The Sultan's Choice (14 page)

As if he could feel the weight of her gaze now, Sadiq turned around. Trying to look as composed and unmoved by him as she could, she came up on one arm, pushing her tangled hair over her shoulder. Self-conscious, and hating herself for it because she desperately craved to appear insouciant, she pulled the sheet up over her breasts.

He noted the movement with a small mocking smile, and Samia longed desperately to see him unsure of himself—just once.

He was cool. ‘Something’s come up in B’harani that needs my attention, I’m afraid we’ll have to cut our time here a little short.’

Surprise, surprise,
Samia thought, and said equally coolly, ‘You should have woken me.’

Sadiq crossed his arms and rested back against the wall. ‘I was enjoying the view too much.’

Recalling that she’d woken with the sheet barely covering her lower half, Samia gave up any pretence of nonchalance and jumped out of the bed, wrapping the sheet around her to go to the bathroom. She heard a dark chuckle, and had to restrain herself from flinging something at Sadiq’s head when he stopped at the door to inform her that he’d be waiting downstairs.

The journey back to B’harani was made largely in silence, for which Samia was grateful. She felt absurdly overemotional. Raw. When they reached the castle she jumped out of the Jeep and only stopped when she heard her name. Tense all over, she turned to see Sadiq, with a bevy of aides and advisers descending on him from all sides.

He looked stern, and already more remote. ‘I’ll be working late tonight so don’t wait up.’

‘Don’t worry, Sadiq,’ she said as loftily as she could. ‘I don’t expect you to entertain me. The honeymoon is over.’

She turned away, but he called her name again. Softly. This time when she turned he was much closer and her heart sputtered. She looked up to see a feral glitter in his eyes and the answering effect on her body was instantaneous. ‘I asked for you to be moved to my rooms Samia, so make sure you have everything you need.’

Immediately she felt threatened. She’d forgotten, and the thought of coping with Sadiq every night was suddenly too much—especially feeling as raw as she did right now. She opened her mouth. ‘Actually, I’m not sure that I—’

Sadiq put a finger to her lips and said with a steel tone, ‘It’s non-negotiable, Samia.’

And then he turned and was swallowed up by the crowd of people.

Sadiq was burningly aware of Samia’s huge eyes boring into his back as he walked down the long corridor away from
her, and he had to battle the urge to turn around, pick her up and take her straight to bed. He had to control himself—quash this urge to want to punish Samia for something. For making him
feel?
For making him fearful of the passion she inspired in him because it was making him act in ways he’d never done before, becoming irrational and impulsive? Just like his father?

Sadiq immediately dismissed the notion as ridiculous. But as the rogue thought was sinking in and taking up residence Sadiq’s steps quickened perceptibly, and the retinue of staff almost had to run to keep up with him.

A week later Samia was fired up and full of enthusiasm. She was determined to block out the fact that the distance between her and Sadiq since they’d returned from Nazirat seemed to be growing into a wedge. She assured herself that he was busy, catching up on work he’d had to sideline for the marriage. And what had she expected anyway? Romantic dinners
à deux
every night? Hadn’t she told him in no uncertain terms in Nazirat that he didn’t have to do that?

In the bedroom, however, there was no distance. She blushed now as she walked along the long corridor to Sadiq’s offices to think of how passionate he’d been last night. She’d been half asleep when he’d come to bed, but had soon been wide awake when she’d felt his firm, hard body curling around hers. It scared her how a warm glow seemed to infuse every cell whenever he was near or touched her. And the way everything semed to dim when he wasn’t.

She tried to tell herself that she didn’t miss the way he’d pulled her close after making love those first few days in Nazirat. She tried to tell herself that it didn’t hurt to know that it had all just been an act for the honeymoon. Now, when they made love, Sadiq rolled away, and Samia hated the longing she felt to snuggle close, feel his arms around her. She
cursed him for ever giving her that experience, so that she could miss it. Some mornings, though, she woke with the sensation that he’d held her during the night. But invariably Sadiq would already be gone, and that was always a stark reminder that they had moved very definitely into the ‘convenient’ part of their marriage.

