Zafar
Zafar put down the papers he’d been battling with and tried not to think about the woman at the rear of the plane. Or about the melding of their bodies in a storm.
Just what would happen if he summoned the midwife to his on-board bedroom? Fireworks – as a given.
Yet it was as if stepping onto the plane meant the time of pretending he was not fiercely attracted to her was past. Which was why he would not go near her for the flight.
While most of his attendants had dozed during the long flight he’d prowled the cabin, had looked down on her once as she slept in her pod, realised it was the first time he was privy to that view and vowed to himself he would have at least one night where he could drink his fill of the sight.
He could picture her now, her thick lashes curled on her cheek, that beautiful mouth soft in repose instead of militant the way he often saw it. The blanket, fallen to her waist had left her vulnerable, but that strangely only made him lift it to cover her. Not like him at all.
He smiled at the mental image, and other memories flickered past like film. A first drift of orange blossom from her skin in the lift. Her scent. Sharing peace with him.
That first glance of hers, a base recognition he couldn’t deny, augmented when she’d settled beside him on the floor and touched to share her calm.
A cameo moment when she’d hugged the woman in the park – imparting her strength to her like she had to him during his weakness in the elevator – a moment he still didn’t understand. Mostly, recognition came with that wild kiss in the storm that had rocked him. He remembered every second of that with absolute clarity.
Interesting, phobia wise, that this morning when he’d unconsciously pressed the button and descended to depart the hotel, it seemed that his elevator aversion had been put to rest. Because of her? Or because he was moving on and creating new moments of life instead of dwelling on death? Even his fear of heights had receded a little.
Not huge events but remarkable and requiring thought.
Still, there remained a lot on his mind.
Fadia’s ability to settle in Zandorro with her heir sons, the kidnap attempt Yusuf had discovered with Fadia’s “friend”, just a weakling pawn in a larger plan. He’d quashed that risk but information had been gained that put his grandfather, in fact his entire family, at risk as well.
Yet still, a corner of his mind had been building with anticipation for the moment he had Carmen in his country, his palace, the chance to show her the sights and sounds and scents of Zandorro. To see her smile.
Normally he worked right through these flights.
‘Can I be of service, Excellency?’ Yusuf hovered.
‘No. Rest yourself.’ Yusuf nodded and subsided, but when Zafar glanced once more at Carmen he noticed his manservant’s eyes follow his.
Another memory clicked. She was right. She was not a favourite with his man. He would need to watch that. He fixed his gaze on Yusuf’s face and spoke softly but clearly. ‘I will hold you personally responsible if she is not happy in the palace.’
Inscrutable, Yusuf nodded. His man had allies in the palace but Zafar had many more. Many, many more.