Elaheh landed silently in the flower bed. She wiped her hands down her plain black abaya beneath which she wore jeans and a t-shirt—a throwback to when she’d been a teenager. They fitted her still. She stayed only long enough to feel the atmosphere of the garden, to sense if there was anyone else there. It was a still night and her ears strained to pick up the slightest sound which was out of place. There was none. The moon had yet to rise to shed its light inside the courtyard. But it would soon, and then the place would be lit up like daylight. She had to leave before that happened.
Keeping to the path closest to the wall, protected by the trees which edged the garden, she walked quickly to the exit. She was like a shadow merging and drifting into other, darker shadows, until she reached the gate which would take her into yet another garden. The sequence of gardens eventually led to a side door where she could gain access to the stables. The place was deadly quiet. There were no CCTV cameras. Her father had refused to have any such modern intrusion into the palace, and she’d had no reason to believe she needed them. Until now. But there should have been guards. There had always been guards. But not tonight, it would seem. Whoever had placed her note in her room was more powerful than she’d imagined, if he’d had the authority to stand down her guards. Whoever he was, he was powerful, and he wanted her vulnerable. She quickened her pace.
With thudding heart and watchful eyes, she reached the stables. The smell of the place quieted her and she quickly placed a bridle on her horse, nuzzling him and stroking his nose to placate his grumpiness at being awoken. With the reins bunched in one hand she carefully opened the door to the rear exit of the palace. She closed it again and jumped onto her horse, keeping him walking in the shadows before they were sufficient distance to trot away. The trot soon turned into a canter, and then into a full-on gallop as they entered the trail which would take her on a direct route toward the desert castle.
She soon slipped into the rhythm of the rolling gait of her horse and, as the moon rose over the desert, her heart rose with it, despite the danger she was in. This place was her life; it was the desert where she felt most at home, not the palace, not as queen, but as a woman of the land—her land. The hijab slipped off her head and her hair flew behind her as she continued on the road to Xander. She dared not imagine him not being there because she had no back-up plan.
It wasn’t until she’d been riding for an hour and a half that she saw the tell-tale sign of sand rising into the moonlight. At first she was worried it heralded a khamseen wind which would bring fifty days of hot and dusty conditions. But the column of air was contained, narrow, and moving in her direction. It was Xander, she was sure of it. But then doubt filled her mind. What if someone had tracked her down and, instead of following her, had called on someone to head her off?
She galloped behind a clump of thorny trees and bushes and decided to wait to see who it was before making herself known. The quickening breeze hid the hoofmarks of her horse and she slid off him and brought him behind one of the trees from where she would have a good view of the approaching car.
It had no headlights which told her one important thing—it didn’t want attention drawn to it. It wasn’t until it drew closer and the moon rose higher that she realized it wasn’t an ordinary car, but a Land Rover pulling a horse box behind it. She exhaled heavily in relief and slumped against the tree. It must be Xander. Who else would be traveling over the desert with a horsebox? Her people would have followed her by horse and brought her back. But not Xander. She stepped out and flashed her torchlight at him.
He altered his course slightly and pulled up beside her. His window lowered.
“Your Majesty!” he called out, above the sound of the vehicle’s engine and her horse’s whinny. “I believe you’d like a lift?”
She laughed with relief. “Trust you, Xander,” she said, approaching his window. She thought she’d never been so happy to see someone in her whole life.
“I hope you do, Ela,” he said, jumping out the vehicle.
“You know what I mean. I thought you’d ride out to meet me.”
“Me, ride a horse?” he said, unlocking the horse box. “No way. Besides, it’s quicker this way. Um, you might like to…” He gestured to her horse, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. Suddenly she understood.
“Don’t tell me you don’t like horses?”
“I don’t like horses.”
“Call yourself a desert sheikh?” she said, as she coaxed the horse into the box.
“I don’t. I’m sheikh and ruler of my people and I live, very happily, in the city.”
He closed the door after she’d made her horse comfortable with food and a drink.
“I don’t think we could be more different, you and I,” said Elaheh, getting into the Land Rover while he held open the door.
“Maybe,” he said, leaning in to pass her the seatbelt. “But fundamentally, Ela, I’m beginning to believe we have the same values. You do trust me, don’t you?”
