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He allowed himself a grim smile. “Look at what Laila al-Abayyi does. And do the opposite.”
Beth looked miserable. “So you’re going to marry her?”
The thought still made him ill. But once the coming scandal of his breakup with Beth erupted across the country, he knew he’d have no choice. “Yes.”
She bit her lip. “I saw her at the banquet, sitting beside the vizier. And I noticed...”
“What?”
She paused, then shook her head. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Good night.”
“Good night.” Going to the door between their bedrooms, he paused. “Lock this door behind me.”
“Why?” she joked weakly. “Are you afraid you won’t be able to control yourself?”
“I still remember how it felt to make love to you, Beth. And you were right, what you told me in Paris.” He looked at her. “Even though I’m a king, I’m also just a man.”
She looked up at him, her luminous hazel eyes full of emotion, her sweet, full lips trembling. It took all of his willpower not to pull her into his arms. With a deep breath, she stepped back, out of his reach.
“I’ll make your people hate me,” she whispered.
With a stiff nod, he went into his own bedchamber, closing the door behind him. A moment later, he heard the bolt slide with a heavy click.
Now all he had to do, Omar thought grimly as he climbed into bed that night, was make himself hate her, too.
* * *
For the next few days, he tried to avoid Beth in the palace. He returned to his regular duties as King of Samarqara, while she was tutored in diplomacy, manners and the Samarqari dialect, for her future role as his consort.
But every time Omar saw her, whether from a distance or up close, he felt the same jolt. His feelings were all jumbled, anger and longing and desire. Desire most of all.
The days passed in a blur. As they waited to find out if she was pregnant, Beth upheld her promise, and seemed to try her best
to do as he’d commanded. She watched Laila al-Abayyi’s behavior, and did the opposite.
Laila was always perfectly elegant, dressed in black and white, either in chic versions of Samarqari traditional garb or designer outfits from Paris. So Beth used the allowance provided to her as future queen to buy cheap clothes from youthful shops in downtown Khazvin, in bright colors and styles, far too tight and with too much skin showing, wildly inappropriate for anywhere outside of Coachella, Glastonbury or Ibiza.
Laila was always formal, speaking only to her friends, her family’s employees or wealthy people of her own class. So Beth chatted with everyone, palace servants, strangers in town, even the occasional straggling tourist. She played ball with children in the street.
Laila held lavish charity balls with an elite international guest list, raising money for good causes. So Beth avoided fund-raising, instead spending her free time between lessons and palace duties, to help in Khazvin’s homeless shelter. She used her own money to buy crafting materials and bring new computers to the widows’ home and schools.
Beth did everything Omar had asked of her. Including avoiding him as much as he avoided her.
And every night, before he went to bed, he heard her carefully lock the bolt in the door adjoining their bedrooms.
Leaving him to many cold showers as he grimly waited out the time. How much longer would he be forced to endure this torture of having her live in his palace? How much longer, until they could know she wasn’t pregnant—and they could part?
Finally, on court day, Omar’s stamina ran out.
Each month, he held a session in his throne room when his subjects could come to the palace to speak with him directly about problems or issues. When, in the middle of court day, he was greeted by an entire family of seven, he looked at the parents in surprise. It was rare to have children brought to court. “You have business with me?”
“We have business with Dr. Farraday,” the man said apologetically. “We wish to thank her.”
“For saving our son,” his wife said, smiling down at the dark-haired toddler in her arms. “Please, sire, will you permit us to see her? We have a gift for her.”
“Of course,” Omar said, even as his stomach churned. He nodded toward his guards. “Please ask my lady to come here.”
When Beth appeared in the throne room, his mouth went dry.
