Gabrielle scanned the headlines, flicked across to another site, and felt her nausea increase. It seemed everywhere on the internet guesses were being made as to who the King of Gharb Havilah would marry. Rumors were flying back and forth, trying to predict the king’s forthcoming announcement. And there was no shortage of suggestions as to the identity of the woman. None of them, she noticed, included her.
Were they guessing, or did they know something she didn’t? And what would it matter anyway? She’d be gone in a few days, back to England, returning to her academic life far away from the heat and dust of the desert, thousands of miles from where her heart lay.
She closed her computer too firmly. Some of her colleagues glanced across at her, as the sound echoed around the museum. She scraped back her chair and walked over to them as they waited to join the formal opening of the bi-millennial celebrations, which signaled the end of her work here, in Gharb Havilah.
As she responded to her colleagues, contributing to the conversation, she marveled at how normal she sounded. She’d learned well from Zavian, because she’d managed to do the impossible and had frozen her feelings, leaving them solid and compact, encased in lead. She couldn’t allow herself to examine the feelings, reflect on them in any way. That, she knew, would come later. Much later, when she was safely away from this place, away from Zavian. Until that time, she had no choice but to ignore the feelings which weighed heavily inside her. She had the next two days to get through first.
She smoothed down the deep red satin gown that she’d borrowed for the gala evening. The museum director’s wife had extravagant tastes in clothes, and had insisted on lending Gabrielle the dress once she’d seen it on her. Gabrielle would have preferred something quieter, something more subtle, but the director’s wife had refused to allow Gabrielle to try on any of her other dresses after she’d seen Gabrielle in that one.
“It would be a crime, my dear,” she’d whispered conspiratorially in Gabrielle’s ear. “It’s your last night, and after all you’ve done for the museum, the celebrations, and the country, it’s time you took your share of the limelight.” The woman had stepped back with a smile and eyed her as she lit her cigarette. “And allow some people to see you for who you really are.”
In the end, Gabrielle hadn’t any choice. She had nothing else suitable for the gala opening. Besides, she didn’t want to upset the woman. There weren’t many people who’d shown interest in who Gabrielle was outside of her professional roles.
She paused in front of a mirror and automatically reached up to touch her hair, unrecognizable in the sleek french bun which her friend had insisted the hairdresser arrange for her. And the makeup… She blinked at her reflection and, reassuringly it blinked back, otherwise she might not have believed this Audrey Hepburn like image reflected back at her.
She walked away quickly. What did it matter if she looked like herself or someone else? A few days and she’d be out of here.
Zavian had chosen the gala evening before the bi-millennial celebrations officially got underway to face Gabrielle. He’d do what he had to do—and quickly—at the beginning of the evening, and then there’d be enough time to finalize the following day’s timetable, including their betrothal.
Easy, he thought as he fidgeted with his tie in the mirror. As he went over what he was going to do, it seemed simple. Several boxes had already been ticked, bullet points achieved. All he’d done was add one to the list. The love one. He’d approach that as he had the others. Tell her that he’d been mistaken, that there appeared to be more to his feelings than he’d initially thought, feelings he assumed to be love. And, if they were, then he did indeed, love her.
He smiled at himself in the mirror. It was simply a matter of perspective. Just because he apparently loved her, it didn’t mean to say he had to veer to the emotionally unstable depths of others. He could encompass this love thing into his view of himself. With a bit of effort, anyway.
It would be fine; he nodded reassuringly to himself. He’d simply stick to his plan, explain to her that all was well in the love department, and she would agree to marry him. The rest would be history, and his future.
He paused as his eyes rose to see his own, not so certain ones, in his reflection. Ridiculous to question himself! All would go according to plan. He refused to believe it wouldn’t. He turned away abruptly and met Naseer’s gaze. He’d confided his plans to his vizier who’d agreed with them.
“It will all go according to plan, Your Majesty. There is nothing to fear.”
“Of course not. I do not fear…” He hesitated. “Anything,” he said quietly, not quite believing his own statement, because he had the sneaking suspicion that he was almost a little afraid of one person. Minds and bodies he could control. But hearts? They were proving to be very different beasts.
He strode into the ballroom and looked around. It was full already. Music failed to cover the excited chatter of people dressed to the nines. Tonight was all about coming together and had no formal component. That would happen on the next day. He scanned the room once more but failed to see her. A dark gloom fell upon his spirits as Naseer introduced him to a visiting dignitary.