She nodded. She’d been trying to keep brave, trying to respond to his light-hearted conversation, but she couldn’t keep it up. “I do,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “Now, let’s get out of here.” She glanced fearfully behind her where she visualized unknown assailants hunting for her, intent on returning her to a man to do whatever he wanted with her.
Xander must have caught her mood because he slammed the door shut, jumped into the Land Rover and turned it around carefully, before driving straight toward the mountains from where he’d come.
She couldn’t resist one last look at the haze of lights which indicated her land, her palace, her home. She stifled a sob before it could emerge but not before Xander’s quick glance caught it.
“What is it?” he asked, pressing his foot still harder on the accelerator.
She blinked, knowing that it was time for the truth. “When I looked back, I wondered…” She trailed off.
“What?” he pressed.
“I wondered if I’d ever see my country again.”
He reached over to her and squeezed her hand. “You will. I promise you, you will. I’ll make sure of it.”
Unlike before when he’d taken her hand, this time she didn’t pull hers away. She needed all his strength and reassurance now.
It was half an hour to the mountains and another hour to cover the short route through them. The pass was circuitous, rough and almost impassable. If Xander hadn’t been such an expert driver, he thought, he wouldn’t have managed to get the horse box through.
“And this, Ela,” he said, as they took another horse-shoe bend, below which was a precipitous drop to a deep ravine, “is why we need to get our project started as soon as we can.”
Xander didn’t know whether it was the moonlight or fear which made Ela’s face white. Whatever the reason, the effect on him was to make him protective and angry. Whoever had threatened to rape her was no man. He’d make sure he was found and punished accordingly.
Ela looked down at the steep drop which plunged into an invisible black abyss and then back at him. “I’m certainly not driving back over this pass until the road is improved. By horse, yes. But by car? It’s terrifying.”
Xander didn’t take his eyes off the road. “We’re nearly there. And then you’ll be safe.”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw her sigh, and rest her head against the seat. When he’d first seen her at the oasis, he’d been struck by the fact her hijab had slipped and she was wearing her beautiful dark hair loose, just as she had when she’d spoken to him via video link. She’d lost that rigid, queenly look which was so off-putting and had, instead, simply looked like a beautiful, lost, scared girl, and it pushed all his buttons.
He cleared his throat. He looped around a bend and looked down to the valley below—his land, at last. The border crossing lay immediately around the next bend. He pulled the Land Rover carefully onto the side of the road. “You’d better get into the back with the horse while we cross the border. It’s best to leave no trace of your entrance into my country.”
She nodded and he helped her into the horsebox. Then he proceeded carefully along the road once more. He pulled up at the first border control which was operated by Elaheh’s officials. He lowered his window, and spoke a few words. It only needed to be a few words, given the bribe they’d received on his way here. Obviously supremely grateful for the bribe which easily matched their annual salary, the Tawazun border guards, grinning from ear to ear, indicated he should drive through. He waved and continued on to the next border control—his own this time.
He waved at the guards who saluted and lifted the barrier. They might well be wondering what their king was doing driving into the night with a horse box, but they made no query and wouldn’t spread a word of it. He was their king and they’d happily accepted the same bribe he’d given the Tawazun guards. Nothing earned silence like money, he thought. His mind drifted to Elaheh. She’d have been far too principled to offer money for something she considered should have been done through loyalty. Trouble with Ela, he thought, she was naive. And that was the missing link in her armor; that was what made her vulnerable.
He continued without stopping through his city suburbs, winding his way up to the ridge upon which the palace lay, through quiet city streets along which only a few late party-goers walked. He looked at it through Elaheh’s eyes. It would look very different to her traditional country of Tawazun. In that country the only partying going on would be around a campfire, listening to traditional music and stories. He sighed as a dim, distant memory nudged into his mind. One single image—his family. He could see it like a snapshot in his mind—his brother, Roshan, standing hands on hips with the glow of the fire flickering on his face as he made up some story or other for the delight of his parents. His father, slapping his hand on his thigh as he laughed at something Roshan had said. He never saw his mother in his imagination, but he felt her presence all around him because she was holding him. He was seated on her lap looking out, her arms around him, enveloping him in a sense of security and ease for which he’d been searching ever since.
Those memories gave way to later ones, in the same desert oasis with his family, but joined by their most treasured friends. Roshan had several; he had only one. He’d only ever needed one—Selya had been everything to him from the moment he’d met her until the moment his world had come to an end.
