LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

they had been separated many generations ago and were now fierce rivals.

      She had met King Rakhal and his wife, Natasha, on a few occasions. Natasha was always disarmingly nice and interested in the girls; Rakhal, on the other hand, despite his cool politeness, was guarded. Amy had felt the hatred simmering between the two men, had almost been able to taste the deep rivalry that existed whenever they were both in a room.

      Still, it was not the rival King who troubled her tonight, nor was it the King who employed her.

      It was her own soul.

      She had to leave. She was too involved. Of course she was. Realising the toll her job was taking on her daughter, Amy’s mother was urging her to come home. But as Amy stared out to the sands she was conflicted—she simply could not imagine abandoning the twins.

      Ummi.

      It hurt to hear that word from Clemira and Nakia and to know she would never be one herself.

      Amy gulped in air, determined not to start crying again, but though she was dealing with things better these days—though for the most part she had come to terms with her fate—on nights like tonight sometimes the pain surfaced. Sometimes all she could do was mourn a time when happiness had seemed more certain.

      Or had it?

      She closed her eyes and tried to remember, tried to peer into the dark black hole that was the months and weeks leading up to her accident. Slowly, painfully slowly, she was starting to remember things—choosing her wedding dress, the invitations—but all she could see were images. She simply couldn’t recall how she had felt.

      Amy had always worked with children, and had been about to marry and start a family of her own when a riding accident had ruined everything. Her hopes and dreams, her relationship and even her fertility had all been taken in one cruel swoop.

      Maybe it was for best, Amy pondered—perhaps it was kinder not to remember happier times.

      It had been a relief to get away from London, to escape the sympathy and the attention. But Amy’s mother had warned her about taking this job—had said it was too much and too soon, that she was running away from her problems. She hadn’t been.

      The thought of being involved with two babies from birth, of having a very real role in their lives, had been so tempting. Queen Hannah had been well aware of the challenges her daughters would face, and she had told Amy about the disappointment that would sweep the country if her pregnancy produced girls—especially if it proved too dangerous for Hannah to get pregnant again.

      Hannah had wanted the girls to be educated in London, to live as ordinary girls there. The plan had been that for four years Amy would take care of the girls in Alzan, but that they would then be schooled in the UK. Amy was to be a huge part of their lives—not a mother, of course, but more than an aunt.

      How could she leave now?

      How could she walk away because she didn’t like the way they were being treated?

      Yet how could she stay?

      Amy headed down the corridor to do a final check on the twins, her bare feet making no sound. It was a path she trod many times during the day and night, especially now that they were teething. The link from her suite to the twins’ sumptuous quarters was a familiar one, but as she entered the room Amy froze—for the sight that greeted her was far from familiar.

      There was Emir, his back to her, holding Clemira, who slept on his chest, her head resting on his shoulder, as if it was where she belonged.

      Emir stood, silent and strong, and there was a sadness in him that he would surely not want her to witness—a weariness that had only been visible in the first few days after Hannah’s death. Then he had gone into tahir—had taken himself to the desert for a time of ritual and deep prayer and contemplation. The man who returned to the palace had been different—a remote, aloof man who only occasionally deigned to visit the nursery.

      He was far from aloof now as he cradled Clemira. He was wearing black silk lounge pants and nothing else. His top half was bare. Amy had seen him like this before, but then it had not moved her.

      In the first dizzy days after the twins had been born they had grappled through the night with two tiny babies. Amy had changed one nappy and handed one fresh, clean baby to Emir, so he could take her to Hannah to feed. Things had been so different then—despite their concern for Hannah there had been love and laughter filling the palace and she missed it so, missed the man she had glimpsed then.

      Tonight, for a moment, perhaps that man had returned.

      He’d lost weight since then, she noted. His muscles were now a touch more defined. But there was such tenderness as he held his daughter. It was an intimate glimpse of father and daughter and again she doubted he would want it witnessed. She could sense the aching grief in his wide shoulders—so much so that for a bizarre moment Amy wanted to walk up to him, rest her hand there and offer him silent support. Yet she knew he would not want that, and given she was wearing only her nightdress it was better that she quietly slip away.

      ‘Are you considering leaving?

      He turned around just as she was about to go. Amy could not look at him. Normally her head was covered, and her body too—she wondered if she would be chastised tomorrow for being unsuitably dressed—but for now Emir did not appear to notice.

      She answered his question as best she could. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

      Clemira stirred in his arms. Gently he placed her back in her crib and stared down at his daughter for the longest time before turning back to Amy.

      ‘You’ve been crying.’

      ‘There’s an awful lot to cry about.’ His black eyes did not reproach her this time. ‘I never thought I’d be considering leaving, When Hannah interviewed me—I mean Sheikha Queen—’

      ‘Hannah,’ he interrupted. ‘That is the name she requested you call her.’

      Amy was grateful for the acknowledgement, but she could not speak of this in front of the twins—could not have this conversation without breaking down. So she wished him goodnight and headed back to her room.

      ‘Amy!’ he called out to her.

      She kept on walking, determined to make it to her room before breaking down, stunned when he followed her through the door.

      ‘You cannot leave Alzan now. I think it would be better for the twins—’

      ‘Of course it would be better for the twins to have me stay!’ she interrupted, although she should not. Her voice rose again, although it should not. But she was furious. ‘Of course the twins should have somebody looking after them who loves them—except it’s not my job to love them. I’m an employee.’

      She watched his eyes shutter for a moment as she hurled back his choice word, but he was right—she was an employee, and could be fired at any moment, could be removed from the twins’ lives by the flick of his hand. She was thankful for his brutal reminder earlier. She would do well to remember her place.

      She brushed past him, trying to get to the safety of the balcony, for it was stifling with him in the room, but before she could get there he halted her.

      ‘You do not walk off when I’m talking to you!’

      ‘I do when you’re in my bedroom!’ Amy turned and faced him. ‘This happens to be the one place in this prison of a palace where I get to make the rules, where I get to speak as I choose, and if you don’t like it, if you don’t want to hear it, you can leave.’

      She wanted him out of the room, she wanted him gone, and yet he stepped closer, and it was Amy who stepped back, acutely aware of his maleness, shamefully aware of her own body’s conflicted response.

      Anger burnt and hissed, but something else did too, for he was an impressive male, supremely beautiful, and of course she had noticed—what woman

Скачать книгу