The Innocent Carrying His Legacy by Jackie Ashenden

CHAPTER EIGHT

NAZIRGLANCEDATIvy as the helicopter flew over the last rocky stretch of desert to the mountains in the north of Inaris. She hadn’t said anything since they’d left the fortress, not even when he’d announced that they would be leaving for one of his private residences located at a famous hot spring in the mountains.

Some time away from the fortress to get to know one another was needed, away from all distractions, and he’d already made arrangements. He hadn’t expected their sexual encounter in the salon only hours earlier, but that hadn’t changed his plans. If anything, it only made them more vital.

Ivy had been subdued afterwards, not saying a word, not even when he’d told her they would be going away for a few days. He’d expected her to make some kind of fiery protest or insist on staying put, but she didn’t. She’d simply nodded her head and let him bundle her into the helicopter without speaking.

It concerned him. The sex had been unplanned, which he would have worried about more if it hadn’t been expected at some point, certainly given their chemistry. And she’d been a willing participant. No, more than that. She’d been desperate.

If I weren’t pregnant with your child, you wouldn’t even have looked twice at me...

Something twisted around him and tightened.

She was gazing out of the window at the landscape rolling beneath them, the late afternoon light hitting the curve of her cheek, making her fine-grained skin look as if it were glowing.

He couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

She’d been so frantic in his arms, so hungry. A passionate woman who’d been starved of affection. Starved of happiness too, he’d bet. And perhaps that was understandable given her background. He didn’t imagine children’s homes were easy places to grow up in, no matter how well run they were.

She wanted to be wanted, that was clear, even as she fought her own desires.

You can give that to her.

He was a commander and a hard one at that, and he gave no quarter, not to anyone. After he and his father had been banished from the palace, his father had made it his mission to cut the softness right out of him, and he’d succeeded.

Nazir no longer felt the intense urges of his younger days, the desperate need for his mother’s smile. The soft touch of her hand in his hair. The look of love that had crossed her face in the brief moments when he was permitted to have time with her, the only sign of affection she allowed herself to give him.

They had been all too few, those moments. Instances of shining happiness and joy. But that was the problem with happiness. Once you’d known it, all that mattered was getting more of it. More and more, like an addict with a drug, until you weren’t sure how you could exist without it.

Better never to have never known it at all, his father had often told him bitterly.

But Nazir had known it. And he’d known softness too, and, though he no longer allowed either of those things in his life these days, he could allow some space for Ivy to have some. It wasn’t her fault she’d been brought up in a children’s home. It wasn’t her fault her friend had died. It wasn’t her fault that a trip to the desert to honour her friend’s last wish had ended up with her being held in a fortress by the father of the baby she carried.

Certainty settled down inside him. Yes, he would give her what he could; he would give her the affection and passion she so obviously craved. He had no dregs of softness left in him, but he remembered it well enough that he could pretend. And if that failed, then at least they had the passion that had burned bright between them in the salon.

He was careful not to allow himself to think about why her happiness mattered to him. It was a redundant question anyway. It mattered because she would be his wife and, besides, the well-being of any soldier should be a commander’s top priority. How else could they perform at their best?

But she isn’t one of your soldiers.

Nazir thrust that particular thought away as her scent wrapped around him, soft jasmine and a delicate, muskier perfume that made his mouth water, that made him remember what it was like to have her beneath him, twisting and writhing, her small hands pulling at his T-shirt, trying to touch his skin.

He was no stranger to power and yet the particular power he’d felt as he’d pushed inside her had felt new to him. She’d looked up at him, her eyes widening in shock and a flicker of pain that had gradually given way to pleasure...and wonder and awe and fascination.

Awe he got from people frequently, along with fear. But never wonder or fascination. As if he were a delicious secret, or a captivating mystery she was impatient to get to the bottom of. And she hadn’t seemed to care about how controlled he’d had to be so he wasn’t rough with her. In fact, she’d seemed more than keen to incite him further, to push him, to test his control...

