Seeing that she was having a quiet moment by the small reflection pool in the corner, he strode toward her.
"Why so quiet, my Jasmine?" Tariq's question was whis pered against her ear.
"I'm amazed each time I realize that your people have ac cepted me." It was neither a lie nor the whole truth. Haleah's words had made her wonder just how obvious her love for Tariq was. If his people could see it, why couldn't her husband?
The pensive look in his green eyes gentled. "You are my wife. There was never any question." He touched her lower back. "Now, tell me what is truly on your mind."
His perception startled her. "Hira."
His brows rose. "One of my advisors needs to learn dis cretion."
"She's my advisor now, thank you very much," Jasmine retorted. "I appreciate being in the know."
Tariq's eyes glinted with male amusement. "Gossip, you mean > , "Essential information." She smiled in return. "So?"
"How can women say so much in one word?" He squeezed her when she opened her mouth. "Hira's family wished a po litical match. I didn't."
The practicality of his words calmed Jasmine. "She's very beautiful."
"Beautiful women cause men only trouble." His eyes lin gered on her, but it was the tenderness of his tone that made her heart stop beating.
Touched by the subtle compliment, she did something she rarely indulged in, unsure how Tariq would react. Reaching up on tiptoe, she dropped a quick kiss on the corner of his lips. "Ditto for outrageously handsome men."
His surprised laugh drew all eyes their way, bringing smiles to the faces of their audience. However, the royal couple weren't disturbed.
"What does Jasmine al eha Sheik mean?" she asked, since she had him to herself for a few minutes, and the hand curved over her hip told her he was quite happy to be there.
Tariq's smile held an unusual hint of mischief. "You will not like it, my independent little wife."
She tilted her head to the side, struck by his tone. Unless she prompted him, her husband was rarely so playful. "What?"
"The literal translation is `Jasmine who belongs to the sheik.' The sheik's Jasmine. They know you're mine."
She smiled and shook her head. "They are as bad as you."
He shrugged, unrepentant. "It is an address of honor. If they had not liked you, they would have called you this." He rat tled off an unfamiliar phrase.
"What does that mean?"
"It means, `One who is married to the sheik."'
She frowned. "What's wrong with that?"
"Strictly speaking, it is respectful, but if a sheik's wife is addressed as such, the people do not believe that she is the one who should stand by their ruler's side."
"How strange. Does that mean you're Sheik al eha Jas mine?"
Tariq grinned but didn't get a chance to answer, because at that moment, a couple interrupted them to say their farewells. Kanayal and Mezhael were ambassadors from another corner of Zulheil.
"I wish you good journey." Tariq's demeanor underwent a subtle change. He remained warm and approachable, but the mantle of authority settled around him like an invisible cloak. It made Jasmine aware of just how different he was with her when they were alone.
Kanayal bowed at the waist, approval on his face. Mezhael clasped her hands together and bent her head in respect.
"We will go back to Razarah with joyful news for our tribe." Kanayal's eyes rested briefly on Jasmine. "I will tell them of sunsets and blue skies."
"All is well in Razarah?"
Jasmine knew that Tariq's question was more an issue of protocol than real inquiry. This afternoon, when the ambassadors had arrived, they'd both been invited to a private meal with Tariq. Her husband had insisted that Jasmine attend, tell ing her that he valued her intuitive insights.
Kanayal's hazel eyes were warm. "All is well in Razarah."
"As always, you will be in our prayers." Mezhael's eyes met hers. "Jasmine al eha Sheik, I will sing for you."
Not understanding the undercurrent in Mezhael's statement, Jasmine nevertheless knew that it was offered as a compliment. She inclined her head, imitating Tariq's regal action without conscious thought. "Thank you. I wish you good journey."
When they left, Jasmine saw that they'd been the last guests. The others had drifted out, happy to communicate their good byes through Hiraz, Mumtaz or the other advisors scattered around.
"Come, I will answer your question in our suite."
"How did you know I was going to ask you a question?" She let Tariq lead her inside the palace.
"You always get a certain determined look in your eye. It is most disfiguring. You should stop asking questions."
