Defying her Desert Duty Read Free Page A

language all its own. There’d be no errors with this man. She shivered, cold to the bones.
    ‘And you are?’ Soraya forced herself to speak.
    One slashing black eyebrow rose, as if he recognised her question for the delay tactic it was.
    ‘My name is Zahir Adnan El Hashem.’ He sketched an elegant bow that confirmed his story more definitively than any words. It proclaimed him totally at home with the formal etiquette of the royal court.
    In jeans, boots and black leather, the movement should have looked out of place, but somehow the casual western clothes only reinforced his hard strength and unyielding posture. And made her think of formidable desert fighters.
    Soraya swallowed hard, her flesh chilling.
    She’d heard of Zahir El Hashem. Who in Bakhara hadn’t? He was the Emir’s right-hand man. A force to be reckoned with: a renowned warrior and, according to her father, a man fast developing a reputation in the region as a canny but well-regarded diplomat.
    Her fingers threaded into a taut knot.
    She’d thought he’d be older, given his reputation. But what made her tense was the fact that the Emir had sent
him
, his most trusted royal advisor. A man rumoured to be as close to the Emir as family. A man known not for kindness but for his uncompromising strength. A man who’d have no compunction about hauling home an unwilling bride.
    Her heart sank.
    It was true, then.
Absolutely, irrefutably true.
    Her future had caught up with her.
    The future she’d hoped might never eventuate.
    ‘And you are Soraya Karim.’
    It wasn’t a question. He knew exactly who she was.
    And hated her for it, she realised with a flash of disturbing insight as something flickered in the sea-green depths of those remarkable eyes.
    No, not hatred. Something else.
    Finally she found her voice, no matter that it was raspy with shock. ‘Why seek me out here? It’s hardly a suitable time to meet.’
    His other eyebrow rose and heat flooded her cheeks. He knew she was prevaricating. Did he realise she’d do almost anything not to hear the news he brought?
    ‘What I have to say is important.’
    ‘I have no doubt.’ She dragged her hand from the supporting wall and made a show of flicking shut her phone and putting it away. ‘But surely we could discuss it tomorrow at a civilised time?’ She was putting off the inevitable and probably sounding like a spoiled brat in the bargain. But she couldn’t help it. Her blood chilled at the thought of what he’d come all this way to tell her.
    ‘It’s already tomorrow.’
    And he wasn’t going anywhere. His stance said it all.
    ‘You have no interest in my message?’ He paused, his eyes boring into her as if looking for something he couldn’t find. ‘You’re not concerned with the possibility that I bring badnews?’ His face remained unreadable but there was no mistaking the sharp edge to his voice.
    The phone clattered to the floor from Soraya’s nerveless fingers.
    ‘My father?’ Her hand shot to her mouth, pressing against trembling lips.
    ‘No!’ Colour deepened the razor-sharp line of his cheekbones. He shook his head emphatically. ‘No. Your father is well. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—’
    ‘If not my father, then—?’
    An abrupt gesture stopped her words. ‘My apologies, Ms Karim. I should not have mentioned the possibility. It was thoughtless of me. Let me assure you, everyone close to you is well.’
    Close to her. That included the man who’d sent him.
    Suddenly, looking into the stormy depths of Zahir El Hashem’s eyes, Soraya realised why he’d pushed her. How unnatural of any woman not to be concerned that sudden news might bring bad tidings about the man she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with.
    Guilt hit her. How unnatural
was
she? Surely she cared about him? He deserved no less. Yet these last months she’d almost fooled herself into believing that future might never come to pass.
    No wonder his emissary looked at her so searchingly.