Anticipation gathered in his gut, thick and hot, along with a dark, primitive kind of need. He wanted very much to chase her, to take her down as a lion took down a gazelle, bite the back of her neck as he drove himself into her, hard and rough and—

But no. He wasn’t going to surrender to those needs. He’d beaten the hungry part of himself into submission and he would never allow it off the leash again.

The helicopter soared over the mountains, some capped with snow. The hot spring and the mountain valley in which it lay were in a beautiful place, gentler than the desert and a much kinder place for her than the harsh sun, intense heat, and a medieval fortress full of soldiers.

‘Oh,’ Ivy exclaimed softly, her gaze out of the window. ‘There’s snow.’

With an effort, Nazir brought his attention back to the scenery. ‘Yes. The mountains are at a high enough altitude. It’s particularly lovely in winter.’

She gave him a fleeting glance. ‘Explain why we’re going there again?’

‘I did,’ he said patiently. ‘Were you not listening?’

‘No.’

There was a tart edge to her voice, which pleased him. Clearly his little fury had come out of her subdued mood. He hoped so. He preferred her fiery, because that at least he knew what to do with.

‘So we can have some privacy to discuss a few things in more pleasant surroundings,’ he said.

‘The courtyard and the salon were perfectly pleasant.’

He watched her face and the guarded lines of it while she stared out of the window instead, retreating back into her no-nonsense armour, and he had the sudden, wicked urge to crack that armour. To shatter it entirely so the warm, vital woman inside it could breathe.

‘You know what was perfectly pleasant?’ He kept his tone deliberately neutral. ‘You screaming my name as you came.’

A fiery blush swept over her cheeks. ‘That was a mistake.’

‘No, it wasn’t,’ he disagreed. ‘It was most pleasant indeed.’

Ivy flicked him a disdainful glance before looking once more out of the window. ‘For you, perhaps.’

Stubborn woman. When was she going to drop that armour and surrender? What was the key that would unlock her?

Ah, but he knew that already. He’d unlocked her in the salon, as she’d lain beneath him panting and desperate. She hadn’t been fighting him then. Then, she’d surrendered.

‘Are you telling me you didn’t enjoy it?’ Again, he kept the question neutral, all the while watching her like a hawk. ‘Or perhaps you let me believe something that wasn’t true?’

Her blush deepened. She let out a soft breath and this time when she turned to look at him, she met his gaze squarely. ‘No. I didn’t let you believe something that wasn’t true.’

‘So you enjoyed it, then?’ He would have that from her. He would.

‘I...’ The soft shape of her mouth hardened a second, then relaxed. ‘Yes,’ she said with all the reluctance of a woman admitting to a painful truth. ‘I did enjoy it.’

Intense satisfaction spread out inside him, as if that admission had been everything he’d been waiting for.

‘Good.’ He held her gaze, letting her see how pleased that had made him. ‘Because I intend to do it again...and often.’

Her cheeks had gone a very deep red, but she didn’t look away from him this time. ‘And if I don’t want you to?’

Well, she wouldn’t be Ivy if she agreed to everything he said.

‘You don’t have to keep fighting, little fury,’ he murmured. ‘Sometimes you can rest.’

‘Don’t call me that.’

‘I’ll stop calling you that when you stop being so furious.’

‘I’m not furious.’ Yet her hand had clenched in a little fist where it rested on her thigh.

He was filled with the strangest urge to put his hand over hers to soothe her. His mother had done that once, when he’d been young and his father had come to take him away, the brief, stolen moment he’d had with her at an end. He’d protested, too young to heed his father’s warning to be quiet, and so his mother had said softly, taking his hand in hers and holding it, ‘Don’t cry, my darling boy. I’ll see you again very soon. Until the next time, hmm?’ Then she’d given him a little squeeze, as if transferring some of her warmth into him.

He’d forgotten that. Forgotten how that had comforted him. Perhaps that would also help Ivy. So he lifted his hand and enclosed her small fist in his. She jolted as he touched her, her eyes widening.

‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Nazir said quietly. ‘I like it when you fight me. But fighting without purpose will only tire you out and it achieves nothing. Save your energy for the battles that matter.’

She stared at him and for a second the helicopter was full of a tense, electric energy. ‘Does sex not matter, then?’

The question hit him strangely, like a gut punch he hadn’t seen coming. Because no, sex had never mattered to him before. It was like eating and sleeping, essential to his physical well-being, but ultimately just a bodily function. And it was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that. Yet somewhere deep inside him, he knew that was a lie.

Sex had never mattered before. But it did now. It mattered with her. And why that was, he had no idea, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie and tell her it didn’t.

‘I always thought it didn’t,’ he said, ‘up until just a few hours ago.’

She frowned. ‘Just a few hours ago? But just a few hours ago...’ She stopped, realisation dawning. The guarded, almost defiant expression dropped from her face entirely. ‘You mean it matters because of...’ She trailed off again, as if she couldn’t bring herself to complete the sentence.

‘Because of you, yes,’ he finished for her.

She blinked, long, thick, silky lashes gleaming a deep brown in the sun coming through the windows. ‘I don’t understand.’ Her voice had a husky edge to it. ‘Why should I make any difference?’

He could see in her face that the question was genuine.

She’d asked him a very similar question back there in the salon, too, about why he wanted her. As if she’d had no idea about how passionate and beautiful she was.

Maybe she doesn’t know. Maybe no one has ever told her.

A tight feeling—a familiarly tight feeling—gathered in his chest and he found himself holding her small hand very firmly and rubbing his thumb back and forth across her soft skin.

‘Because you’re infuriating, aggravating, stubborn, and intensely passionate,’ he said. ‘You’re also loyal and very courageous and incredibly beautiful.’

She didn’t smile. She looked at him as if the words had hurt her.

‘You don’t believe me, do you?’ he asked bluntly.

Her gaze flickered and she looked away, back out of the window once more. ‘No one ever thought those things about me before.’ The words were so quiet they were almost inaudible. ‘Why should you be the first?’

He frowned. ‘No one? No one at all?’

She shook her head. ‘It’s not important.’

‘Ivy.’ Her name came out in a low growl, letting her know that he was not in any way satisfied with that particular answer.

She sighed and then finally glanced at him again, her expression guarded. ‘I was brought up in a children’s home, and no one much cares about foster kids, so forgive me for being a little sceptical about compliments.’

He knew her background already from the research he’d done, and he could certainly understand such scepticism. Some of his men had been foster children and he knew that coming from such a background wasn’t easy. Yet it wasn’t all bad. Some people who came through the foster system managed to find loving and supportive families. Though, perhaps she hadn’t?

‘It sounds like you had a painful experience,’ he said neutrally.

She lifted a shoulder. ‘It wasn’t as bad as some.’

‘Why? What happened?’

She was silent a moment, then carefully she removed her hand from his and resumed her study of the scenery. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

His instinct was to push her, but now wasn’t the time and this certainly wasn’t the place. It would be better once they were at his residence and settled in. Perhaps after he’d satisfied that desperate hunger of hers, she’d relax her guard, lower her walls.

Ten minutes later, the helicopter banked and then came in to land on the rooftop of his private villa. The house itself was of white stone and built into the side of a mountain, overlooking a pretty valley and its famous hot spring.

The place had long been a holiday retreat for Inarian aristocracy, a little town of the same white stone built near the origin of the spring itself. There was an elegant spa resort catering to tourists and a few restaurants and bars, plus the Sultan’s own holiday palace, but Nazir preferred to keep apart from people and so his villa was somewhat removed from the town itself.

It was built around a small waterfall that came directly from the hot spring, flowing down the bare rock of the mountainside and into a deep pool he’d had constructed especially for the purpose. A number of terraces had been built to take advantage of the views of the valley, but the back of the house where the waterfall and pool were located was completely private.

