Читать книгу Modern Romance Collection: May 2018 Books 5 - 8 - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 22

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

OLIVIA WOKE SLOWLY, as if she were swimming up to the surface of the sea, the light shimmering and sparkling in the distance. Someone was speaking to her, saying her name, and she felt fingers on her wrist.

Her eyelids felt heavy, as if someone had placed weights on them. As much as she tried, she could not open them.

Olivia... Olivia...

Waves of fatigue rolled over her, making it even harder to hear that voice. Every muscle in her body ached, so she felt as if she’d been ruthlessly pummelled and punched. All she wanted to do was sleep, and so she did.

When she woke again the room was lost in twilit shadows, and although she still felt that overwhelming fatigue she was able to open her eyes. A man was sitting by her bed. In the shadowy darkness she thought it was Zayed and her heart leapt.

‘Zayed...’

‘No, Miss Taylor. I am Ammar Abdul, the Prince’s doctor.’

‘Oh.’ As her eyes adjusted to the dim room, she could see the man, tall and thin, looking nothing like Zayed. ‘Where...where is Zayed?’

‘Prince Zayed has returned to Rubyhan.’ There was a faintly repressive note to the doctor’s voice that made Olivia realise her question had been presumptuous.

‘I...see.’ Her mouth felt terribly dry. ‘Could I have a drink of water?’

‘Of course.’ With alacrity the doctor rose and poured her a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table, held it to her lips. Olivia took several grateful sips before subsiding back on the pillow, exhausted by even that small amount of activity.

‘What...what has happened to me?’ she asked. The last thing she remembered was Zayed taking her in his arms, telling her not to fight him. Not to fight them.

Tears pricked her eyes; her emotions felt so very raw, right up at the surface of everything. Why had he left her?

‘You were bitten by a snake, Miss Taylor. A desert cobra. You are fortunate to be alive.’

A snake. Briefly, distantly, Olivia remembered the stinging pain in her ankle. ‘How...how long have I been like this?’

‘It has been four days since you were bitten. For some time we did not know whether you would live or die. As I said, you are very fortunate.’

‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘How much longer will I be here?’

‘Prince Zayed wishes you to return to Rubyhan as soon as it is safe to do so, perhaps in another day.’

Olivia nodded, and after a few moments the doctor left her to rest. She stared into the darkness, her heart a leaden weight inside her. Four days, and her life at stake. And Zayed had left. No matter why or when, she couldn’t ignore that fact. She couldn’t move past it.

He never promised to love you, she reminded herself. He has a kingdom to run.

But the fact that he wasn’t here, that he’d chosen not to be here, felt like a hammer to her fragile hopes. It was a wake-up call to the reality of what she’d been about to agree to, and a much-needed one at that.

Olivia spent the day resting and trying to recover, and by the next morning Ammar Abdul deemed her well enough to be transported back to Rubyhan.

‘It does not appear that you will have any lasting effects from the snakebite,’ he told her after he’d checked her over. ‘But you will require another complete check in a few weeks to make sure. In the meantime, rest, sleep, eat and drink.’ He gave her a smile with sympathy. ‘You will feel a little better each day.’

‘That’s good to hear.’ She felt about a hundred years old at the moment, moving slowly, everything aching. The ride in the Jeep was torture, with all the bumps and jostling, and the short helicopter ride to Rubyhan was no better. By the time Olivia arrived at the Palace of Clouds, she was exhausted and aching more than ever, longing only for her bed...and Zayed.

He was not waiting at the helipad when she touched down and she didn’t see him as Anna escorted her into the palace. Although she knew she probably shouldn’t, Olivia couldn’t keep from asking about him.

‘How is Prince Zayed?’

Anna gave her a brief, inscrutable look. ‘He is quite busy at the moment, dealing with various issues of diplomacy, but I will let him know that you have arrived.’

‘Thank you,’ Olivia murmured, fighting that bone-deep disappointment she’d felt since she’d woken up and realised that Zayed was gone. That he didn’t care. Or was she being unreasonable, expecting him to sit by her bedside like some lovesick nurse? He had a country to run, duties to perform. She was being over-emotional and ridiculous, but she couldn’t help herself.

It was another full day before she actually saw Zayed. She’d spent most of her time in her room, resting or sleeping, trying to manage a few meals although she had no appetite. Then, the evening of her second day back at Rubyhan, Anna fetched her.

‘Prince Zayed would like to see you now,’ she said, and Olivia suppressed the sarcastic reply she wanted to make: what, now? He beckoned and she came, apparently.

Anna led her not to one of Zayed’s private, more casual rooms, but to a formal audience chamber on the ground floor, with marble pillars and walls adorned with gold leaf. Zayed stood at the far end of the room, dressed in a traditional thobe, embroidered with red and blue thread, and loose trousers. He could not have shown her more thoroughly that he wanted to create a distance between them.

What had changed since he’d drawn her in his arms and told her how good they were together? What had happened?

Anna quietly closed the door behind her so Olivia was alone with Zayed—Prince Zayed, because that was how this felt. He was the Prince and she was the commoner. She swallowed hard and walked slowly to one of the gilt-covered chairs at the side of the room.

