Sheikh's Forbidden Queen: Zarif's Convenient Queen / Gambling with the Crown

Zarif stood poised in the doorway, breathing heavily, his spectacular cheekbones scored with colour. ‘What are you doing in here?’ he demanded.

‘Is there some reason why I shouldn’t sleep in another room?’ Ella asked shortly, colliding with the fiery golden eyes pinned to her and challenging that look.

‘You’re my wife. I want you in my bed.’

Ella was astonished by his attitude. ‘Surely you can visit me here?’

‘But I do not want to visit,’ Zarif derided with savage distaste, stalking to the bed, thrusting the sheet back with impatient hands and snatching her up off the mattress without ceremony. ‘I want you where I know I can find you twenty-four-seven.’

CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_68a6ee29-cd74-5690-9614-485e6d2a9a82)

ZARIF TUMBLED HER down on his four-poster bed like a stolen parcel he had forcibly retrieved. Ella sat up, honey-blonde hair fanning round her flushed face, sapphire eyes very bright. ‘What are you playing at?’

‘This is not a game,’ Zarif told her sternly. ‘Why did you move out of here?’

Ella stilled. ‘I saw Azel’s photo in the dining room—at least I assume it was her—and suddenly being here didn’t feel comfortable. This is where you lived with her.’

Zarif was rigid with tension, as he always seemed to be when she made any reference to his first wife or child. ‘No, it wasn’t. We didn’t live together in the Western sense.’

Her brow furrowed. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘My grandparents lived together, sharing the same rooms and mealtimes. That was their way. My uncle Halim and his wife, Azel’s parents, were more traditional and preferred separate accommodation. Azel was accustomed to that lifestyle and this building has so much unused space that it was not a problem,’ he explained flatly. ‘Try to remember that we were only teenagers when we married and Azel wanted her own suite where she could entertain her friends and occasionally forget that she was a queen. I doubt if she ever set foot in here.’

Ella was very much surprised by that snapshot of a marriage she had blithely assumed to be a love’s young dream of constant togetherness and suddenly she was unable to meet his direct gaze. Had she simply fled from the threat of a photograph? Was she still that over-sensitive about Azel’s unassailable position in his heart? And why was that, when she no longer loved him? She didn’t love him, had no excuse to feel jealous or possessive about a part of his past that had been written long before she even met him. What was the matter with her?

‘The presence of the photo offended you?’ Zarif pressed.

‘No, of course not.’ Ella studied her linked hands with fixed attention. Offended did not describe her feelings. She had felt irrationally threatened and hurt but that was not for sharing.

‘You’re still wearing the bracelet,’ he said in surprise.

Ella clamped a rueful hand over the glittering diamonds and went pink. ‘I couldn’t get the clasp undone.’

‘Let me...’ His dark head lowered, his luxuriant black hair almost brushing her cheek and the exotic scent of sultry spice and earthy male assailed her nostrils. Deft fingers unfastened the tricky clasp and set the bracelet onto the cabinet by the bed. ‘I was with my uncle all evening. I didn’t intend to leave you alone for so long.’