The Sheikh's Unwilling Wife

‘Although he had a long marriage, it seems that the Sheikh had two illegitimate offspring who were born in Europe during that time. Xavier was one and I am the other,’ he explained slowly. ‘Neither of us was acknowledged publicly, for fear of offending the Sheikh’s wife, but after her death it was his dearest wish to be reconciled with both sons, and for them to meet each other.’ Giovanni’s face was implacable. ‘And that is what has happened.’

‘You mean—you’ve met them?’

Giovanni nodded, his black eyes brilliant-seeking, restless, almost yearning. As if starting out on this bizarre quest had wakened some kind of dormant wanderlust in his blood. As a man who—apart from his one ill-fated experience with Alexa—was used to encasing his feelings in ice, it was strangely unsettling to feel this way.

‘Si,’ he said, his voice now rough with a passion he had not expected to feel for any country other than his Italian homeland. ‘I have met them. I flew to Kharastan. To a palace which is bluer than the brightest sky of high summer. To a land where falcons dominate the stark desert and hunger waits around every corner for the unwary. And there I was introduced to my…’ He toyed with the word family as a cat might play with a mouse before striking. But Giovanni did not strike. His lips curved, for the intimate title seemed inappropriate for a couple of men he barely knew—no matter what their blood-tie was. ‘I met the Sheikh and Xavier,’ he said carefully. ‘And the woman Xavier is to marry. They want me to go to their wedding.’

There was a pause while Alexa tried to digest the incredible facts he had told her. In any other circumstances she might have flung her arms around his neck and told him she was happy for him. Or she might have delved deep into his mind and asked him how he felt about suddenly discovering that he had a ready-made family?

But Alexa could not afford to do any of those things—even if their relationship had been the kind which would allow it. They had parted bitterly—with too much said which could never be unsaid. And there was too much at stake for her to risk asking him anything other than the time of his flight back to Italy.

‘It’s a very interesting story,’ she said carefully, and put her glass down on the table. ‘But I don’t understand why you’ve come all the way from Italy to tell me about it when we’re…’

‘When we’re what, Lex?’ he prompted softly. ‘Neither married, nor divorced? What is it that you say in England—neither fish nor fowl?’

‘We’re separated. Estranged.’

‘But still legally bound—so in theory we are still family. Why is that, I wonder? Why did you not file for divorce, cara?’ he questioned softly. ‘Did some clever lawyer advise you to bide your time—telling you that il tempo viene per chi sa aspettare?’

‘All things come to those who wait?’ Alexa translated slowly, for her command of the language had grown rusty. She hadn’t used it for years. Hadn’t wanted to—just the sound of it took her back to a place too hurtful to reside in.

‘Bravo, bella,’ he applauded softly. ‘Yet—while you may go to the top of the class—you have avoided answering my question. Have you been advised by a divorce lawyer? Closely watching my business dealings and then slowly closing in to make the maximum financial kill?’

Alexa felt the rapid skitter of her pulse, sensed a sudden and unknown danger. ‘You’re a cynic, Giovanni.’

‘Maybe life made me that way—and still you avoid my question.’

Because if she answered him then the whole story of Paolo would come tumbling out. Yet she could not avoid divorce for ever, could she? She’d somehow imagined that Giovanni would file for divorce early on after their split, and that whole subject would come up within the sanctity of a legal framework. Protected by lawyers, she would have been safe. But now too much time had elapsed—and that created its own problems. She honestly couldn’t see a way out of the maze she had helped create.

How could she tell him the truth when it was so blurred in her mind and in her heart that she wasn’t really sure any more about what was real and what was not?

And if you show him any weakness he will pounce on it.

‘I saw no reason in filing for divorce.’

‘Not even for the settlement?’

Alexa hesitated. She could have done with a settlement. But pride had stopped her. She had chosen independence and freedom from his obsessive jealousy over all else—so in the circumstances could hardly ask him for any money. If she did that then the truth would come out, and the chance of a generous settlement was too high a price to pay if it meant that Giovanni could wrench Paolo away from her.

‘Perhaps you wish to remain married to me?’ His black eyes were gleaming as he continued with his relentless line of enquiry. ‘Maybe you regret that the division of our relationship ever occurred? Did you walk out thinking that there might be a million other men like me out there, only to discover just how wrong you could be?’

Alexa opened her mouth to question his arrogance—to remind him of his unrealistic expectations of her which could never be fulfilled. But not only were accusations and recriminations futile, they also had the potential to be dangerous. Because was there the tiniest intimation of truth behind them? Just go. Get up and go.

