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She’d married Raffa but she hadn’t really wanted to be his wife. She had married him without truly picking up the mantle of what that meant.
Well, no longer.
She straightened her spine, staring back at her reflection. The dress was sensational – a dark green that hugged her torso and then fell into a wide, full skirt, with beading at the very bottom of it, that swished when she walked. She looked every bit the Queen of Ras el Kida and tonight, she would show that to the world.
It was an imperceptible shift, and yet, when Chloe approached the ballroom, she felt it. She felt power course through her, and as the doors were pushed open to admit her, a hush fell.
The room was full of dignitaries, but her eyes landed immediately on her husband, the Sheikh. He was taller than most, broader, larger than life, with his hair scraped into a bun, his ruggedly autocratic face terse as he spoke to three men she didn’t recognize. But at her arrival, the room’s silence, he turned towards the doors. Their eyes locked and the air around them supercharged with a jolt of electricity.
It was just him and her and they could have been anywhere. Here, or in her bed, or under the stars in the desert. Time stood still, or perhaps it accelerated; Chloe couldn’t have said.
He broke away from his group and strode towards her, and slowly, speaking began once more, filling the room, but not Chloe’s ears. She was in a void of time and space, waiting.
She had only seconds before he arrived to rally her defenses, to remind herself that they weren’t living a fairytale, no matter how it might seem to onlookers.
“This is a beautiful dress,” he growled, dipping his head forward, so only she could hear the words. “But I look forward to removing it later.”
Her heart skipped a thousand beats.
“Your highness,” she bowed a little, her eyes holding his, her smile droll.
“Thank you for coming,” he said, more stately, but with a burning look of passion drowning out the civility of his words.
“I was asked,” she said with a shrug. “I didn’t think not arriving was an option.”
“You don’t want to be here?” He prompted, shooting her a sidelong glance.
“On the contrary,” she sucked in a breath. “I’m your wife. I should be here.”
His nod of approval showed that this echoed his own thoughts.
“Have you seen Malik today?” She asked as they moved deeper into the room. She’d been to enough of these events to know that she wouldn’t be alone with her husband for long. A tide was already surging towards him.
“Earlier,” he said with a nod. His eyes met hers and she felt the sadness in them.
“He was well, I thought,” she said softly.
“Yes.” The smile was grim. “Just weak. He could only talk for a few minutes before a coughing fit required him to rest.”
Chloe grimaced. “It was the same for me.”
“I cannot think he has much longer.” He spoke without shifting his expression but Chloe heard the desperation in the words and she understood.
“It’s like watching the coming of a storm,” she said huskily. “The sky is darkening, the rain will inevitably fall, and though you may seek shelter, there’s no stopping the sky from doing what it will.”
“Yes,” he grunted. “That’s exactly what it is. There is an … inevitability to all of this that is hard to watch.” He pulled a face. “But what else can we do?”
“Nothing. Just be there for him. Tell him we care for him and that his country is in good hands.”
He nodded, but his look took on a new meaning. “And deliver him with proof that our family will remain strong and unchallenged.”
A group of dignitaries approached at that moment, and Chloe was saved from making a reply, but anxiety thickened in her throat. She would know very soon if this was the month that had led them to conceive. She didn’t feel any different, but she had no idea if she would, or if pregnancy would just sneak up on her. All the reading she’d done had indicated that women often had pregnancies that were similar to their own mother’s, but Chloe had no idea what her mother’s experiences had been.
She moved away from her husband when the opportunity came, reaching for a glass of iced tea from a waiter, and standing back a little to watch proceedings.
Raffa was an exceptional statesman. Despite his wild, animalistic passion and the sense that he was of the land, he was able to control a room with a single look. She found him desirable at any point, but like this?
From the corner of the room, a movement attracted her eye. It wasn’t out of the ordinary, but perhaps it was an ancient and finely-honed survival instinct that had her shifting her gaze towards it.
