Having never in her life inspired any strong feelings in gorgeous-looking men—obviously they remained oblivious to the fact she was lovely inside—to have someone looking at her with that level of hostility and contempt had been quite disturbing.
His face floated into her mind gain; she tried to expel the image but it lingered. It was a face with a ‘once seen never forgotten’ quality. Even if you wanted to forget the golden skin stretched over hard angles and intriguing hollows, the sensual mouth and searing blue stare.
‘You must have been mistaken, Molly.’
‘I expect so,’ she said, already wishing she had not introduced the subject. But no matter what Tariq said she knew she was not mistaken—Tair Al Sharif could not stand the sight of her.
Not that she was going to lose any sleep over his opinion of her. As first impressions went she hadn’t taken to him either.
‘If it will make you feel better I will explain our relationship to him straight away.’
‘There’s really no need.’ She wondered if the flicker she saw in her brother’s eyes was relief. The possibility shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. ‘And I’d actually prefer if you didn’t.’
On a practical level she knew the searing dislike she had read in the Arab prince’s face was not going to alter just because he knew she was Tariq and Khalid’s English half-sister.
No, it had been loathing at first sight.
Besides, there were some people you didn’t want to like you, and he was one of them, she decided. She mentally ticked off the qualities that made him undesirable—off-the-scale arrogance, no sense of humour, and he was in love with himself. The last seemed a reasonable assumption to Molly, who reasoned a person who looked at that face in the mirror every day would have to be just a little fond of himself.
‘It is up to you, Molly, but what I came to say to you is that it is not a relationship that we are ashamed to acknowledge, quite the contrary…though,’ Tariq conceded with a grimace, ‘obviously it would be difficult to go public because…’
‘This isn’t easy for your father.’
Tariq looked grateful for her understanding of the situation. ‘It was hard for him when our mother left… He is a proud man and the scandal of a divorce in our society, the gossip and stories, left its mark.’
It had been hard for Tariq too, but this was something Molly had not appreciated until very recently.
‘Your father has been very kind to me and I wouldn’t do anything to embarrass him. I’m not about to go public. I promise you I won’t breathe a word to a soul. If anyone asks I’m Bea’s friend.’
It was not a hard promise to make, as the level of hospitality she had received from the king had touched her deeply. However, she realised it could not be easy for him to have his ex-wife’s child as a guest.
Molly knew enough about Zarhat culture to recognise that when Tariq had touched on the subject of the royal divorce he had, if anything, been downplaying the situation, yet the king had welcomed her into his home when many in his position might not have even wanted reminding of her existence.
Her solemnity as she made her vow of silence brought an affectionate smile to Tariq’s face ‘I appreciate that, Molly. But you do know that Khalid and I would both have been proud to have introduced you as our sister tonight.’
Warm moisture filled Molly’s amber eyes as emotion clogged her throat. ‘Really…?’
‘You can doubt this?’ he asked, before a spasm of self-condemnation twisted his dark features. ‘Of course you can. Why would you not after I have ignored you for the past twenty-four years? If you had told me to go to hell it would have been what I deserved.’
A grin spread across Molly’s face as she flicked away a strand of waist-length hair that had drifted across her face. It was still slightly damp from the shower. ‘The way I recall it I pretty much did just that.’
The reminder of that meeting brought a rueful grin to his face.
‘If it wasn’t for Beatrice coming to see me I wouldn’t be here now,’ she said frankly.
It was true. When the half-brother who had ignored her since birth had suggested they should get to know one another, her response had been to angrily reject his overtures. What did she need with a brother who she knew had caused their mother so much heartache by refusing any contact with her after her second marriage to Molly’s father?
They were strangers and Molly had been happy for it to stay that way; she’d wanted nothing to do with him.
Why would she?
She owed Tariq nothing. He hadn’t just ignored the fact she existed, he had pressured Khalid, whom she had seen and adored as a small child before their mother’s premature death, to reject her too.
It had been a visit in person from Beatrice pleading her husband’s case that had persuaded her to accept the invitation.
Molly had come prepared, almost wanting, to despise this brother, but to her amazement after a slightly rocky start she had found herself liking Tariq.
‘And you are glad you did come?’
Molly uncurled her legs from underneath her as she lifted her chin and scanned the lean dark face of the brother she still barely knew. ‘Very glad,’ she admitted huskily.
Tariq smiled and got to his feet. ‘And you will think about what I have said?’
‘I will,’ she promised, walking with him to the door.
‘Tariq!’
Standing framed in the doorway, he turned back.
‘I do understand, you know…why you wouldn’t come and visit Mum when she was alive.’
She hadn’t always. As a small child the only thing she had understood was the desperate hurt in her mother’s eyes when the eldest son she had been forced to leave behind when she’d divorced the King of Zarhat had not accompanied his brother for the arranged visit.
It had not crossed her mind at the time that Tariq had been hurting too and perhaps feeling betrayed that the mother he had loved had chosen her freedom over her sons.
‘Dad told me, when he knew I was coming here, how she never stopped feeling guilty about leaving you and Khalid, but she knew you would be safe and loved. She always knew that your place was here.’
‘And hers was not.’
There was no trace of criticism in Tariq’s manner but Molly felt impelled to defend the choice their mother had made.
‘She must have been very desperate.’
Molly could only imagine the sort of unhappiness that would make a woman make that choice. She knew nothing about the strength of maternal bonds, but something deep inside her told her that to leave a child would be like ripping away part of yourself and you’d walk around with that awful emptiness the rest of your life.
Without being judgemental, Molly really couldn’t imagine a situation where she would make the same decision.
‘But she knew you and Khalid would be well cared for and I think me being here would have made her very happy.’
Without a word Molly stepped into arms that opened for her and the years of rejection and anger melted away.
‘God, look at me, I’m crying,’ she said as she emerged from a crushing brotherly hug. She wiped the moisture from her face with one hand and pushed back her hair with the other.
‘Go on,’ she sniffed. ‘Or Beatrice will be sending out the search party.’