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Kahlil’s jaw tightened, a small muscle popping close to his ear. “He lives off his trust fund. It’s his fund, his choice.”
“You set up the trust fund. Not your father. That was your doing.”
“And if it was?”
She missed the raspy pitch, his deepening inflection, too caught up in her own emotions to read Kahlil properly. Because if she had heard the caustic note in Kahlil’s voice, she would have immediately known she was entering very dangerous territory.
“Kahlil, I understand the blood is thicker than water part, but he’s not good for you. He’s not loyal—”
“He’d said you’d say this. He bet me a thousand sterling pounds that you’d attack his loyalty, and his integrity. I owe him.”
Bryn swallowed hard. “When did he say this?”
“Earlier. In my office. Before I went to change for dinner.”
So Amin had approached Kahlil privately, rushing to reach him when she wasn’t around. What a snake, what a cruel, poisonous snake. “He’s a liar, Kahlil.”
Kahlil sat forward, weight resting on his elbows, robe parting at the chest, displaying the bronzed plane of muscle. “Tell me, did anything happen between you two? Anything unflattering…anything possibly incriminating?”
She felt chilled to the bone. My God, what had Amin told Kahlil? “No! No. I can’t stand him. He makes my skin crawl.”
“Two lies, Bryn, two lies tonight. How can I possibly ever trust you?”
Bryn stood frozen, stunned. Her mouth worked, lips quivering, her brain struggling to sift through the truths and motivation. “I don’t know what lies you’re talking about.”
“Lie number one—I asked you earlier if you had a problem with Amin and you said no. Lie number two— I asked you moments ago if something had happened between you and my cousin, and you said no.” His eyes were riveted on her face, no mercy in his harsh expression. “Amin told me about your little…infatuation. It’s been three years, enough time has passed, why can’t we discuss it?”
She went to him, knelt before him, placed her hands on his knees. “Kahlil, I’ll tell you why I don’t like Amin. He destroys people, destroys the truth. I’ve never known anyone to twist the truth the way he does. I thought he was my friend but he’s not. I confided in him, and spent time with him, but there was no sordid relationship.”
“No kiss?”
“No. Never.” She rose up higher on her knees, begging him to listen, to understand. “I wasn’t attracted to him. I had you. But it made him angry. He wants to punish us—”
“Why would he do that?” Kahlil barked.
Gently she reached up, touched his jaw, pained by the way he flinched from her touch. Yet she didn’t draw her hand away, she continued to caress his chin and the warmth of his mouth. “Maybe because he envies our happiness.”
Kahlil caught her hand in his, holding it immobile. His gold eyes pierced her, searching for the truth. “If he betrayed me, I want to know. If he took advantage of you, he will be punished. Is there something else I should be aware of?”
What was she to accuse Amin of? Assault? Rape? She’d sent him a note, asking him to meet her. It was essentially at her invitation that he came to her room. How could she explain Amin’s threatening behaviour and still justify her own?
She couldn’t.
“No,” she said at length, sitting back slowly on her heels. “There is nothing else.”
“I do not want you and Amin to be alone again. No more confidential talks. No more cups of tea or whatever you used to do. My wife must be above reproach. My wife must conduct herself in a manner befitting a princess. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“In one week we say our vows,” Kahlil said slowly, enunciating clearly, “and this time, no secrets, no lies. No runaway brides.”
The week passed with unusual swiftness. Bryn spent her days with Ben, nights with Kahlil, and saw virtually nothing of Amin. In fact, after going three days without a single glimpse of Kahlil’s cousin, Bryn wondered if perhaps Amin had returned to Monte Carlo. She grinned, liking the thought. No more Amin, no more of his threats, no more worrying about his twisted intentions.
Amin, however, only got passing attention. Kahlil dominated her thoughts. It was almost as if he was superimposing himself on her life. He had moved her permanently into his room at night, located Ben’s nursery in a nearby suite and took most meals with Bryn, and whenever possible, with his son also.