He closed down his thoughts immediately. Guillotined them off. He had no place in his life, in his mind, in his heart, for those savage memories. They would break him, and he refused to be broken.
Instead, he frowned with a steely focus, drove into the garage, and pulled on the handbrake with a sense of finality. But the memories, which he’d managed to suppress for so long, lingered. And he knew it had been Ela who had made them surface. For some reason she short-circuited his brain, reached in and tugged at things he tried to forget. He turned off the engine and sighed heavily. And it didn’t look like he could avoid her, or how she made him feel. At least, not for the foreseeable future.
He jumped out and looked around. There was no one to witness their arrival. Only his personal guards, and again, they’d been paid to keep their silence. He opened the rear doors and Elaheh, wearing her hijab once more, led her horse down the short ramp and into the stables.
“Go inside. I’ll take care of your horse from here,” he said.
“Really?” she replied with a smile. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her look so natural, despite the tensions of the night.
“Don’t look like that,” he replied with an ease which was his modus operandi. “I can deal with a horse if necessary.” He tugged at the reins and, much to his surprise—and hers—the horse moved and followed him into the stables. He looked behind him. “Don’t worry, I’ve got someone here who will look after her.”
“It’s a him,” she said, with that heart-stopping and all too rare smile of hers.
He glanced at the animal again, noticing immediately what he’d failed to notice before. “Right.” Of course it was. A mare wouldn’t be fierce enough for Ela to ride. Then he looked back at Ela with even more respect as she walked away.
Elaheh waited in the shadows. Despite the ride across the desert, or even because of it, she felt elated. To begin with she had felt sick and scared, but as soon as she’d mounted her horse and started riding cross the desert, it was if shackles had been released from her and she’d felt free for the first time in forever.
And Xander had been there, just as he’d promised. She didn’t think she’d ever been so glad to see anybody in her life. The curious thing was that being with Xander was a completely different experience now. The old Xander, the man whose very existence had continually needled her from the first moment she’d met him, had vanished. Now, he was someone who made her feel—she groped for the correct word but could only come up with one—safe.
Through the open door she could see him talking to the stable boy in quiet undertones. He had a natural authority, which had nothing to do with being king. And then he looked up at her and she looked away.
“Ela?” he asked quietly. She didn’t trust herself to look around. Then she felt his finger gently touch her chin. There was no force to make her move, but she turned her face toward him and met his gaze anyway. “Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s get you inside. It’s been a hell of a night.”
He extended his hand and she took it and they stepped inside the palace. Unlike hers, his appeared to be full of security cameras which operated the doors, allowing them access deeper and deeper into the building.
They stopped only when they reached an internal garden, distinguishable from the others they’d passed by a more casual air. The plantings were less regimented, the trees and shrubs less severely pruned. Around the small garden were rooms with open windows through which she could see side lights which lit furniture definitely not palatial in scale. She looked at him. “These are your private quarters?” She hadn’t imagined him in anything less than stark grandeur.
“Yes.” He cleared his throat as if he’d been caught out. “This is the oldest part of the palace. Roshan preferred to be located closer to the center of the palace, but I prefer to be here, where my parents lived.” He opened a door and followed her inside one of the rooms. “It’s full of memories.”
She was surprised. Unlike the other parts of the palace through which they’d walked, this had a more homely, comfortable feel about it. She frowned as she noticed the big easy chair in front of a giant TV. It was like some kind of man cave. She looked at him sharply, trying to reassess her vision of him.
“It just seemed easier,” he said vaguely.
“Easier?” she asked. “In what way?”
He shrugged. “I guess I mean it’s easy for me to relax here. When I’m out there”—he indicated the public part of the palace with a nod of his head—“I’m performing. But in here, I can be myself. I keep it private. Just for myself. Usually,” he added with a brief, wry grin.
She looked away, suddenly afraid she was seeing too much of him, the real him. And, more than that, it wasn’t the him she thought she knew.
He twisted around and thrust his fingers through his short hair. “Look, I’m afraid if you stay anywhere other than here, where I don’t allow anyone to enter, you will be seen, and word will get back.”
“Back,” she murmured. She turned towards him again. “Back to whom?” she asked. “That is the question. I can’t trust anyone, can I?”