He didn’t often have time to visit and hadn’t been here in at least six months, but he’d sent instructions to the people he employed to take care of the house to make the place ready for his arrival, and sure enough the moment they landed the housekeeper appeared, ushering them down the stairs from the helipad and into the cool peace of the main living area.

It was early evening and dinner was being prepared, or so the housekeeper assured him, and would they like any refreshment? Nazir gave her some more instructions, then dismissed her, glancing at Ivy as she moved over to the large double doors that opened out onto one of the terraces.

She was dressed in her yoga pants ensemble yet again and he made a mental note to check if the clothes he’d asked to be bought for her had arrived, since he knew most women liked to wear different things on occasion. Certainly he didn’t care what she wore; he wanted to see her in nothing at all, quite frankly.

A silence had fallen, tension drawing tight in the space between them.

Ivy had her back to him, her hair in that loose ponytail down her back, the chestnut strands gleaming in the last of the sun that shone through the windows, illuminating the rich texture. Nazir had crossed the room towards her before he’d even thought it through, reaching out to take that pretty skein of hair in one hand, to run his fingers through the softness of it.

She froze, her breath catching audibly in the sudden silence.

The warm silk of her hair against his skin made the simmering desire, which hadn’t subsided one iota since their interlude in the salon, intensify. He eased aside her ponytail and, keeping a grip on it, bent to press his mouth to the sensitive pale skin of her nape.

She trembled, but didn’t move, the tension coming off her so fiercely it was an almost physical force.

She wanted him, wanted his touch. Wanted to surrender. Yet she was fighting it. Fighting herself.

Poor little fury. All this resistance must surely be taking it out of her.

Her skin warmed beneath his lips and when he brushed another kiss over the back of her neck, she shivered again.

‘Come,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll show you the pool. I think you’ll like it.’

‘The pool?’ Her voice was husky and sounded a little shaken.

‘This is a famous spa town, but you don’t need to visit the resort. I have my own personal hot spring right here.’ He combed his fingers through her hair, easing her back against him. She tensed a moment then, as if giving up some private battle, relaxed.

‘I don’t know if I want that right now,’ she said, sounding stiff. ‘I think I might need some time to myself.’

But they weren’t in the helicopter now and he wasn’t going to let her retreat yet again.

Gripping her shoulders firmly enough that she couldn’t pull away, Nazir turned her gently around to face him, letting her see that she couldn’t escape, that he wouldn’t allow it. ‘What is it, Ivy? Why are you fighting me so very hard?’

A small shudder went through her and he caught a glimpse of that desperation, that hunger that lived inside her, once again. She was trying to hide it, trying not to let him see it. She could sense the predator in him and she didn’t want to show weakness.

It was too late of course. He knew now.

‘Is it something to do with what you said on the way here?’ he asked when she didn’t say anything. ‘About your time at the children’s home?’

Her lashes swept down, veiling her gaze. ‘Nazir...’

The sound of his name, offered without any warning, went through him like a sword, clean and bright, and just like that his patience ran out.

Her determination to keep him at a distance ended here. Now.

‘Tell me,’ he ordered. ‘How can I make this better for you if you keep pushing me away?’

Ivy’s gaze was wary, the pulse at the base of her throat beating very fast. Then she said with a trace of defiance, ‘I told you that I was a foster child, that no one cares about foster children and they didn’t. Or at least, they didn’t care about me. I was the only one in the home who was never adopted. One by one all the other kids were, including my friend, Connie, but not me. Never me.’ A flame of anger and a deep pain burned in her eyes. ‘For some I was too quiet. For others I was too loud. I had too many behavioural issues or I was too old. Nothing was ever right about me and nothing I did made any difference. And now you’re telling me I’m all these things, things I’ve never been to anyone else, and I...’ She took a trembling breath. ‘I can’t believe you, I just can’t. Because I’ve been wrong before, Nazir, and you never get over the disappointment. Never.’

His gaze narrowed and for whole seconds but what felt like minutes, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t read the expression that flickered across his granite features. It was something fierce, she knew that, but what it meant she had no idea.

