one apart, and most of the days, too. Because he was afraid of what might happen if he went to her? Because he feared the desires, the needs, the emotions she had somehow managed to stir up in him?
It was the shock of discovering that she had been a virgin that had thrown him off guard, that was all. Nothing more than that. He had never intended their marriage to be the kind in which his only contact with his wife was the occasional necessary visit to her bed. They were partners in the business of being royal, after all, and as his wife, Sophia had a role to play amongst his people. A role which she was already playing without any help from him and playing very well if his most senior aide was to be believed.
Going over to the door Ash opened it and summoned an assistant, telling him, ‘Have my car brought round. There won’t be any need for an official escort.’
Squatting down on the dusty floor of the single-storey, single-room school, so that she was at the same level as the children, Sophia drew them out of their shyness, communicating with them in their hesitant, newly learned English, watching the excitement and enthusiasm for what they were learning burning in their dark eyes. Their uniform was provided for them by the state, and once she had broken the ice they couldn’t wait to tell her how much they loved their new school, their young voices full of praise for the maharaja, whom it was plain they worshipped.
Their innocence and joy caught at Sophia’s heart, the sight of their dark eyes and hair causing her womb to contract a little with the knowledge that Ash’s children would have that colouring. Ash’s children, her children, their children. It would be to them that she would give the outpouring of her love that Ash did not want. They would not grow up as she had done, feeling unwanted and too overwhelmed by the distance that existed between her and her parents to dare unburden herself to them and trust them with her fears.
Engrossed in her own thoughts and the solemnity of the young boy showing her his computer skills, Sophia was oblivious to the silence that had gripped the rest of the room or the fact that behind her the adults were bowing low and moving back in shy awe as they watched their maharaja stride towards his bride. It was only when the boy with her looked up, his eyes widening before he prostrated himself, that she looked round to see Ash looming over her, looking every inch the ruler that he was, even though he was in western dress.
Ash was extending his hand to her, and Sophia was far too aware of the need for royal protocol to be observed in public to refuse to take it. It must be because she had been kneeling down for so long that she felt so dizzy, she decided as she got to her feet.
It was Ash who cordially thanked the teachers for permitting them to intrude on the children’s lessons and Ash, too, who shook hands with everyone before exiting the room, leaving her to follow behind him.
Outside, the pungent smell of camel dung stung Sophia’s nose. The animals were tethered close to their owners, as the brightly dressed tribeswomen waited patiently for their children to finish their schooling for the day. The nomad women’s jewellery jangled musically as they made their low bows to Ash, their odhni modestly pulled across their faces to conceal them, the ends fluttering in the dusty breeze.
‘The maharani will travel back with me,’ Ash told her waiting escort, turning to Sophia herself to tell her, ‘There is something I wish to discuss with you.’
‘There is something I want to talk to you about, as well,’ Sophia responded.
Once they were together inside the car, though, heading back to the palace, the darkened windows of the limousine somehow made the interior of the vehicle more secluded and intimate. Sophia didn’t feel quite as confident about broaching with Ash the possibility of taking for herself a more proactive role in his modernisation plans as she had done when she had listened to Aashna on their outward journey. She couldn’t forget how her father had rejected her request to do something on Santina, and how that had made her feel.
Ash looked out of the darkened car window. The sight of Sophia crouching on the floor surrounded by the village children, communicating with them and so plainly loving being with them, had touched a nerve. Only once had he been able to persuade Nasreen to visit one of his schools with him. She had complained that the children were dirty and had refused to have anything to do with them. Ash could still remember the confused, hurt looks he had seen on their faces and those of their mothers. He had sworn that he would never allow that to happen again. Sophia came from a different culture to his own and if anything he would have expected her to be even less inclined to have anything to do with the children than Nasreen. Instead, though … Instead she had reached out to them in such a way that he had seen how happily they had responded to her.
Abruptly he told her, ‘My most senior adviser has suggested that it might be appropriate for you to have a formal role to play. I was wondering how you’d feel about getting more involved in the new-schools programme.’
Immediately Sophia turned towards him, her face alight with delight and excitement. ‘Oh, Ash, I’d love that. In fact, I was going to ask you if I could become involved. I … I love children.’ A small look away from him and a sudden surge of colour into her face told Ash as clearly as though she had spoken the words out loud that she was thinking of their children, of the children he would give her and the children she would conceive for him. The sudden urgency in his body, the slamming thud of his heart and the ache of fierce desire burning in him would have told him exactly what was happening in his own imagination if he hadn’t already known.
‘I was going to ask you if there was a role that I could play, something that might perhaps relieve you of some of the burden of your own royal duties.’
‘There’s also the new hospital plan for women and children,’ Ash answered her. ‘The women, especially those from the nomad tribes, are more likely to be open with you about their medical needs than they are with me. Their culture forbids them contact with men outside their own family circle. In time I want to bring them more into the modern world, but that is complicated and can’t be rushed.’
‘No,’ Sophia agreed. ‘Such things have to be handled sensitively. I could perhaps have lessons in their language—just to learn a few words, you know, to break the ice….’
Suddenly the atmosphere in the car had eased, and Sophia felt able to talk easily to him just as she had done when she was younger. ‘I want to fulfil my role as your wife, your maharani, as fully as I can,’ she told Ash enthusiastically and truthfully. They drove in under the gate which had now become so familiar to her, their car leaving the dust of the open road behind them as the sights and busyness of the walled city closed round them.
‘Since you have said nothing to the contrary I take it that …’
Guessing what he was going to say Sophia interrupted him to confirm, ‘Yes. That is to say, no, I am not pregnant.’
Tonight. Tonight he would allow himself to go to her, Ash decided. He wouldn’t be giving in to an unwanted need within himself if he did. It was, after all, his duty to ensure that he had an heir. Sophia was his. That he should choose to take her to bed to create that heir meant nothing, and did not break his vow to remain emotionally distant from her. Didn’t it? Then why was his heart thudding in such a heavy and impatient manner? Why was his body already aching with its need for her? Physical desire, that was all. Physical desire for her and nothing more.
Sophia would have liked Ash to stay with her after their return to the palace but he had business matters to attend to, and as Parveen told her with some excitement, ‘many boxes’ had arrived from Santina. They were now awaiting her inspection in her bedroom.
Ordering tea and the small sweet biscuits that were a local delicacy and to which she was half afraid she was becoming dangerously addicted, Sophia made her way to her apartment, where the boxes were waiting in her dressing room.
When she opened the first one there was a large rectangular package on top of her clothes with her father’s personal seal on it.
Frowning slightly, Sophia removed it and broke the seal, remembering as she did so how as a small child she had been entranced by the ‘magic’ of stamping her father’s seal in hot wax and then applying it to a piece of paper.