He was beside her in an instant. “You can trust me,” he said, gripping her arms. She should have thrown off his hands. The old Elaheh would have done. But she knew in the way he gripped her, in the way his fingers pressed lightly but firmly into her flesh, that this was not about control, this was about giving her strength—supporting her, demonstrating that she could rely on him.
She wondered why she had never noticed before how finely drawn his lips were. They weren’t full, they normally formed a straight line. But now they were parted softly and her eyes traced their delicate lines. She knew instinctively what they would feel like if they were pressed against hers. She gasped for breath, jerkily struggling to inhale.
“Are you okay, Ela?” he asked anxiously, his frown lowering. “Was the ride too much for you? I know a lot has happened.”
She was surprised to feel tears prick her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had held her and expressed sympathy for her situation. She should step away. She opened her mouth to speak but was scared she’d sob, so instead she bit her lip and shook her head again.
For a moment he searched her face, as if trying to work out for himself what she was feeling. And then suddenly he pulled her to him and held her tightly. And in that moment everything changed. She smelled the faint traces of his aftershave, of clean sweat and utter maleness which had never gotten to her like this before. Individually she’d registered them, but when combined they held a force which she had no idea if she could resist.
She pressed her hands against his chest with the intention of pushing him away but she didn’t. Instead, her fingers splayed over the fine cotton of his shirt, registering the muscles and hard chest beneath. Without thinking, she pressed her cheek to his chest. The hairs tickled her cheek and when she moved they stimulated her skin. She could hear and feel the thud of his heart through her ear and through her body. It was as if they had become one, merged by the pulse of his blood pumping through his veins and the contact of his skin against hers.
His heartbeat quickened as, instead of taking her hands away, she glided them over his chest, her fingertips searching out the undulating sinews and muscles which shifted under her touch.
“What are you doing, Ela?“ he asked, his voice rumbling into her ear, melding with his heartbeat, making her feel him in a way she’d never felt another person before.
She shifted her head so her forehead was pressed against his bare chest and her eyelashes flickered against his skin. She was only a breath away from kissing the bare patch revealed by his open shirt. There was no thought that entered her mind as she pressed her lips against his bare flesh.
Suddenly his hands were around her head, forcing her to look up at him. His dark eyes flared with surprise, and something else, something more dangerous. For a long moment she didn’t know if he was going to kiss her or shout at her. To her biting disappointment the desire in his eyes faded and his eyes grew harder.
“Ela! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She swallowed. “I… I wanted to kiss you.”
“Kiss me?” he repeated, shaking his head.
“I’ve never kissed a man before, you see. Never been held tenderly by a man.” A look that she’d have described as disappointment flickered across his features. This was Xander, she reminded herself. She cleared her throat. “I simply wanted to know what it was like.”
His grunt of surprise traveled through her body, in the same way his heartbeat did, filling her with himself, and creating patterns of feeling in her body which were entirely new.
“And what was it like?” His voice was a shade lower now.
She looked up at him. “It was … nice.”
“And do you know what else is nice?” She shook her head. “A kiss on the lips,” he continued. “Would you like to try that?”
She was mute. She couldn’t conjure up any words, even if she wanted to. And words were the last thing on her mind at that moment. She nodded. There was no other honest answer she could give.
His beautiful lips, quirking lightly at the corner, was the last thing she saw before they pressed to hers, and everything changed. The first thing she felt was a devastating, but not unwelcome, invasion of her privacy as the heat of his breath and his lips enveloped hers. To begin with their touch was tentative, but as she suddenly found her hands had slid around to his back, bringing him closer to her, the kiss became more intense. She felt him groan into her mouth which immediately sparked a feeling inside of her which threatened to derail her senses.
She could hear quickened breathing and was vaguely surprised to realize that it was her own. His hands were tight around her now too, and when she felt his tongue touch hers her response went off the scale. She pressed her body against his, in a purely intuitive, purely animal, reaction. All she knew was that she needed that hard chest pressed against her, those arms wrapped around her, so she could become one with him. She found herself doing things she didn’t know she could do, and didn’t know she wanted to do, rising against him. She felt a growing hardness press into her stomach.
Eventually he pulled away, dragging himself as if he’d been drugged and the sluggish chemical was fighting his willpower. “Ela!” He swore softly under his breath.
