Читать книгу Hot Arabian Nights - Marguerite Kaye - Страница 12
ОглавлениеIt was early evening by the time they returned to the palace. Azhar escorted Julia to her quarters, carrying her drawing materials, which he now set down on the table in her sitting room.
‘Thank you so much for this opportunity, Azhar. I have completed more drawings in one afternoon than I have previously managed in two or three days in the open desert. I only wish I could speak your language more fluently, I have a thousand questions I’d have liked to have asked Johara. She is one of the most knowledgeable herbalists I have ever met.’
‘And you have encountered many such women on your travels?’ he asked.
‘Several. They have proved to be of immense help in compiling Daniel’s book.’ Julia smothered a yawn. ‘I beg your pardon, it has been a very long day, though a most productive one—at least from my point of view. I am afraid I was not of much assistance to you.’ She slanted him a look. He had pulled off his headdress, and was standing at the window, staring out at her little courtyard. ‘To be honest, I’m not exactly sure what you expect of me.’
‘To speak your mind, as you did today,’ Azhar replied ruefully. ‘It was not my intention to offend the village women, but I did. You quite rightly pointed it out to me, for which I am most grateful.’
‘But the important thing is that you took steps to remedy the situation,’ Julia said. ‘I saw you talking to them.’ She went over to stand next to him, pulling open one of the long windows to let in the faint evening breeze. ‘You do care, no matter how much you deny it.’
Azhar stepped out on to the terrace, indicating that she should follow. ‘It is incumbent upon me, Julia, to behave honourably, that is all.’
‘As a prince of royal blood, you mean?’
‘Yes, but also as a man.’
‘That, I would never doubt. You could easily have left me at the oasis, but your conscience would not let you, and for that I will always be eternally grateful. To the man, not the Prince.’
It was dusk, and though they were in the middle of a palace, in the middle of a city, it was that time of the evening when a stillness, a silence fell over everything like a cloak. Azhar slid his arms around her, pulling her towards him. There were only a few layers of cotton and silk between them. His hand slid down to rest on the small of her back. ‘Julia?’
Her stomach knotted. She ran her fingers through the short, soft silk of his hair. ‘Azhar?’
‘We are not on a camel now.’
‘No, we are most certainly not on a camel.’
‘So I wondered if it might be possible that the moment might be...’
‘Propitious?’
‘Precisely,’ Azhar said, dipping his head towards her ‘Very, very propitious. And very well chosen, in my humble opinion.’
Her eyes drifted shut as his lips caressed hers, sending shivers of delight over her skin. He kissed her slowly, flattening his hand on her back to mould her to him as his lips shaped themselves to hers. He kissed her as if he was tasting her, as if he was savouring her. The combination of the twilight, the pent-up heat of the desert sun glowing on her skin, the alluring desert man holding her tightly against him, the seductive shimmer of her desert clothes, the persistent flicker of desire that had lingered all day waiting to be ignited, made her stomach flutter, and it made the blood sparkle in her veins. She ran her fingers up his back, relishing the sensation of fine silk rippling against the knot of his spine, and their kiss deepened. His tongue touched hers, and Julia let out an odd little sigh of delight. And then, as slowly as it had begun, the kiss ended, fluttering to a stop.
Opening her eyes, Julia blinked. Was that the searing kiss she had speculated about when they were alone in the desert? She certainly felt hot, but perhaps there were different degrees of kisses. ‘I am even more glad than usual that we are not on a camel,’ she said. ‘I have never been kissed like that before. Thank you very much.’
‘Julia, you are most welcome. It was a pleasure, in every sense of the word.’ Azhar pressed his lips to her brow. ‘I must leave you. I am expected to dine with my brother, and then tomorrow I have urgent business which will keep me fully occupied for the next few days.’
‘The palace guards to sort out.’
‘Amongst other things. I discovered, from talking to the women at the oasis today, that there have been problems with the importing of some necessary supplies which need investigating, and there is an issue with certain traders at the souk which—but you will not be interested in these matters.’
‘I thought that you were leaving these matters to Kamal?’
Azhar shrugged. ‘Trade is my business. It is simpler for me to take care of them.’
Julia hid a smile. Impossible for him not to, more like. She wondered how long it would be before he wrested control from his brother. Definitely less than a month. ‘Do not worry about me,’ she said. ‘Between your beautiful garden and the oasis today, I have enough material to keep me busy for at least a week. Please don’t feel obliged to spend time with me.’
