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She opened her mouth to reply, but then closed it again, perhaps recognising the sense in keeping this whole sorry affair quiet.
‘I’ve arranged for you to stay in an apartment in Nabhan city. It’s on the waterfront and has its own staff. You’ll be quite comfortable.’
‘You could have shown this level of concern before you dragged me halfway round the world,’ she said.
‘And you should remember your trip would have been unnecessary had you stayed away from my home or if you’d told me where Nate is. You’ll be free to go as soon as you tell me what I want to know or he comes forward.’
‘So I’m being kidnapped? Surely even a prince can’t just take a woman against her will.’
His temper flared again.
‘Habiba, trust me—if I were to “take” you, not only would you be willing, but you’d be begging me for more.’
Her jaw fell open. As well it might. What had possessed him to say something so outrageously inappropriate? He needed to end this conversation.
He stood abruptly, rolling down his shirtsleeves.
As if that was going to dignify his last remark.
‘It’s late and we still have several hours before we land. I have work to complete,’ he said, staring down his nose at her, trying to regain some authority before he went back to his seat. ‘I suggest you try and get some rest.’
And before she could throw another impertinence at him he turned away.
CHAPTER THREE
THELIGHTSWEREDIMMED. Rais and his team dozed at the rear of the plane. This was the smallest of the royal jets, with no bedroom. Khaled never needed one. He mostly worked during a flight. But in the last ten minutes he’d read the same page a dozen times. Nothing had sunk in. His gaze kept travelling back to where Lily was stretched out on her seat.
Miraculously, she’d done as she was told.
Stella had reclined the seat and converted it into a bed. Now his additional passenger was curled beneath a cashmere blanket, asleep. Her head rested on a plump pillow, but the throw had slipped from her shoulders.
Khaled went to her. He gently tucked the blanket back in place. She murmured and snuggled further beneath its warmth.
He was filled again with the strangest emotions. An odd mix of anger and protectiveness—and something else he felt it wise to ignore.
There were purple shadows beneath her eyes. How many late nights had she endured recently?
Before his death last month, she’d acted as housekeeper to her stepfather. They hadn’t been close. Edward Marchant had viewed the young Lily as an encumbrance, and the older version as cheap labour.
Had she known the extent of his financial difficulties? Had it been a surprise when, essentially, she’d lost her job and home in one day?
In the decade since they’d last met, how had she fared? Because her stepbrother was a close friend of the royal family, Khaled’s people would have performed regular background checks on her as a matter of course, but nothing had ever been brought to his notice.
Long dark lashes swept low over pale cheekbones where those smudges of dirt still sat. Her ruined hairstyle even sported a withered ivy leaf. Khaled moved to pluck it clear and found his fingers tangled in silky tresses. They lingered, gently twining one loose curl.
Lily Marchant...
In all kinds of trouble, not really of her own making.
What was it her stepbrother needed so badly that he was prepared to expose her to danger?
There was a sound from the galley. Stella was watching him.
He straightened, felt his cheeks heat. ‘Please find Miss Marchant another blanket. It’s cool in here,’ he ordered, retreating to the safer territory of his own seat.
He snatched up his discarded work, determined to finally make headway.
His efforts were fruitless. Lily held all his attention.
