The Sultan's Choice by Abby Green Page A

his fear of the strength of that anticipation that had led him to be so brusque when he’d welcomed her. And he hadn’t liked the feeling of spreading relief at seeing her here one little bit. When he’d said he was busy he hadn’t lied, but he knew he was also using it as a convenientexcuse. And for someone who’d never had to make excuses in his life it wasn’t a comfortable feeling.
    The day he’d said goodbye to her in London, after that kiss, when she’d turned that regal profile on him and been so cool, he’d wanted to reach in and pluck her from the back of the car, carry her to his private jet and bring her straight to Al-Omar. He’d felt like one of the nomads in the desert—raw and uncultivated.
    The impulse had been so strong, but he’d told himself it was just because he didn’t trust that she wouldn’t get cold feet. And, telling himself it was for that reason each day in the interim, he’d instructed one of his PAs to call her bodyguards and track her movements, becoming increasingly obsessed with what she was doing.
    One night she’d gone to a small dinner party thrown by her work colleagues in a restaurant in Mayfair, dressed in one of her new dresses. Sadiq knew because he’d asked the bodyguard to send him pictures. It had been a perfectly modest dress—black V-neck with sleeves, and to the knee—but she’d worn her hair down and the curves she’d been hiding for years had been on display. For the first time in his life Sadiq had felt
jealous.
He’d precipitated that change and resented that other people were seeing it.
    Suddenly the figure down below spun away from the wall and hurried back inside, and Sadiq realised his hands were gripping the iron railing. He consciously relaxed and looked out over the city again. His wife-to-be was proving to be a monumental distraction—something that wasn’t meant to happen. The sooner he got control of himself the better. This marriage signified the next phase in development for his country. Nothing more and nothing less.
    All he had to do was stop his mind straying with irritating predictability to his fiancée …
    The next day Sadiq was looking out of his main study window, and he cursed colourfully enough to have his chief aide go red in the face. But he was unaware of that as he took in the scene down below in the main courtyard of his extensive stables. ‘What
is
she doing?’ he muttered out loud.
    And then, before Kamil, his aide, could intervene, Sadiq spun around and clipped out, ‘This meeting is over. Get my horse saddled immediately.’ And he left the room, ignoring the open-mouthed older man, to change into something more suitable.
    Belatedly Kamil rushed after him. ‘But, sire, you have to meet with the committee in two hours!’
    ‘I’ll be back by then,’ Sadiq said grimly, and disappeared.
    Samia felt mildly guilty that she’d convinced the young groom to let her take a horse out without checking with Sadiq first. But the last thing she’d wanted to do was disturb him with such a small thing. She’d decided stoutly that as he didn’t want to spend time with her, that suited her fine too. And she’d been feeling increasingly claustrophobic. Even though the Hussein castle was as stunning as it was vast, with hundreds of secluded gardens and tantalising labyrinthine corridors which would take weeks to explore, its walls seemed to be closing in on Samia. Everywhere she went someone popped out to see if she needed anything.
    While she appreciated their dedication, and knew they were only doing their jobs, she craved some freedom and some space, knowing very well that once she was married her sense of claustrophobia would only increase. Her every move would be accounted for and long days of back-to-back appointments would become the norm.
    When she’d seen the stables a few days ago a rare excitement had kicked in her belly. She’d used to love riding when she’d been smaller, until her stepmother had seen that joyand