‘It is a pleasure, not an obligation, but if you are content to get on with your cataloguing, then we will agree to meet in the garden in three days’ time. I will have your maid bring you water to bathe.’
‘Thank you, after so long on that saddle that will be most welcome.’
‘Hot water can be most soothing for tired limbs and bodies.’ Azhar’s smile was wicked as he ran his hands down her back. As his fingers curled into her bottom, he let out a soft moan, and his smile faded as his lips found hers once more.
She was left in no doubt this time. The kiss they shared was not only searing but carnal. There was no gentle introduction, no softness, this kiss was hard and dark and wild. His tongue tangled with hers. She bent back, opened her mouth to him, dug her fingers into his shoulders to steady herself as he pulled her tight against him. There could be no mistaking his arousal. The feel of him, rigid between her thighs, elicited an answering throb between hers. She curled her leg around him, surrendering to the urge to press herself closer and he groaned, kissing her harder, deeper, until she was forced to drag her mouth away in order to breathe.
His breathing too was ragged. For a long moment they stared, dazed, into eyes dark with desire. The strength of her passion took her aback. All of a sudden, she remembered Daniel’s horrified look that night, under another foreign sky. Mortified, Julia started to disentangle herself. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I’ve never—I did not mean to—I don’t know what came over me.’
‘The same feeling which came over me, I hope.’ Azhar caught her as she turned away, forcing her to face him. ‘Passion. In my culture it is recognised as a perfectly natural and healthy appetite, and has been for millennia. There is nothing to apologise for or reproach yourself about, Julia.’
‘There’s not? Only I thought that—I thought that a woman—such a lack of restraint, it was...’
‘It was quite intoxicating.’
‘You mean you’re not shocked?’
‘Shocked! In the name of all that is sacred, what kind of a man was your husband? No, do not answer that, I have already a very good idea.’ Azhar smoothed her hair back from her brow. ‘There is nothing more effective in igniting a man’s desire than a woman’s passion. To see the fire in your eyes, to feel the fire in your blood as you touch me, it sets me on fire too. Do you imagine I would prefer to kiss a woman who responds only with—with compliance? No, I would not. No red-blooded man would. Never apologise for passion. Restraint, Julia, has no place in lovemaking.’ Azhar kissed her briefly once more on the mouth. ‘I am now officially late. Enjoy your bath. My only regret is that I cannot share it with you.’
‘Azhar!’
He laughed. ‘My English rose. So easily shocked. There is much you might learn of the East before you leave. You have only to ask. I am not without expertise in this field.’
‘Cornish,’ she called after him, ‘I’m a Cornish rose if I’m any kind of rose.’ But he merely laughed again, grabbing his headdress from the couch before closing the door to her apartment softly behind him.
Not without expertise. The meaning was far beyond Julia’s ken, but that did not prevent a shiver of longing to course through her. The notion of herself as pupil to Azhar in the arts of love was a sinfully delicious one. It seemed this new Julia was brazen as well as different.
* * *
Two days later, Julia set down her brush with a sigh of satisfaction and stretched out her arms. She had almost finished the specimens she had taken from the Oasis of the Red Rock and the Tumbling Waterfall. She wished she could remember how to pronounce the name in Arabic, but though she could hear the word in her head as Azhar had said it, she could not reproduce it.
Setting this last painting aside to dry, she made for the terrace where Aisha had left a jug of lemon sherbet, careful to push the curtains back in place to protect her precious drawings from the destructive rays of the sun. Tomorrow morning she would see Azhar again for the first time since they had kissed. As she remembered those kisses her stomach knotted. She very much wanted to acquire more of the knowledge he had hinted at, though she wasn’t sure she’d have the courage to ask. It seemed impossible to imagine such a conversation in the cold light of day. A practical demonstration under cover of darkness now—but, no, she couldn’t even bring herself to imagine that.
She took a sip of the refreshing citrus drink, wandering restlessly over to the seat under the lemon tree. Restraint, Azhar had said, had no place in lovemaking, yet restraint was all Julia knew. No man wants a woman to respond with compliance, he’d said. Yet again, compliance was all Julia had ever offered. It was all Daniel had expected—or wanted? Did that make her husband less of a man or Julia less of a woman?
