Modern Romance Collection: December 2017 Books 1 - 4. Эбби Грин

prepared Molly for the sheer melodramatic behaviour of the crowd waiting outside the cave. People fell down on their knees and wailed to the heavens; people wept with relief at the very sight of Azrael and had to be restrained by the soldiers from surging forward and embracing him. She had never seen such a fevered public demonstration of emotional attachment in her life. Throughout cameras flashed, questions were shouted and ignored and commentators stood by talking into microphones. Molly was so taken aback by the extravagant furore that Azrael need not have worried that she might say something inappropriate: shock had completely silenced her.

      Silence fell when Azrael spoke in his own language and she saw surprise and other unrecognisable emotions cross faces in rapid succession. Smiles broke out. Heads were dipped. Eyes flew in Molly’s direction and lingered and she froze. Whatever Azrael was saying appeared to be welcome news that both soothed and pleased his audience.

      ‘Well, whatever you said went down very well. Everyone seemed to lighten up,’ Molly commented as they trudged towards a helicopter, literally surrounded by a phalanx of heavily armed soldiers.

      Azrael shot her a warning glance and she heaved a sigh and mimicked a zip being drawn across her lips. Well, Azrael hadn’t lightened up any, which was no surprise to her. His conscientious little assistant, Butrus, was talking rapidly and very quietly on his mobile phone, a troubled expression stamped on his face. It seemed that the emergency as such was not yet quite over as far as he was concerned. Molly leapt up into the helicopter and settled in the seat Azrael indicated. He had rescued her, she reminded herself resolutely, so she could be quiet and biddable in public...as long as she could still shout at him in private.

      Of course, there wouldn’t be much opportunity for that now, she registered. Or any need. After all, she had agreed not to report Tahir to the police, which meant that Azrael had no further need to have any more personal or private meetings with her. She would be stowed in a guestroom until the passport business was sorted out and then conveyed home. Her sojourn in Djalia would soon just be an exotic memory of her brief visit to another world. And it definitely was another world, she acknowledged, staring out at the sweeping golden sand dunes interspersed by craggy rock formations sculpted into weird shapes by the elements. Azrael had called the elements violent and perverse and those words reminded her of the feelings he inspired in her.

      It would be good to get away from all the emotional and physical turmoil Azrael had unleashed in her, she told herself firmly. She hadn’t been sensible, she hadn’t been practical, hadn’t thought of yesterday or tomorrow or even next week. She had almost had unsafe sex even though she knew that that would be a mistake. Wasn’t that a lesson in itself? She had never realised how overwhelming sexual hunger could be. Involuntarily her head turned and found Azrael’s bold bronzed profile.

      Black stubble outlined his aggressive jawline, highlighting the sculpted perfection of his lips, luxuriant black lashes low over his eyes. Her mouth ran dry and her heartbeat thumped and hurriedly she snatched her gaze away again, mortified by her susceptibility. She was acting like an infatuated teenager, she conceded in exasperation. Yes, it was past time she went home, time to go back to serving drinks with a smile, emptying waste-paper bins and seeking another client who wanted to improve their spoken English. That would all be real world enough to set her feet back firmly on the ground.

      Azrael strove not to listen to Butrus dealing with an obstreperous member of the Djalian Council, the tribal leaders who acted as Azrael’s official advisors and support and, if need be, his critics. And right now the council was shouting up a storm because they wanted a public occasion for his wedding, a day of celebration, a big show. They didn’t care how long he had been married, he had to be seen to be married. Azrael had not foreseen that outpouring of demands and expectations, but he supposed he should have done and perhaps he would have had he not been so tired. Molly had kept him awake all night and he had not slept the night before that either, troubled as he had been by his conscience. Now his conscience was clear. He had done what he could to protect Molly and now that connection was also almost at an end. He shut his eyes, refusing to think about that.

      ‘A visitor awaits us at the palace,’ Butrus whispered as they walked towards the airport building, a spectacular building with a tiled roof that glittered like gold and more chandeliers than a ball room.

      Azrael didn’t voice his usual objection to the castle being labelled a palace. Butrus believed that a reigning monarch had to live in a palace because it sounded more impressive. Unhappily a Crusader castle briefly occupied during the nineteen twenties and barely updated since scarcely lived up to that grand designation.

      ‘I’m not in the mood for a visitor,’ Azrael admitted bluntly. ‘Who is he?’

      ‘Our most senior judge, Emir Abdi. He has important information to offer concerning the announcement you made,’ Butrus advanced grimly.

      Azrael braced himself for an hour of prosy talk about some esoteric point of law that only a university scholar would find fascinating. Professor Abdi was an erudite man but Azrael was at heart a soldier and a man of action and he found the older man’s interminable explanations and arguments trying.

      ‘We are in trouble,’ Butrus murmured warningly. ‘I did advise you against making that announcement. It has created enormous excitement—’

      ‘It is done and I am always facing trouble of some kind,’ Azrael declared resignedly, distracted by the copper glitter of Molly’s hair in the sunshine and the very purposeful way she walked. Nothing, not Tahir’s infamy, not the worst the desert could throw at her, dimmed Molly’s buoyant spirit. She glowed like a light in darkness. What a weird thought to have, he acknowledged with a frown.

      Molly was enthralled by the city of Jovan as an SUV carried them down the main thoroughfare. ‘It’s fantastic,’ she told Azrael, staring out at ancient houses, covered markets and elaborate mosques. ‘It’s so unspoilt—’

      ‘Oh, it’s definitely unspoilt,’ Azrael agreed wryly. ‘Unlike other cities it’s been preserved untouched for generations.’

      ‘Tourists would go mad for this. It’s so authentic and that’s what people want these days,’ Molly said enthusiastically, peering out at a little man trying to herd goats out of the traffic onto the pavement, smiling as a much better dressed man went to help him and all the cars stopped.

      ‘People also want hotels and we don’t have them,’ Azrael said drily.

      ‘So...build them!’ Molly exclaimed impatiently. ‘Embrace a can-do attitude, Azrael. Stop looking at the negatives and concentrate on the positives.’

      Butrus listened with appreciation to that practical advice and reflected that his royal employer would have to embrace that attitude sooner than he thought, if Professor Abdi was to be believed and there was no one in Djalia who knew the law better than he.

      ‘I hope I get a little time for sightseeing,’ Molly continued hopefully, shooting Azrael a smile brimming with interest.

      ‘We will see.’ Azrael compressed his shapely mouth, refusing to meet those sparkling eyes, seeking distance from the intimacy they had established. He would not be controlled by his libido as he had been in the cave. A faint shudder racked him at that recollection of that ferocious lust and the reality that he could have seduced a virgin. The situation could be much worse, he told himself impatiently.

      ‘The palace,’ Butrus announced with discernible pride as the car passed below a stone portcullis.

      Azrael’s jawline squared because he expected a disparaging comment about the ancient medieval building sprawling in front of them.

      ‘What wonderful gardens!’ Molly carolled in astonishment when she glimpsed the lush trees and colourful borders bounding a central fountain. ‘My goodness, that must take so much work and watering in this heat.’

      ‘It does indeed,’ Butrus responded warmly. ‘But we are very partial to the greenery in gardens and the peace to be found there.’

      Molly finally focused on the stone structure before them. ‘Your people must be very fond of castles,’ she remarked naïvely, thinking of