‘Prince Zahir has instructed that you are to meet him at the palace entrance.’ The servant bowed respectfully. ‘If you would like to follow me?’
So that would be right now, would it? This was how it was to be—Zahir issued his orders and she was expected to obey. Just like any other member of his staff. Instinctively Anna wanted to rebel, to say no, just to prove that she wasn’t at his beck and call. But what would that achieve, other than deliberately antagonising him? Something which she strongly suspected would not prove to be a good idea. Besides, she had nothing else to do.
A wall of heat hit her when she stepped out into the searing afternoon sun. Shielding her eyes, she could see Zahir standing by the limousine, waiting for the chauffeur to help her inside before getting in beside her.
‘Can I ask where we’re going?’ She settled in her seat, preparing herself to turn and look at him. It still gave her a jolt every single time her eyes met his, every time she stared into his darkly rugged features. It was like a cattle prod to her nervous system. He had changed into a sharply cut suit, she noticed, so presumably this wasn’t a pleasure trip.
‘The Assembly House in the town square.’ He returned her gaze. ‘I have arranged a meeting with some officials, members of the senate and the government. It will be an opportunity to introduce you to them, so they can put a face to the name.’
A face to the name? His cold phrase left her in no doubt as to her role here—she was nothing more than a puppet, to be dangled in front of the people that mattered, jiggled around to perform when necessary and presumably put back in her box when she wasn’t required. It was a depressing picture but she had to remember that this was what their union was all about, a mutually reciprocal arrangement for the benefit of both of their countries. Nothing more. She needed to catch her sinking stomach before it fell still further.
Breaking his gaze, Anna turned to look out of the window as the limousine swept them through the streets of Medira. It was a city still under construction, enormous cranes swinging above their heads, towering skyscrapers proudly rocketing heavenwards. The place certainly had a buzz about it. Lowering her head, Annalina peered up in awe.
‘I hadn’t realised Medira was such a metropolis. Is it really true that this whole city has been built in under two years?’
‘It has, in common with several other major cities in Nabatean.’
‘That’s amazing. You must be very proud.’
‘It has been a great responsibility.’
Responsibility. The word might as well be indelibly etched across his forehead. In fact it was, Anna realised as she turned to look at him again. It was there in the frown lines that crossed his brow, lines that furrowed into deep grooves when he was lost in thought or displeased. Which seemed to be most of the time. There was no doubt how heavily responsibility weighed on Zahir Zahani’s shoulders, that his duty to his country knew no bounds. He was prepared to marry her, after all. What greater sacrifice was there than that?
‘But you have achieved so much.’ For some reason she wanted to ease his burden. ‘Surely you must allow yourself a small acknowledgement of that?’
‘The acknowledgement will come from the people, not me. They are the judge and jury. Everything we are doing here in Nabatean is for them.’
‘Of course.’ Anna turned to look out of the window again. It was pointless trying to reason with him. Through the shimmering heat she could now make out a mountain range, grey against the startling blue of the sky. She was used to mountains—Dorrada had plenty of them—but these were not like the familiar snow-capped peaks of home...these were stark, forbidding.
‘The Jagros Mountains.’ Zahir followed her gaze. ‘They form the border between us and Uristan. They look deceptively close but there is a vast expanse of desert between us and them.’
Just as well. Annalina had no desire to visit them. She remembered, now that he said the name, that they were the mountains that had been the scene of terrible fighting during the war between Nabatean and Uristan.
‘If you look over there...’ With a jolt of surprise, Anna realised that Zahir had moved across the leather seat and was now right next to her. She registered the heat of his body, his scent, the sound of his breathing as he stretched one arm across her to point at an oval-shaped structure in the distance. ‘You can see the new sports stadium. It’s nearing completion now. Soon we will be able to host international sporting events. We intend to make a bid for the Olympics.’
Now the pride had crept into his voice. This might be all about the people but there was no doubt what this country meant to Zahir.
‘That’s very impressive.’ His nearness had caught the breath in her throat and she swallowed noisily. How was it that this man affected her so viscerally, so earthily? In a place deep down that she had never even known existed before?
She was grateful when the limousine finally pulled up outside the Assembly House and she was able to escape from its confines. Escape the pull of Zahir’s power.
* * *
The meeting was as long as it was boring. Having been introduced to large numbers of dignitaries and advisors, Anna was then given the option of returning to the palace whilst the men—because it was all men—continued with the business of the day. But stubbornness and a vague hope that she might understand some of what they were discussing, that she would get a small insight into the running of Nabatean, made her say she would like to stay. In point of fact, even though the meeting was conducted in English, the items on the agenda were far too complicated for her to get a grip on, and she ended up staring out of the window or sneaking sidelong glances at Zahir as he controlled the proceedings with masterful authority. There was no sign of his brother at the meeting, or even any mention of him. It appeared that Zahir was the man in charge here. The power behind the throne.
They were standing at the top of a short flight of steps, preparing to leave the building, when Zahir suddenly stopped short, unexpectedly moving his arm around Anna’s waist to pull her to his side. Looking outside, Anna could see a small crowd of people had gathered, leaning up against the ornate railings, peering up at the building expectantly.
Pulling out his phone, Zahir barked orders into it and from nowhere several security guards appeared. Dispatching a couple of them into the crowd, he waited impatiently, his grip around her waist tightening with every passing second. Anna could see a vein pulsing in his neck as his eyes darted over the crowd, missing nothing, a sudden stillness setting his features in stone. He reminded her of a dog on a leash, waiting to be set free to chase its quarry.
‘What is it? What’s the matter?’
‘That’s what I’d like to find out.’
The security guards returned and there was a brief conversation, during which she saw Zahir scowl, then look back at her with obvious contempt.
‘It would seem that the crowd are here to see you.’
‘Oh.’ Anna stood a little straighter, smoothing the creases of her dress. ‘That’s nice.’
‘Nice?’ He repeated the word as if it was poison in his mouth. ‘I fail to see what’s nice about it.’
‘Well, it’s not surprising that people want to meet me. They are bound to be curious about your fiancée. I suggest we go out there, shake some hands and say hello.’
‘We will do no such thing.’
‘Why ever not?’
‘Because there is a time and a place for such things. I have no intention of doing an impromptu meet-and-greet on the steps of the Assembly House.’
‘These things don’t always have to be formal, Zahir. It doesn’t work like that.’
‘In Nabatean