Read Online The Sheikh's Forbidden Virgin by Kate Hewitt - Free Book Online
Authors: Kate Hewitt
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
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empty save for a few benches and some icons adorning the walls. Kalila sat on one of the benches, her back to Aarif. Something about her position—the rigid set of her shoulders and yet the despairing bowing of her head—made Aarif pause.
He took a breath, waited for the rush of fury to recede, acknowledging to himself it had been unwarranted. Too much. And yet for a moment he’d thought—he remembered—
He cleared his throat, and Kalila turned her head so her face was in profile, her dark lashes sweeping her cheek. ‘Have you come to take me away?’ she asked, her voice soft, as if it were being absorbed by the stone.
Aarif took a step towards her. ‘I wondered where you were.’
‘I wished for some air.’ She paused, and Aarif waited. ‘I’ve always liked this place. My parents were married here, you know. It was founded when the Byzantines went down to Africa—well over a thousand years ago now.’ She gave a little sigh as she looked around the bare walls. ‘It survived the invasion of the Berbers, the Ottomans, the Turks. A noble task, don’t you think, to keep one’s identity amidst so much change?’
Aarif took a step closer to her. ‘Indeed, as your country has done,’ he said, choosing to guide the conversation to more impersonal waters. ‘I know the history of Zaraq well, Princess,as it is a neighbour of my own homeland, Calista. When nearly every other kingdom was invaded and taken over the centuries, yours alone survived.’
‘Yes, because we didn’t have anything anyone wanted.’ She gave a little laugh that sounded cynical and somehow wrong. ‘Ringed by mountains, little more than desert, and inhabited by a fierce people willing to fight to the death for their pathetic patch of land. It’s no wonder we survived, at least until the French came and realised there was nickel and copper to be had under our barren earth.’
‘Your independence is no small thing,’ Aarif said. He saw Kalila’s hands bunch into fists in her lap.
‘No, it isn’t,’ she agreed in a voice that surprised him; it was steely and sure. ‘I’m glad you realise that.’
Aarif hesitated. He felt the ripple of tension and something deeper, something dark and determined from Kalila, and he wondered at its source.
In an hour, he reminded himself, they would be on a plane. In three hours, they could be at the Calistan palace, and Kalila would be kept in the women’s quarters, safe with her old nurse, away from him. The thought should have comforted him; he’d meant it to. Instead he felt the betraying, wrenching pain of loss.
‘We have enjoyed the festivities, Princess,’ he said, ‘but you were right, we must go. The hour grows late and a storm looks to approach, a sirocco, and living in the desert you know how dangerous they can be.’
‘A storm?’ Interest lifted Kalila’s voice momentarily. ‘Will the plane be delayed, do you think?’
‘Not if we leave promptly.’
She hesitated, and Aarif resisted the urge to take her into his arms. He wanted to scold her, tell her to stop feeling sorry for herself, and yet he also wanted to comfort her, to breathe in the scent of her hair—
Irritated by his own impulse, he sharpened his tone. ‘Iregret to disturb your tranquillity, Princess, but there is a duty to fulfil.’ There always was, no matter how crippling the weight, how difficult the task.
‘I’m coming,’ she said at last, and there was a new resolute determination to her tone that relieved Aarif. She rose gracefully, glanced at him, her eyes fastening on his, and once again Aarif was transfixed by that clear gaze, yet this time he couldn’t read the expression in it.
‘I’m sorry, Prince Aarif,’ she said in a quiet, steady voice, ‘for any trouble I’ve caused you.’ She laid a hand on his arm, her fingers slender and cool, yet burning Aarif’s skin. Branding it, and he resisted the desire to cover her hand with his own, to feel her fingers twine with his once more. A
He took a breath, waited for the rush of fury to recede, acknowledging to himself it had been unwarranted. Too much. And yet for a moment he’d thought—he remembered—
He cleared his throat, and Kalila turned her head so her face was in profile, her dark lashes sweeping her cheek. ‘Have you come to take me away?’ she asked, her voice soft, as if it were being absorbed by the stone.
Aarif took a step towards her. ‘I wondered where you were.’
‘I wished for some air.’ She paused, and Aarif waited. ‘I’ve always liked this place. My parents were married here, you know. It was founded when the Byzantines went down to Africa—well over a thousand years ago now.’ She gave a little sigh as she looked around the bare walls. ‘It survived the invasion of the Berbers, the Ottomans, the Turks. A noble task, don’t you think, to keep one’s identity amidst so much change?’
Aarif took a step closer to her. ‘Indeed, as your country has done,’ he said, choosing to guide the conversation to more impersonal waters. ‘I know the history of Zaraq well, Princess,as it is a neighbour of my own homeland, Calista. When nearly every other kingdom was invaded and taken over the centuries, yours alone survived.’
‘Yes, because we didn’t have anything anyone wanted.’ She gave a little laugh that sounded cynical and somehow wrong. ‘Ringed by mountains, little more than desert, and inhabited by a fierce people willing to fight to the death for their pathetic patch of land. It’s no wonder we survived, at least until the French came and realised there was nickel and copper to be had under our barren earth.’
‘Your independence is no small thing,’ Aarif said. He saw Kalila’s hands bunch into fists in her lap.
‘No, it isn’t,’ she agreed in a voice that surprised him; it was steely and sure. ‘I’m glad you realise that.’
Aarif hesitated. He felt the ripple of tension and something deeper, something dark and determined from Kalila, and he wondered at its source.
In an hour, he reminded himself, they would be on a plane. In three hours, they could be at the Calistan palace, and Kalila would be kept in the women’s quarters, safe with her old nurse, away from him. The thought should have comforted him; he’d meant it to. Instead he felt the betraying, wrenching pain of loss.
‘We have enjoyed the festivities, Princess,’ he said, ‘but you were right, we must go. The hour grows late and a storm looks to approach, a sirocco, and living in the desert you know how dangerous they can be.’
‘A storm?’ Interest lifted Kalila’s voice momentarily. ‘Will the plane be delayed, do you think?’
‘Not if we leave promptly.’
She hesitated, and Aarif resisted the urge to take her into his arms. He wanted to scold her, tell her to stop feeling sorry for herself, and yet he also wanted to comfort her, to breathe in the scent of her hair—
Irritated by his own impulse, he sharpened his tone. ‘Iregret to disturb your tranquillity, Princess, but there is a duty to fulfil.’ There always was, no matter how crippling the weight, how difficult the task.
‘I’m coming,’ she said at last, and there was a new resolute determination to her tone that relieved Aarif. She rose gracefully, glanced at him, her eyes fastening on his, and once again Aarif was transfixed by that clear gaze, yet this time he couldn’t read the expression in it.
‘I’m sorry, Prince Aarif,’ she said in a quiet, steady voice, ‘for any trouble I’ve caused you.’ She laid a hand on his arm, her fingers slender and cool, yet burning Aarif’s skin. Branding it, and he resisted the desire to cover her hand with his own, to feel her fingers twine with his once more. A
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