The Defiant Princess (8 page)

He could relate to that. Although he'd inherited a responsibility to rule Turastan, he would choose his own bride. Marriage wasn't something he'd enter into lightly. As a Turastani royal, divorce was out of the question. That was why he'd decided to marry a woman he was compatible with—a woman who would be elegant and regal in her role as the queen, but not demand anything too much from him on a personal level. A woman who could claim his respect and loyalty but never his heart.

Inaya.

Guilt washed through him in an onslaught of forceful waves. Mentally undressing and making love to Sabihah was forbidden ground when he was determined to marry Inaya. He wasn't a callow youth who'd let lust rule his head. He would master his hormones, which reacted out of turn to Sabihah. Marriage to Inaya would work, and he'd remain faithful to her. Loyalty was something he'd demand and reciprocate.

He shrugged. “My father would like to think the betrothal arrangement made by our parents still stands, however—”

Sabihah stood. “Then, that's the answer to the problem.”

Khalid couldn't credit her response. Was she actually suggesting they marry?

“I will marry you, Khalid,” she rushed out as her hands moved in quick agitated circles. “If we get married—”

“You haven't been asked,” he cut in sharply.

She stilled immediately, then sat back down. “You said we're betrothed.”

“These are modern days. My father and yours were of a different generation. Neither of us has to comply with their wishes.”

As he purposely crossed one leg casually over the other and tried to keep his cool, she jerked to her feet again and positioned herself at the back of her chair. “But through our marriage, you could gain control of Rhajia and the country would no longer be under Mustaf's rule,” she said.

“No. Marriage is out of the question.”

She took a step toward him, then retreated. God, but the woman was as wound up as a spring and wasn't thinking clearly. Her plan to marry him was ridiculous. Despite the political advantages that would be gained and the raging sexual chemistry between them, he knew nothing about their general compatibility—except that she'd opposed him at every turn since he'd arrived.

Yet, if she was as passionate in her lovemaking as she was in her arguments …

He compressed his lips in displeasure. The last time he'd felt anything close to this level of sexual desire he'd been a youth. He'd learnt the hard way that it was imperative he never lose his head again to lust. It was a lesson well-learned and embarrassingly painful to remember. Moreover, the attraction he felt for Sabihah was more potent than that he'd felt for the woman who'd made a fool of him. That was enough to warn him to stay away.

Sabihah was dangerous to his equilibrium.

Inaya was his choice.

“Did you believe after all these years that Hazim would come to claim you as his bride?” he said as the thought dawned on him.

Her head snapped up. Initially, he thought hurt cloaked her features, but then the blue depths of her eyes flared with anger. Her lips twisted into a scornful expression. “Yes. For many years I lived under exactly that illusion. I believed it because it's what my father told me. It was the agreement made between our fathers.”

“But you've been living in Australia for years.” He couldn't assume his casual pose any longer. Planting both feet on the ground, he sat forward. “Surely you couldn't have wanted to marry Hazim—a man you'd only met once when you were a child.” He couldn't keep the incredulity from his voice.

“I didn't believe I had a choice. Even though my ties with Rhajia seemed more distant, I still felt a loyalty to my father and his ideals. I still believed in him and the promises he made to me.”

There was deep sadness in her face as she sat back down. For a few seconds there was a strange tugging sensation in his chest. Ignoring it, he looked at the slump of her shoulders and knew he needed to press on her loyalty a little more.

“If that's the case, why do you resist my attempts to persuade you to return to Rhajia?”

She held out her hands, palms upwards and gave a shrug. “It's too late. I don't feel the burden of my father's wishes anymore. My father died. Nobody came for me.” She shrugged again. “It's just too late.”

“Then why do you want to marry me?”

“There is no way I'd ever
want
to be married to a man like you,” she scoffed. “But it does seem to be the best solution to this entire mess.”

A man like him?

Khalid recoiled inwardly at the disdain of her words. Nobody spoke to him like that. He was used to women throwing themselves at him, not rejecting him. Even without his looks, women recognised he was a very wealthy, powerful man. The combination drew them like iron filings to a magnet. Yet Sabihah, spectacular in her rage, appeared to have little respect for him. Before he could delve more into her statement, she continued.

She pointed at him. “I didn't ask you to come here. I didn't want Mustaf to know I existed. I don't want to rule Rhajia, and I certainly don't want to be your wife.”

Each statement was accompanied by a slight increase in volume. Anger shimmered off her. The hot-blue fire burning brightly in her eyes was arousing even while the idea of marriage to her went completely against all his plans.

“We don't need to stay married,” she said. Her eyes sparked at him with determination. She stood up and took a step toward him, so she finally had the advantage of height. “In fact, the quicker the marriage is over, the better. We just need to get married, get all the paperwork signed so you can take over, and then you can get on with ruling Rhajia and I can come back here.”

Did she really think it was so simple?

He resisted the urge to get up and kiss some sense into her. Instead he rested his hands on the armrest and tried to appear indifferent to the stimulating energy she projected.

“You're proposing a temporary marriage?” His voice was tight. The words conjured up the temptation of having her in his bed for a short interlude. It was impossible, but he was only human and the idea very much appealed to his baser male instincts. Instincts he was having a great deal of difficulty managing right now, which was another first for him.

“Not really a marriage,” she said quickly. Her hands went up to her temples for a second. “In fact, not a real marriage at all. Just our signatures on the paper, me staying in Rhajia for as little time as possible to be convincing, then we can state irreconcilable differences or something and get divorced.”

He bit back a curse. That this woman, even if she was a princess, could propose marriage to him on such casual terms was insulting. How could she stand there and talk about them marrying on a name-only basis? How could she deny the chemistry between them? She was deluding nobody but herself. If she were his wife, she would be his wife in every way.

But that wasn't going to happen.