He uttered pleasantries, hardly aware of what he was saying, as his thoughts raced in an entirely different direction. Had she returned home before the celebrations began? No. She wouldn’t have risked her college’s financial situation. Besides, he would have been told. In that case, she’d remained in her room, stubbornly refusing to attend something he’d specifically asked her to attend. The idea that firstly, she refused to agree to his request, and secondly that his plans would be potentially thwarted, sparked a fire of anger inside.
He’d go and find her, wherever she was, and tell her what he needed to say to her. It was all he could think about now. He was beginning not to care how he told her, his rehearsed words could go out the window, just so long as he released the burden of his words and told her. It was a fact, that was all—a fact she needed to know.
He turned to Naseer, ignoring the upturned faces of the others, obviously awaiting some response from him. “I have to go, Naseer, I—”
His words were interrupted as his eye caught a flash of red not far from him. The woman had her back to him. The red dress fell from her shoulders, exposing the creamy skin of her back, underlining it with a scoop of cowl-shaped red silk, curved just above her behind.
There was nothing in the clothes or the hair which he recognized but something in her air, the way she held herself. Then she half-turned, and he caught sight of the line of her jaw and knew it was her.
Leaving the baffled group behind for his vizier to deal with, Zavian walked directly to her. People fell away as he made a direct line for her. She turned, and suddenly he was before her. Other people in her group shuffled, muttered and, after the odd comment, stepped away slightly.
She curtseyed. “Your Majesty,” she said.
“I wish to speak to you, Gabrielle.”
She inclined her head. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Drop that. It’s just us.”
She looked around. “Just us surrounded by hundreds of people.”
“Ignore them. They do not exist for me.”
Her lips quirked into a brief smile. “I love the way you can ignore anything you don’t wish to see.”
“Do you?”
She shook her head. “Actually, no, I don’t.”
It was his turn to feel a fleeting smile drift to his lips. “And I love the way you change your mind. Frequently.”
“When I said, ‘I love the way you can ignore anything’, I meant I can’t believe the way you ignore things.”
“Ah, so when you use the word ‘love’ I shouldn’t believe it.”
She looked around but didn’t answer.
“Gabrielle?”
She turned to him. “Yes?”
“I asked you a question.”
“I thought it was a statement. Language is so difficult,” she continued. “Always open to interpretation. Words are easy to say, it’s the people you have to believe in, not the words. Anyway…”
She looked away as if searching to escape and turned to walk away. He wasn’t about to let that happen. It was now or never. He had to get that box ticked so he could proceed with his plans.
“Well, I hope you believe me when I tell you I love you.”
Even to his ears, the words didn’t sound convincing—nothing like the films. Convincing or not, Gabrielle stopped in her tracks. She turned her head to look at him, brow knitted, her mouth open. “What?” The word sounded strangely strangled.
He cleared his throat. “I love you.” Again, it didn’t sound like he’d imagined it would. He, who rarely was aware of people, was now conscious of looks being shot his way. He wanted this wound up. He shifted onto his other leg. “So… what do you think?” He winced inside of himself—he never sounded needy, but it appeared he was now.
She turned to face him. It was she who appeared unaware now of onlookers. “What do I think? I think you’re saying words that you believe I’d like to hear. That’s what I think.”
He sighed with impatience as he heard his name called by his vizier. He turned to see him approaching along with King Amir and King Roshan. His time was running out. He turned back to Gabrielle and stepped closer to her so that only she could hear now.
“I’m saying what I feel.”
“Really? It doesn’t sound like that’s what you feel.”
“I don’t know what I’m meant to sound like, but take it from me, that’s what I feel. All right?”
“All right?” she repeated back to him. Or was she repeating it? Perhaps she was confirming that everything was, indeed, all right.
“Isn’t it?” he asked.
“Isn’t it what?”
“All right? The fact that I love you. I assume you still love me, so that sorts everything.”
She drew in a deep sigh. “You’re incredible.”
He narrowed his eyes. “The way you said that it doesn’t sound like a good thing.” He held up his hand to stop his vizier’s impatient voice.
“Zavian!” she said, shaking her head.
“Your Majesty,” butted in the vizier. “People are waiting to see you.”
“Right,” he said. “Right,” he said to Gabrielle. “I have to go. But I want you to know that I’ve done what you said. I’ve considered the matter and concluded that you’re right. I love you.”
“There you go again.”
“I’m repeating,” he said clearly, “because you aren’t responding to me as I anticipated.”
She glanced at the vizier, who was giving her a black look. “You should go. You’re expected elsewhere.”
