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“No,” Jemma said suddenly. She couldn’t finish dressing, couldn’t slip into the white satin gown, not until she’d seen Mikael. She needed to speak to him. She needed his promise that he’d honor Saidia tradition. “I need to go see His Highness, now. Will you please take me to him?”
The maid opened her mouth as if to protest and then nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. Please, follow me.”
* * *
The maid knew the palace corridors and they walked swiftly from her wing to his.
The maid knocked on the outer door of Mikael’s suite and then stepped back, discretely disappearing into the shadows.
Jemma drew a deep breath as she waited for the outer door to open. It did, and Mikael’s valet gestured for Jemma to enter the king’s suite.
Jemma glanced up into Mikael’s central hall with the soaring ceiling topped by a skylight. She remembered the skylight and the second floor lined with balconies, reminding her of the New Orleans French Quarter.
“Looking for me?” Mikael’s deep voice sounded behind her.
Jemma turned, blushing as she spotted Mikael in nothing but a snug white towel wrapped securely around his waist, revealing broad shoulders and muscular torso.
“Yes,” she said, forcing her gaze from his impressive body up to his face. His black hair was damp, and glossy, his jaw freshly shaven. His gaze met hers and held.
Handsome, she thought, dazzled by the play of golden light over his bronze features. He was too handsome for his own good. No wonder he was arrogant.
“What can I do for you?” Mikael asked as his valet disappeared.
“We need to talk.”
“And I thought you’d come to thank me for my gifts,” he answered, smiling faintly.
“They are...lovely,” she said hesitantly. “So yes, thank you. But—”
“But you want something else?” he interrupted.
She flushed. “Yes. You could say that.”
His eyes, fringed by those endless lashes, narrowed. His gaze swept over her and even from across the courtyard she felt the heat in his eyes, felt the possession.
“What is it?” he asked.
Jemma grew hot. Her pulse quickened. She’d walked quickly the entire way from her room but it didn’t explain this new heat in her veins. This was his fault. When he looked at her, he made her head light, made her feel ridiculously dizzy and weak. “I want something that isn’t a physical gift.”
“You don’t care for jewels and clothes?”
“They’re fine, but not my favorite gifts.”
“I thought every woman loved jewelry and exquisite clothes.”
“I am sorry to disappoint you.”
He circled her slowly. “You don’t disappoint me. You intrigue me. I’m intrigued right now. What it is that you want so badly you’d race to my room just an hour before we are to disappear into the Chamber of Innocence?”
Mikael watched color sweep Jemma’s cheeks. She was beautiful in the pink kimono robe, and she sounded breathless and all he could think of was peeling the thin fabric from her shoulders and kissing the pale skin at her collarbone.
She had a beautiful body. He wanted her body. He wanted her.
“Would you care to sit?” he asked her.
“No. I think I’m better standing.”
“Does what you need to say require courage?” he asked, wondering if she knew how beautiful she was. He doubted it. She was surprisingly modest. She had no airs or attitude. Someone in her family had done a good job raising her.
“It depends on how you’ll take it,” she answered.
“Then perhaps let’s not talk now. Tonight is special. Tonight is about pleasure.”
“Tonight cannot happen without us speaking, Your Highness.”
He sighed, an exaggerated sigh. The sigh was purely for show. He was playing with her, enjoying her fire. “Laeela, I confess I’m not pleased with the direction our relationship is taking. We do a lot of talking. Or more accurately, you do a lot of talking, and I seem to be doing a great deal of listening.”
“You’re wrong, Your Highness. You actually never listen.”
“I’m sure that’s not right. It seems like you talk a great deal.”
“That’s maybe because you’re not used to a woman who has a brain and wants to use it.”
“I see.” It required effort not to give in to the smile. “That might explain it, but I’m wondering if talking now will maybe interfere with our pleasure tonight? Perhaps we should wait and talk later.”
“Most men probably never want to talk, Your Highness, but we must.”
“Fine. You talk, and I will listen, provided there is no more of this Your Highness when we are in private. You’re my wife, about to come to my bed. I understand you must call me Your Highness in public, but we are alone at the moment, and my name is Mikael.”
She blinked and wet her lips, her face awash in rosy color, her eyes a brilliant green in her lovely face, flashing fire.
“Now, what is it you had to say?” he added, reaching out to touch her pink cheek.
She just looked at him with wide green eyes and he savored the moment. “What is it?” he persisted. “Tell me.”
She drew a quick breath. “I want you to make me a promise.”
She was negotiating with him. Interesting. “Yes?”
“I want you, as the king and leader of the Saidia people, to promise me that you will honor Saidia tradition, and the custom of your tribe.”
He could see from the tilt of her chin that she expected him to fight her. She expected a problem. She was preparing to battle.
“I always try to honor Saidia tradition,” he said.
“Then promise to honor this tradition.”
“Perhaps you need to tell me what it is, first.”
She looked into his eyes and then away. She seemed to struggle to find the right words, and then she shrugged, and blurted, “If you cannot make me happy in the first eight days and nights of our honeymoon, I want you to promise to send me home, to my family. My people.”
She’d shocked him. For a moment he could think of nothing to say.
“During the tour you explained why the honeymoon is so important,” she continued. “It made sense to me, and it made me respect your culture more. I am grateful you come from a culture that believes a woman should be happy, because I, too, believe a woman should be happy. I believe all women should be happy, just as I believe all women should have a say in their marriage, and future.” She drew another quick breath. “I need to have a say in my future. I need my voice heard. You must give me my voice back.”
“But you have your voice. I hear you quite plainly.”
“Then give me a gift I will cherish, the gift of your word. Promise me I will be free to return home if you cannot make me happy.”
“You doubt me?”
“I won’t if you promise me I can trust you.”
“I’ve told you my word is law.”
“Then say to me, ‘Jemma, if you aren’t happy in eight days, I will put you on a plane, and send you back to London.’” Her green eyes held his. “That is all you have to do, and I will believe you, but I need a promise from you, or it is impossible to give you my body, or my heart, if I’m afraid, or full of fear and doubt.”
He said nothing.
“Mikael,” she added more softly, persuasively, “I need to know that I can trust you. I need to believe you will take care of me. Your promise is the gift of dignity and honor. Your promise means I feel safe and respected, and that gives us the basis for a future. Otherwise, we have nothing. And how can you build a future on nothing?”
She was like a queen, he thought, watching her. Beautiful and regal. Proud, slender, strong. With her dark hair and stunning green eyes, she could easily be one of the great Egyptian queens. Cleopatra. Nefertiti. Ankhesenamun.
If they had met under different circumstances, he would have made her his lover or mistress. He would have enjoyed spoiling her with gifts. He liked to spoil his woman, liked to please her. But he didn’t love. He didn’t want to love. Love complicated relationships. Love wasn’t rational.
He was determined to be rational. He was determined to be a good king.
She reached toward him, her hand outstretched. “Mikael, I need to know you have not just your best interest at heart, but mine, too.”
He stiffened. “As king I have all my people’s best interests at heart.”
“As my husband, you must have mine, too.”
“I do.”
Her hand lightly settled on his chest. “Then promise me, and I can meet you tonight with calm, and confidence, and hope.”
He glanced down at her hand where it rested so lightly on his chest, just above his heart.
He captured her hand in his, holding her small fist to his chest. His thumb swept her wrist. He could feel the wild staccato of her pulse. She was afraid. He didn’t like her fear. “You’ve no need to be afraid.”