She’d given too much away, hadn’t she? She should never have opened her mouth, not when everything she said revealed more of the sharp, jagged pieces of herself that she tried to keep secret. That she didn’t want to show anyone, let alone him.

But there was something about him that seemed to draw those things out of her. Something in his deep, authoritative voice and in his sharp, penetrating gaze. In the firm hands he put on her, in the way he wouldn’t let her hide, wouldn’t let her run. Wouldn’t let her no-nonsense, sometimes prickly manner put him off.

He demanded things from her that she’d been certain she’d never give anyone and yet here she was, giving them to him in much the same way as she’d given him her virginity.

He drew passion from her, he drew fire. The same passion and fire that she’d fought down and kept hidden, because it was all part of her desperation. The deep neediness of wanting to be something to someone that she couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard she tried. The need to be accepted and loved. To be chosen.

But she’d never been chosen and to think that he might actually choose her...well, she couldn’t accept it. Once she’d had some interest shown in her by a lovely couple, who’d made the effort to get to know her. They’d taken her out for a couple of day trips then had taken her back to their house, shown her a room they’d decorated for her. And she’d allowed herself some hope that finally she’d have the family she wanted, only for the adoption to fall through. The couple had changed their minds, she was told. There had been no reason given, but Ivy knew why.

It was her. It was always her. There was something wrong with her.

Her muscles tightened in readiness to pull away, but before she could he let her go and stepped back. His expression was impassive and yet his blue gaze burned hot.

‘Let me show you the pool,’ he said, and it was not a request.

‘But I—’

He said nothing, holding out his hand to her, making it clear that he expected her to take it. And she found herself doing exactly that, the warmth of his fingers closing around hers and the firmness of his grip easing something that had become far too tight inside her.

Without a word, he drew her from the living area and down a hallway, the dark wooden parquet illuminated in the evening light. The walls were pale, and heavy beams of dark wood crossed the ceiling above. A selection of the most beautiful hand-knotted silk rugs had been hung on the walls, giving the place a rich, luxurious feeling without it being suffocating or over the top. She’d never been in a place like it.

The hallway eventually led out onto a stone terrace with the mountain soaring upwards behind it. The terrace ended at a deep, intensely blue pool fed by a gentle waterfall that cascaded down the side of the mountain. The rock gleamed and glittered blue and white and pink from the mineral deposits left by the water, and the flames from braziers that had been lit around the side of the pool made the glitter more intense.

It was the most beautiful place Ivy had ever seen.

Nazir let go of her hand and turned towards the pool. Then, without any fuss, he began to strip off his clothes, casting them onto one of the white linen-covered loungers grouped around the pool.

Ivy blinked, her mouth going dry as the intense, masculine beauty of him was revealed. He was broad, heavily muscled, and powerful. His skin was a deep bronze, the flickering of the braziers outlining the broad planes of his chest and the chiselled ridges of his stomach. His shoulders were wide, his waist lean, his legs long and powerful. He was a perfect physical specimen in peak condition. Here and there, the bronze skin was marred by white scars of different shapes and sizes, and it hit her, almost forcibly, that these were signs of a life of violence. Because of course they were. He was a soldier, wasn’t he? He commanded an army.

Once he was naked, he strode to the pool with that athletic predator’s grace. A set of stairs led down into the water, but he didn’t use them. Instead, he paused at the side of the pool and then dived in, leaving barely a ripple. A second later, he surfaced, pushing his black hair back from his face as he turned towards her. Then he held out his arms, the blue-green flame in his eyes offering a challenge.

It was clear he wanted her to join him.

A streak of heat went through her. It was too tempting to resist and he probably knew that. And really, she should just ignore him. But the needy thing inside her wouldn’t let her, and before she was even conscious of it she’d begun to undress, first peeling off her T-shirt and then her bra. She took off her sandals, pushed down her yoga pants and her knickers, and then stepped out of them.