He drew her closer. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me you understand. I love you. Three words you wanted, and I’ve given them to you. I assume that they’re not unwelcome.” He raised an imperious eyebrow. He couldn’t seem to stop himself.
“Go, Zavian. We can talk about this later.”
“No. I need to know now whether what I’ve said is sufficient for you to marry me.”
She shook her head but smiled at the same time. True, it was a hard-to-read kind of a smile, but Zavian instinctively read it as a reassuring smile. He’d given her what she wanted. He relaxed his grip on her hand with relief.
“Good,” he said. “I must go now. But there is nothing now to fear, Gabrielle. All will be well.”
He raised a hand in greeting to the two kings who stood with amused smiles by the entrance, awaiting him. There was nothing to fear, he repeated to himself as he walked away from her, remembering her small smile. She’d said that words were of no importance on their own, and that you had to trust the person themselves. She trusted him. Of that, he was certain. Therefore all would be well. His plan could continue.
As Gabrielle watched Zavian greet the two kings who made up the ancient kingdom of Havilah, she shook her head, bemused and frustrated. How could he believe that him telling her he loved her like that changed anything? She knew what he’d done. He’d added the “love thing” to his bullet point list and now considered it had been ticked. Well, he needed to do a whole lot more than tell her. He needed to show her he loved her because until he did, she wouldn’t believe that he’d allowed the walls around his heart to fall, wouldn’t believe that they could have a life together.
She wished she could disappear into the night, into the shadows of her suite of rooms. But she had her duties to perform that night. Just one evening and the next few days and then she could leave, away from the temptations and jeering reminders of a life that might have been hers.
Sheikh Amir looked at Zavian thoughtfully. “What’s going on, Zavian? I haven’t seen you this jumpy since we were teenagers, and you had your eye on that girl.”
Amir’s comment broke Zavian’s train of thought, and he glanced around to see that both Amir and Roshan were watching him with barely concealed amusement.
“You’re right, Amir,” said Roshan, leaning back in his chair and taking a quick sip of his drink, “Zavian is plotting something.” He cocked his head to one side with a considering air. “Plotting something that he’s not quite sure about. Hm. Interesting.” He looked at Amir. “Since when has our friend ever been not quite sure about something?”
“There’s only one thing that he’s unsure of, and that’s about matters of the heart.”
“Ah, yes,” replied Roshan. “Now he really should come to me on that score. I happen to be an expert in matters of the heart.”
Zavian scowled at them both. “I need no help.”
“Of course,” Roshan leaned forward, rubbing his fists against his lips consideringly. “You are an expert. You have such a successful track record.”
“And you have, I suppose. All you have left behind you is a string of broken hearts.”
“But not mine. That, I would suggest, is being successful.”
Zavian shook his head. Roshan was incorrigible, and hell would freeze over before he took any advice from him. In the relationship department, anyway.
He looked around the room with satisfaction. Everything was going according to plan. His plan. He caught Gabrielle’s eye as she listened to the foreign ambassador who was keen on promoting cultural and tourist links between their countries, and smiled at her. She smiled back, their eyes caught in an intimate moment, which transcended the room. It calmed any outstanding fears from his earlier conversation.
It was time. He rose, and she sat back, puzzled, as silence fell in the room. As he started to speak, all eyes fell upon him just as he’d planned. This would be the perfect opening to the celebrations, the icing on the cake. It would place his country at the forefront of the world’s media as they gloried in Gharb Havilah’s past, in its prosperous present and its promising future. So much had changed over the past few generations, but he was here now at a point where they could move forward with confidence. After a short, formal speech in which he welcomed guests and spoke of the meaning the celebration had to his country, he moved on to the part of his speech about which none of his advisors had been told. He didn’t meet his vizier’s direct look, but he could feel it as he continued.
“I’d like to end now where I began. The importance of Gharb Havilah’s future is dependent on the people who live here, and a leadership committed to its people and culture… a leader who is committed to family life.” He turned to Gabrielle. “And what better time to thank Dr. Gabrielle Taylor for her commitment to our culture and her work on the celebrations. Gabrielle has made the study of Gharb Havilah’s past her life’s work. She’s been an inspiration to us all, and most particularly to me. She sums up what makes Gharb Havilah great. A love of the people and the country. And it gives me great pleasure to announce our engagement.”
There was a moment of stunned silence. Royalty rarely provided the unexpected, but then there was a burst of applause and cheers as various leaders rose and clapped, turning first to the king and then to Gabrielle.
