LITMIR.BIZ

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limited—I leave for Nabatean first thing tomorrow—but I should like to take in some of the sights before I go.’

      ‘You’re going back to Nabatean tomorrow?’ This was news to her.

      ‘Correct.’

      ‘Alone?’

      ‘I take it that won’t be a problem?’

      ‘Not for me, I can assure you.’ Anna fiddled with one of her plaits. ‘So does this mean you finally trust me or am I to be surrounded by your minders?’

      ‘No minders.’ Zahir narrowed his eyes as he contemplated her question. ‘But trust is not something I find easy to give. Once you have suffered the sort of betrayal I have, it is hard to ever completely trust anyone again.’

      ‘I’m sure.’ Anna lowered her eyes. At first she had thought he was talking about her, what she had done on the bridge in Paris. But the pain in his eyes ran deeper than that, far deeper. She wanted to ask more but Zahir was already pulling down the shutters, aware that he had said too much.

      ‘However, I’m prepared to give you the freedom to prove yourself.’ He levelled dark eyes at her. ‘Just make sure you don’t let me down.’

      * * *

      ‘I suppose we should be getting back to the castle.’ Night was starting to close in, the first stars appearing in the sky, and reluctantly Anna felt in her pocket for the car keys. Their whistle-stop tour of Dorrada was nearly over, something that disappointed Anna more than she would ever have imagined.

      Zahir hadn’t bothered to hide his surprise when she had pulled up in front of the castle in the battered old four-by-four vehicle and gestured to him to get in beside her. Warily easing himself into the passenger seat, he had shot her one of his now familiar hooded stares, leaving her in no doubt that this was a situation he did not feel comfortable with—whether that was being driven by a woman, or her in particular, she didn’t know. And didn’t care. She was a good driver, she knew the roads around here like the back of her hand, and the challenging conditions of this wintry climate posed no problems for her. And even if he’d looked as though he was coming perilously close to grabbing the wheel off her a couple of times—especially on some of the spectacular hairpin bends that snaked up through the mountains—he had just about managed to restrain himself, travelling every inch of the road with his eyes instead.

      Deciding where to take her guest had been difficult. Dorrada was only a small country but the scenery was spectacular and there were so many places Anna would have liked to show him. But time was short so she had limited herself to a trip up into the mountains, with several stops to admire the views, including the place where an ancient cable car still vertiginously cranked tourists down to the valley below. Then she had given him a rapid tour of the town of Valduz, unable to stop because she’d known they would attract too much attention. People turned to stare at them as they passed anyway, rapidly pulling out their phones to take a photo, or just waving excitedly as their princess and her exotic fiancé drove by.

      The last stop on Anna’s tour had brought them to this mountain lakeside, one of her favourite places. Originally she hadn’t intended to bring Zahir here but somehow it had happened and now she was glad of that. Because as they had crunched their way along the shoreline, stopped to take in the stunning sunset rippling across the crystal-clear water, she knew that Zahir was feeling the beauty of the place every bit as much as her. Not that he said so. Zahir was a man of few words, using communication as a mere necessity to have his wishes understood or his orders obeyed. But there had been a stillness as he’d gazed across the water to the snow-capped mountains beyond, an alertness in the way he’d held his body, that had told Anna how much he was feeling the magic of this place. They hadn’t needed any words.

      ‘There’s no rush, is there?’ Zahir turned to look at her, his face all sharp-angled lines and shadows in the dim light.

      ‘Well, no, but it’s getting dark. There’s not much point in me taking you sightseeing if you can’t see the sights.’

      ‘I like the dark.’ Zahir laid the statement baldly before her, as if it was all that was needed to be said. Anna didn’t doubt it. She already thought of him a man of the night, a shadowed, stealthy predator that would stalk his prey—would curl his hands around the throat of an enemy before they even knew of his existence. ‘Is that some sort of cabin over there between those trees?’

      Anna followed his finger, which was pointing to the other side of the lake. ‘Yes, it’s an old hunter’s cabin.’

      ‘Shall we take a look?’

      Anna hesitated. She didn’t need to take a look, she was all too familiar with the modest cabin. She should be. She’d been escaping here for years, to her own little bolthole, whenever the bleak reality of her life in the castle got too much for her.

      It was to here that she had fled all those years ago, on being told that her mother had died. That she would never see her again. Here, too, much more recently, she’d sat staring at the rustic walls, trying to come to terms with the fact that a marriage had been arranged for her. That she was to be shipped off to a place called Nabatean to marry the newly crowned king. And look how that had turned out.

      The cabin was her secret place. Taking Zahir there would feel strange. But somehow exciting too.

      ‘Sure, if you like.’ Affecting a casual tone, she started walking. ‘D’you want to follow me?’

      They set off, Anna leading the way around the lake and into the fringes of the forest of pine trees. It was too dark to see much but she knew the way by heart. Zahir was right behind her every step, so close that they moved as almost one being, their feet crunching on snow that had crystallised to ice. She could sense the heat from his body, feel the power of it all around her. It made her feel both safe and jumpy at the same time, butterflies leaping about in her tummy.

      Finally they came to a small clearing and there was the log cabin before them, looking like a life-size gingerbread house. The door was wedged shut by a drift of snow but with a few swift kicks Zahir had cleared it and soon they were both standing inside.

      ‘There should be some matches here somewhere.’ Running her hands over the table next to her, Anna opened the drawer, relieved to feel the box beneath her fingertips. ‘I’ll just light the paraffin lamp.’

      ‘Here, let me.’ Taking the matches from her Zahir reached up and, removing the glass funnel from the lamp, touched a flame to the wick. ‘Hmm...’ With a grunt of approval, he looked around him in the flickering light. ‘Basic but perfectly functional. You say it was a hunter’s cabin?’

      ‘Yes, hence the trophies.’ Anna pointed to the mounted deer heads that gazed down on them with glassy-eyed stares. ‘But it hasn’t been used for years. Valduz Castle used to host hunting parties in the past, but, thankfully for the local wildlife, those days have gone.’

      ‘But you come here?’

      ‘Well, yes, now and again.’ Was it that obvious? His directness immediately put her on the defensive. ‘I used to like it here as a kid. Other children had play houses and I had my own log cabin!’ She attempted a light-hearted laugh but as the light played over Zahir’s harsh features they showed no softening. He merely waited for her to elaborate. ‘And now I sometimes come here when I want to think, you know? Get away from it all.’

      ‘I understand.’ The deep rumble of his voice, coupled with the hint of compassion in his dark eyes threatened to unravel something deep inside her.

      ‘Shall we light a fire?’ Hideously chirpy—she’d be asking him if he wanted to play mummies and daddies in a minute—Anna moved over to the open hearth. ‘There should be plenty of logs.’

      Immediately Zahir took charge, deftly getting the fire going with the efficiency of a man well used to such a task. Anna watched as he sat forward on his haunches, blowing onto the scraps of bark until the smoke turned to flames and the flames took hold. There was something primal about his movements. Hypnotic. Mission accomplished, he sat back on his heels.

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