sixteen years old—’

  ‘Sixteen?’ Molly yelped in rampant disbelief as she whirled away from the horse. ‘You can’t be serious! I was kidnapped by a teenager?’

  ‘You really didn’t know,’ Azrael registered in wonderment as he scanned her incredulous face.

  ‘Of course, I didn’t know!’ Molly rounded furiously on him with that admission as she crossed the sand on restive feet. ‘I tried to find out his age at the first lesson but he was evasive and his English was poor. I was afraid I was getting too personal and being rude, so I let it go. Sixteen, though...my goodness, he’s a giant for sixteen!’

  ‘Perhaps, but he is not particularly mature,’ Azrael remarked. ‘Surely you noticed that, at least?’

  Molly bridled at the faint edge of scorn to that question. ‘Well, yes, I did notice but I was very aware that he was from a different culture and I don’t know what’s normal for young men in your society.’

  ‘We are people, exactly the same as you!’ Azrael lanced back at her with simmering irritation.

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, what I’m trying to say is that, yes, I did notice that he was immature but I kind of blamed that on his upbringing and his not having any experience of my world,’ Molly expanded, refusing to rise to the bait of his annoyance. ‘I am not prejudiced in any way, Azrael.’

  ‘If that is so, I am glad to hear it,’ Azrael conceded, his wide, sensual mouth compressed. ‘Unfortunately for all of us, my brother gave no prior sign of the insane thing he did to you. Tahir is an average boy. He spends hours playing computer games and
he’s mad about cars and girls.’

  ‘And he kidnaps his English teacher, who is almost seven years older than him! No way is that typical!’ Molly shot back at him fierily and she spun away from him, exasperated beyond bearing by his arguments.

  ‘No, it is not typical,’ Azrael admitted grudgingly. ‘But I cannot help but blame myself for not taking more of an interest in him. It is unlucky that he is so much younger and that I have been so preoccupied here. Our mother died last year and it hit him very hard—’

  ‘I refuse to listen to a sob story on Tahir’s behalf!’ Molly flung back at Azrael in frustration, her eyes bright with mounting fury. ‘That is not fair to me. Why should I consider Tahir’s state of mind when he did not consider what he was doing to me?’

  ‘I said that we should not discuss this here,’ Azrael responded icily. ‘I do not want you shouting at me.’

  Molly’s hands knotted into fists. She watched Spice sidle back out to the front of the cave, presumably as spooked as his owner by her loud voice, and then turned back to scrutinise Azrael’s lean, darkly handsome but undeniably frozen features. She was darned if she was going to apologise, most particularly not when it felt amazing to not care about the impression she was making and to speak her mind freely. After all, growing up she had been deprived of that freedom far too often. Forced to fit in with other people’s expectations, she had had to try to placate her stepmother simply in the hope of gaining peace. But appeasement hadn’t got her very far and hadn’t made the older woman any kinder.

  ‘My emotions don’t come with volume control,’ she confessed tightly. ‘And I am not usually this emotional but the past forty-eight hours have been very upsetting for me and I’m on edge, which means my temper is on edge too.’

  Almost imperceptibly, Azrael’s lean, powerful frame became a little less rigid. ‘Obviously I can understand that but I cannot tolerate shouting.’