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He was whispering to her.
‘Something has come up. Follow my lead.’ Louder, for the benefit of the others, he said, ‘Mother, ladies, our apologies. An urgent matter needs our attention and we must go.’
Okay. It was part of the act.
‘Can I leave you to gather everything Miss Marchant will need for her stay? You have her sizes?’ The assistants nodded vigorously. ‘And please send a selection of everything you think appropriate.’ He turned to gaze adoringly at her. ‘Don’t stint.’
As if they would. They were staring at him as if he were a god come down to earth, imagining all their commission.
His long fingers curled through hers, warm, strong and wonderfully comforting—drat the man. And then he set off for the private lift they’d arrived in.
Focus, Lily.
He’d said something had come up. Perhaps there was news on Nate?
The lift doors closed. ‘What’s so...?’ Where had that husky note come from? She tried again. ‘What’s so urgent that we needed to leave?’
‘This.’ He gathered her close and pressed his mouth to hers.
She should have pushed him away—there was no audience here—but his mouth slanted over hers in a kiss so tantalisingly gentle she leant in. He began a delicate exploration of her jaw, her throat, and found a tender spot beneath her ear, teasing it with a slow swirl of his tongue.
Her fingers sank into his biceps.
When he nudged a thigh between her legs she instinctively rubbed against it, seeking contact where she needed it most.
‘Come,’ he said.
Yes, oh, yes...
Wait...no. What?
He was walking. He meant she should go with him. He was leaving the lift.
She teetered in her new heels and he drew her protectively against his side. Together, eyes locked, they crossed the foyer and stepped outside into the now familiar intense heat and something else—something new.
With the dazzle of sunshine came camera flashes. A cacophony of voices. Crowding figures.
‘Your Highness? Sir? When’s the wedding?’
‘Lily? Has he bought you a ring yet? When did you know it was love?’
She blinked as the lights exploded, over and over. With a jolt she realised he’d walked them into a press pack—and he knew enough about those for it not to be an accident.
Beside her Khaled purred his answer, poised, prepared. ‘I have no comment at this time,’ he said, guiding her towards a waiting limo, its door held open by Rais.
A limo? What had happened to the four-by-fours they’d arrived in? And the security team that materialised around them had doubled in size from earlier.
He’d set the whole thing up. They even had her name.
She came to her senses as fury replaced all that melting distraction.
She’d been played.
If he thought he could whisper a compliment, ply her with kisses and she’d go just along with this charade, he was in for a shock.
She swivelled in Khaled’s arms and aimed herself at the nearest reporter. ‘Actually, I’m sorry to say there won’t be an announcement any time soon.’ Every microphone strained towards her. ‘His Highness is a great believer in tradition, so I know he would never propose without formally asking permission of my stepbrother.’
‘And where is he, ma’am? Will he be arriving soon?’’
