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Perhaps he hadn’t been wrong to bring her with him. His motives didn’t have to be that complicated. It would have been hard to explain her absence to the Ruling Council. And Orla, with her wide eyes, wild hair, lush lips and glorious body, had always been an excellent distraction. Perhaps she was smarter and funnier and more engaging than he had realised, her wry wit and willingness to challenge him a turn-on he hadn’t expected. But he was going to need some light relief over the next few days, maybe even weeks, and Orla seemed the ideal person to supply it—in so many ways.
‘I have no doubt the Ruling Council will have lined up a series of tedious meetings and briefings which I will be unable to escape today,’ he said.
He lifted her hand, allowing himself to touch her for the first time since their escapade two long days ago in the car journey back from Hammonds. She jerked, as he brought her fingers to his lips and kissed the knuckles. A rueful smile tilted his lips as he released her and registered her heightened breathing. Good to know he wasn’t the only one being tortured by the enforced celibacy of the last few days. ‘But I’ll join you as soon as I can,’ he finished, unable to disguise the husky promise in his voice.
She nodded, her cheeks now a beguiling shade of scarlet.
He had to bite his tongue, to contain the rough chuckle of satisfaction that wanted to burst out of his mouth.
Damn but he wanted her. So much. Surely satisfying this driving hunger would simplify his feelings for her? Feelings that had become unnecessarily complicated, just like every other thing in his life right now.
‘The madness should settle down in a couple of days,’ he added, or maybe in a couple of weeks. ‘Then we can discuss your future.’
After this much anticipation, he doubted either one of them would be satisfied too quickly. He wanted to explore every inch of her fragrant flesh, to see her lose herself again, but this time while he was embedded inside the tight wet warmth of… He dragged his mind away from the thoughts that had been crucifying him for days.
Not helping, Karim. Not when you have several hours ahead of you of tedious bureaucracy before you can finally make her yours.
He cleared the blockage in his throat. ‘I expect you’ll want to return to Kildare?’ he said, trying to keep the conversation on practicalities to drown the heat.
Something flickered across her face that looked oddly like disappointment. He dismissed it, along with the idiotic leap in his chest. They’d already agreed that this was a temporary arrangement, which suited them both.
‘Yes,’ she said.
He nodded, glad when the car finally cruised to a stop, in front of the dramatic Moorish structure that towered above them like a glowering giant.
A row of dignitaries and diplomats, including the delegation who had turned up in London two days ago, stood in their ceremonial robes waiting to greet him.
One of the palace servants rushed forward to open the door.
The traditional wailing cries of the local tribesmen, punctuated by the ceremonial cannon fire from outside the palace walls to celebrate the arrival of the new King, became deafening as he struggled to ignore the provocative promise in Orla’s eyes and step out of the car.
She joined him a few moments later. He had to place his hand on her hip, far too aware of her tremble of response and the effect it had on him, as he guided her through the introductions to a never-ending line of dignitaries.
As they finally neared the end, and approached the line of palace staff, he knew he’d had enough. The journey had been tiring for them both, and, even though he’d managed to get some much-needed sleep last night, having her so close was taxing his resolve, not to mention the last remaining reserves of his patience. He needed to get Orla safely ensconced in his rooms, if he were to have any hope of surviving the next few hours without sporting an erection the size of the tower above them.
Drawing the introductions to a halt, he called over the man whom they’d already been introduced to as his father’s former head of household.
‘Um… Saed,’ he said, glad he’d managed to remember the man’s name as he pressed his hand to Orla’s hip. Now he’d begun touching her it was becoming harder and harder to stop. ‘Could you take my fiancée to my chambers?’ Apart from anything else, he wanted Orla well rested, because he planned to keep her very busy tonight. ‘And make sure she has everything she needs.’
The older man’s brows shot up his forehead, his expression a picture of shock, his skin darkening as he flushed. ‘But, Your Majesty, it will bring much dishonour on yourself and Mistress Calhoun for such an arrangement before the wedding on Friday.’
‘The… What wedding?’ he snapped. Orla stiffened beside him, obviously as horrified as he was by this information. ‘I didn’t authorise a wedding,’ he said, his voice raw with fury.
What the hell was going on? He’d never been informed of any such arrangement. Certainly hadn’t sanctioned it.
‘The Ruling Council made arrangements for your convenience, Your Majesty,’ the man said, his eyes darting towards the council members who were standing on the other side of the courtyard, out of earshot.
‘What…?’ Karim bit off the swear word as the man flinched. ‘What convenience?’
This was intolerable, inconceivable. He had never given any indication he wished for a wedding to be arranged on his behalf.
He could feel Orla beside him, trembling. Did she think he had engineered this, lured her here to trap her into marriage?
The fury was tempered by the brutal stab of guilt… And the hazy pain of memory. His mother’s face dragged him back to the darkest days of his childhood, the words she had uttered so many times in her distress, before she took her own life.
He didn’t love me, Karim. He used me, he tricked me, and then he discarded me, because he never really wanted me.
Other memories, ones he’d blocked for so long, clawed at the edges of his consciousness as Saed continued talking.