Leaning her head back against the bark of the tree, she closed her eyes, trying to remember how it had been, making love with Daniel. Awkward, because she knew nothing of the matter, her mother having died when she was eight and the only other woman in their household being Papa’s housekeeper, a dour Cornishwoman who had never married. So, yes, it had been awkward at first, because Julia hadn’t known what to expect and Daniel—but had Daniel been any more experienced than she?
She sat up, startled by this thought, which had never before occurred to her. Why not? Julia furrowed her brow. Was it possible that she had simply assumed that, because he was a man, he must know better than her, or because he was Daniel, and even before they were married she had acquired the habit of accepting that Daniel always knew best? Julia cringed. That made her sound awfully weak-willed. Even rather pathetic. But was it true?
She considered this carefully, staring down at the sugary dregs of ice in her glass. Upon reflection, it was highly unlikely that Daniel had been intimate with any woman before their wedding night unless it was one of the rough women who walked the streets around the tin-mining ports of Portreath or Hayle—but, no, she could not countenance that he would be so inclined. ‘Good grief,’ Julia muttered, half-appalled and half uncomfortably amused, ‘I do believe poor Daniel was as innocent as I.’
They had progressed, after those first attempts, to the point where Daniel achieved satisfaction, but Julia had never felt more than the faintest of stirrings in response to her husband’s touch. She had learned through trial and error how to arouse herself, but she had never dared share that knowledge with Daniel, knowing that she would be mortified, and convinced that he would think it sordid. Had she, by keeping it to herself, deprived them both of pleasure? And had her restrained response restrained her husband?
With a sinking feeling, Julia was forced to admit that it was very possible. For the first time in weeks, she surrendered to that familiar feeling, a combination of helplessness at having wasted so many years of her life, and profound regret that she had not had the courage to try to alter it for the better while Daniel was alive. How she resented Daniel—and to a lesser degree, her father—for creating that Julia. And how she despised herself for remaining that version of Julia for so long.
It was her own fault.
‘No.’ She jumped to her feet, waving her arms about, as if by doing so she could disperse these destructive thoughts. She was done with this self-indulgent way of thinking. She had left that Julia behind when she had set out on her travels. She was a new Julia now, and when she had fulfilled all of her deathbed promises, the new Julia would be free.
‘And in the meantime, I should remember that I was not the only one who was restrained during our lovemaking,’ she told the lemon tree. ‘Daniel wasn’t interested in my pleasure. Quite the contrary. Daniel positively quenched my pleasure the one and only time I attempted to display it.’
Julia returned to the terrace, putting her glass down on the tray with a decided thump. ‘Well, Daniel,’ she said, gazing up at the celestial blue sky, ‘I am done with having my pleasure quenched. And now, I would very much like to discover what it’s like to have it sated.’
* * *
Julia spent a fitful night full of tedious and endless dreams in which she was required to chase after complete strangers with notes she had forgotten, messages she could not remember. Waking as the sun came up, she threw back the damp, tangled sheets and with it her mood, determined to waste no more time on what might or might not have existed in the past, and concentrate on the task which would allow her to put it behind her for ever.
Opening the lacquered cabinet which contained her new clothes, she allowed herself a moment of sheer sensual pleasure, running her hands through the swathes of silky, filmy materials, admiring the bright profusion of colours. She would never have chosen such colours herself, her practical streak leaning her towards brown, black or grey. As an artist, it wasn’t that she lacked an eye for colour, but she’d never applied it to herself. It was Aisha who was responsible for this selection of garments, enough to allow her enough variety of choice for the month she was to remain here, but neither too opulent nor too numerous to make Julia feel embarrassed, for she knew, no matter what Azhar claimed, that he would not allow her to pay for them. His attention to detail extended beyond business. He was a very thoughtful man. Who would be out of her life in a month’s time, her conscience reminded her. But Julia dismissed her conscience. She had better things to do than count the days.
She selected a pair of dark-blue pantaloons trimmed at the pleated ankles with black beading, and tied at the waist with a black silk sash. The turquoise tunic was weighted with the same beading along the hem and the wide flowing sleeves. Her hair was glossy from the oils with which Aisha had treated it before washing, and scented from the rosewater in which it had been rinsed. Julia had always disliked her hair, thinking the flamboyant colour detracted from her serious nature, and the serious nature of her work too. Another thing that had changed here in the desert. She liked the idea of herself as fiery, even if it was merely a conceit. She left it loose over her shoulders, pulled on a pair of turquoise slippers, and a swathe of turquoise silk to cover her hair and face while she made her way through the palace and would be on public view. Picking up her drawing materials, Julia left her quarters and headed for the garden.
