The Sheikh's Hesitant Bride (Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 7) (13 page)

They finished the first course of the meal and were awaiting the next to be brought when Rachel leaned her elbows on the table and peered across the table at Zarif. "Irina said something interesting while she was in my room."

Zarif raised a brow. "Really? What?"

Rachel's gaze darkened and once again he felt that familiar surge of emotion, a deep-rooted pulse of need he felt when she looked at him as if she wanted something. He wondered what she needed now, what she would demand from him.

Rachel took a sip from her glass of water. "She mentioned someone special who used to stay here." Rachel peered at him. "Someone apparently very special," she said emphasizing the last two words.

Zarif felt a tightness grip his chest. What had Irina said? He'd given strict instructions to all the staff to be courteous with Rachel but not to engage in any lengthy conversations with her. They were to respect her need for privacy, as well as Zarif's own need for the same.

He paused a few moments before responding. He needed to gather his thoughts. What might Rachel know now? How much of what he had been holding back had been revealed up in that room?

"Someone special?" he asked.

Rachel merely nodded, her gaze fixed upon him. It was clear he wasn't going to be able to avoid giving her some kind of answer. Was this the right time to reveal that part of his past he'd decided to keep from Rachel? Why had he even done that? Had it been because of a fear that if she knew the truth, he would lose any chance of any future with Rachel?
 

Because that was the real reason he'd brought her to Qazhar, wasn't it? An utterly selfish reason, driven by a fierce need to be with Rachel, to claim her as his own.

Zarif drove those thoughts away and gazed at Rachel, still awaiting his response. There was that determination in her eyes. This woman had spirit, he reminded himself. But not the edgy, self-obsessed spirit that Alana had possessed, as if all that mattered was her and her selfish needs. No, Rachel was different. Very different.

She deserved the truth. The fact that she was demanding to know about his past told him something vital, something that sent a shiver through him with the knowledge it suggested.
 

Rachel wanted him.
 

Her need for the truth confirmed what he had suspected back in London. She had come to Qazhar to be with him, not just to take up the opportunity he had offered her. It was more than that.

He'd been right to ask her to come her, to be with him, even though they hadn't yet shared a bed, hadn't yet given in to their mutual passion.

The time would come for that, he told himself, desperately masking the satisfaction that threatened to explode across his features.

He raised his glass and took a long sip, gazing at Rachel across the table. What was he talking about! This woman deserved the truth more than anyone he'd ever known. If it meant they would destroy the barrier between them, he was willing to tell her all.

He placed the glass down slowly and leaned his elbow on the table. His gaze met Rachel's, and an understanding seemed to pass between them.
 

He nodded. "I knew I'd have to tell you at some point."

Rachel's eyes narrowed, her interest intense. "Secrets?" she asked simply.

The word caused a knot of unease to settle in his middle. He shook his head. "Not secrets. More like history. You know. That thing we both have?" he said.

Rachel cocked her head to one side and looked at him. "I'll grant you that. We both come with baggage of kind or another."

He liked her tone of voice. He could see that she wasn't going to let him off the hook. But he wasn't sure about that choice of words. It reminded him of someone else.

"That sounds so clinical," he said.

"What? Baggage? Isn't that the way people talk about their past relationships?" She'd adopted an almost weary, worldly tone which didn't sound completely convincing to him.

"You still haven't told me about yours," he probed.
 

Rachel's brows furrowed. "I asked you first," she said firmly.

"I seem to recall you avoiding some of my questions back in London," he observed.

Rachel squinted at him. "That's a woman's privilege."

"What. Not to tell a lover about her past?"

Her face paled slightly, and she quickly lifted her glass and took a long sip of water. "Who said we were lovers?" she asked averting her gaze from him. Her voice cracked slightly as she said that.
 

"Have you already forgotten?" he asked. Images of her body crushed against his filled instantly filled his mind.

Rachel's gaze settled on him. He could see she was trying to maintain her calm.
 
"How could I have forgotten?"

