‘Good grief…’ Izzy whispered, lifting her head to look down at him, concern palpable in her troubled blue eyes. ‘What age were you?’
‘Ten or so.’ Rafiq compressed his lips, feeling his tension drain away as he shared that memory. ‘I was spying on them because my parents were virtually strangers to me. They spent almost all their time abroad and I was insanely curious about them.’
‘Naturally you were. Does Zayn know about what you overheard?’
‘Of course not. I would never have shared that scene or what was said then with him.’
‘Why didn’t they take you abroad with them?’
‘A child wouldn’t have fitted in with their lifestyles. My father was an unrepentant drug addict and my mother loved to party. Neither of them had any desire to settle down and be parents. By that stage my mother was tired of my father’s infidelities and she wanted out of the marriage, but if she divorced him without his agreement, she would have lost the unlimited spending power she enjoyed and in the end she couldn’t face that prospect.’
‘So, they stayed together,’ Izzy gathered.
‘And she died of pre-eclampsia when Zayn was born. My father was negligent in not ensuring that she had the very best medical care. But by then they were already living separate lives.’
‘Why was he like that? So uncaring?’
‘I don’t know. His mother died young and his father was elderly, which meant that he was only twenty when he came to the throne, too immature to have such power and wealth. He neglected his duties to chase a jet-set lifestyle across Europe and quickly fell into drugs. He built Alihreza because he was getting pressure to spend more time in Zenara, and he could only face that if he could have a very private bolt-hole where he could continue to indulge in drugs and sex.’
‘Did he die from an overdose?’ Izzy whispered.
‘No, someone poisoned him, which is why I have a food taster.’
‘A food taster?’ she gasped in disbelief. ‘But those times I cooked for you…’
‘I broke the rules set by the executive council for my upbringing,’ Rafiq murmured with amusement glinting in his dark golden eyes. ‘How could I have explained a food taster while I was posing as an ordinary businessman?’
‘Why was he poisoned?’ A shiver ran through Izzy. ‘That’s seriously scary.’
‘He had made so many enemies. He was a notorious womaniser. He slept with just about every woman around him and it’s unlikely that they were all willing partners. I’ve always believed that it was a revenge killing. His death was exhaustively investigated but nobody was ever brought to trial. Now may we please talk about something else? I have answered all your questions.’
Izzy had lots more to ask but she suppressed the words bubbling in her throat because she could see that trudging through that weighty back story of his had loaded him down with unhappy recollections. And she didn’t blame him—she really didn’t blame him. Although he had been born into almost unimaginable status and wealth, he had not enjoyed the love, support and security that all children needed to thrive.
‘So, both your parents were gone and that’s why your uncle had to raise you and your brother,’ she summed up quietly.
‘And we could not have had a better guardian,’ Rafiq sighed. ‘Becoming Regent and agreeing to raise his nephews was a huge responsibility for Jalil to take on and he has never been a man who enjoyed the limelight, yet he did it because he felt it was his duty.’
Gently settling her down on the sofa, he stood up and began to get dressed. ‘Let’s return to the palace,’ he urged. ‘It’s getting late and you must be tired.’
But Izzy wasn’t tired. As she was shuttled back along a rough track in a four-wheel drive, Izzy’s brain was teeming with thoughts. They had become intimate again. She hadn’t planned that, hadn’t truly had time to consider that aspect of their marriage because one minute they had been two separate people and the next they had been married. Keeping it casual wouldn’t come naturally to her, she acknowledged ruefully. But, somehow, she had found herself saying what she believed that Rafiq needed to hear to relax with her.
He had felt trapped in his first unhappy marriage. He hadn’t said so, but she had guessed how he felt about those years, years spent with a woman she didn’t believe he had loved. She definitely didn’t want him to feel trapped with her. She wasn’t going to attach strings just because sex with Rafiq was mind-blowing. She wasn’t about to tell him that though, wasn’t an idiot. What had started out as a random, utterly unexpected first-time sexual experience had turned into something more for her, but she wasn’t about to share that either. Her feelings were getting deep and complicated where he was concerned. Feelings that made her feel attached and involved in a way she was terrified of being but somehow couldn’t help, feelings that were stronger than common sense and self-preservation. But was that really so surprising when the man she had married was also the father of the twins she carried?
Right now, her hormones had to be firing on all cylinders because of the pregnancy, she reasoned anxiously, and that might well be why her emotions were all over the place. It was even possible that she could be imagining the sense of attachment pulling at her.
Closing a firm hand over hers, Rafiq urged her into his bedroom with him and closed the door.
‘What am I doing in here?’ she muttered. ‘I thought you liked your privacy.’
‘Not when you’re around,’ Rafiq said succinctly, staring down at her with hooded dark golden eyes alight with sexual heat, his well-defined jaw line taut and beginning to shadow with stubble, accentuating his beautiful mouth. He looked so hot,