* * *
Azhar poured himself a cup of the coffee which he’d had sent out to the kiosk. Hearing footsteps, he got to his feet expecting Julia, but it was his brother who appeared, and judging by the expression on Kamal’s face, he had not come here to admire the garden. Azhar’s heart sank.
‘You’ve been spying on me,’ Kamal exclaimed, as soon as he got close enough to the kiosk to be heard.
‘Good morning, Brother. Will you take a cup of coffee with me?’
Kamal ignored him, panting as he climbed the shallow steps to the terrace to throw himself without ceremony on to one of the low chairs. ‘What do you mean by it, going out to the mines and questioning the workers?’
‘You have been misinformed. I went to the village, not the mines,’ Azhar said, his voice hardening. ‘It sounds to me as if you have been spying on me, rather than the other way round. And your spy, if I might be offered an opinion, is singularly inept.’
‘I am acting as temporary ruler at your express request, I would remind you. Naturally, I expect to be informed of anything untoward.’
‘Naturally. But I wonder why my paying a visit to one of my own villages would be viewed as untoward,’ Azhar asked coolly.
Folding his hands over the taut mound of his ample stomach, Kamal shifted uncomfortably. ‘You gave them no warning. The normal protocol is to send advance notice of an impending royal visit to allow an appropriate welcome to be prepared.’
‘And to prevent any surprises, presumably. In any event, it was not a formal visit. I took Madam Trevelyan to meet the herbalist, Johara.’
Kamal sneered. ‘To indulge her bizarre obsession with our plant life. How very thoughtful of you. It might be better in future if you brief me more specifically on your intentions when abroad in the kingdom.’
‘Better for whom, Kamal?’
His brother shrugged. ‘I merely wish to avoid any unfortunate misunderstandings.’
Azhar eyed him over the rim of his coffee cup, wondering what misunderstandings, unfortunate or otherwise, Kamal was referring to. He had left the village on good terms with the women, and Johara had been so impressed by Julia that she had insisted Azhar bring her for a return visit. Yet Kamal was uncomfortable. Was he hiding something or perhaps his nose was simply out of joint? ‘I made my intentions clear when I addressed Council,’ he said. ‘During this interim period I shall be taking the opportunity to become reacquainted with Qaryma.’
‘If you intend to visit other villages, other mines...’
Azhar stiffened. ‘I will go where I choose, speak to whom I choose when I choose. You may be acting Regent, but I am not accountable to you.’
Kamal’s eyes flashed with temper. ‘No, but I am accountable for this kingdom.’ He heaved himself to his feet. ‘Things have changed, Azhar.’
‘Which is precisely why I have decided that in this interim period...’
‘You have decided!’ Kamal hissed a vicious curse. ‘Ten years you have been gone, and you think you can pick up the reins as if you had been gone ten minutes, making changes here and changes there to things that have been functioning perfectly well without you. Ten years you have been out in the world making your fortune, caring nothing for what happens back here, but still expecting me to protect your inheritance. Ten years I have been here, supporting our father through his illness, taking up his responsibilities when he was too weak—and what have you been doing? You have no right to criticise me, certainly no right to judge me.’
‘Kamal...’
‘You do not deserve this kingdom or its riches. You never wanted them. They should be mine!’
‘Kamal!’ But his brother threw off his restraining hand and stormed down the steps of the kiosk. ‘You speak in anger but you are absolutely right,’ Azhar muttered wearily under his breath. ‘I have never wanted to rule, and I do not deserve to own any of it.’
* * *
As Julia turned the corner and took the path leading to the kiosk, Kamal came barrelling towards her, pushing her violently from the path as he passed, his face scarlet, creased with rage. Stooping down to retrieve her headdress and her scattered drawing materials, she stared at the departing Sheikh in astonishment.
‘Are you hurt? Let me help you.’ Azhar, who had obviously come after his brother, bent down to help.
‘I’m fine, thank you. What on earth happened to make him so angry?’
Azhar shook his head, leading the way to the terrace and pouring them both a cup of the bitter dark coffee he preferred unsweetened, and which Julia was learning to enjoy. She waited while he sipped, drummed his fingers on the table, sipped again, staring out at the garden. He was dressed today in dark-blue trousers under a striped blue tunic. Shadows smudged the skin under his eyes. A pulse beat in his throat and the fact he flexed the fingers of his left hand compulsively were the only signs that his temper was not completely under control.