‘You’ll have to excuse me,’ she said stiffly. ‘I still cannot stand for long periods.’

‘Of course you must sit.’ Zayed took a step forward and then stopped as Olivia sank into a chair. His gaze, as unreadable as ever, swept over her. ‘You are looking far better than when I last saw you.’

‘And when was that?’ Olivia returned, a touch sharply. Zayed frowned and she looked away, biting her lip. There was no point in revealing her hurt feelings. It was clear they didn’t matter.

‘Five days ago.’ Zayed’s voice was cool. ‘I had to return to Rubyhan on official matters.’

‘Of course.’ Neither of them spoke, the silence between them a heavy burden that Olivia didn’t have the strength to bear. Not now, and maybe never. ‘What’s happened, Zayed?’ she asked quietly. ‘What has changed?’

‘Changed?’

‘Between us.’ She met his gaze directly, unafraid now. How much more could he hurt her? ‘I don’t remember much after the snake bit me, but I remember before. I remember you telling me to fight for us and drawing me into your arms.’ She swallowed. ‘Then, the next thing I know, I’ve been desperately ill for four days and you’re back in Rubyhan. I arrived yesterday morning and this is the first I’ve even seen you.’

Zayed’s jaw was tight. ‘I’ve been busy.’

‘And when I do see you, it’s as if I’m some supplicant coming to beg a favour from the king.’ She gestured to the ornate reception room. ‘What is this? What are you trying to tell me?’

Zayed was silent for a long moment and Olivia waited, holding her breath, because there was something. She just didn’t know what it was.

‘I’ve heard from Serrat,’ Zayed said at last.

‘Serrat? The French diplomat?’

‘Yes.’

‘And?’ She searched his face, finding nothing, feeling cold. ‘What did he say?’

‘France is not willing to support my claim.’

‘Oh. I’m sorry.’ She absorbed the statement for a few seconds and then realised what it meant for her. ‘You are questioning whether my credentials matter any longer,’ she said slowly. Zayed didn’t answer. ‘Whether a western wife who can speak French and has a background in foreign service matters at all.’ It was suddenly so obvious and it hurt so much. Far more than she wanted it to. She nodded slowly, accepting, because what other choice did she have? She loved him, but he didn’t love her. She’d known that all along. ‘So, back to plan A?’ she asked with an attempt at levity that fell entirely flat.

‘There’s more.’ Zayed bit the words off, his jaw clenched tight. ‘Sultan Hassan has been in contact.’

‘Ah.’ She leaned back and folded her arms. ‘His temper has cooled off, I suppose?’

‘Something like that. He wishes to discuss my engagement to Princess Halina.’

‘Right.’ So it was all happening for him. She was no longer needed. And suddenly Olivia realised she was glad. No, not glad, never that, but relieved, because at least this had happened now and not in months or years, when the prospect of being set aside would have been utterly devastating. Her heart was broken, but it would mend. She would make sure of it. ‘Then all that remains is for me to book my plane ticket to Paris.’ Her lips trembled and she pressed them together, determined not to cry. Not to reveal one shred of heartbreak to Zayed. Not when he so clearly didn’t care at all.

‘I will arrange it for you,’ he said after a brief, tense pause. ‘But first I must ask you to do one last thing.’

‘Which is?’ Olivia asked, although she could guess already.

‘To accompany me to Abkar. Princess Halina wishes to see you, as does Sultan Hassan.’

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut, steeling herself against the pain, and then snapped them open again. She could do this. She could survive. ‘Fine,’ she said, her voice as terse as Zayed’s. ‘When do we leave?’

* * *

This felt all wrong. Zayed gazed at Olivia’s pale, heart-shaped face and wanted nothing more than to sweep her into his arms and never let her go. Seeing her walk into the room, standing, recovered, alive, had been almost too much to bear. The last five days had been utter hell, the news from France and Abkar overridden by his fear and concern for Olivia. He’d had hourly reports on her condition from Ammar Abdul, and he hadn’t cared how it had made him look.

But he’d still arrived at this moment and brought Olivia with him. Whatever had been between them was over. He had to put his country first. His duty first. The memory of his father and brother spiralling down to their death, his mother in his arms, they came first. They had to. The news of Hassan’s renewed interest on top of Serrat backing away had felt like an omen, a wake-up call. He had to stop pursuing his own pleasure, his own happiness, and do what was best for Kalidar.

‘We’ll leave tomorrow,’ he said. ‘The visit should be brief.’ He paused, swallowing past the jagged lump that had formed in his throat. ‘You can be in Paris in a few days.’

Zayed didn’t see Olivia until they were boarding the helicopter the next morning. He’d barely slept all night, wanting only to go to her. One last night in her arms, forbidden and sweet. He didn’t, because he knew it wouldn’t be fair to her, or Princess Halina, for that matter. The break needed to be clean, quick and final.

