Log In
Or create an account ->
Imperial Library
Home
About
News
Upload
Forum
Help
Login/SignUp
Index
One “I want a divorce.”The moment she’d blurted the words out, Jayne felt her pulse quicken. She squeezed her eyes shut…and waited. The silence on the other end of the line was absolute.“No.”The answer rang with finality over the vast distance that separated Zayed from New Zealand. Tariq’s voice was smooth and deep and very, very cool. Like ice. Tingling shivers of apprehension started to dance along Jayne’s spine. She recognised that sensation. It meant trouble.Jayne gripped the handset until her fingers hurt. “But we’ve been separated for over five years. I thought you’d be jumping for joy at the prospect of a divorce.” And your father, too. She refrained from adding the dig. Mention of his father, the Emir of Zayed, tended to result in arguments—she’d learned that a long time ago. And she didn’t want a battle with no ceasefire in sight, she simply wanted a divorce.But this was not going quite as she’d planned. From the outset Jayne had intended avoiding any direct contact with Tariq
Two “S o, you decided to avoid the welcome I had planned for you.” As the Mercedes pulled away, Tariq delivered the statement in a flat, emotionless tone, despite the rage that seethed inside him at what had nearly happened to her.“Welcome?” Jayne laughed. It was not a happy sound. Annoyingly, she looked away from him again and he couldn’t read her eyes—the eyes that had always given away her every emotion. “You would be the last person I’d expect to welcome me anywhere.”“I am your husband. It is my duty to welcome you to Zayed.”Jayne didn’t respond.“Why did you run?” He didn’t like the fact that she had taken one look at him in the airport and fled. Whatever else lay between them in the past, Jayne had never feared him. Nor was he happy with the notion that the only reason she was in the car was because he was the lesser of two evils. The thought that she considered his company only a notch above that of the youths who had assaulted her turned his mouth sour.“I wasn’t dressed for the
Three T he following morning Jayne crept silently into the Emir’s quarters. A couple of men huddled in the antechamber murmuring prayers and didn’t notice her sneaking past. The male nurse in the bedchamber nodded to Jayne as she entered.Jayne was shocked at the change in the tyrant who had made her life such a misery. Sheikh Rashid lay in the high bed, his face gaunt, the bones showing through skin as pale as parchment, his lips drained of all colour. He turned his head when she paused beside him. Jayne had a glimpse of rheumy eyes, great black sunken rings around them, and then his eyelids closed again.“He is not well today,” the nurse said. “He has been drifting in and out of consciousness, confused about what is real and what is not. The painkillers are not helping.”“What exactly is wrong with him?” Jayne asked delicately.“He has cancer of the bowel. It has been eating him, sapping his vitality.”So it was true. The old Emir really was dying. But Jayne felt no satisfaction…or even r
Four A ll thoughts of her family, her sister, her nieces, flew away as Tariq’s mouth plundered hers. His kiss was uncompromising and the flare of heat that started deep in her stomach took her by surprise.It had been a long time.Too long, since she’d last felt this intensity of emotion.As his hand threaded through her hair at the back of her neck, his fingers brushed the sensitive skin of her nape and a frisson of delight ran through her. Tariq knew exactly where to touch…to arouse her, to turn her. The fingertips now moving in little circles sent shivers through her and his lips demanded a response.Jayne gave a little gasp, taken aback by the pent up passion that Tariq had unleashed. Instantly he pressed closer, his tongue stroking into her mouth, tasting her, slower now, languidly, as if he could never get enough.With a groan she reached up, locking her arms around his neck, conscious of her breasts growing taut and tender as her body melted against him. She felt like a flower bloomi
Five A s they approached the Bedouin camp, Jayne stared with interest at the tents that nestled at the base of a rocky rise.“These are Bedu tribal lands,” Tariq told her as he headed the SUV for a huddle of tents. “You can’t see it clearly from here, but on the other side of the ridge there is a village with a school and a clinic, and in the surrounding area efforts are being made at de-desertification.”“What do you mean?” Jayne turned to look at him and couldn’t help noticing how he speeded up his speech, how his eyes sparkled as he spoke. He loved the desert and its people as much as she hated it.“There are olive groves planted in the desert.”“But who looks after them?” She stared at their surroundings. “Aren’t the Bedu nomads, always on the move?”“In the past, yes, but things change…although some still follow the old ways, others are setting down roots.”Jayne gestured to the array of tents. “Some of those tents are huge. But are you saying there are brick-and-mortar dwellings?”“Yes,
Six T wo kilometres on, Tariq and Jayne were still chasing behind the bustard with Noor hunting a long way above.“She’ll be exhausted,” Jayne said in disbelief.“Noor can fly for about an hour making repeated strikes. At the moment she’s taking advantage of stealth,” Tariq explained. “See how she flies above the houbara, with the sun at her back?” Jayne nodded. “The houbara won’t see her coming.”“Good grief.”Just then the falcon tucked her wings and went into a dive, closing in on the bustard. Tariq pulled to a stop, and they both leaped out the vehicle. Even from the ground Jayne could hear the wind whistling through the peregrine’s wings.Tariq moved, hooking his arm around her shoulders.When Noor struck, Jayne looked away. Tariq pulled her into the crook of his arm. Her face buried in the heavy cotton of his thobe, she breathed in the rich, masculine scent of him.When she raised her face from his shoulder the houbara was on the ground and Noor stood over her prey, her head bowed, read
