The Defiant Princess (15 page)

He intended to make the best of the situation thrust upon him. He would learn every inch of her delectable body, every sensitive part of her skin and each sensual trigger she possessed.

He watched in fascination as a faint blush spread over her cheeks, certain her desires pulled her thoughts in the same direction. She wouldn't deny him. She wouldn't deny herself. There'd be no part of her body that would be unfamiliar to him after they married, and in the process he'd also get to know her mind …

Khalid frowned as he identified an emotion other than the physical desire she stirred within him. Exhilaration. It was something he hadn't experienced in a long time and it wasn't all sex. He was actually looking forward to the prospect of spending time with Sabihah, tutoring and guiding her to take up her position on the Rhajian throne. It was an exciting prospect to think of them working together to restore Rhajia to the prosperous and happy country it had been under her father's rule. He'd been anxious to prove his capabilities to his people since he'd become the Crown Prince. Suddenly the thought of assisting with the restoration of Rhajia gave him an unsurpassed sense of purpose. If he was honest, however, he was more enthusiastic about spending time with her than he was about Rhajia's future.

Fulfilment was the other feeling he identified. A different kind of satisfaction to that he usually felt when achieving something worthwhile. This was more deep-seated, more personal. There was no denying the alien feeling of completion he had when she looked to him for reassurance and guidance and when, with all her strength of character, she leant on him for support. It was surely a very primitive emotion. It was one he would have scoffed at and perhaps even ridiculed if any of his friends had tried to describe this feeling in relation to a woman. But it was very real.

Sabihah's feminine inclination to rely on him for support made him feel all-powerfully male. It was a revelation. He'd thought of himself as fairly sophisticated, yet there was still a deep-rooted, primitive need within him to be the hunter and warrior to her gatherer.

He shook himself, disturbed at the thoughts and emotions she provoked within him. This wasn't what he'd expected. Not what he planned. He must stay strong. He'd enjoy the passion between them but he'd already learnt the hard way not to let a woman under his defences. There must be no chinks in the armour he'd built around himself.

“You'll be my guide, Khalid. I'll be relying on your advice and for you to make sure all runs smoothly when you become the ruler of Rhajia.”

Political rules made it impossible for him to ever be the official ruler of Rhajia, but it was too early to tell her that she'd always be at his side.

“This is a situation we've both been forced into,” she said with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “As far as I'm concerned I'll be doing what I came for and high-tailing it out of here as soon as—Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed, interrupting her own declaration.

Khalid saw she was looking through the car window. They'd just left the large airport complex to make their way to the palace. The streets were lined with locals, all waving and cheering as the cavalcade appeared.

“They're welcoming you.”

“All this for me?” Her astonishment was evident in her expression, but he sensed she was moved and happy to receive the excited welcome of the people.

He nodded. “They're welcoming you both as the Rhajian princess and as my fiancée and future queen.”

“Oh.” The tone of her voice flattened. Pleasure faded from her face. It seemed the mere mention of their betrothal robbed her of happiness.

Hell. She'd insisted on the betrothal so why did she insult him by reacting to his announcement in this way?

She lifted her hand up to wave.

“They can't see you through the smoked glass,” he said.

“Should I put the window down?”

“No. It must be left up for security reasons.”

“Bullet-proof glass,” she said with a slight grimace.

“A necessary precaution.”

She shook her head. “At least for me this is only a short-term way of life. How do you cope with the constant security and public scrutiny on a daily basis?”

“It's not something I dwell on. Although I am always aware of what's going on around me, I trust my security team to do their job so I can get on with mine.”

“I don't think I could ever get used to it,” she stated emphatically. “When I get home to Australia, I'm going to appreciate the freedom I've always taken for granted.”

Khalid disagreed. “Surely you're not naive enough to think your life will be unchanged? People will react differently to you, and there'll be enormous media interest.”

