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‘You should go to bed,’ he said, keeping his hands firmly in his pockets as he returned to his desk. He hated the feelings churning in his gut, making him do and say things that would make the turmoil inside him visible.
‘Okay,’ she said softly, still standing in the doorway. ‘Mrs Williams told me you’re leaving for Zafar at noon tomorrow. If I don’t get to see you, I hope… I hope everything goes well.’
His head jerked round, the vicious twist of longing making the hollow ache drop into his stomach. And suddenly he knew he wasn’t ready to let her go.
‘You need not worry about seeing me tomorrow,’ he said. ‘As you shall be accompanying me to Zafar.’
‘I… I don’t understand.’ Orla was so shocked by Karim’s bold statement she stuttered over the words.
She’d been standing in the doorway to his office watching him, for several minutes, before alerting him to her presence. He’d looked shattered. His shoulders bowed, his dark hair dishevelled, his eyes staring at the papers in his hand but clearly not reading them.
He had seemed so different from the harsh, indomitable man she had come to know, her heart had pulsed painfully in her chest.
She had no right to care about him, or what he was going through. But he’d looked so different too, from the vital, playful man who had whipped her senses into a frenzy the day before, that she hadn’t been able to control the wave of sympathy.
He’d been locked in his office ever since learning of his father’s death with a series of assistants and delegates, diplomats and executives. This was the first moment she’d been able to get him alone… Had he even slept since getting the news yesterday? The bruised shadows under his eyes made it seem unlikely.
‘I didn’t think you’d need me any more,’ she blurted out when he didn’t say anything, just pinned her with that intense glare that made her nerve-endings sizzle and spark.
Although she’d been told nothing about her situation, she’d assumed she would be returning to Kildare. Now his father was dead, why would he need a fake fiancée?
‘Did you read the engagement contract you signed?’ he said, his voice gruff.
‘Yes, but…’ The truth was she hadn’t read the contract’s every detail, but she knew what it contained.
‘Then you know the Ruling Council are expecting me to travel to Zafar with my future Queen. Breaking off the engagement so soon after my father’s death is a disruption the country can do without while it is already facing a constitutional crisis.’ He paused, and she could sense his frustration. But then his gaze met hers, and the stark challenge in his eyes made heat flush into her cheeks. ‘And I think we both know there is unfinished business between us.’
She nodded, trying to ignore the bubble of something building under her breastbone.
She’d been prepared for him to discard her, had been ready to leave his home tomorrow, perhaps never to see him again. But the truth was, her reaction to that possibility hadn’t been nearly as simple or straightforward as it should have been. She had tried to convince herself that was because he had introduced her to a world of physical pleasure she hadn’t even known existed. But as she stared back at him now, his eyes shadowed with fatigue and frustration and a grief he refused to acknowledge, she knew her reluctance to leave him was about more than just the physical connection they shared.
‘Okay, if you’re sure you need me,’ she said. ‘I’ll make sure I’m ready.’
The bubble under her breastbone turned into something that felt suspiciously like tenderness when she watched the rigid line of his shoulders soften.
Had he been expecting her to argue? To refuse to honour the terms of their agreement? Perhaps she should have. After all, there had been no mention of her travelling all the way to Zafar. And a part of her had wanted to return to Kildare, where everything was so much more simple and straightforward.
But they both knew this wasn’t just about maintaining their charade any more. Or avoiding making the constitutional crisis of his father’s death any worse.
He was right, there was unfinished business between them. And she wanted to finish it.
‘I’ll have Jason give you all the details first thing in the morning,’ he said, picking up the papers again. ‘Get a good night’s sleep. It’s a long journey through the desert to the Palace of Kings.’
‘Will do,’ she murmured, then added impulsively, ‘Perhaps you should do the same. You look exhausted.’
He stared at her for a long moment and she wondered if she’d overstepped the mark. After all, his welfare wasn’t really supposed to be her concern. But then his lips quirked in a rueful smile. ‘Point taken,’ he said.
But as she turned to leave, stupidly pleased by the oddly domestic moment, he added, ‘By the way, Orla. Don’t worry, I won’t expect you to actually marry me once we’re there.’
She paused and turned back. The smile had disappeared, and the intense stare had returned, almost as if he was trying to gauge her reaction. She forced herself to stifle the tiny flicker of disappointment, knowing it had nothing to do with the thought of not marrying him, but rather the sudden loss of that precious moment of camaraderie.
Was he concerned that she was getting the wrong idea? That by agreeing to go with him without complaint, she was expecting more? She forced a smile to her lips and said, ‘That’s a relief. As I’m sure I’d make a disastrous queen.’
He choked out a rough chuckle and the odd sense of elation returned as the tension eased. ‘I doubt you’d make a worse queen than I will make a king,’ he said.
She knew that wasn’t true. She’d seen how hard he had been working already and how seriously he took his responsibility, to do the right thing, for his country and his people—even though he had professed a week ago to have no loyalty to either. And she couldn’t think of a man who was more confident or decisive, who wielded such an air of command or authority the way he did—all of which surely made him the perfect candidate to lead any c
ountry out of a constitutional crisis.