Determined to stop this dangerous line of thinking, stop obsessing over Sadiq like some groupie, Samia had got up today determined to discuss with Sadiq some ideas she had that she wanted to develop and work on. When she got to the anteroom of his office, and his secretary looked up and smiled, Samia had to quash the sudden yearning to be able to just walk blithely into his office simply because he would always want to welcome her, to see her.

Oh, Lord.
She almost stumbled when the implication of what she was thinking sank in. She couldn’t deal with it now. She smiled back at the efficient secretary, pristine in a long white tunic and colourful veil.

‘Do go in, Queen Samia. He’s got a few minutes between meetings.’

Samia knocked lightly and heard Sadiq’s deep voice respond. Immediately silly little butterflies started in her belly and she cursed. Opening the door, she went in and was surprised not to see Sadiq behind a mountain of paperwork. He was standing at the window, looking very brooding.

He turned around and black brows drew together in a frown. No hint of pleasure to see her. Samia cursed herself again, and hated that she felt her old sense of insecurity come back. ‘I … I’m sorry to disturb you. I wanted to discuss a couple of things with you.’

Sadiq flicked a glance at his watch and Samia felt it like a slap. He was dressed in a suit today, and it reminded Samia of when she’d first seen him in London, which felt like aeons ago. He was so remote that she almost wondered if he was the
same man who had made tears of pleasure soak her cheeks last night. Who had used his thumbs to wipe them away while they were still intimately joined. As if loath to let him leave her body she had jealously gripped his hips with her thighs, as if to stop him ever leaving.

She swayed for a moment because the memory was so potent, and instantly Sadiq was at her side, his frown even more fierce, ‘Are you all right?’

‘Fine …’ Aghast at her own wayward imagination, Samia pulled free and walked over to a chair, saying much more brightly, ‘I’m fine. I know you’re busy.’

Sadiq had walked back behind his desk and sat down, once more cool and remote, as if that little moment hadn’t ocurred. The stark reality that this would be their everyday lives made her feel slightly panicky. Which got worse when he said, ‘I have ten minutes.’

Samia sat down primly. Sadiq’s office was huge and unahamedly masculine. Dark wood and shelves lined with books. She blurted out. ‘I’d like an office.’

‘You have an office.’

Samia thought of the perfectly nice room which was essentially somewhere for her to use the internet and make phone calls. She shook her head. ‘No, I mean I want a proper office—like this. Where I can put my books and work on projects.’

He arched a brow and sat back, but Samia sensed the danger in his indolence. ‘Projects?’

She nodded. ‘Yes. You mentioned your environmental projects before. I’d like to see how I can help. And I want to set up some kind of literacy programme. Al-Omar is like Burquat in the fact that free education was only recently introduced—when you became Sultan. It was the same with my brother. The older generations who missed out have very
low literacy. I’d like to set up workshops to encourage people to come back to school.’

Sadiq was looking at her with a funny expression on his face but she decided to forge on. ‘And I want to set up a crèche here in the castle. There is no facility to help female staff to continue working once they’ve had a child, and you employ more women than men.’

Sadiq’s jaw tensed. ‘Anything else?’

Samia shrugged. ‘Lots of things … But I’d like to start with those for now.’

Sadiq felt immediately defensive at having things pointed out to him that he’d already been aware of but hadn’t really looked at yet, due to more pressing concerns. And he was also reacting to the fact that once again Samia was proving she wouldn’t be morphing seamlessly into the role he’d envisaged his wife taking. He’d seen his wife firmly in the background, merely enhancing his role and perhaps attending some social events in his place. He hadn’t really seen his marriage as a working partnership, and his naivety and lack of foresight mocked him now.

Self-recrimination made his voice harsh. ‘The charity circuit is a well-oiled and sophisticated machine in B’harani, and there are plenty of committees of which you will have automatically become chairperson. I think, if you look at the schedule laid out for you, you’ll be kept quite busy.’

Samia had looked at that schedule at the start of the week and her heart had sunk. She’d been spurred into action, doing her own research. She stood up on a wave of hot anger. ‘I don’t want to sit on committees to talk about things and never do them. And, as valuable as the charity circuit is, I want to do something useful—not just be a figurehead while other people do the work. I’m perfectly prepared to put in the hours being seen, but that’s not enough.’