Zavian smiled back, acknowledging the cheers and good wishes. Ever since that moment in the desert, he’d known the match would meet the approval of his people. And it seems he was correct. Even a glance at his vizier reassured him. From initial disbelief, his vizier was nodding slowly and joining in with the general sense of celebration. The formality of the dinner dissolved, and people crowded around. Not least his two friends, Amir and Roshan.
There was only one person he couldn’t see. There were people milling around between them.
Roshan clapped Zavian on the back. “You dark horse!” He grinned widely. “Seems like you know a bit more than you’re letting on.”
But Zavian wasn’t in the mood to talk. He was trying to spot Gabrielle in the crowd.
“Where is she?”
The two other kings looked around. “There’s some commotion moving over there. I think she’s… yes, she’s making her way to the exit.”
They both looked at Zavian, who frowned. This wasn’t his plan—nowhere near his plan.
“Maybe I was premature in my congratulations,” said Roshan. “We’ll cover for you, but I think you’d better go and track down your bride-to-be because it looks like she’s just left the room.”
He didn’t waste any time following Roshan’s advice. He moved swiftly through the crowds, which parted before him, but she must have run after she’d left the room because there was no sign of her.
He hesitated for a moment and considered where she might go to in the heat of the moment. It came to him in a flash. The gardens. He strode down the empty colonnaded walks, past the public areas of the palace, toward the older wing where the old, overgrown garden was. He saw her instantly, her red dress flashing against the dark greens of the palms and plants as she made her way to the privacy of the central fountain.
He followed her and watched for a few moments as she slumped down beside the fountain and put her head in her hands. That made him start forward.
“Gabrielle, tell me, what’s the matter?”
She turned to him with a start, and he was surprised to see not the emotion he’d expected on her face. She was furious.
“What’s the matter?” She took his hand and flung it from her, folding her arms across her chest. He’d never seen her so angry before. “You’ve publicly humiliated me, and you ask me what the matter is?”
Anger sparked in him. “Humiliated? How is asking you to marry me a humiliation?”
“You. Didn’t. Ask. Me!” Each word was spoken with vehemence.
“I hardly thought I needed to. I thought you’d made your feelings clear.” For the first time, a shadow of doubt entered his mind. He couldn’t have got it so wrong, surely?
She shook her head, her eyes bright, her mouth a firm line, a million miles from the kiss he’d imagined giving her at this moment. “Whatever I said, whatever I feel for you, it’s totally overshadowed by behavior such as this!”
“Me asking you to marry you is bad behavior?”
“I repeat,” she said in a dangerously low tone. “You didn’t ask me. Do you really imagine that the public announcement of our engagement would result in marriage?”
“Yes.” It was the only answer he could think of. Because he hadn’t, in a million years, imagined any other outcome.
“And just in that answer I know that we could never marry.”
“What are you talking about?” He was getting angry now. “We talked about the future, you said you needed to know I loved you, and I told you I did. What’s the problem?”
She clamped her hand to her chest, where her heart rested beneath. “The problem is that I don’t believe you love me. All I know is that you said the words to me.”
“But you trust my word, surely?”
Her hesitation said it all. “I know that you believe what you say, but, Zavian, I’m not sure that your definition of love is the same as mine. I can’t believe in it.”
“Then what, Gabrielle, do I have to do to make you believe that I love you.”
“You have to do more than tell me like it’s something you’ve signed off on. You have to show me that you have feelings for me.”
“You know I have feelings for you.”
The folded her arms defensively across her chest. “I know you want me in your bed.”
He raked his fingers through his hair and twisted away. “It’s more than that.”
“It’s not what I’m seeing.”
He flung his arms open, full of anger and frustration. He was floored. “Words? You want words?”
“Yes. I want more than a box ticked. I want more than the word regurgitated and spat back at me as if I were a chick needing it to survive.” She shook her head. “But that small morsel isn’t enough to move forward on, isn’t enough to believe in, isn’t enough to sustain our relationship with.”
He suddenly realized. “You don’t believe me. You think I’m lying.”
“No, there you’re wrong. I think you believe in what you’re saying, but to me, they are words without emotion. It’s not in the words.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s in what lies behind them. It’s in your manner, in your heart, showing through your words.”
He withdrew his hand from her and placed his hands on his hips. “So now I have to work out how to get my heart to show through? You ask too much, Gabrielle. Too much.” With that, he turned and stalked away. Too quickly to hear her reply.
“I ask too little.”