He couldn’t have her, not now when their marriage was only supposed to be an empty charade, and it was a retrograde step to appreciate what he could not have. He saw that lush pink mouth and he craved it. She was like a fire in his blood, heating him up every time she came too close yet blissfully unaware of the effect she had on him. She had gazed back at him incredulously when he told her she looked amazing in that dress, utterly unable to see how the tight bodice cupped her full breasts and how the drape of the fabric outlined the curve of her generous hips, equally incapable of comprehending how a man who had already seen her naked could picture her shapely legs…spread.
Rafiq gritted his teeth at that crude thought and image, particularly at experiencing it in the place most notorious for his father’s carnal transgressions. Maybe the blood in him did run true, only fortunately for him his clean-living uncle had contrived to have more of a sobering effect on his principles than his dysfunctional parents had. Such troubling concepts and suspicions and insecurities had haunted Rafiq since he had been a teenager. Every time he craved sex for the sake of it, every time he wondered what it would be like to be with a woman who wanted him outside those few short days when she had the greatest chance of conceiving…
As if that declaration about her separate room hadn’t punched what remained of her breath back out of her lungs, Izzy pinned a bright smile to her face since it seemed to be what Rafiq expected and she didn’t like to disappoint him. Or maybe she wanted to hang onto what remained of her pride, a more cynical inner voice suggested as she strolled over to the open doorway, and then what he had said only minutes before roused her curiosity afresh and she turned back to him and probed inquisitively, ‘A monument to excess and corruption?’
Lean, devastatingly attractive features grim, Rafiq turned brooding dark eyes back to her, thinking that she just had to go there, where nobody else dared in his radius. ‘My father built this palace and ploughed millions into it, so that he could have somewhere very private and luxurious to entertain.’
‘Well, maybe he was extravagant but surely in an oil-rich country that’s not a hanging offence,’ Izzy remarked uncomfortably, beginning to wish by his grave demeanour that she had left the subject alone.
Rafiq studied her with shielded eyes and decided it was time to tell her what was already widely known in Zenara, where his father’s name was never ever mentioned in polite company. ‘He held drug-fuelled orgies here with porn stars and hookers.’
‘Oh…’ For a split second, Izzy was frozen to the floor by shock and then she blinked rapidly, and a startled strangled snort of laughter was wrenched from her, her hand flying up to her parted lips in sincere apology and dismay. ‘S-sorry,’ she stammered. ‘I was just thinking that this is one place where you wouldn’t want to say, If only the walls could talk!’
Rafiq surveyed her in utter disbelief.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but you’re standing there like a pillar of doom,’ Izzy told him helplessly. ‘All ashamed and disgusted and miserable at having to tell me that. Why are you still so sensitive about it? Your father’s gone! It is the past you’re talking about, not the present, and you’re not responsible for your father’s choices.’
‘It is not that simple,’ Rafiq argued fiercely. ‘He disgraced the royal house. There is no depravity he did not explore, no extravagance he did not commit!’
‘When did he die?’ Izzy asked more gently.
‘Sixteen years ago…’ Rafiq admitted flatly.
‘And you’re still angry, but you shouldn’t still be feeling that so personally,’ Izzy countered with conviction. ‘It happened and can’t be changed but the sins your father committed weren’t yours and you should make the decision to let go of it all. Make that decision for your own sake. It is that simple.’
Rafiq was shaken by that straightforward and practical approach to the sordid heritage that had haunted and humbled him throughout his life.
‘I mean, every family has secrets,’ Izzy commented more thoughtfully. ‘Some secrets are embarrassing, some are hurtful, some may even cruise close to illegality but there’s nothing you can do about that. If it’s your family, you’re stuck with them and that background, but you certainly shouldn’t feel guilty about their mistakes, particularly not if you choose to lead a different life from theirs. I mean, you do, don’t you?’
Even more surprisingly in response to that enquiry, Rafiq found himself breaking out into spontaneous laughter that she could even ask such a question of him. ‘Definitely not into orgies and the like,’ he confirmed with a flashing smile, relishing her indifference to what he had told her and the obvious fact that it didn’t change her attitude to him. ‘But some people do believe that such behaviour as my father’s is the result of bad blood and that such a man’s children may follow in his footsteps.’
‘Only really, really out-of-touch, prejudiced people,’ Izzy opined confidently.
‘I am not oversensitive on the subject,’ Rafiq felt the need to declare even though he knew he was glossing over the truth, indeed possibly outright lying. After all, his father’s sins had been used like a stick to beat him with throughout his life, changing him, marking him, rebuking him, warning him of the danger of excess in any field. Having someone simply laugh inappropriately and remind him that his father’s mistakes were not his to repent was a little like being suddenly busted out of a prison cell with bars that he hadn’t even realised existed.
‘Well, if this is my room, I’ll leave you to it!’ Izzy breezed, stepping through the doorway and beginning to close the connecting door.
‘No!’ In an abrupt
