Scandal: His Majesty's Love-Child (16 page)

Annalisa lifted heavy lids, attuned now to the telltale heat of his body behind hers and his rigid arousal pressing against her. She saw their reflection. The knowing gleam in her lover’s bright gaze: his hands roving her body, almost bare but for the stunning, regal jewels. Then his hand dipped low.

‘I want you to watch,’ he whispered, ‘as I make love to my fiancée.’

The wedding celebrations had taken seven days.

As Tahir had promised, they’d been the most lavish Qusay
had seen. Partly because he’d ensured all Qusanis were welcome to attend the entertainments, and partly because it had been a joint celebration.

On the fifth day his coronation had taken place.

Now he stood, a sea breeze rippling the magnificent embroidered cloak that hung from his shoulders, the unfamiliar weight of the royal black and gold
igal
encircling the fine white cloth of his headdress. At his side the King’s Sword lay heavy against his thigh. An ancient symbol of the wealth and power of Qusay’s ruler, its scabbard was encrusted with gems. Its hilt, weighted with emeralds the size of pigeon’s eggs, belied the fact that the blade was sharp enough to wreak justice on any who threatened the King or his country.

He felt the weight of expectation and responsibility on him, but he carried it easily, confident now that he’d done the right thing in accepting the kingship.

Music swelled on the late-afternoon air and the hum of voices. The perfume of fragrant spices from elaborate braziers mixed with the scent of yet more roast meats being prepared.

Tahir drew a deep breath and surveyed the gathering. Throngs of people laughing and chattering, some beneath open-sided tents lined with carpets and padded seating. Others strolling in the gardens or watching the horse-racing down on the white sand beach. Pennants fluttered, jewels flashed, silks swirled.

Yet among the throng one person caught and held his attention. His heart swelled with that unfamiliar emotion he realised now was love.

Annalisa. His bride. His queen. His love.

Her smile had been radiant all day, first with her cousins, who’d been genuinely happy for her, and now with his family.

‘You’ve got that look on your face again, Tahir,’ came a deep voice beside him. ‘Didn’t you know a king is supposed to look solemn and regal?’

Tahir’s lips twitched and he turned to his brother Rafiq, looking debonair in a dark suit. ‘Much you’d know about it. You were never King.’

Rafiq shrugged. ‘What can I say? I had a better offer.’ His eyes strayed to the cluster of beautiful women just metres away.

‘You were saying? About that look?’ Tahir laughed. It was a sound he’d become gradually used to these past few months, as his world had filled with a warmth and happiness he’d never take for granted.

‘Oh, don’t pay any attention to him,’ said Kareef as he strolled up to join them, a glint of humour in his pale blue eyes. ‘You know he’s got it bad. Can’t keep his eyes off his wife.’

‘Which makes four of us, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.’ Their cousin Zafir came to stand on Tahir’s other side. He raised a hand and the sun glinted off his sapphire ring. He gestured towards the cluster of women in the royal tent. ‘We’ve been lucky, all of us.’

There was a murmur of assent from deep voices.

Tahir scanned the group. Zafir’s Layla, dripping sapphires and dressed in regal finery, yet with a smile as warm as the sun. Rafiq’s Serah, with her quiet beauty and gentle nature, now laughing with her childhood friend Jasmine, Kareef’s lovely wife.

And his mother was there, looking happier than he’d ever seen her, matriarch of a growing family. For at their centre sat the most beautiful of them all: his Annalisa, cradling Jasmine and Kareef’s tiny adopted daughter.

At the sight of his wife holding the infant so tenderly heat roared through him, a proud possessiveness he felt whenever he thought of the child she carried. Beneath her exquisite dress of silver her once-flat belly had begun to swell with the weight of their child.

He longed to reach out and stroke that satiny flesh with his palm, reacquaint himself with each luscious curve and line of her body. They hadn’t shared a bed in seven nights, mindful for once of tradition. But tonight…

As if reading his thoughts, Annalisa lifted her head and met his gaze head-on. A delicate blush stained her cheeks and her lips parted in unconscious invitation.

Tahir almost groaned aloud.

He wanted to stride over, slip the dress from her shoulders and make love to her as she wore nothing but the emerald and diamond collar. As he had the day he’d first put it on her. An image of Annalisa naked but for the gems filled his mind. Pliant and sexy under his questing hands, soft and welcoming against his hard flesh. A shudder of pure need racked him.

Saying something to the other women, Annalisa passed the baby over and rose, a shimmering vision in her wedding dress. Late sun caught the golden lights in her hair as she walked towards him. Her gown sparkled with embroidered gems. Her jewelled chandelier earrings swayed against her pale neck, accentuating its slender curve.

Slowly she approached. Their gazes meshed.

He heard voices beside him and realised his companions were moving away, leaving him alone with his bride. His family showed the good sense to know when a man needed to be alone with his wife.

Then she was before him. Velvet eyes gazed up with a stunned delight he knew matched his own expression.

‘You look like an impatient bridegroom,’ she said, her voice husky.

‘I am.’ He claimed her, wrapping his hand around hers and drawing her close. ‘I want you so badly it hurts to breathe.’

Her lips curved in an enchanting smile, even as her eyes gleamed with excitement. ‘Then perhaps we should leave everyone to their celebrations, so I can…tend your hurts.’

Tahir sucked in a deep breath at the image her words conjured.

‘Soon,’ he promised, ‘when I’m capable of walking.’ He pulled her to him and turned her round so she stood, like him, looking out over the colourful scene. She fitted against his body, into his arms, as if made for him.

‘No regrets about becoming my Queen?’

‘Of course not.’ She shook her head and the delicate scent of cinnamon and wild honey teased his nostrils.

Beneath the finery she was still the woman he’d met in the desert. Capable, loving, wonderful. His arms closed round her tenderly.

‘I love you,’ he whispered against her hair.

‘And I love you, Tahir. Always.’ She wrapped her hands over his encompassing arms and sank against him.

He and Annalisa would be together for the rest of their lives.

He’d never known such happiness.

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

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First published in Great Britain 2010
Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited,
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

Scandal: His Majesty’s Love-Child

© Harlequin Books S.A. 2010

ISBN: 978-1-408-91902-6