He watched her, the flame in his eyes leaping higher, his attention turning intent, making her mouth even drier and her cheeks feel hot. Resisting the urge to cover herself, she walked to the edge of the pool, hoping it was with the same unselfconscious grace that he had.

He followed her every movement, his expression not so impassive any longer but sharp with open masculine hunger. He liked what he saw of her, that was obvious, and he made no attempt to hide it.

Ivy wished she could dive as he had, but she’d never had swimming lessons. She could float and do dog paddle, but that was about it, so she turned to the stairs that led down into the pool.

Nazir moved suddenly, coming over to the edge where she stood, raising his arms to her. ‘No. Come to me, Ivy,’ he murmured.

She wasn’t sure why he wanted to take her down into the water himself, but, feeling awkward, she lowered herself to sit on the side of the pool and then leaned forward towards him. His hands settled on her hips and suddenly she was weightless, surrounded by deliciously warm water and the hotter, harder feel of his body against hers as he drew her to him.

She took a shaky breath, because she couldn’t touch the bottom and there was nothing to hang onto except him. But his arms surrounded her, pulling her tighter against him, urging her legs around his waist, her breasts pressed against his iron-hard chest. Part of her instinctively wanted to push him away, to get some distance, but there was no distance to be had. It thrilled at the same time as it disturbed her.

His gaze held hers and the strangest feeling of security began to move through her. Left with no choice but to allow herself to be held, Ivy relaxed into him. His skin was slick and warm, and he was so strong. It felt as if he could hold her for ever if he wanted to.

He didn’t speak, moving slowly backwards towards the softly falling waterfall that fed the pool.

‘Don’t worry,’ he murmured. ‘It’s warm.’

Her hands were somehow on his powerful shoulders and she was gripping him tightly. ‘I’m not worrying.’ She glanced up at the waterfall, the drops of water glittering in the light. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘It is. And it’s been too long since I was here.’

‘Why? Are you too busy?’

His hard mouth curved. ‘That and the fact that I don’t like sitting around doing nothing. This is a retreat and I’m not one for retreats.’

‘What do you do, then? Fight wars with that army of yours?’

His lashes were long and thick, glittering with drops of water, the gleam of his eyes beneath them no less intense. ‘Are you really interested, little fury, or are you simply making conversation?’

She flushed. ‘Perhaps I’m tired of talking about me. And anyway, you said you wanted us to get to know one another.’

‘So I did.’ He moved closer to the waterfall, the gentle rush of it as it fell down the mountain filling the silence. ‘I don’t fight wars with my army. It’s for protection. For example, sometimes governments hire us to protect polling stations for free elections, or hospitals and medical staff in times of unrest, or other parts of vital infrastructure. Sometimes we’re hired by private companies to free people in hostage situations or to protect goods and staff.’ He smiled suddenly, bright and dangerous in the last of the evening light. ‘I pick and choose what contracts we accept, and I don’t allow my men to be used in territorial or border wars. We’re peacekeepers, not killers.’

Interested despite herself, Ivy stroked absently over the slick skin of his shoulders as she studied him. ‘That sounds all very altruistic for a bunch of men trained specifically to kill other men.’

This time his smile held real amusement. ‘You’re sceptical, and I suppose you should be. But my beginning was as a soldier in the palace guard and the purpose of a palace guard is to defend, not to attack.’

Well, she hadn’t known that. ‘Oh, so you wanted a military career? Following in your father’s footsteps?’

‘Yes. There was never any other choice for me. As you know, I was sent to Cambridge for a few years, but apart from that, it was always expected that I would be a soldier.’

She studied him, curious. ‘So why Cambridge?’

The light from the braziers gleamed over his sleek black hair and caught at the glints in his eyes. ‘For a decent education.’ An undercurrent of bitterness tinged the words.

Ivy frowned. ‘Why do I get that feeling that’s not all there was to it?’

‘Because that wasn’t the only reason why I was sent away.’

‘What else was there, then?’

