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He turned to Elena. ‘You should go in there.’
‘I’m meant to wait until I’m summoned.’
‘You are Queen, Elena. You do the summoning.’
‘It’s not like that, Khalil.’
‘It should be. You’re the one who can change things, Elena. Remember that. Believe it.’
She stared at him uncertainly for a moment and he imagined how hard it must have been for her, all of nineteen years old, devastated by grief and so utterly alone, trying to assert herself against the sanctimonious prigs of her Council. The fact that she was still here, still strong, both amazed and humbled him.
‘You can do it,’ he said softly. ‘You can do anything you set your mind to, Elena. I know that. I’ve seen it.’
She gave him a small, tremulous smile. ‘Except maybe make a fire in the middle of the desert.’
He felt himself grin back at her. ‘There were a few flames going there. If that snake hadn’t come along...’
‘If you hadn’t come along,’ she shot back, her smile widening, and then she drew herself up and turned towards the double gold-panelled doors.
He watched as she threw open the doors, grinned at the sight of twelve slack-jawed, middle-aged men rising hastily to their feet as Elena walked into the room.
‘Good afternoon, gentlemen,’ she greeted them regally, and Khalil had to keep from letting out a cheer.
* * *
Elena could feel her heart thudding so hard it hurt and she could hear the roar of her blood in her ears. She kept her head high, her smile polite and fixed, as she gazed at each member of the Council in turn, saving Markos for last. Her nemesis’s eyes were narrowed, the corners of his mouth turned down, and she felt a flash of relief. If he’d made any headway with the rest of the Council, he’d have been looking at her in triumph, not irritation. She was safe...so far.
‘Queen Elena. We have been wondering where you had gone.’ Marko’s gaze flicked to Khalil. ‘A honeymoon in the desert?’ he suggested with only the faintest hint of a sneer, but as always it was enough. He made it sound as if she’d run off with her bodyguard, heedless of her country or its demands.
‘There has been no honeymoon yet,’ Elena answered crisply. ‘But things, as you have surmised, have changed. I wisely ended my engagement to Aziz al Bakir when I realised he was not the legitimate claimant to the throne of Kadar. Marriage to an impostor would hardly benefit Thallia, would it...Andreas?’
Markos’s eyes flashed annoyance or perhaps even anger. ‘And who is this, then?’ he asked, his gaze flicking back to Khalil.
‘This is Khalil al Bakir, sheikh of a northern desert tribe and Aziz’s older brother. He is the rightful heir to the throne of Kadar.’ Elena felt the sudden surprise tense Khalil’s body, felt it in herself. She’d spoken with a certainty she felt right through her bones.
‘I have chosen to marry Khalil instead, in an arrangement similar to the one I had with Aziz.’ She looked at each councillor in turn, felt herself practically grow taller. Khalil had been right. She was strong and smart enough, yet she was still achingly glad he was by her side. ‘I trust that this will be agreeable to all of you, as it was before?’
‘You change husbands at the drop of a hat,’ Markos said, his lip curling in contempt. ‘And we are meant to take you at your word?’
For a second Elena felt herself falter, everything in her an apology for past sins, but in her moment of damning silence Khalil spoke. ‘Yes,’ he stated coolly. ‘As she is your queen and sovereign, you will most certainly take her at her word. Queen Elena has demonstrated her loyalty to her country again and again. It will not be called into question simply because once long ago she gave her trust and her loyalty to a man who should have, by all measures, been worthy of it.’ Elena watched in amazement as Khalil nailed each councillor with a hard, challenging stare. ‘We will not speak of this again. Ever.’
She barely heard the answering buzz of murmured assurances and apologies; her mind was spinning from what Khalil had said, how he’d stood up for her, supported her. When had someone last done that?
She’d kept herself apart, refused to trust anyone, because it had felt stronger. Certainly less risky. But in that moment she knew she was actually stronger with Khalil, and the knowledge both thrilled and humbled her.
She turned to her Council with a cool, purposeful smile. ‘Now, shall we discuss the meeting with the press?’
CHAPTER TWELVE
ELENA CLOSED THE door quietly behind her and leaned against it, her eyes closed, exhaustion making every muscle and sinew ache. It had been a long, stressful, overwhelming and yet ultimately successful day.