"You're a horrible tease, you know that, don't you?" She was laughing, safe in the knowledge that he liked her curiosity and her desire to learn.
"I have you to tell me." Tariq tugged her inside their bedroom and closed the door. He pressed her against the door before running his hands over the smooth material of her dress. "Where are the buttons?"
Tariq's passion was so hot, Jasmine felt scorched. As a result of the inferno, they didn't get around to dinner until very late. Jasmine only remembered to ask her question when they were in bed. She turned in Tariq's embrace and propped herself up on his chest.
"Why would Mezhael sing for me?"
Tariq's eyes were hooded, his expression that of a sated panther. He ran his finger across the fullness of her lower lip. "The Song of Gifting is unique to Zulheil." His tone was indulgent as he explained. "As you know, our country follows the old ways. It is what sets us apart from our neighbors."
"The Song of Gifting." She mulled that information over, enjoying Tariq's lazy but affectionate exploration of her face. "So she's singing it as a gift?"
"No. She will sing it to ask for a gift for you."
Jasmine kissed his fingers when he stopped at her lips again. He smiled and carried on, trailing his fingertips across her cheek to trace the rim of one ear.
"What gift?"
The glint in his eye was the only warning she had. "A child. There will be many such songs sung across Zulheil in the coming weeks." Tariq chuckled at her gasp. "My people have decided that you are the woman to bear the next sheik."
"They don't waste time, do they?" She wriggled up his body until her lips were over his.
"You are young, Jasmine, and not yet with child. If you wish, we will wait."
They'd already lost so much time, Jasmine thought with a pang of old pain. "I may be young but I've always known that I would bear your child."
His expression was suddenly bleak. "Come, Mina. Love me and convince me of that truth."
She gave him everything she had, but somehow knew that it wasn't enough. Tariq needed something else from her, something that he'd never ask for and that she couldn't divine. She fell asleep with a lump in her heart. The fear that had been eating away at her returned in full force, haunting her dreams with premonitions of loss and suffering.
Chapter Twelve
"You are not excited about this journey, my Jasmine?"
Jasmine turned her face from the airplane window. "Of course I am. Attending Australian Fashion Week will be a wonderful learning experience for me."
Tariq frowned. "Yet you seem preoccupied."
She bit her lip, thrown by his perceptiveness. "I guess I am a little. It's the first time you've let me leave Zulheil."
The hand he'd placed on her own tightened a fraction. "And you will return to Zulheil." His voice was hard, elim inating her misty dreams of trust.
"Yes." She would go wherever Tariq resided. "Will you be very busy with the energy conference?"
His face underwent a subtle change at her calm acceptance of his decree. However, the fact that he'd entertained even for a second the belief that she might defect, told her that deeper issues of trust and forgiveness lay buried within his heart. Even her agreeing to have his child had not rebuilt their broken bond.
"I'm sorry you cannot participate." His mouth twi
sted in a wry smile. "Zulheil may allow its women full participation, but most of the Arab states at this conference hold different views. Those who agree with Zulheil's approach are helping me to try and change the others' thinking, but progress is slow."
"And to challenge them openly with my presence at this juncture could well destroy everything that you've achieved?"
He threw her a quick grin. "Correct. Even though this conference involves the leaders of the Western world as well, including their women, our neighbors are the ones we must be careful of. I cannot afford to take a too-radical stance and alienate the massive powers that surround our borders."
She nodded, understanding the delicate balance he sought to maintain. "One step at a time. Perhaps by the time I'm fifty, I'll be able to chair such a conference," she joked.
Tariq didn't answer. When she turned her head, she found him staring at her. "What?"
"We will have been married for twenty-eight years by then.' I
" Goodness. I didn't even think of that." "Then perhaps you should."
His enigmatic statement kept her company throughout the journey. They landed at Sydney Airport around 2:00 a.m. Go ing through customs, Jasmine confused her two passports.
"Sorry. This is the one you need." She handed over her newly issued Zulheil passport and put the other one away.
Tariq didn't say anything until they were in the limo on the way to the hotel. "Why did you bring both passports?"