Seven T hat evening, accompanied by an elderly chaperone who had come to fetch her, Jayne left the pokey little room where Leila had installed her, daring her to object, and made her way to the reception rooms.She stalked in, her head held high, ready to take on whoever gave her trouble.Leila.Ali.Tariq.She didn’t care.No one was getting the better of her tonight. For too long she’d allowed Tariq…his father…his political allies to walk all over her. No more.But the sight of a young woman staring with dewy, adoring eyes up at Tariq was enough to stop Jayne in her tracks.The nymph—she was barely old enough to be called a woman—wasn’t touching Tariq…or even sharing extended eye contact, which could be dangerous, but she fluttered her lashes and every line of her body revealed her yearning. Suddenly Jayne felt quite ill.She was thrust into the unwelcome mists of the past…of watching Leila making a play for Tariq. Of the poison the Emir had dripped into her ear about how Tariq should’ve marr
Eight J ayne had a sudden urge to smack Tariq.He sounded so damned pious. She could imagine the uproar that such an act would cause, if the recalcitrant wife struck the sheikh. It was almost worth doing, simply to measure the reaction. She subdued the mad urge. “So, will you marry her after we divorce?” A funny little pain lodged under her heart. She didn’t want to think of Tariq married to another woman. Not even the young and nubile Yasmin.It shocked her.Since when was her mission to gain a divorce no longer the most pressing desire in the world? Why did she suddenly want to spend time with Tariq…to delay the day of departure? She must be mad.“No.” He shook his head. “She’s too young.”“She’s utterly beautiful,” Jayne said wistfully. “Those dark liquid eyes, her cheekbones, that slender figure.”“Beauty is nothing,” he said disparagingly. “Dress up a stick and you get a doll.”“Easy for you to say,” she muttered. He didn’t know what it was like to be plain, never to attract a second loo
Nine W ithout waiting for the doorman, Jayne pushed open the door of the limousine and jumped out. The first heavy splats of rain hit her as she crossed the forecourt. Clutching her purse, she ran for cover. But the heavens opened and the rain came down in torrents.In seconds she was drenched.She reached the overhang of the portico at the front of the porch, out of breath and very, very wet. She leaped up a step, out of the path of the water that was already streaming around the base of the solid stone walls.“Are you okay?” Tariq stood beside her. His white shirt clung to his torso, plastered to his skin. She could make out the taut muscles of his upper arms, the tight wall of his chest through the saturated silk.Quickly she averted her gaze.“I’m fine.” She pushed back the hair that hung like rat’s tails over her face. “I can’t believe how quickly that came out of nowhere.”“Aziz is a desert town, this is a desert thunderstorm.”Already the forecourt was under water, Jayne stared at the
Ten T he next couple of days passed in a haze.Tariq spent most of his days in meetings with Mahood and Ali and Karim, but he’d told Jayne that a resolution was imminent. She lived from day to day, trying not to think about the future…or the past.In the evenings Ali and his brother hosted elaborate state dinners with all kinds of entertainment provided. Singers. Dancers. But it was for the nights that Jayne lived. Nights spent clandestinely making love with her husband.Jayne insisted on returning to her poky little room in the early hours of each morning and mussing the bed. Soon she and Tariq would be divorced. She needed to keep some sort of separation in her own mind. So she worked hard to maintain the fiction that they occupied separate rooms. It was difficult to think beyond the nights when they scorched the sheets before parting in the morning.Their marriage was over, killed long ago by his distrust. But there was no reason why she couldn’t make love with her husband. What damage
Eleven J ayne was still angry and confused when she went down to the mews to visit Haytham, the young saker falcon the next morning. How could she have been stupid enough to have slept with Tariq in Aziz? She’d come to Zayed to get a divorce so that she could get on with her life and cut the ties with the past—and Tariq.She kicked a stone off the path in front of the mews. Now it would be another five years before she could get a divorce. A memory of Tariq kissing her…of his hands lingering on her body…flashed through her mind. Images shifted like a kaleidoscope. Tariq drinking coffee and laughing. Tariq making love to her, his eyes burning.Did she really want a divorce? But how could she stay married to a man who didn’t trust her? She’d planned a whole new life in Auckland, how could she throw it all away and come back to Zayed? And would Tariq even want her back?Her head spinning, she entered the raptor mews and came to an abrupt stop at the sight of Tariq.He stood beside Noor’s empt
Twelve T he funeral took place two days later.Jayne couldn’t believe the number of famous faces that attended. Statesmen and businessmen from all over Europe and the Gulf region were present. Karim al Bashir was there. Farrah Jirah had come to pay her respects and so had Ali and Mahood, along with a very subdued-looking Leila.Tariq’s Kyriakos cousins had flown in from Greece. Athina introduced Jayne to her nephews, Zac and Angelo and their wives Pandora and Gemma. Afterwards, back in the palace gardens where coffee and refreshments were served, Jayne found herself chatting to Pandora, Zac’s wife, and his sister, Katy. There was a sense of sadness about Katy, and Jayne made a mental note to ask Tariq about it later.Angelo’s wife, Gemma, was beautiful, with clouds of dark-red hair. She glanced from Jayne to Tariq, and Jayne sensed her curiosity about their off-again, on-again marriage.A sudden familiar chirp caused Jayne to turn her head. There, on a pole sat a familiar shape.Noor!She lo
← Prev
Back
Next →
← Prev
Back
Next →