“I think they'll get sick of following me to school and back each day. Photos of me weeding garden beds, hanging out the washing, and doing everyday tasks like buying the groceries won't sell newspapers. The life I lead is not at all glamorous.”

He regarded her quietly. There'd be no going back for her but he was determined she wouldn't regret it. As Queen of Rhajia she'd be satisfied with all the good she could do for her people. As his wife she'd be more than satisfied. He'd make certain Sabihah didn't wish to return to her former life. She'd appreciate being his wife and there'd be no more insults coming from those lips.

They drove on for a few minutes in silence until she gasped in pleasure as their destination came into sight. At the end of the palm-tree lined boulevard with its extravagant fountains, the palace rose up from the desert—a huge structure with a dozen minarets that stretched up into the deep blue sky from behind the fortress-like walls.

“It's amazing!” she exclaimed.

It was his home and he'd approached it thousands of times before. Now, he studied it closely for the first time and saw it through the eyes of a visitor. Colourful frescoes depicting the Bedouin way of life had been created on the walls surrounding the palace using mosaic tiles. Each minaret rooftop was made up of different coloured ceramic tiles, with precious gemstones blended in to make the minarets sparkle and shimmer in the sun.

“It's like the Disneyland Castle with minarets instead of the European turrets.” Her eyes were wide as she stared ahead through the vehicle's windscreen.

He'd never heard such an enthusiastic description of the palace but conceded the Turastan Palace was like something out of a fairy-tale.

“The majority of Turastan brides have been Europeans over the last few centuries. The main section of this palace was built nearly two hundred years ago for a Bavarian bride, and added to significantly during that time. Each addition kept the original theme.”

“I've seen pictures of it, but it's more incredible in reality.”

Guards saluted as their vehicle entered through the magnificent golden gates.

“Welcome, Sabihah.” An unusual mix of pride and pleasure stirred within his chest as he welcomed her. Strange. He'd never felt like this when he'd brought any of his friends from university home for the holidays.

On deeper analysis, he realised that he was also pleased and proud to introduce Sabihah as his fiancée to those within his family home. It was a misplaced sentiment because she hadn't been his choice of wife. Yet, curiously, that pride was there.

“So, what next, Khalid?” Her question jolted him out of his disturbing acknowledgements.

“You'll be shown to your rooms where you can rest for a few hours. Then we'll meet with my father and he'll inform us of the plans he's made.”

“I think I can feel the fatigue setting in. I'll probably be seriously jetlagged for a few days, so it'll be good to rest. I guess you'll welcome some time to sleep, too? You didn't sleep much on the plane.”

“I won't be resting. There will be things I need to attend to.” Seeing Inaya and explaining the situation to her was at the top of his list.

***

Four hours later, a servant led Sabrina through the magnificent palace to an elaborately ornate reception room to meet with King Hassan.

Sabrina was feeling so much better after a rest. The part of her that wasn't dreading the political role she'd have to play was actually fascinated by her visit to Turastan.

Her suite was sumptuous with every conceivable modern convenience but presented in a way that still held some old-world charm. She'd given in to the maid's insistence that she enjoy the decadent sunken bath and be massaged with exotic oils while she awaited an audience with the king. The warm bath water had been a relaxing treat, and she'd been so exhausted by that stage, she'd fallen asleep on the massage table.

Yet despite all of that relaxation, Sabrina had been tightly wound the second she'd been awakened to ready herself for her meeting with the king. A quick phone call home to Helen had been stressful. The older woman had been full of misgivings and expressed her worry for Sabrina's safety. Had Sabrina told Helen about her plans for a temporary marriage to Prince Khalid, the poor lady would have most likely suffered a stroke.

“Princess Sabihah. Welcome.” King Hassan entered through enormous doors on her left. “I trust your accommodation is to your liking?”

“Everything's beautiful and very comfortable, thank you.” A quick glance beyond the king told her that Khalid was not following his father into the reception room.

“Khalid will join us later.”

She noted censure in the king's words. “He's been detained?”