Once more, she raised herself on tiptoes to try to encourage him to kiss her again. But he made no movement to claim her lips again. She put her hands behind his head and pulled him to her, trying to command, trying to use all her willpower to get what she wanted from this stubborn man. But still he did not yield.
“Kiss me again, Xander, I want you to kiss me again.”
“No, Ela, it’s not possible.”
She shook her head. “You’re wrong, it is possible, of course it is, you just kissed me. I want you to kiss me like that again.”
“That,” he said, sweeping his thumbs over her cheeks as he held her face between his hands, “is not a good idea. I kissed you once because you’ve never been kissed.”
She felt shocked and deflated. “You only kissed me because you felt sorry for me?”
Again that slight quirk of the lips. “No way, Ela. I kissed you because I wanted to, and also because I wanted you to know what it was like. One kiss is one thing, the second kiss is an entirely different matter.”
“Maybe I want that different matter.”
“And so, maybe, do I. But it’s not going to happen. You are here because you trust me. And pretty soon you will cease to trust me if I kiss you again.”
She shook her head. She couldn’t imagine not trusting him. “I want you to kiss me.” She could hear her imperious tone returning, and she didn’t like it.
He reacted instantly to it, and stepped away. His hands gripped her shoulders as before, but this time he didn’t do it to make her trust him, he did it to hold her away from him.
“I repeat, Ela,” he said, “this is not going to happen. Now, let me show you where you are going to sleep.” He led her to a bedroom that was obviously personal, obviously male. She looked up at him as the confusion of lust slowly faded and comprehension dawned. “But this is your room, surely?”
He released her and stepped away. “It’s yours now, for as long as you want it.” He indicated an interconnecting door. I’ll sleep in the dressing room for now. Nobody comes to these rooms unless I ask them to.” He gave a small smile. “They will simply assume I’m reverting to the slobbish student ways I had as a boy. You are safe here, Ela. You are safe from others and you are safe with me.”
“But you didn’t kiss me again as I asked.” She couldn’t bear to look him in the eye any more to see his derision.
“Ela, don’t you understand? I couldn’t trust myself. One thing could lead to another and your virginity isn’t a thing to be taken lightly.”
His words were like an icy dousing of cold water on a hot day. She gasped as the shock blew away the last remaining traces of arousal, and confronted her head-on with her reality. She felt a blast of anger—at her past, at what had happened to her and at Xander’s assumption.
“I am not a virgin, Xander. Not. A. Virgin.” She practically spat out the last words through rigid lips, which had forgotten the kiss.
His eyes widened with shock and, she realized, understanding. “And, yet, you say you’ve never kissed anyone.”
She was silent in horror. She’d allowed her anger to overwhelm her and to reveal her secret, her inner shame. She swallowed and shook her head, as her mind raced to try to withdraw the words she’d uttered, to form words which would erase them.
“I…” She felt tears spring to her eyes. She swiped at them and twisted away from him. She couldn’t let him see. “I… I’m tired,” she whispered in a croaky voice.
He was silent for a few moments, waiting for her to speak, but she couldn’t. There were only the dots to be connected to form a truth which she refused to voice.
Even when she felt his light touch on her arm, she refused to turn to him.
“Please, go,” she said, her flaming and tear-soaked face twisted away from him.
She heard him leave and close the door behind him.
She was alone once more. Just as she always was. Except now, after the closeness she had felt only minutes earlier, she felt more alone than ever; after the near revelation of a shame about which few people knew, she felt more vulnerable than ever.
Without undressing, she climbed into bed and curled up into a ball and cried as she should have cried years earlier.
Xander closed the door quietly behind him and walked across to the drinks cabinet. He poured himself a generous whiskey, frowned into its amber depth briefly, before knocking it back, and placing the empty glass firmly back onto the table. He needed that potent heat to counter the fire in his heart which her words had ignited.
He twisted around and looked out the window, over the lights of his city, toward the mountain range which marked the divide between his country and Ela’s, with only one thought on his mind.
What the hell had happened to Ela, that she was no longer a virgin, and yet she’d never been held tenderly by a man, had never been kissed? Because he didn’t doubt the veracity of her statements. One sure thing he knew about Ela was that she never lied. Which left a question, the answer to which he couldn’t bear to contemplate.