‘I’ve never seen anything like them.’ She might be a geologist, but she usually saw stones in their raw state. She estimated that these were unique and incredibly expensive. Yet it wasn’t their monetary value that mattered. It was Ashraf’s expression as he offered them.
Her heart stilled. Could it be...?
* * *
‘You like them?’
Ashraf cringed inwardly at the neediness of that question. Like a kid seeking validation from an adult, or a lovesick youngster mooning over a girl he could never have.
Yet he knew Tori would eventually come to him. He’d seen hints that she’d begun to see the sense of his arguments. Plus there were clear signs of her sexual frustration. Her hungry stare as he entered the room had been like an incendiary flare. He still felt the sparks in his blood.
‘They’re stunning. But I can’t—’
‘Of course you can. And it would please me if you wore them.’ He paused, watching her waver. ‘Azia will be disappointed if you don’t. She made a point of telling Bram what colour you were wearing, knowing he’d tell me.’
Tori’s mouth rucked up ruefully. She liked Azia, which pleased him. Azia and Bram had kept him sane these last couple of years since he’d taken the throne. True friendship was in scarce supply in the royal court.
‘In that case, thank you.’
Colour streaked her cheekbones. Ashraf knew she wasn’t used to accepting gifts. He liked that. Liked knowing she’d never been beholden to other men. She’d been shocked when he had procured that horse for her, protesting at length though it had been clear she adored the mare. His Tori was very independent but he enjoyed giving her presents.
He watched her replace her plain silver studs with the new earrings. As she turned the light caught the gems, drawing attention to the pale pearl lustre of her skin and her slender throat.
Ashraf’s pulse quickened.
His. His magnificent Victoria.
Shewouldbe his—and soon.
Not just because she was the mother of his son. But because he wanted her. He’d never want any other woman but her.
It should have been a shocking revelation. Instead the knowledge was like the final piece of a puzzle slotting into place. Ashraf felt a buzz of excitement and at the same time the peace of acceptance.
His gaze fell past pale skin down to a dress that glittered like the fathomless night sky in the desert, awash with stars. Traceries of delicate silver thread gave way to pure black where the dress skimmed her gorgeous body.
Ashraf swallowed hard. His baser instincts urged him to forget the people already gathered in the royal audience chamber. He’d rather spend the evening here with Tori.
He read her eyes, which had turned misty with awareness. It would take little to persuade her into bed...
But he had a duty to his people. A duty to Tori. To show her what her world would be like in Za’daq. That included events like tonight—not as much fun as visiting a souk or a village. She had to know the worst as well as the best. He just hoped, with a nervousness he hadn’t felt in years, that the reality of court life didn’t terrify her.
* * *
As expected his arrival, with Tori on his arm, caused a ripple. Cronies of his father raised eyebrows and matrons who’d shoved their unmarried daughters in his direction since he’d ascended to the throne barely hid their chagrin.
Ashraf surveyed them undaunted from his superior height. Tori was his personal guest. When she married him people would have to accept his choice.
None of them were courageous enough to say what was on their minds. That the woman at his side wasn’t a Za’daqi aristocrat. That he’d actuallytouchedher in public—even if it was just a guiding hand on her elbow. That he’d broken custom by wearing western clothes.
They’d put up with his changes to government policy because even the most hidebound had begun to see the benefits. But alterations to court tradition, and by extension to their own sense of superiority, would be harshly judged by some. There had already been dismay because he’d been seen holding Tori’s hand on a rural visit.
However, he sensed change wouldn’t be as difficult as it had been when he’d inherited the throne. His nation was altering. Ashraf had enjoyed the evening more than usual. There was a wider mix of social groups and foreigners attending. Plus the atmosphere became more relaxed after the crowd had gone outside to watch feats of horsemanship, archery and acrobatics. He’d seen Tori’s delight and viewed it all through new eyes, enjoying her enthusiasm.
Now, late in the reception, he was enjoying a joke with an army officer who’d been a friend in the old days. When he’d believed he’d found his future in the military. Before his father had cut short his career, outraged at the thought of the despised cuckoo in the nest excelling at something.
Ashraf saw Tori, stunning in silver and black, eyes bright as she laughed with Azia, another woman and a man he recognised as a foreign diplomat. Tori was gesturing towards Ashraf, as if pointing him out.
At that moment an older couple broke in on the group. The irascible Minister for the Interior and his haughty wife. They spoke and Azia flushed furiously. Tori’s chin lifted. The two foreigners with them looked startled.