The king avoided her eye contact. “My son is at another meeting.”

No prize for guessing where he had gone and who he was with.

Inaya.

Sabrina's chest tightened.

He'd told Sabrina he intended to meet with the woman he desired as his bride as soon as he returned to his home country. She wondered how Inaya was reacting to his explanation of his forthcoming marriage. If Sabrina had been in Inaya's shoes, it would traumatise her beyond belief to think of Khalid marrying another woman even if the marriage was only on paper. But she wasn't Inaya—the woman he loved. Sabrina was the other woman—the woman who was coming between the crown prince and his fiancée. She had no right to feel the envy that gripped her when she thought of Khalid and Inaya together. She'd had no right to enjoy Khalid's kisses, to want more from him.

He'd had no right to kiss her.

Was he holding Inaya in his arms right now … making love to her?

“Sit down, Princess Sabihah,” the king invited, indicating the lounges strewn with brightly coloured cushions. “We will have some refreshments.”

She slammed the door shut on her thoughts and did as the king bade. Now she needed to get answers to the crucial political situation she found herself in. That had to be her sole focus.

“King Hassan, I'm anxious to know how things will proceed. When will Mustaf relinquish his rule of Rhajia? In fact, how is that going to come about?”

The king smiled sadly as he sat opposite her. “Unrest among the country's generals has been growing for years but there's been no alternative other than your cousin, Hamil. Both Mustaf and his son are said to be sadistic to the point where some feel they teeter on the edge of insanity.” A servant entered the room holding a silver tray with a slender teapot. Sabrina knew a pang of nostalgia as she looked at the Arab-style pot with its elongated spout. Her mother had loved the aromatic, spiced tea that was a favourite in this region.

“The generals will support your ascension to the throne,” the king was saying. “You will be embraced. Mustaf will be ousted.”

As his words registered, she stared at him in disbelief. “Aren't these the same generals who supported Mustaf's rise to power and the assassination of my parents?”

“No!” The king held up a hand. With a pointed look at the servant, he waited until the tea had been poured and the servant left before speaking again. “Although I have never had enough proof to bring Mustaf to trial, what happened to your parents was all his doing. I know he had mercenaries on his payroll that did his bidding and I'm convinced they carried out the assassination. Your father was revered for all the progress he made in Rhajia and for his fair rule. The Rhajian generals are loyal to the throne, so with your father dead and you presumed dead, Mustaf was the next in line. It's only for that reason your uncle was able to rule. You'll be acknowledged and supported as the rightful ruler and I'm determined to find proof to bring Mustaf to justice for the crimes he's perpetrated against your countrymen—even if I can never find enough proof to put him on trial for the murder of your parents.”

There was no doubting the king's sincerity.

Sabrina picked up the delicate teacup and took a sip of the hot brew. “How are the Rhajian military going to oust Mustaf? Will innocent people be harmed in the process?”

“That's possible but highly unlikely. You are scheduled to meet with the council tomorrow. Once the members of council are convinced of your identity, they'll acknowledge your right to rule Rhajia. Word will be sent immediately to some of the older Rhajian generals. Mustaf will be seized within the Rhajian palace when he's least expecting it.”

“Just how do you plan to convince them?”

The king smiled as he reached for his tea. “You look like your mother. You've been living with Helen St. George all these years, and if I'm not mistaken that's your mother's pendant you wear around your neck.”

Sabrina's fingers flew to the necklace.

“The national flower of Rhajia,” the king stated. “It'll bear the mark of the Royal jeweller who created it for your mother on the occasion of her first wedding anniversary to your father. It was one of a kind.”

Sabrina turned the pendant over and saw the familiar marking. The pendant had become a part of her—the one tangible link she had to her parents. She'd never removed it, but she'd never known its history. Her voice was very quiet as she said, “My father gave it to me the last day I saw him.” Through the tears that stung her eyes, she saw that King Hassan was also emotional. “Will this be enough proof?” She forced the words out to break the moment.