It might be weak, just giving in to her longing to be with him, but Aziza was on her feet in a moment, hurrying to change into riding gear and to head down towards the stables with him. She could take a pregnancy test tomorrow.
* * *
‘Where are we going?’ she asked when they were mounted and had turned their horses away from the capital, out towards the desert. A small group of bodyguards followed at a very discreet distance, but they might as well have been alone. As alone as a king could be outside of his private palace apartments.
‘I thought we’d head out to the oasis.’
He could only hope that the exercise, the fresh air, would ease his unsettled mood, Nabil admitted to himself. He had spent the morning trying to attend to diplomatic business but had found it impossible to focus. The recollection of just what day it was had shattered any hope of rational thought.
Ten years ago, he had started his day with everything and a future to look forward to. He had ended it with nothing. Not a hope. Not even trust.
He couldn’t bear to stay in the palace and remember how it had felt to set out from there, with Sharmila on his arm, their tiny child still just a promise of life inside her growing belly. But far worse was the recollection of the return to his rooms, after the rush to hospital, the screaming siren of the ambulance. The silence of his suite had closed about him then, total and echoing, leaving him with the shattered fragments of the future lying in ashes around his feet.
He didn’t intend to return to the palace, to that suite, tonight.
‘We both need some relaxation, some private time away from the prying eyes at the court, with everyone watching and waiting for news.’
‘You noticed?’ She flushed and shifted uncomfortably, unable to quite meet his eyes.
He sought to reassure her. ‘They’ve been watching me too,’ he said wryly. ‘Watching and wondering.’
He knew that the attention and the speculation was getting to her. For weeks now, she had been growing quieter and more withdrawn with each day that passed. Perhaps this break from the palace would help her relax.
‘I’m sure we’ll both feel better away from the pressure of expectation. Out here we can be ourselves.’
The wide smile she turned on him made him realise just how much it had been missing recently. He hadn’t been able to ignore the tiny lines of concern that often formed around her beautiful eyes.
‘Not the Sheikh and his Queen but man and wife.’
It was meant to reassure her but, as he said it, he realised just how much he wanted that too. He wanted to go back to the way things had been in the first days of their honeymoon. Even to the time just after the wedding day when he had come to look forward to the evenings as the best part of the day. The investigations he’d set in place had become less and less important when he’d thought of Aziza’s quiet presence waiting for him.
Perhaps this way he could begin to feel that he hadn’t made a terrible mistake for Aziza by choosing her to be his selected Queen. He had wanted all she represented in his memories—gentleness, warmth, understanding—for his children. And he had wanted her glorious sensuality and her luscious body in his bed for himself. But had he stopped to think whether she could handle all that went with being Queen? The lack of privacy, being the focus of all eyes, the public demands and the lack of privacy that went with the job?
She had been unprepared for the position. And he knew all about the sense of shock, of disbelief, that came with the unexpected descent of responsibility when you least expected it. He had been too young when that cloak of responsibility had landed on his shoulders, rocking his world and threatening to throw him off balance. Another reason why he’d got caught up with Sharmila. He should have known he was a damn fool where women were concerned.
No, as always, he’d thought he knew better. He’d been desperate for her company, a stupid, headstrong, lonely fool. She’d taught him that it could be better to live alone. He’d even told himself he preferred it. Now he knew different. Aziza was a calm, welcoming anchor of peace at the end of even the stormiest day.
She’d grown too; changed. The girl who had asked if it was possible to get used to being the centre of such attention now faced the crowds smiling and waving like a true queen. As a result she made it easier for him too. The attention was shared, more than halved—everyone wanted to see his new consort. She was his quiet support, his gentle strength, and when they went back to their room at night his joyous passionate lover. But he was afraid that the pressure might still break her. Had he done right to take a sweet innocent and subject her to this constant attention?