They didn’t speak on the helicopter ride from Rubyhan, or in the armoured car they took through the desert to Abkar. Olivia’s face was turned to the window as the dunes slid by, and after several hours they arrived on the outskirts of Abkar’s capital, the single-storey dwellings giving way to apartment buildings and high rises.

When the palace walls came into view, built of golden stone and interspersed with minarets, she let out a little sigh. ‘It feels like a lifetime,’ she said quietly.

It was a lifetime. A part of him had come to life in the last few weeks, and then died. The grief he felt was for that part of him as much as it was for losing Olivia. He didn’t want to go back to the man he’d been, closed off from emotions, an island of independence and strength. He wanted to need her but he knew he couldn’t.

Staff met them as soon as the car pulled up to the palace’s front entrance. Zayed had barely a glance for Olivia before she was being ushered away, and he was taken to wait on Sultan Hassan in the palace’s throne room.

The Sultan came quickly into the room, unsmiling, and Zayed gave him a brief nod, one head of state to another. The two men stared at each other for a long moment and then Hassan finally spoke.

‘I do not applaud your methods, Prince Zayed, but at least you got my attention.’

‘For that I am glad, Your Majesty.’

‘It is unfortunate that you made such a grievous error.’

Zayed inclined his head. ‘Indeed.’ Part of him wanted to argue about the nature of that error, for Olivia was so much more to him than that, yet he did not. He couldn’t.

‘Under normal circumstances, I would not even receive you,’ Hassan continued. ‘While I understand your reasoning, as well as your intense desire to be restored to your kingdom, Princess Halina is my daughter, and a royal in her own right, and you attempted to treat her with immense disrespect.’

‘I meant none, I assure you, Your Majesty.’

‘Even so.’ Hassan blew out an irritated breath. ‘But the fact remains that the Princess’s circumstances have changed.’

‘Oh?’ Zayed stood alert, a new wariness charging through him. What did Hassan mean?

He made it plain soon enough. ‘Her mother took her to Italy a few weeks ago, to keep her out of the drama unfolding here,’ Hassan said flatly. ‘And it appears in that time that she got into trouble.’

‘Trouble?’

‘She is no longer a virgin,’ Hassan stated, his face set like stone. ‘In fact, she is pregnant with another man’s child.’ Shock ripped through Zayed, leaving him speechless for a few seconds. Hassan smiled grimly. ‘It is not what you expected, I imagine.’

‘I am taken by surprise,’ Zayed admitted carefully.

‘She has been dishonoured and ruined. The only way for her situation to be redeemed is for you to marry her as was originally planned. The child can be passed off as yours.’

Revulsion at such a cold-blooded suggestion made Zayed nearly recoil. ‘And what of the biological father? Has he no interest in his child?’

‘He has no say. He doesn’t know, and I have no intention of him knowing.’

‘Who is he?’

‘That is not your concern.’

‘On the contrary, it is most certainly my concern. You are asking me to raise his child as my own and potentially, if it is a son, to be my heir.’

‘That is the price you must pay for your own misdeed,’ Hassan returned coldly. ‘Did you think I would forgive so easily? If you want my support, if you want to reclaim your kingdom, then you will do this one thing.’

Zayed took a quick, even breath, willing his temper to stay in check. Hassan had always been autocratic, assuming more authority and power than he’d ever truly possessed. Abkar was a small country, smaller even than Kalidar, although it was rich in resources and had a stable economy. But he would not take orders from the man. ‘And what does the Princess think?’

‘It is of no concern.’

‘Even so, I would like to know.’

Hassan shrugged. ‘You may ask her yourself. I will grant you a private audience with her later today.’ His eyes flashed. ‘You will take no liberties, I trust, or this offer will be rescinded.’

‘Of course I will take no liberties.’ Zayed knew he could hardly claim the moral high ground, but he’d forgotten, since his last interview with Hassan years ago, how much he disliked the man. He could be charming when he chose, but underneath that veneer of paternal kindness ran an arrogant, self-serving strain.

Hassan gave him a cold smile. ‘Then we are finished here.’

A muscle ticked in Zayed’s jaw. He realised he was furious—and not because of the other man’s lack of respect for his title and position, the autocratic way he spoke, or the way he talked about his daughter, as if she were nothing more than a stain on his reputation. No, he was angry at this man, furious with him, because of his complete lack of concern for Olivia. She’d considered Hassan like a father. She’d viewed the palace as her home.

‘You have not asked about Miss Taylor,’ Zayed said, his voice low and level.

Hassan arched an eyebrow. ‘And you, it seems, think I should have?’

‘She has been a member of the royal household for four years.’

‘She has been a servant, yes. I assume, Prince Zayed, that you have treated her comfortably?’

‘Of course I have.’ Zayed glared at the man, fighting an urge to throttle him.

‘In any case, Miss Taylor is no longer a member of this household. Her position has been terminated. Understandably.’

‘Will you give her a reference?’

Hassan’s eyes glittered. ‘I think not.’

It was just as Olivia had predicted, yet Zayed hated that this man, that anyone, thought so little of her.

Including yourself?

Pushing that most uncomfortable thought away, Zayed nodded once to Hassan then turned on his heel and left the room.