Bride Behind The Desert Veil (Mills & Boon Modern) (The Marchetti Dynasty, Book 3) by Abby Green (pride and prejudice read .TXT) 📗

the shawl, revealing Liyah’s face and hair. Her heart slammed to a stop, before starting again at an accelerated rhythm. She cursed her too-distinctive hair. Of course she hadn’t been able to blend in. She never had.

His gaze raked her up and down. ‘What are you doing? Trying to avoid me?’

Liyah pulled her arm free, conscious of her less than glamorous outfit. She was wearing a traditional tunic over slim-fitting trousers. Flat sandals. A far cry from the wife he’d moulded to fit into his world.

‘I find that I’m not all that keen on being accused of espionage again. I told you to get your legal team to contact me.’

Sharif muttered something under his breath.

Her pulse was hammering and her insides were swooping and fizzing. Even though she hated his guts.

Liar.

She stepped back. ‘Just leave me be, Sharif.’

She turned to go, and then he said from behind her, ‘I know you didn’t do it, Liyah. I’m sorry. I just... Look, can we talk? I need to talk to you.’

Liyah stopped in her tracks. She was breathing as if she’d run a marathon. The other women were gone. She absorbed what Sharif said. I know you didn’t do it.

Her hurt and sense of betrayal were still acute. And she didn’t want him to see that. So she didn’t turn around; she kept moving.

Another muttered curse came from behind her and then, before she could react, Sharif was in front of her and bending down. She only knew what he was doing when the world was upended and she realised he’d flung her over his shoulder.

His hand was on her bottom. She was so astounded and indignant that she could hardly breathe, let alone speak.

He opened the back door of his vehicle and put her on the seat. Liyah sprawled inelegantly, looking at him. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

His jaw clenched. ‘We need to talk.’

He closed the door before she could respond and strode around to the front. Liyah leapt for the door handle but it was locked. Both sides. And then the car was moving.

For a long moment she fumed in the back seat. Sharif was silent. Navigating his way out of the city and into the surrounding desert. Past the oasis. On into the desert. And on. And on. Further and further away. Towards Al-Murja.

Eventually she couldn’t stay silent. She leant forward, doing her best to avoid looking at Sharif directly. ‘Where are you taking me?’

‘It’s at least another half an hour. Make yourself comfortable. We’ll talk when we get there.’

Liyah sat back and folded her arms over her chest. She caught Sharif’s eye in the rearview mirror and pointedly looked away. But she couldn’t help but wonder what he wanted if he really did now know she hadn’t been the source of the leak.

Roughly half an hour later a structure appeared on the horizon. Despite herself, Liyah leaned forward to look. Gradually it was revealed as a modest fortress-type building, with turrets. Greenery dotted the ground outside. It must have been built on an oasis.

Liyah recognised the skyline of Al-Murja’s capital city in the distance. She recognised where they were: the border between Taraq and Al-Murja.

Sharif drove straight up to the building, and to her surprise she saw the gates open to admit them. Her jaw dropped as they drove in. Inside the walls was a lush oasis. Flowers bloomed on almost every wall. Vines twined and tangled around columns. There were ponds and fountains. Palm trees.

The building itself was simple. Two-storey. She could see through it to corridors and columns, to inner courtyards around which she knew would be arranged rooms and quarters.

She wanted to ask What is this place? But she didn’t want to give Sharif the satisfaction.

He came to a stop in the main courtyard, ringed with vibrant bushes and flowers. It was like an exotic outdoor hothouse. Liyah had never seen so many examples of desert plants in one place. It was magical.

He got out and came around and opened her door. She was tempted to stay put, but the thought of Sharif putting her over his shoulder again made her scramble out.

She looked behind her to see the main gates closing again. A man in a white thobe appeared and Sharif gave him the keys to the four-by-four. Then he kept on walking into the building.

With the utmost reluctance, Liyah followed.

Sharif knew she was behind him. He felt her presence in every cell of his body. Regret and self-recrimination burned in his gut. He didn’t blame her for being angry. He had betrayed her in the worst way.

The moment he’d seen her trademark unruly hair, barely contained by the shawl, he’d known immediately it was her—as if he wouldn’t have guessed from the way she moved. Or her green eyes when she’d looked at him.

He led her into a shaded courtyard, where a table was laid out with refreshments. He turned to face her. She was looking around her. Her body was tense.

‘Please, help yourself.’

She looked at the table. And then at him. Folded her arms. ‘I don’t need anything. Can you just tell me whatever it is that can’t be expressed through our legal teams?’

‘Did you hear what I said back at the palace? I know you didn’t do it.’

‘I told you I didn’t do it a month ago. You had a choice at the time to believe me or not. It’s too late now, Sharif.’

She turned away, but Sharif caught her hand. That physical contact of skin on skin made his body tighten all over.

‘Liyah, will you please let me explain...?’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE HURT THREATENED to overwhelm her, but Liyah pushed it down, not wanting him to see it.

As if she wasn’t that bothered, she turned back, taking her hand from his. ‘Fine—knock yourself out.’

She sat down on one of the chairs at the table, crossed her legs. She heard Sharif sigh and sneaked a glance. He was running a hand through his hair. She noticed belatedly