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The whispered words echoed in Kamal’s head as he stared at the grandiose moulding on the ceiling of the London embassy’s master bedroom, listened to the soft snores of the woman in his arms and tried to think past the raw emotion crushing his ribs like a boulder.
Kaliah’s declaration was not something he wanted, not something he knew what to do with. Not something he even understood. But he couldn’t seem to deny the deep feeling of satisfaction—even stronger than when she had agreed to marry him—when she had said those words to him.
The hope in her eyes, though, had stunned him more. How could she be so open, so trusting, so sure?
He frowned, his heartbeat accelerating to reverberate in the quiet room.
When she had first suggested this fake engagement to appease her father, he had been furious. He did not need a fake queen, damn it, he needed a real one. And he did not require her protection, nor did he require her pity. But he had been forced to resign himself to the subterfuge. Not least because he knew he was not ready,yet, to let her go. They still had unfinished business.
Plus, a part of him had marvelled at her intelligence and her bravery, not only in standing up to her father, but also standing up to him when Khan had arrived at the encampment.
That she had seen his scars and had not been repulsed had also had a profound effect on him—even if it was one he had refused to truly acknowledge up until now. But he admitted now, as his breathing finally evened out and his mind blurred, that enough of that brutalised boy remained to want to wallow in her approval.
The purpose of bringing her with him to Europe had been to finally put this need, this constant longing, to rest. But, each night he took her, the need only increased—her instant and enthusiastic response to him only fuelling the desire like dry grass in the path of a wildfire.
He wanted her, all the damned time. But worse was the discovery of how much easier it would be to negotiate this new world he had entered with her by his side. He had expected her to condescend to him, to perhaps even be disgusted at his lack of diplomacy, his intense dislike of the games politicians played. But instead she had encouraged and supported him. Not only did he not speak any of the western languages with any skill apart from English, but he was a man used to plain speaking, to giving orders and having them obeyed, which meant dealing with bureaucrats, politicians and diplomats was nothing short of excruciating.
But, every time he’d become frustrated or irritated, she had stepped in to help. Not only that, but she had listened with interest when he had spoken of his plans for Zokar.
Not just listened, but encouraged.
And slowly, as the need built each night, and having her by his side each day became more of a necessity, a thought had begun to form in his head...
He wanted Kaliah Khan to become his queen—for real. But even so he had hesitated. He’d had no desire to ask her for her hand and be rejected again... Because now it would have hurt so much more than just his pride.
And so he had side-lined the thought. Until he had seen her face fall while talking to that woman at the reception tonight, and as he’d got close enough to hear the mention of another man’s name.
Anger had hit first. Who was this woman who had hurt her? But worse had been the spurt of jealousy and fear. As he had dragged her up to their suite, he hadn’t been able to think past it.
She’d responded to him as she always did, with fierce desire, genuine hunger and complete honesty, and suddenly he had needed to make this commitment real. To ensure he didn’t lose her.
When she had told him she loved him, he had been humbled and shocked.
But most of all he had been scared.
Because as he had claimed her, pouring his seed into the tight clasp of her body, wanting to imprint himself on every part of her, to brand her as his always, to seal the bargain they had made, he knew he would never be able to let her go...
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘DAD?I’MSOglad you called. I take it you and Mum got the official invitation to our wedding this weekend?’ Liah said down the phone, her heart galloping at the sound of her father’s voice.
‘Yes, we received it by special messenger this morning, Liah,’ he said, his tone grave.
She clutched the handset. His voice sounded so familiar and yet somehow so far away, her heart hurt as she stared at the water trickling down from the fountain in the courtyard of the palace’s bridal suite in Zokar.
‘I know you’ve always been impulsive, sweetheart,’ he added. ‘But surely this is a little fast, even for you?’
I know, right?
She swallowed the reply and the lump of panic that had been there for two days.
She and Kamal had only arrived back from London forty-eight hours ago, and she’d been more than a little stunned to realise plans were already in place for their wedding in less than four days’ time. She’d assumed she would have more time...a lot more time...to adjust to the reality of the situation. And the fact she’d hardly had a chance to see Kamal since they’d returned, let alone speak to him, hadn’t exactly helped ease her anxiety about the speed of the wedding.
She’d missed him, not just at night, but during the day too. She understood tradition demanded they remain separate now until the ceremony was conducted before sharing a bed in the palace. But why did everything have to be so rushed?
Ultimately, though, she had forced herself not to panic. Surely, these were normal wedding jitters? She’d made a solid commitment to Kamal in London. And her feelings for him had only increased during the last of their official assignments and the journey home.
Kamal had been protective of her, and possessive. And she knew he hated this enforced separation as much as she did. He’d said as much when the plans for the whirlwind wedding had been revealed—and her short period of isolation had begun.