There was a long pause. Zarif heard the wind sigh through the branches of the trees behind him. He felt the cool air against the back of his neck and wondered why he suddenly felt the heat so much. Why was it so difficult to come out with the truth?

Zarif sighed and gazed across at Rachel. She was waiting again, and this time he wasn't going to be able to avoid telling her what she wanted to know.
 

Zarif swallowed, feeling the tightness in his throat. He forced himself to speak. "Before we met in London I was engaged to be married," he said evenly, his gaze fixed on Rachel eager to see her reaction. There was none. Rachel's gaze remained steady and even upon him.
 

Zarif continued. "The woman was from a prominent family in Qazhar."

"What was her name?" Rachel asked evenly.

"Alana," he replied.
 

Rachel nodded, and he saw her brows narrow slightly as if she was weighing the sound of Alana's name in her mind.

"The engagement didn't work out," he explained. Saying it like that, it sounded like the most obvious thing in the world.

Rachel nodded wordlessly. He still couldn't read her expression. Was she surprised? Was she shocked? Disappointed? He couldn't tell.

"We broke up only a few months ago."

"For how long were you engaged?" Rachel asked.

"A year," he replied.

This time, Rachel's brows rose instantly. "That long?"

Zarif nodded and sighed. "It felt like much longer than that," he admitted.

Rachel's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Zarif leaned back in his chair. "Alana and I weren't exactly suited to each other."

"But you said you were engaged for a year. Surely you must have had some things in common," Rachel said.

"We did at first. We'd known each other for years. Or rather, our families had connections going back generations. That's pretty common here in Qazhar."
 

Rachel's gaze flickered away from him for a few moments. He could see she was thinking about what he'd said. She looked back at him. "Are you saying the engagement was an arrangement between your two families?"

How perceptive she was, he said to himself. He suppressed a smile and nodded. "It was to be an arranged marriage."

"And you felt nothing for this, Alana?" Rachel asked gazing intently at him.

Zarif drew in a deep breath. He wasn't going to lie to Rachel. He'd moved past that point now. "I didn't say that," he said.

Rachel narrowed her gaze. "So, you loved her?"

She didn't hold back, he said to himself, marveling at this woman's directness. Or was it simply her determination to figure out if she'd made a mistake in coming to Qazhar with Zarif?
 

"I thought I loved her," Zarif stated in a flat voice. There had been a time when he couldn't have answered that question. But, right now, just making that simple statement felt oddly reassuring. As if just saying those words had relegated Alana to the past, once and for all.

Zarif saw Rachel's features soften. Was that disappointment he saw there? "But, I know now that I never did love her. It was just an obligation. Convenience," he said hurriedly.

"Just that?" Rachel asked. "Convenience?"

Zarif nodded.
 

"But she lived in this palace. Didn't she?" Rachel asked.

"For a while."

"Wasn't that unusual for Qazhar?" Rachel asked.

Zarif squinted at Rachel. "What do you mean?"

"I thought this country was pretty traditional when it came to that kind of thing," she said.

"You'd be surprised at how modern things are in Qazhar."

He heard Rachel draw in a long breath. She settled back in her seat and gazed at him. "Why did you break up with her?" Rachel asked after a long pause.

Zarif sighed and rolled his eyes. Rachel assumed it had been him that had destroyed the relationship between himself and Alana. "It's a long story," he exclaimed wondering if he could stand to tell Rachel the details of how things had fallen apart between him and Alana.

Rachel waved a hand casually. "I'm not going anywhere," she said.

Zarif smiled at her. "I'm glad you're not." He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his shoulders hunched and tight. "In fact, I don't want you going anywhere anytime soon," he announced gazing at her.

Rachel cocked her head and smiled at him. Her eyes brightened. "I'm not planning on leaving, Zarif," she said with a calm certainty in her voice. "I just got here," she added with a mischievous grin.

Zarif loved the sound of his name on her lips; felt a rush of sensation in his middle at the sight of that smile. He suddenly wanted to go around the table and seize her in his arms and show her just how much he wanted her to remain here, how much he was determined to persuade her that she belonged nowhere else except with him.