Looking out at Sydney's lights, Jasmine replied absent mindedly, "The New Zealand one was in the pocket of my carry-on bag from when I entered Zulheil. I forgot all about it."
He didn't say anything further on the topic and came to sit beside her, teasing her for her open delight in the night scenery. She teased right back, but once in their hotel room, exhausted by the long flight, she fell into immediate slumber.
Tariq woke just before dawn. Mina was asleep, her head resting on his chest. He tangled his fingers in her glorious hair, feeling an urgent need to touch her, to appease the slowly healing creature inside him. He'd made the decision to trust Jasmine's loyalty on this trip, aware that she was no longer a teenage girl. What he hadn't counted on was his possessiveness and the frailty of this new accord between them. He'd needed his Mina to himself for a while longer.
He hadn't meant to snap at her on the plane, and had been immediately sorry that he had done it, seeing the hurt in her expressive eyes. But his generous wife had forgiven him. He would, he vowed, try to control his edgy possessiveness. It was not her fault that they were in this country, which had to remind her of her homeland. And it was not her fault that he was ... afraid. Afraid that once again she'd make a choice that would shatter his soul. He hated that feeling.
Yet he couldn't have left her in Zulheil. It would have bro ken her tender heart if he'd forced her to remain behind-one more rejection on top of so many others. He touched her cheek and felt something deep inside him sigh in defeat.
Unbeknownst to her, his wife once more held his heart in her hands.
"I have tickets to most of the shows." Jasmine waved the pieces of paper in Tariq's direction. He stopped in the process of buttoning up his white shirt and stalked over.
"You will be accompanied by Jamar."
She stood up to finish buttoning his shirt. "He'll be bored stiff."
Tariq gripped her wrists, forcing her to meet his vivid green eyes. "I do not do this to clip your wings, Mina. You are the wife of the Sheik of Zulheil. There are those who would hurt you to reach me." His words were gentle.
She gasped in surprise. "I hadn't considered that. I guess I'm still not used to being your wife." She knew she'd said the wrong words the moment they left her mouth.
Tariq's jaw firmed into a determined line that she knew well, and his grip on her wrists suddenly felt like steel hand cuffs. "That will never change, so get used to it." He dipped his head and took her lips in a profoundly possessive kiss, his body rigid against hers. "You belong to me."
She thought he was going to leave her with that image of distrust, wounding her. Instead, he turned at the door and walked back to her, his shoulders taut. "Mina." His eyes were dark and turbulent. The gentle touch of his finger on her cheek was an apology.
Carefully, she reached up and kissed him softly on the lips. "I know I am your wife, Tariq. I know."
He nodded, an expression in his eyes that she couldn't read. "Take care, wife. I would not lose you." Then he was gone, leaving her shaken by the power of that statement.
Whether it took place in Sydney or Melbourne, Australian Fashion Week was one of the biggest shows on the planet, full of every type of style, color and decadence. Jasmine was entranced, though she never forgot Tariq's words. Did love drive her husband's possessiveness, or something less beautiful? Her mind continuously went over the words.
However, she didn't have to worry about Jamar. Her muscled bodyguard enjoyed watching the women on the catwalks, if not the fashions. He was commenting on a curvy brunette when a hand on her shoulder made Jasmine cry out in surprise. Jamar moved so fast she didn't see him shift. Suddenly, his big bulk blocked her field of vision.
A throaty feminine laugh breached the barrier.
"Jamar, it's okay." Shocked, Jasmine pushed around his side when he refused to budge from his protective stance. "She's my sister."
"Hello, Jasmine," Sarah drawled.
"Sarah." Her sister's beauty seemed even brighter. Sarah's mouth curved into a smile that was without warmth. "So, what's it like being part of a harem?"
After all these years, Tariq's revelation had given Jasmine an insight into her sister's cruelty. "I'm Tariq's wife."
Sarah didn't hide her surprise fast enough. A bitter look tinted her beautiful eyes for a second. "Well, well. Caught the big fish, after all." She looked over her shoulder. "It's been lovely but I must rush. Harry's probably looking for me."