Finally becoming aware of her scrutiny, he looked up. ‘As a parting shot he called me the illegitimate son of a donkey, which may sound ludicrous to you, but in our language is a great insult. Treasonous in fact, when directed at a future king.’
‘A fact which I am sure will give him a sleepless night worrying about the consequences, once his temper cools.’
‘Kamal knows perfectly well that I would not punish him for something said in the heat of the moment, and in private.’
‘Does he? Then I hope he is duly grateful. Were the cases reversed, I doubt you would find him so forgiving.’
‘No, no, you mistake the matter,’ Azhar said. ‘When all is said and done, Kamal is my only brother.’
Julia opened her mouth to tell Azhar exactly what she thought of Kamal, then thought the better of it, recalling her other, most unfortunate comparison to Prince George. ‘Obviously, you know him much better than I,’ she said, in what she hoped was a neutral tone.
Her hopes were unfounded. ‘Equally obviously, you do not actually believe that,’ Azhar said. ‘Please enlighten me.’
The pulse was still quite visible in his neck. ‘No,’ Julia said.
‘No, you do not agree with me, or, no, you will not enlighten me.’
She managed to stop herself from folding her arms defensively just in time. ‘No, I will not be intimidated into saying something which will make you even angrier than you already are,’ she said.
‘I am not angry with you.’
‘Yes, you are,’ Julia said, ‘because for some reason, you are reluctant to be angry with your brother.’
The flexing fingers stopped. Azhar pushed his coffee cup aside and got to his feet, staring out over the garden. ‘I am angry with Kamal, but it is unfair of me to be so. He resents my return, quite understandably so, when he has been custodian of the kingdom for so long. He perceives my enquiries into the well-being of the kingdom as criticism of his judgement. Again, understandably.’
Azhar did not sound at all convinced, Julia thought as she finished her own coffee and joined him. It was the first time he had admitted to any concern over his brother’s abilities, that his travels out into the kingdom were not merely to allow him to become reacquainted with it, but to ascertain its state of health, but she decided not to draw attention to this fact. ‘If your brother had nothing to hide,’ she said instead, ‘he would have no need to be defensive.’
‘I might be defensive myself, if the situation was reversed,’ Azhar replied. ‘Kamal—oh, I don’t know. Things here have changed, Kamal told me so himself. No doubt he is anxious for my approval, nothing more.’
He gave himself a little shake. ‘Enough of Kamal. This is one change that I heartily approve of,’ he said, pushing her hair back from her face. ‘From the first moment I saw you, I wanted to see it like this.’ He smoothed her hair down her back, his fingers feathering down her spine. ‘A river of fire.’
His touch was certainly setting her alight. She suspected he was using her as a distraction, but at this moment Julia was more than happy to be distracted. She stepped into his embrace, setting her hands on his shoulders, feeling the ripple of his muscles beneath the soft cotton of his tunic. ‘Is there such a thing as a river of fire?’
Azhar slid his hands up her sides to rest just under her breasts. ‘A river of fire is what you have kindled in me,’ he said softly.
He must be able to feel her heart hammering. He must be able to feel the heat of her skin through her tunic. Julia flattened her own hands on to his back, smoothing down the ridge of his spine to the taut curve of his buttocks. His pupils were dark. His breathing was just very slightly ragged.
Azhar cupped her breasts. She bit back a moan as he began to circle her nipples with his thumbs. The thin layer of silk grazed her acutely sensitive skin. His touch sent ripples of sensation down her body, making her belly clench, making her insides throb. He leaned closer, his mouth on her ear, nipping at her lobe.
Her body was clamouring for her to throw herself at him, to beg him wildly to take her, words that she had never spoken in her life. She was a mass of pulse points. Her nipples ached. She curled her fingers into his buttocks simply to stop them wandering, and felt him tense at her touch, saw the flare of heat in his eyes. He kissed his way along her jaw. He licked his way along her bottom lip, all the time his hands cupping and stroking, stoking the fires which blazed under her skin, running a path from her nipples to her belly to the raw ache building between her thighs.