‘There’s no point in making inflammatory remarks, Giovanni.’ She bent down to retrieve her handbag, repressing a sigh of relief that her ordeal was almost over. Yet there was some part of the feminine psyche—and hers in particular—that made her experience a terrible, tearing pang at the thought that this really might be the last time she saw him. And part of her was longing to ask him a stream of questions about his discovery. But it’s none of your business, she reminded herself. He’s not part of your life.

Isn’t he?

The goading question inside her head disturbed her more than it should have done, and Alexa gripped the strap of her handbag as if her life depended on it. ‘If that’s everything you wanted to say, then I really must be on my way. It really was…’ She shrugged a little helplessly. ‘Fascinating.’

‘Do not be absurd, Alexa,’ he warned silkily. ‘You can’t just get up and leave.’

‘I can do anything I please,’ she returned. Because now the hammer of fear was beginning to strike at her heart—until she reminded herself that not even Giovanni would dare to keep her there by force. ‘That’s the joy of being single!’

Stung to anger, she had given away the fact that there was no man on the scene—but Giovanni did not feel it necessary to allow himself a quiet smile of satisfaction. Even if she’s had a lover he would soon have been dispatched—for who on earth would ever win a woman over Giovanni da Verrazzano?

‘You still haven’t heard the reason why I have come here today, Alexa—surely you are a little bit curious?’

She feigned uninterest but suddenly her senses prickled. There was an air of thinly veiled excitement about him. And something else too—something she couldn’t put her finger on.

Was he going to ask for a divorce? she wondered, and to her astonishment felt her heart plummet like a coin dropped from the top of a tall building. Wasn’t it strange how something as sensible and as irrevocable as the legal termination of a long-dead marriage should have the power to hurt, even after all this time? ‘Okay, I’m curious. Tell me.’

He smiled. ‘I want you to accompany me to Kharastan. I want you at my side for the wedding of my half-brother.’

CHAPTER THREE

ALEXA stared at Giovanni, her heart now beating very fast.

‘You want what?’ she echoed incredulously, as if somehow she might have misheard him—though in reality every silk-dipped word had been as clear as the look of enjoyment on his dark, rugged face. He was getting a kick out of this, she thought.

‘Stop playing for time, Alexa—it really is very simple. Come with me to Kharastan,’he murmured, and his eyes narrowed in sardonic query. ‘You can afford to be so blasé about it?’ he mused. ‘I confess myself surprised—after all, it isn’t every day that a woman gets an invitation to a royal wedding. Doesn’t the prospect of that tempt you?’

She guessed that there were women who would have been thrilled to bits by the prospect of such a high-status event—no matter what the price they had to pay to get there. But Alexa wasn’t the kind of woman who could be swayed or seduced by money or trappings. Hadn’t she left every item of clothing and jewellery behind in Naples when she had fled the marriage?

‘You have to be out of your mind!’ she choked. ‘Give me one good reason why I should accompany you anywhere?’

‘Because you are my wife.’

‘In name only.

‘In name is enough.’

‘Not for me, it isn’t.’

‘But I am talking about my needs, cara—not yours.’

Alexa picked up her wine glass and managed to successfully negotiate a mouthful of wine before putting it tremblingly back down on the table. She felt it burning its way down to her stomach, but at least it gave her a little bit of courage.

‘You’re not making sense, Giovanni—and even if you were the answer would be the same. It’s no. How could it possibly be anything else, in the circumstances?’ She could see that stony, obdurate look she knew so well on his face. ‘There must be women who would queue up around the block to accompany you!’

He stilled, and when he spoke his voice was as cold as ice. ‘You would not care? It does not bother you to think of me taking another woman?’

She injected bravado into her voice. ‘Why should it?’

So she did have the calculating heart of a woman who could just walk away from a marriage without a backward glance or single regret. Hadn’t there been some small and crazy part of him which thought she might react—that she might have cared?

Giovanni’s face darkened with a rage which made him want to hurt her. ‘It does not concern you to think of me kissing her? Nor to imagine me deep inside her body, with her legs wrapped tight around my back, until she cries out her pleasure?’

Unprepared for his sexual taunt, Alexa was not expecting the hot swell of nausea which rose up within her. She flinched. ‘Giovanni—’

His mouth curved and he made no attempt to hide the triumph which washed over him in a heady wave. ‘Of course it does!’he gloated. ‘You would have to be made out of stone for it not to affect you.’

And nobody could accuse her of that. Her body had been soft and warm. It had trembled violently beneath his touch as if he’d been a virtuoso playing a brand-new instrument. Where he had led, she had been content to follow—he had drawn up the boundaries of their sexual relationship and she had seemed happy to comply with them. When she had nodded in flushed agreement to his stern suggestion that they wait until after the wedding before they consummated their relationship, he had known a thrill of expectant pride like no other.

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