She felt the brush of his lips against the top of her head and felt like weeping—she, who never cried.
‘It’s okay, my little Zenobia.’ He sighed and gathered her closer. ‘We’ll return to Bakaan tomorrow and start our marriage properly. Everything will be good. You’ll see.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
BUT TWO WEEKS later things weren’t good, they were frustratingly bad, and Zach had no idea how to rectify the situation. Ever since their return from Ibiza, Farah had seemed to withdraw from him both physically and mentally and not even bringing her beloved stallion to the palace had made her happy.
He stared down at the list of law reforms he’d been sitting on for a week now. One of them was the new legislation giving women the right to apply to the courts for a divorce, the law he had promised Farah he would implement so that she could walk away from him if she wanted to.
Right now he had a feeling she’d do just that and he knew he didn’t want that to happen. It was being so blasted busy that was getting in the way. Since they’d been back, they’d had to attend one state dinner after another as important world leaders came to Bakaan to discuss global issues and future strategies. Having pledged to help Nadir ride out the changes in Bakaan, Zach had done what was required of him and he had also kept his promise to include Farah. Which was both a boon and not, because she had taken to her role as regional ambassador so wholeheartedly that at this rate she could run the country singlehandedly by the end of next week. In fact, she worked so hard she’d often go to bed exhausted. So exhausted that lately he hadn’t wanted to disturb her when he’d come to bed and let her sleep. Maybe that accounted for his sullen frame of mind—a build-up of sexual repression.
But he knew that wasn’t it. He knew it was because he’d realised some time over the past couple of weeks he’d actually fallen in love with his wife and that she did not love him back. And, even worse, he couldn’t help but wonder if her withdrawn state was because she had got what she wanted from him when he’d promised that he would not prosecute her father if they should divorce. Perhaps all she was waiting for was for the divorce laws to be changed and then she’d make her move.
Frustrated and agitated, Zach pushed back from his desk and strode to the window. His office overlooked the stables and his eyes immediately zeroed in on Farah, standing in the sunshine brushing down her stallion’s sweaty coat.
The damned horse got more of her attention than he did and he now regretted bringing it to the palace. He’d done it a week ago to surprise her. He’d wanted to lift her spirits and show her how he felt, how much he appreciated her, and—he could admit now—he’d wanted her to tell him that she loved him, or at least cared for him—but she hadn’t.
She’d wrapped her arms around the blasted horse’s neck and told him she loved him instead. And the damned thing had looked like it would lie down and die for her.
Rubbing at the persistent tension at the back of his neck, Zach wondered what to do about his marriage. Logically he knew that he should just let her go—if that was indeed what she wanted—but he knew he hadn’t offered her that so far because he wasn’t sure that he could. Even now some deep-seated part of himself that must surely date back to his barbarian ancestors warned him that he couldn’t.
It was almost laughable to think that he had once prided himself on how emotionally grounded he was when the truth was that right now he felt about as emotionally grounded as a log. He, who had fought in war zones, who had raced boats at over two-hundred miles per hour, and who had started up his own company without any financial backing was afraid to tell his wife how he felt.
Pathetic.
He watched her lead Moonbeam into the stable, her curvy bottom outlined to perfection in her jodhpurs. A grim smile came to his lips.
It was time he stopped pussyfooting around the edges of this marriage and confronted her head-on. If she happened to throw herself at him, and make love to him in the stables as a result, all the better. If she wanted out, well... hell, he’d give her that, too.
* * *
As Farah housed Moonbeam for the night she couldn’t help but remember the day Zach had brought her beloved horse to her.
‘Is the blindfold really necessary?’ she’d asked nervously.
‘Yes.’
She sniffed the air. ‘We’re in the stables.’
‘Correct.’