‘My mother.’ He moved closer to the waterfall, the sound of it splashing into the pool musical and soothing. ‘She was the Sultana and she had me in secret. I was brought up by my father. Every so often I was allowed to meet her and my father would take me to her so we could spend time together. She couldn’t be seen to be spending too much time with the Commander’s child, though, or else people would talk. It was never enough. Always, I wanted more.’

His voice was very neutral, but she could detect undercurrents in it, deep and strong. What they meant she wasn’t sure, but she was certain she heard anger. His expression, however, gave her no clue. His features were set in granite lines as per usual.

No, he was angry, she could feel it in him, and she understood why. Because she too had wanted more and never had it. She’d wanted a mother and father, siblings, a family.

He at least had known his parents, unlike her. Then again, had he really had his mother? It was clear he didn’t think so. What was worse? To have had a parent you only saw from afar and interacted with infrequently, or never to have had that parent at all?

She didn’t know. But it made her think of the child growing inside her, of how at least that child would have both a mother and a father in its life. Even if that mother had no idea what she was doing.

He was right to keep you here.

The taut, aching feeling inside her eased, as if giving up a fight, making her lean forward, wrapping her arms around his neck, revelling in the feel of his slick, warm skin against hers.

‘Tell me about the more you wanted,’ she said quietly.

His face was very close, the sunset throwing golden light across the stark planes and angles, his eyes glittering in icy contrast to the warmth of the water and the heat of his body. An intense light burned in them, so fierce her breath caught.

‘I wanted everything.’ The deep sound of his voice vibrated against her. ‘I wanted to be her son openly, proudly. I wanted what she gave my half-brother: her time and attention, her softness and gentleness, her love.’ The light in his eyes turned bright and jagged. ‘But my father was concerned that I was spending too much time with her. It was fine when I was a child, since it was well known that the Sultana loved children and her attention to me could be explained away. But not when I got older. So my father decided it would be better if I went away for a time. That’s why I was sent to Cambridge.’

She’d been right; he was angry. Ferociously so. And underneath that anger she could hear the longing for the love and attention he’d desperately wanted and never had. She knew all about that kind of longing. She knew it well.

‘You didn’t want to go?’ she asked.

‘No.’ His hands cupped her bottom, holding her against him, his fingers digging into her flesh. ‘But I had no choice. The three years in England gave me time to think, time to obsess over what I didn’t have and what I wanted. My mother loved me and she loved my father, and she was unhappy with the Sultan, and I couldn’t see why she had to stay in a life that made her so miserable. So when I returned to Inaris, I went to see her immediately. I told her that she and my father should leave, that I would help, that we could all get out of the country, be a family together, be happy.’ His gaze iced over. ‘But she refused. She wouldn’t leave her husband and she wouldn’t leave my half-brother. I was furious, ranting and shouting, and the next thing I knew the room was full of soldiers. Fahad, my half-brother, had been listening and had heard everything. He discovered our secret.’

Ivy’s heart caught hard. ‘Oh, Nazir...’

‘There was a confrontation and I attacked him. My mother tried to stop me, but I didn’t listen. I was too angry, too jealous. He had everything that I’d always wanted, and my mother wouldn’t leave him.’ Nazir’s mouth hardened. ‘But you don’t attack the heir without consequences and I was imprisoned, pending execution. My mother pleaded for my life with the Sultan and I don’t know what she said, but eventually she secured my release.’

Ivy stared at him, caught by the ice in his eyes in comparison to the determinedly neutral expression on his face.

‘What happened afterwards?’ she asked, part of her not wanting to know because, whatever it was, she knew it wouldn’t have been good.

‘My father and I were banished from the palace. The Sultan wanted to execute him, but he was too powerful. Instead, he lost his position as Commander and neither of us ever saw my mother again.’

A soundless breath of shock escaped her. ‘No.’