At night Kahlil loved to undress her, seduce her, savor her. He made love so thoroughly that when she finally slept, she drifted off into deep, dreamless slumber. Sometimes he’d wake her in the night to claim her again, but always by morning, he’d be gone, dressed, in his office, conducting business and meetings.
She overheard Kahlil on the phone once. It seemed he was required to participate in a conference, but Kahlil was giving his apologies, explaining he couldn’t go, that leaving Tiva wasn’t an option at the moment.
He wouldn’t leave her alone, she realized, more unsettled than reassured. He didn’t trust her.
She tried asking him about the conference over dinner, attempting to give him reassurance that things would be fine in the palace if he needed to attend. Kahlil nearly snapped her head off. “I will not leave you here alone.”
His voice echoed, his tone razor-sharp. “But I wouldn’t be alone,” she answered mildly. “Rifaat, Lalia, the castle guards, Ben.”
“I’m not going. End of discussion.”
He didn’t touch her that night in bed, and Bryn fell asleep, huddled in a little ball, feeling like a stranger sleeping in Kahlil’s bed but not part of his heart.
Would things never be the same between them again?
The next time he reached for her, he made love with an intensity that left her breathless and dizzy. It was as if he was reclaiming her, branding her, reminding her of possession. She was his. She belonged to him. But he didn’t, wouldn’t, love her.
The morning of the wedding arrived. In her old suite of rooms, Lalia attended Bryn, drawing a bath, then drying her with scrupulous care before applying a perfumed oil to her skin.
Lalia sang as she helped Bryn dress, her dark eyes lit with excitement. “This is a happy day, yes? You marry the Sheikh al-Assad here, nice traditional ceremony, and everyone be very happy.”
Except for Bryn. She wanted Kahlil to show her some sign of affection, some hint that he might have deeper emotions, but he kept everything hidden. Their conversations were banal. The only time they were close was at night in his bed. Otherwise they were practically strangers, distant and detached.
A knock sounded on the door and Lalia went to answer it. She returned with a folded sheet of paper.
Bryn stared at the scrap of paper, darts of anxiety pricking her spine. Only one person had ever passed notes in the palace. Only one person would dare send her a note in the women’s quarters.
Slowly she unfolded the sheet of paper. I must see you. Immediately. No name, but she didn’t need one. She knew the handwriting. Amin.
For a second she couldn’t breathe and then, when feeling returned, she fiercely squeezed her hand closed, crumpling the note. She wouldn’t answer him. He didn’t deserve an answer. He shouldn’t even be here. What was he doing in the palace on her wedding day? Shouldn’t he be back in Monte Carlo, gambling and partying?
Bryn was tempted to send for Kahlil, to confess everything once and for all. Better face the music, get the whole episode with Amin put behind them before they renewed their vows. But she hesitated, feeling the wadded note in the palm of her hand.
Would Kahlil understand if she told him? Would he realize why she’d allowed herself to trust a man like Amin?
No. Kahlil needed no one. He didn’t like weakness in others. He despised it in himself. No matter what she said about Amin, the fact was that he and Kahlil were once inseparable, practically brothers.
Amin had her backed into a corner and he knew it. But she wouldn’t give in, and she woul
dn’t give up. This was her home now, her family. Perhaps she couldn’t speak against Amin, but she didn’t have to play his game, either.
The wedding gown was a pale shade of gold encrusted with precious jewels. It clung elegantly to her slender frame, catching the light as she moved beneath crystal chandeliers and passed ornate wall mirrors. The wedding party was waiting for her outside. Lalia led the way, brimming with excitement. Suddenly a hand clamped around her upper arm and dragged her to a step. “What is that American expression? ‘You can run, but you can’t hide?’”
Bryn watched Lalia continue walking. Her heart raced uncomfortably fast. “You’ve watched too many movies, Amin. Let go of me.”