She hadn’t had a chance to tell Khalil how grateful she was for his support, from the showdown with the Council to his effortless grace and charm before the press. It had been a tense diplomatic moment, supporting Khalil’s claim to Kadar’s throne publicly, and one her Council had initially balked at. But Khalil had stood by her and it was her turn to stand by him.
Side by side. That was the kind of marriage she wanted. And today it had felt as if Khalil wanted it too.
Maybe all he needed was time to get used to the idea, to learn to love again...
Because she loved him. It had been utter foolishness to pretend she didn’t, or wouldn’t. She’d been fooling herself as well as Khalil, but now she wanted to be honest. Wanted to admit her feelings for him, her love, respect and desire.
Yes, desire. She’d felt it all day like an in-coming tide, lapping at her senses, washing over her body. Every aspect of him appealed to her, from his hard-headed pragmatism to his sudden sensitivity, to that sensual blaze of heat in his eyes...
They hadn’t spoken privately since the plane, since she’d told him about Paulo—and she’d seen no judgement or condemnation in his eyes, just understanding and a surprising compassion, which just added to her desire. He was, she’d realised, not for the first time but with growing certainty, a good man.
After the press conference he’d gone to deal with matters relating to Kadar, and she had met with her personal assistant to review the schedule for the next few days. A team of lawyers had hammered out an agreement concerning the marriage terms that they’d both signed, and then they’d eaten dinner with a handful of dignitaries before parting ways, Khalil to a guest suite in another wing and she to her own suite of rooms.
Already she missed him. She needed to talk to him, she realised; they’d set the wedding for tomorrow and yet had barely discussed the details beyond a clinical meeting with the legal team. In any case, she didn’t want to talk business; she just wanted to be with him.
Swiftly she turned around and opened the door, slipped from her room and down several corridors to where she knew Khalil was staying.
She stood in front of his door, her palms slightly damp and her heart beginning to race. She knocked.
‘Enter.’
Elena stepped inside and the whole world seemed to fall away as her gaze focused on Khalil. He’d undone the studs of his tuxedo shirt, its tails untucked from his trousers so she could see a bronzed expanse of taut belly, and her breath instinctively hitched.
Khalil’s gaze darkened, although with what emotion she couldn’t tell. ‘I thought you were one of the staff.’
‘No.’
A tiny smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. ‘I realise.’
Hope ballooned inside her, impossible to control. One smile and she was lost. ‘I thought we should talk.’
‘About?’
‘We’re getting married tomorrow, Khalil,’ she reminded him with a smile, and his smile deepened.
‘I know that, Elena.’ He turned to face her fully, his arms folded across that magnificently broad chest. ‘Are you having second thoughts? Cold feet?’
Surprise at his question, and the shadow of vulnerability that crossed his face, made her shake her head decisively. ‘No.’ She took a breath and forced her gaze away from his pectorals. ‘Are you?’
‘No.’
‘Even though you didn’t want to marry?’
She shouldn’t have pressed, Elena realised. Any levity they’d been flirting with disappeared in an instant. ‘You know my feelings on the subject.’
‘A necessary evil?’
He inclined his head. ‘That might be a bit harsh.’
Elena rolled her eyes, inviting him into the joke, wanting to reclaim the lightness. ‘Well, that’s a relief.’
He smiled again and Elena felt a giddy rush of joy. She really did love his smile. She loved...
But she wouldn’t tell him that now. She knew he wasn’t ready to hear it, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to say it.
‘Why are you here, Elena?’ Khalil asked quietly.
‘I told you, to talk.’
He took a step towards her, his muscles rippling under his open shirt, his eyes glinting gold with amusement—and knowledge. ‘Are you sure about that?’
Suddenly her mouth was dry. Her heart beat harder. ‘No,’ she whispered.
He took another step towards her and then another, so if she lifted her hand she could touch him. He smiled down at her. ‘I didn’t think so.’
Of course he didn’t think so. Her need for him was obvious, overwhelming and undeniable. And the very force of it made her bold. ‘I want you, Khalil.’