As incredibly desirable as he found her, he didn't want all the passion the blue-heat in her eyes promised if marriage was the price. A wild, erotic affair? Yes, he wouldn't have had a problem with that had he not already been planning marriage to Inaya. But, if he was to rule Turastan, then it was Turastan that was to be his true wife and mistress. The role of his queen was to stand by him, perform royal duties with dignity, and produce heirs. He already had a course he'd mapped for his future and she didn't feature in it.

As he stood, she backed away. “There's more than one flaw in your plan, Sabihah, but the biggest is that I have already chosen the woman I wish to marry.”

Her shoulders sagged, her face fell, and all the vibrancy and fight drained out of her. “Oh.” Avoiding his eyes, she sat back in the chair. “I see.”

Why did his victory in putting her back firmly in her place feel like a loss?

Silence stretched between them as he turned the tables and stood over her.

“Your fiancée … Would she … I mean, if she knew of the plan … If she knew it wasn't a real marriage, would she be prepared to wait to marry you until we were divorced?”

His eyes widened slightly in response to her incredible cheek.

“I just can't see any other way,” she told him in a voice heavy with desperation. She fidgeted with her fingers in her lap. “I don't want Mustaf to continue to rule Rhajia, but I can't be the ruler either.” She stopped fidgeting and put her hands up in an imploring gesture. “You could rule, and though you don't possess all the skills your brother did, you'd have to be better than Mustaf.”

Once more her words slapped at him. Rage boiled in Khalid's veins. That this supposed Princess would be so insulting beggared belief.

“I may not possess all the skills my brother did, but I certainly possess more diplomacy in my little finger than you possess in your entire body.” Each word was delivered in razor sharp tones. He looked around the room, wondering if they kept any hard alcohol in the place because a couple of hours with this woman was driving him to drink! The lace-edged curtains and floral fabrics didn't inspire him to search. He'd probably only find crème sherry or some brandy for their Christmas pudding.

When he looked at her again, he noted she'd cringed back into the chair and eyed him as though he would hurl deadly throwing knives in her direction at any second.

“I'm so sorry.” She raised the fingers of one hand to her mouth in distress. “That was insulting, and I didn't mean to be.”

“Even worse that your insults were uttered without intention. You've just proved, beyond any doubt, that you'd be totally unsuitable as Rhajia's ruler. God only knows what sort of diplomatic messes you'd plunge your country into each time you opened your mouth.” He'd have to speak with his father and find another way.

She straightened and her chin thrust forward again in defiance. ‘You're not exactly known for your experience in international affairs, Prince Khalid. Unless, by international affairs, you mean ones that take place in the bedroom with foreign women.”

Khalid was torn. One part of him wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled for daring to speak to him that way, the other part of him wanted to kiss her into senseless submission.

“Is that a challenge, Princess?” He took a step forward and leaned to place a hand on each armrest. “Do you require first-hand proof of my experience in
international affairs
? Is that why you wish to become my wife?”

“That's just the sort of egotistical, arrogant comment I'd expect from someone like you.” Even as she shrank back further into the chair, she retaliated. Her retort proved she wasn't a woman who would back-down easily. “I've already told you, the one reason I'm proposing a name-only marriage is to find a solution—a better future for Rhajia, and to protect anyone I'm close to. I have no interest in marrying you for your charm or body.”

“Good.” He straightened and moved away from her. “Because I have no interest in being shackled to a shrew for a wife.”

Inaya would be calm. Respectful. Dutiful. The wife he needed.

“We are at an impasse, Prince Khalid. I won't return and make a claim for the throne if I am to be held to that position permanently. A marriage to you can end in a quick divorce. You rule, I return, and everybody wins. Those are my terms.”

Her words were grounded on her own lack of understanding of the situation, but they reminded Khalid of all that was at stake. First priority was to get her back to the Middle East. Despite his misgivings about her ability to rule wisely when she seemed to say whatever she thought without regard for the consequences, returning her to Rhajia was the only way Mustaf could be deposed.

“If I agree to the betrothal arrangement, you will accompany me to Turastan?” He could say yes to the betrothal without technically agreeing to proceed with the marriage.

For a moment, she paled. He watched as she pressed her lips together to stop them from trembling. “Yes.”

Khalid suppressed the acid guilt nagging at him. He was being less than honest for the first time in his life and it didn't sit well with him. He justified his deception because this situation was larger than both of them. The needs of those who suffered under Mustaf's rule must be put ahead of their own. War between the two nations must be averted, and his sister could not be sacrificed in a marriage to Hamil. Those were the stakes.

Besides, it wasn't as though Sabihah wanted to be married to him. She'd made that very clear. What she didn't realise was that her naive plan to hand control over to him upon a divorce was a legal impossibility. The ruler of Rhajia could only be a blood relative. Mustaf would legally assume power again the minute she left the country, and nothing would be resolved.

“Do you have a current passport?” he asked.

She nodded. “I went to New Zealand last year.”

“Then we shall leave tomorrow.”

“Hold on—”

“No. There's no time to waste. You need to be in Turastan. The Arab Council needs to be notified of your existence, and Mustaf must be deposed as quickly as possible.”

“I have a job, Khalid.” She crossed her arms across her chest. The action pushed her breasts up slightly and drew his attention. Reluctantly, he forced his eyes upward and met the full force of defiance in stormy blue eyes. “I have a responsibility to my students. I can't just walk out on them mid-term.”

“They will be taken care of. A replacement will be here by Monday.” He went to his briefcase and retrieved a file. “This contains all the information about the teacher who'll be employed in your place. I thought you might like to read through this and rest assured she comes with a wealth of experience and high recommendations.”

“You've already organised a replacement teacher? Out here?” Her voice was full of disbelief. “But the Principal will never agree.”