But, he realized he still hadn't given her what she had a right to know. The whole truth.

"Alana wasn't the right kind of person for me," Zarif said. "She and I didn't see eye to eye on a lot of things. At first, I thought the differences between us would pass, would become less important as time went by." Zarif paused and sighed. "But, I was wrong. The differences between us only got worse. Alana became a person I barely recognized."

Rachel's brows furrowed. "In what way?"

"When I knew Alana years ago she was a kind, balanced person. She would never have done any harm to anyone. But, I soon realized that that was probably more to do with the influence of her family. She was brought up in a strict family." Zarif sighed. "Perhaps she was rebelling against her upbringing. Maybe that was the cause of her madness."

Rachel's eyes widened. "Madness!" she exclaimed.

Zarif nodded. "After we announced the engagement something in her changed. She became a different person."

"Didn't you still feel some affection toward her?" Rachel asked.

It seemed like an obvious question and it was one that Zarif had struggled with for a long time. Had he even loved Alana?
 

"I suppose I did. At the beginning. I had hopes that everything would work out. After we married." Zarif lowered his gaze. "But it only became more difficult. Alana became wild," he added.

Rachel narrowed her eyes. "In what way?"

"Every way," Zarif said looking at Rachel in a knowing manner, trying to communicate the sheer extent of the craziness he'd endured with Alana in his home. "Every way you can imagine. Temper tantrums; mood swings; endless demands; arguments. Even worse than all that."

Images flashed into Zarif's mind. Awful images that made him feel rage and frustration all over again.

"What did you do?"

"The only thing I could do. I tried to make it work." Zarif gasped in frustration at the memories that came flooding back. "We weren't even married yet, but it felt like we had been married for years. By the end of it all, I'd had enough. I couldn't see any future for us and I told her so. Made it clear that I wouldn't allow my family's reputation to be sullied by such a marriage. We were both unhappy. There was no sense in continuing with the charade."

Rachel was thoughtful for a while and then spoke. "How did she take it?"

Zarif smiled sarcastically. "How do you think she took it?" He grunted. "Not well, at all."

He could see the concern on Rachel's face, see that she was trying to imagine how it must have ended, what kind of scenes had taken place.

Zarif gazed into the distance, recalling the ending, remembering the words, the threats, the accusations. The feelings. "Alana accused me of everything under the sun. Said I'd lied to her; accused me of being unfaithful; claimed I'd entered into the arrangement for my own selfish gain."

Zarif shook his head and sighed. "There was nothing I could say that would change her mind or calm her down."

Rachel's eyes were filled with genuine concern, complete understanding. "That must have been so difficult for you," she said.

Zarif nodded and felt a surge of relief course through his body. He'd been right about Rachel. He'd known she would understand.

Zarif stood pushing his chair away with a sudden urgency. One of the servants appeared pushing a trolley on which were arranged various trays and dishes. The last thing he wanted now was food. He felt almost sick now that he'd shared the details of his past with Rachel.

Zarif went to the servant and spoke with him, ordering him to take the food away for the moment. The servant obeyed and departed.

Rachel stood and came to Zarif, laying a hand on his shoulder.
 

Zarif gazed into Rachel's eyes, those beautiful deep blue pools that suddenly seemed so welcoming, so inviting.

They exchanged a silent moment of understanding, but somehow it didn't seem quite right to give in to the urge to kiss her, to taste her sweetness. Instead, he dragged a hand through his hair and sighed. "I'm not hungry any more."

"Neither am I," she said.

Zarif looked at her and smiled. He glanced out across the expanse of the garden. It suddenly looked inviting. "Do you feel like a walk in the garden?"

Rachel's gaze drifted in the direction of his own. She looked back at him and nodded. "That sounds lovely," she said with a warm smile.

Zarif extended his arm offering it to Rachel who slid her own arm into his. He laid his hand on her arm and smiled at her. "Let's go then," he said.