Sarah turned and disappeared into the dimness beyond the lights of the catwalk before Jasmine could reply. The minutelong meeting left her feeling a confusing mix of emotions.
"She is not like you." Jamar moved to her side once more, his blunt features set in disapproving lines.
"No. She's beautiful."
"And icy. That one is cold."
Jamar's words reminded Jasmine of Tariq's statements. Suddenly, her heart felt lighter, more carefree. Her husband had chosen her. He thought she was good enough just as she was, and that was what mattered.
"How did the initial negotiations go?" Jasmine asked Tariq over dinner. She'd decided to eat in their suite, aware that he'd be craving some peace and quiet.
He ran his hand through his damp hair, having just show ered. Under the terry-cloth robe that he'd thrown on to placate her sense of modesty, his tanned skin glowed with health. "It is as I expected. Those with oil wish to keep their position of power and are unwilling to look at alternatives."
"Isn't that short-sighted? Oil will eventually run out."
His eyes gleamed with intelligence. "Exactly. And it is not only money but our world that we must consider."
Jasmine reached across the table and touched his hand. "As an ex-New Zealander, I'd have to agree with you. Kiwis are very big on clean and green."
"Are you?" He trapped her hand beneath his.
"Am I what?"
"Are you an ex-New Zealander?"
She paused. "Aren't I? I thought after marrying you, I gained Zulheil citizenship?"
He nodded once. "Zulheil allows dual citizenship."
"I didn't know that." She smiled. "My heart belongs to you and your land, Tariq. It's home."
He began to rub his thumb in tiny circles across her wrist. "You have no wish to return to your family?"
She knew her smile was a little sad. Even though they'd hurt her so much, they were her family. A lifetime couldn't be easily dismissed. "I saw Sarah today."
"Your sister is well?" His question was innocuous, but his eyes were alert.
She shrugged. "You know Sarah."
>
He didn't say anything, simply watched her face with eyes that seemed to see through to her soul. When he stood and came around the table, she was ready for him. That night, his lovemaking was tender and careful, as if he was trying to soothe her hurt. She forgot Sarah's barbs with his first touch, her heart overflowing with love for her desert warrior.
Her grip on her husband's strong body was fierce, her loving equally tender, his comments at dinner having given her an insight into his mind. Her husband had been afraid that she'd be tempted by the proximity of her country of birth. He didn't know that Zulheil was the only place that she truly thought of as home, and only because it was his land.
Jasmine spent most of the next day shopping for gifts. Jamar tagged along like a good-natured, if extremely large, puppy, even offering suggestions on prospective purchases.
"Your sister is approaching us," he stated suddenly.
Jasmine looked up in surprise. Sure enough, Sarah was making her way through the small boutique in Darling Harbour.
"How about lunch, little sister?" For once, there was no sarcasm or bitterness in her words, and Jasmine couldn't resist the invitation. Old habits were hard to break and this hint of an olive branch from an always-unapproachable sister was too good to pass up.
Before they reached the car, Sarah asked her if they could stop in at a travel agency. "Have to pick up some tickets." She smiled and wiggled her fingers at Jamar.
The bodyguard, who'd been hanging back, moved closer.
Jasmine smiled at him. "We're just going to stop by a travel agent's office. Can you tell the driver?"
Jamar frowned but did as she asked, taking the front passenger seat, while Jasmine sat in the back with Sarah. As the vehicle was a courtesy provided by the Australian government, there was no glass partition between the two compartments. Mindful of that, Jasmine kept her voice down as she chatted with Sarah, catching up. When she admitted to missing her family, Sarah said, rather loudly, "So, when do you want to leave for New Zealand? I'll book your ticket right now."
Jasmine responded in a quieter tone. "I'll see if Tariq has some free time after the conference." She wondered if she could convince her husband to return to the place where they'd hurt each other so much.
To her surprise, lunch was pleasant. Starved for news about her family, she drank in every one of Sarah's words. "Thank you," she said, after paying the bill for both their meals. "I needed to know about everyone."