Sadiq stood too, and put his hands on the table, not liking
the way he was thinking of Samia’s insecurity around crowds and being seen, and how much it moved him to see the way she seemed so determined not to let it get to her. He felt something harden inside him, and knew he was reacting to the increasingly familiar sense of threat this woman posed.

‘This is not the time nor the place for this discussion, Samia, but there is one thing to consider—what happens when we have children?’

Samia gritted her jaw, dismayed and disappointed to see this hitherto hidden traditional side of Sadiq. ‘If and when we have children I would expect to be able to use the crèche facility which has been set up, and in doing so demonstrate that we’re rulers of the people who do not see themselves as unapproachable. And I would continue doing as much important work as I could—just as you would.’

Samia was articulating what Sadiq himself would have agreed with on any other occasion and with any other person. But here, with
her
and all the ambiguous feelings she aroused, Sadiq was frigid. ‘Tell me, have you already sought out an area for this crèche?’

Samia was determined not to be intimidated. ‘I have, actually, and there is a perfect spot near to the staff entrance of the castle. It’s got a green area, which could be developed into a playground, and there’s a huge bright room which could be converted from the storeroom it currently is.’

Sadiq instantly knew where she was talking about, and it did have potential. But for some reason he felt compelled to shoot it all down. He was reacting viscerally again, and hated that he was, but couldn’t seem to stop it. He wanted to relegate Samia to some place where he wouldn’t have to deal with her. Much as he had all week. Avoiding any contact by day and then using the nights to let his already shaky control go.

Each morning he’d woken up and hoped for some sense
that clarity was returning, or her sensual hold over him was diminished, but if the way his body felt so hot and hard right now was anything to go by he was in for a long wait. ‘I’ve been running this country on my own for well over a decade, Samia. You will fulfil the role of my queen. I don’t need a wife with a busier schedule than my own. I don’t want you starting something off only to grow bored with it, leaving it to overworked staff to finish off.’

Samia was shaking she was so incensed. ‘I wouldn’t do that. You chose
me
to be your wife and I’m not going to settle for a life of posturing and preening.’ To her utter horror, she felt tears threaten. ‘You
know
I’m not like that. I told you from the very start and you wouldn’t listen. I can be useful and I intend to be.’

Terrified she’d start crying in front of him, and of the emotion gripping her, Samia turned around and rushed from the room. She walked with tears blurring her vision until she found a quiet spot, and then hid away and tried to stifle the gulping, shuddering breaths. She knew exactly why she was so upset. The realisation had started to hit her outside Sadiq’s office. She had fallen in love with her husband, and all of those iron-clad assertions that she would never be so stupid had just crumbled to dust.

She was upset because she’d gone in there today hoping … for what? she asked herself angrily as she wiped at her stinging cheeks. That he would jump up and tell her how brilliant she was? What amazing ingenuity she had? She’d been naive to think he would just allow her free rein to do what she liked.

He was right. He’d been running the country very successfully,
alone,
for a long time. He was hardly likely to welcome a couple of bright ideas along with a rush of enthusiasm as something solid to work on. But she was hurt that he didn’t
know her well enough by now to know that she wouldn’t be so inconsistent as to start something and not finish it.

Composing herself, Samia left her hiding place and went to find Yasmeena, whom she’d promised to have lunch with that day. She hoped that the surprisingly astute woman wouldn’t notice her turmoil.

Samia reassured herself stoutly that she couldn’t have fallen in love with Sadiq. She was mistaken. She was overemotional, that was all. She nearly stumbled, though, when she thought again of the crèche and had an image of Sadiq bending down to scoop up a dark haired toddler from the sandpit.

For a moment the pain was so intense that Samia thought she might have to make up some excuse and avoid lunch, but exerting all her self-control, she pasted a bright smile on her face and kept going.

A couple of days later Samia was in her office, looking at the schedule of events, and fear was rising within her. Next week was to be the start of her official duties, as the marriage festivities and honeymoon period were formally finished. This was a schedule of daytime events, and was considered part of her queenly duties—
alone.
She wouldn’t have Sadiq’s solid presence by her side. She could already picture the charity/social scene brigade of women who orchestrated these events and she shuddered. They would assess her in an instant and find her lacking.