And then he kissed her. A dark kiss, like melting chocolate, like warm honey, sweet and heady, it clogged her brain and added to the clamouring of her body. His tongue touched hers, stroked hers, making her languorous and setting her alight at the same time. When he broke the kiss she moaned in protest, until he covered her nipple with his mouth, sucking through the silk of her tunic, and Julia let out a strange little mewl of pleasure. She shifted restlessly against the low parapet, her hands roaming up and down Azhar’s back, feeling the flex and tense of his muscles, wanting to do more, but without any idea of what to do, hesitant about getting it wrong. And distracted. Very distracted. By his mouth, on her other nipple now. And then on her lips again, in a kiss that she could drown in.
And his hands. His hands, dear heavens, his hands. On her bottom. Pulling her into him, pressing the hard ridge of his arousal between her legs. And then his hands again. Unfastening the sash that held her pantaloons together, slipping between her thighs, sliding inside her.
Julia’s stifled moan had a rough edge to it. He slid his fingers higher, and began to stroke her. She was so hot. And she was so tight. Yet he slid so easily inside her, over her, and...
‘Oh, yes, that,’ she cried out before she could stop herself. ‘I mean—I didn’t mean...’
‘This?’ Azhar said, doing it again. ‘You mean this? Do not be shy Julia, how am I to learn what pleases you, if you don’t share it with me?’
‘Everything you’ve done pleases me.’
‘Then let me please you some more,’ he said. He kissed her and he stroked her, tongue and fingers entering her in unison, arousing her in unison, making her tighten around him, making her moan against him, making her arch her body so that he could thrust higher. She could hear herself pleading and moaning, and she couldn’t stop herself. She clung on, not wanting it to end, afraid that it would not end, but then Azhar urged her to let go, and he did something new and magical and she had no choice but to let go, with a shuddering cry, to cling on to him as her climax ripped through her, hot and wild as the desert just behind them, rippling like the soft sands of that desert, leaving her as alive, as bright and vivid as the desert sky above them, as if all that colour and all that exotic beauty had been infused into her veins.
* * *
‘Goodness.’ Julia blushed. ‘I mean—goodness.’
Her utter delight, and the fact that she made no attempt to disguise it, was refreshing as well as arousing. Not that Azhar needed to be further aroused. ‘Surely you are not at a loss for words?’ he teased.
The hectic flush on her cheeks deepened. ‘I am not in the habit of talking after such events. Or during. Not that such events are—oh, you know what I mean.’
He pushed her hair back from her face. ‘The pleasure of such events, as you call them, can be enhanced by communication.’
‘It was certainly pleasurable for me,’ Julia said. ‘But you...’
‘We have a saying, Julia. Any journey has many destinations. That was merely the first stage along the way. And sufficient for now.’ She looked unconvinced. Truth be told, he would give a great deal for a welcome release, especially looking at her now, hair wild, her tunic in disarray, her nipples still clearly defined through the silk. ‘Part of my pleasure is watching you learn to enjoy yours, Julia. To help you learn, if you wish me to, though I suspect that, freed from constraint, you may help me learn too.’
‘I can’t imagine how that would be possible. I don’t know what you want, and even if I did...’
‘Julia, when the time comes, I promise you will know.’
She smiled uncertainly. ‘I hope the time comes soon. I can’t believe I’ve already been here nearly a week. Only three more, and I will be heading back to England.’
She had not meant it, but her words were as effective as a dousing of icy cold water. In three weeks, he too would be claiming his freedom. Though it was all he longed for, it was a frighteningly small amount of time to achieve all that was required. It also meant that he had only another three weeks to spend with Julia, and oddly, for he was not at all in the habit of spending any significant time with a woman, that also seemed too brief. He liked her. He’d better be careful not to like her too much. ‘You are certain that another three weeks will be sufficient for your purposes?’ Azhar asked.
‘Oh, yes,’ Julia replied blithely. ‘There are more than sufficient plants even within the small part of this lovely kingdom I have already visited to complete Daniel’s book in that time. Besides, in three weeks’ time I am sure you will be more than ready to take your rightful place as the King of Qaryma, and anxious to do so.’
Honesty, he had asked of her, yet he had not been honest with her in return, and looking down into her frank green eyes, Azhar realised that he did not want to lie to her. Though he had known her only a few days, all his instincts told him he could trust her. ‘Julia, I won’t be taking the crown from Kamal in three weeks.’
‘You need more time?’
‘I won’t be taking the crown from Kamal at all,’ Azhar said. ‘My father did us both a great disservice by his refusal to change the line of inheritance. When I left ten years ago, it was for ever. I have not come here to take up my crown, Julia, I have come to hand it over. In three weeks’ time, I intend to abdicate.’
