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Daisy made an effort to relax her expression, even attempting a smile. ‘It’s fine.’
The music continued and, below her, beautifully dressed guests milled, champagne in some hands, iced tea in others. Some of the women wore western-style ball gowns with enormous diamonds and jewels at their throats. Others wore ornate gowns and robes, the delicate, bright scarves arranged over their hair, adding mystery and intrigue to their appearance.
Daisy had worn what Zahrah had provided her with. ‘It was the Emira’s,’ Zahrah had explained.
‘Who?’
‘His Highness’s mother.’
‘Oh.’ She’d dressed with a sense of reverence, careful not to break any of the delicate fabric that made up the ceremonial gown. White with gold, just as Sariq often wore, it was heavier than it looked courtesy of the yellow diamonds that were stitched into the neckline and waist. It glittered from every angle. At her throat, she wore a single yellow diamond, easily the size of a milk-bottle cap, and on top of her head, a tiara.
Her hands were covered by white satin gloves that came to her elbows. ‘They’re hot,’ she’d murmured to Zahrah, when she’d pulled them on. ‘Perhaps I’ll give gloves a miss.’
‘You must wear them. It’s protocol.’
‘Gloves?’
She’d made a noise of agreement. ‘No one is allowed to touch your hand but the Sheikh.’
Daisy’s brows had lifted.
‘You’re not serious?’
‘It’s tradition.’
‘So I’m meant to wear gloves my whole life?’
‘Well...’ Zahrah had smiled kindly ‘...I think we can relax the traditions behind closed doors, just as much as you’d like to. But when on state business, it will be expected that you do this.’
Daisy had compressed her lips, biting back an observation about the silliness of such a requirement. Haleth was an ancient and proud country. There were many habits and rituals that were new to her, but that didn’t mean she could stand in judgement of them.
The guests swirled beneath them, an array of fabulous colour and finery. Twenty minutes later, Daisy looked to Zahrah. ‘This is becoming rude.’
Zahrah frowned. ‘Madam?’
‘Keeping all these people waiting. Where on earth is he?’
‘The message I received just referred to urgent business, I’m sorry.’
‘I hate the idea of going down there on my own, but surely that’s preferable to ignoring the guests?’
Zahrah’s alarm was obvious. ‘You can’t. Not for your first function. His Highness would never approve.’
Daisy’s interest was piqued. ‘Oh, wouldn’t he?’ The idea of flaunting his authority was wildly tempting and she couldn’t really say why.
‘Of what would I not approve?’
Daisy whirled around, her eyes catching those of her husband immediately. He wore another spectacular robe, this one emphasising the strength and virility of his frame, the darkness of his complexion. On the balcony, he was the man she’d met in New York, but like this, he was an untouchable ruler. There was something unusually forbidding in his appearance, a tightness in his frame that had her brows drawing together.
Zahrah bowed low at his entrance and before she could straighten, Sariq had dismissed her. ‘Leave us. Allow no one to enter.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Alone, Daisy gave her husband the full force of her attention. ‘Where have you been? People have been here an hour. I’ve been here an hour.’
He wasn’t accustomed to being questioned by anyone, but somehow he’d become so used to that with Daisy that it no longer surprised him. He shouldn’t have come here straight from the prison. It would have been far wiser to give his temper time to cool down, but the plans that he’d discovered on the would-be assassins had chilled him to the core. Seeing Daisy now, knowing he was the reason her life had potentially been in danger, filled him with a deep and immovable anger.
‘An urgent matter called me away. Are you ready?’ His voice was curt. He couldn’t help it, though he knew he must. Daisy didn’t deserve to feel the brunt of his anger. Even though the threat had been contained—his expert security teams had done just what they were supposed to and perceived a threat before it could come to the fore—the knowledge of what these men had planned sent a shiver down his spine.