‘For a long time, neither my father nor I knew what had happened to her. She disappeared from public life and there were rumours the Sultan had had her killed because of her affair.’ A bleak light entered his eyes. ‘My father never forgave me for what happened. I’d always been his secret shame and then I was the cause of so much pain for the woman he loved... I should have been satisfied with what I had.’ Nazir paused, his gaze focusing on her very suddenly. ‘And that is quite enough about me.’

Before Ivy knew what was happening, he’d taken her under the waterfall, warm water falling down around them, soaking her hair, soaking her bare shoulders, blinding her.

She opened her mouth on a gasp, but his lips covered hers, taking the sound from her, the taste of him joining the mineral flavour of the water, surrounding her in warmth. Warmth from the gentle fall of water, warmth from his mouth on hers, his kiss deep and slow and sweet. Warmth from the hard, powerful body she was clinging to.

She had so many questions, her brain still trying to process everything he’d said, her heart aching for him and what he’d lost, but her thinking processes had slowed, the hunger of her body beginning to take over.

One of his hands slid up her spine to cup the back of her head, holding her in place as his tongue pushed deep into her mouth, exploring her in slow, leisurely strokes.

And it suddenly became very clear to her what he was looking for and what he wanted and what he was trying to create by keeping her here. Whether he knew it or not, he wanted a family. He wanted what he’d longed for all those years ago and what he’d lost in the end.

So why not give it to him? There wasn’t any reason not to. They were both looking for the same things, it seemed, and both of them had finally found them together, so why bother fighting? He’d told her that she was his, so why not accept it? Give into it? After all, no one else had ever claimed her. It might as well be him.

The decision settled down inside her and she gripped his shoulders hard, tightening her legs around him, because as much as he claimed her, she would also claim him. So she kissed him back, hungrier now, the water falling on her, the slick feel of his skin, the rapidly growing hardness of his shaft between her thighs providing her with the most delicious erotic contrasts.

But he would not be hurried and he ignored her growing need. He kept his kiss deep and lazy, his fingers on the back of her head angling her so he could explore her deeper. Hunger grew sharp teeth, but this time she didn’t feel as desperate.

The falling water soothed her, as did the warmth of the pool, the strength of him holding her up, the slow-burning, lazy kiss, and the decision she’d made to accept what he’d offered her. And gradually, the hunger became less frantic.

The tension eased from her and she relaxed into the slow eroticism of the kiss, returning it with the same tender sweetness.

There was too much water in her eyes so she kept them closed, focusing instead on his hot mouth and the leisurely way he kissed her. He was hard, and when he adjusted his grip, lifting her slightly, the head of his shaft pressing against her exquisitely sensitive flesh, she wriggled to take him. But he teased her for a few moments, making her shudder, before taking her hips in a firm grip and then easing her down onto him, again, so slowly it drew a groan from her.

‘Take me, little fury,’ he whispered against her mouth, his voice so deep, cutting through the sound of the water rushing over them. ‘Because all those people who didn’t want you were fools. I want you. So give me your passion. I want it all.’

She thought he’d forgotten about what she’d told him earlier. But it seemed he hadn’t, and it made something in her heart slip then catch like a puzzle piece sliding into place in a jigsaw.

She wanted to give him that passion because he was a hard man who’d held her with gentleness. A leader of armies who had a courtyard full of greenery and fountains in the middle of an unforgiving fortress in the desert. A man for whom pleasure seemed to be a foreign concept and yet who had a holiday villa with a hot pool, which he never visited because he didn’t like sitting around. A vicious warlord by his own admission, yet who’d seen to her comfort.

There were so many fascinating contrasts within him. It was as if there were things he wanted but wouldn’t let himself have, perhaps as a punishment or a lesson for what had happened to him all those years ago. The mother who’d been banished and the father whose life had been ruined by his actions. The family he’d destroyed.

He still wanted that family though, and that longing was so familiar to her. She knew it as she knew her own heart. So she didn’t think twice as she wrapped her arms around his neck and tightened her legs around his waist, moving on him, giving him back all the passion contained inside her, until the ecstasy of it drowned both of them.