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He forced himself to draw back and let her go. Perhaps having her safely ensconced in the Women’s Quarters wasn’t such
a bad thing. At least it ought to stop him thinking with a part of his anatomy that wasn’t his brain. Something he’d been doing way too much of recently.
To his surprise, given how badly he’d messed up, instead of looking anxious or annoyed, she sent him another uncomplicated, far too trusting smile—the shadow of desire in her eyes undimmed. ‘It’s grand, Karim. I’m not panicking. I have faith in you.’
But as he watched her walk away, the sway of her hips doing nothing to dim the hunger that had got them both into this fix in the first place, he realised it wasn’t her faith in him that was the problem.
It was his faith in himself.
He’d strived his whole life not to be a man like his father. Had always been sure to be honest and open in his relationships with women. To let them know what he could offer and what he could not. But with Orla, nothing had ever been that easy or uncomplicated. And now he’d crossed a line he wasn’t sure he had the strength, or the integrity, to uncross.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘YOUR HAIR IS like flame, Orla. Is it real, or from a bottle?’
‘It’s real.’ Orla choked out a strained laugh at the typically forthright comment from Ameera, as the older woman washed her hair. Thank goodness for Ameera’s chatty, friendly presence or she would probably have lost her mind completely in the last two days.
She’d been in Zafar for nearly seventy-two hours now, most of it cocooned in the palace’s lavish women’s quarters.
The morning after she’d arrived she’d been given a tour of the stables by Karim’s stable manager, who had told her the new King wanted her advice on the care of the beautiful Arabian stallions that had once belonged to his father. She’d been flattered by Karim’s faith in her, and at least it had given her something to do, but she’d also been disappointed that she hadn’t had a chance to see him herself. So far the only contact she’d had with Karim personally was a two-line note yesterday morning, thanking her for her feedback on the horses, which he had said was invaluable, and then a cryptic mention of how he was working on ‘resolving their situation to everyone’s satisfaction’.
But since then she’d heard nothing—and the wedding was tonight. Ameera, though, and the other ladies-in-waiting, seemed convinced it was going ahead—in approximately four hours’ time—because they had arrived in her suite of rooms that morning and insisted on beginning the seemingly endless process of preparing her to become the new Queen of Zafar.
Orla had never felt more embarrassed or confused or anxious in her life.
But she’d had no choice but to try and force herself to relax.
Whatever was going on diplomatically, she hadn’t lied to Karim, she trusted him. He’d sounded as shocked as she had felt when Saed had informed him of the planned event, and she had no doubt he had probably been trying to prevent it from happening. But it had dawned on her this morning, when Ameera and the other women had begun gossiping, brimming with excitement at the prospect of the wedding—and all the guests who had begun to arrive—that getting it stopped might have turned out to be an impossible feat. Not least because how was Karim going to do that without admitting to everyone theirs was not a real engagement?
It was a humongous mess, she could see that, and possibly not one he was best placed to deal with when his whole life had already been thrown into turmoil by the huge challenges the country faced in the wake of his father’s death—something that had also been a hot topic of discussion among the women.
‘You are very tense,’ Ameera said, massaging Orla’s scalp with a fragrant shampoo scented with bergamot and orange. ‘You must not be nervous. The wedding will be a glorious event. The whole of Zafar is excited to greet our new Queen as well as our new King.’
Orla swallowed down the hysterical laugh that had been threatening to pop out of her mouth all morning at Ameera’s generous words—the flush of guilt, though, was impossible to contain.
What would Ameera and the rest of Zafar’s population think if they knew she and Karim hardly knew each other? And that this whole engagement was a total fraud?
The flush intensified, though, as she remembered Karim’s bold kiss when they had parted and the fierce possessiveness in his gaze as she’d been led away.
Okay, maybe they weren’t a total fraud any more. She cared about him, and what he was going through. Probably more than she should. And she still wanted him, desperately. As the minutes had ticked by over the last forty-eight hours and she’d got no more word from him about whether the wedding had been cancelled, she’d come to the conclusion that maybe going through with it wouldn’t be so terrible. Especially if it meant they could finally deal with the driving hunger that had consumed them both—well, certainly her anyway—for days now.
After all, if they could fake an engagement, why couldn’t they fake a marriage?
‘You blush very prettily,’ Ameera said, grinning, as she finished rinsing Orla’s hair.
Orla felt the blush ignite. Terrific. As if this situation weren’t awkward enough, now everyone could see how eager she was to end up in Karim’s bed.
Way to go, Orla, it’s official, you’re a total hussy.
‘The new King is very handsome…’ Ameera murmured, the indulgent smile in her voice only making Orla feel more exposed. But then the woman added, ‘From the way he kissed you in the courtyard, so tender and so much in love, I think he is not a man like his father—and you are nothing like his mother—so your wedding night should be a good one.’
Ameera laughed as she draped a linen cloth over Orla’s head to dry her hair.
Orla straightened in her chair and turned to meet Ameera’s gaze, surprised by the mention of Karim’s parents.
She had been in the quarters for three days now, and she’d got the definite impression no one wanted to talk about the dead King. Because every time his name was mentioned in front of her, looks were exchanged and the subject was changed. Which, now she thought about it, was beyond weird. After all, he had died less than a week ago.
All she knew about Karim’s mother were the things she’d discovered while trawling the Internet for information about him the day before she had met him. By reading old press reports, she had discovered that Cassandra Wainwright had been a young British heiress, who had married and divorced King Abdullah, returned to England with her son and then died five years later when Karim was still only ten years old… Which was perhaps why he had never mentioned her. But why was there so little information about her? Orla had been able to find virtually nothing out about the death of the former Queen of Zafar, or why the marriage had ended.
