The Sultan's Reluctant Princess

by Clare Connelly

  She squared her shoulders in an attempt at bravery. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

  “Your assistants will be here shortly.” He turned to leave before her desperation could puncture his resolve completely.

  He was doing the right thing, he assured himself, a little while later, when he sat in his breakfast meeting. King Kibab of Janina was across from him, broad and fat from years of ruling a thriving kingdom. They were in the final stages of negotiations, and Tamir’s attendance was almost a formality. Nonetheless, he listened intently as the final details were arranged, only allowing a small portion of his brain to dwell on the sadness he’d felt from Olivia.

  Their marriage had been unavoidable, hadn’t it? Kalil was a distant cousin, and had served him conscientiously for years. His position as security chief was highly regarded, and Kalil himself was a man of high esteem. Yet Kalil heralded from a far more conservative background. He had made his disapproval of Tamir’s moderate politics obvious, and Tamir had seen the pure delight Kalil had tasted at the discovery of Olivia’s crime. To discredit the lover of the Sultan in a multi-million pound theft would have been a sweet victory for the right wing puritans who lived in Talidar.

  Might there have been another way to protect Olivia?

  Perhaps.

  But certainly not one that Tamir could easily have discovered. His authority was ultimate, but to let a woman get away with such a bold crime, simply because she had legs that went forever, would plant a seed of discontent in his people.

  Tamir lifted his water glass and drank from it thoughtfully. At least in marrying her he had guaranteed her protection. As his lover, she had been vulnerable. He thought of his many other mistresses. Some had been able to remain secret in his life. Most – particularly those from the West, with hair like honey and skin like sand – had become objects of scorn. He’d never felt bothered by that. After all, they had all walked openly into their relationships with him.

  But Olivia was so different.

  He had singled her out and virtually hunted her. Oh, her desire had been real. From the moment they’d first touched, he had known she was as shocked by the overpowering current of electricity that ran between them as he had been. But he, Tamir, had made her a prisoner to it. He’d forced her to acknowledge it, and he’d made it impossible for her to resist.

  He thought of her that very morning, when she’d woken and been so sweet and relaxed. It had only lasted for a brief moment, before the anxiety of her new position had broken through, but it had been there. And those moments of happiness were like sunshine yolking over the valley – perfect and serene.

  Tamir realised, with a flash of blinding certainty, that he did care about Olivia. That her happiness was something he enjoyed experiencing. And that her sadness and worry were burdens he now carried equally. He had to remove them from her shoulders.

  * * *

  Fatima had the same jet black eyes as her son, and her daughter Selena. They were set in a face that had been wrinkled by life; a face that was beautiful despite those wrinkles, for it seemed to burst with brightness. And like Tamir, Fatima Al’ani was as astute as they came.

  She sat in a gold chair that had a purple velvet cushion, a small figure in an enormous room. With the exception of the security personnel who lined the walls on both sides, they were alone.

  Olivia hesitated for a moment on the threshold. She had already met with her staff, and been provided with a mind-blowing rundown of how her days were likely to operate. She’d been given a detailed tour of the palace, and she’d found it fascinating. But it had been too brief! Every room housed different tapestries and pieces of art, many of them unseen by the art world. How she’d wanted to linger, to examine and touch, to explore on her own! Only the certainty that she would one day have that opportunity had allowed her to continue with the tour without showing the extent of her frustrations.

  Tamir had been right. His artefacts were stunning. His palace beautiful. And her day had been exhausting and enormous. Though it was nearing dusk, the heat of Talidar showed no signs of abating, and in this formal sitting room, overlooking a rolling green lawn, the heat seemed thick like a wall.

  She looked to the ceiling, and saw that the fans were spinning, but all they seemed to be doing was circulating the warmth around the room.

  “Innani,” the older woman spoke, her voice resonant and clear.

  Innani? Olivia closed her eyes and tried to remember. Come? Welcome? Hello? She shook her head. Her grip on Talidarian had been slight, and it had been many years since she’d needed to use it.

  Olivia moved across the room, impressing her mother-in-law with her graceful poise and elegant gait. She had been dressed in a ceremonial robe for her first day as a princess; it was cream, with gold running through it, and it flattered her complexion.

  Olivia’s attendants had prepared her for this meeting. She knelt before Fatima, showing her respect, and only lifted her face to meet Fatima’s when the older woman had acknowledged her.

  “Sit,” she said with a nod towards a second chair.

  Olivia did, smiling nervously. “Do you speak English, ma’am?”

  “Little,” the older woman said with a shake of her head.

  “Oh dear,” Olivia laughed. “And I hardly speak Talidarian.” She frowned, and switched to French. “Perhaps another language will work?”

  To her surprise, Fatima’s face lit up, and she responded in the same ancient language. “Why do you know this language?”

  “Many of my clients are French,” Olivia said with a smile of relief. “And in England, it is routinely taught at school.”

  “Your accent is excellent,” Fatima complimented.

  “As is yours, your highness,” Olivia returned.

  Fatima dipped her head forward in acknowledgement. “My mother was French. My father used to say he’d plucked her out of the middle of the Boulevarde st Germain when his cavalcade was driving down it. He saw her and knew that he wanted to marry her.”

  “And so he did,” Olivia murmured, thinking of Tamir’s very similar arrogance and certainty.

  “And so he did, yes,” Fatima smiled softly. “I understand my son has quite overpowered you with his own determination to turn you into princess of Talidar.”

  Olivia’s cheeks flamed pink, and she lowered her green gaze from the Queen’s enquiring stare. She had not thought the subject of their hasty marriage would come up. Not so explicitly. She had no idea how to respond. The very small, very angry part of her wanted to pour scorn on Tamir’s head, and tell his mother just what an arrogant dictator he was. But when she thought of his handsome face, she was quiet. There was something about him that made her pause for far too long. Something about him that communicated a deeper sense of morality than she’d appreciated. Olivia lifted her face.

  “We were both surprised by the speed with which everything developed.” It was a polite lie, wasn’t it? Olivia’s heart was pounding her chest. She couldn’t let herself think about Tamir as a true husband. As someone she might one day come to care for. He’d tricked her into this marriage, and he’d bullied her into being his mistress. Okay, she’d signed up for one night. And the sex had been amazing. But how could she actually like someone who had been perfectly complacent about taking her freedom from her?

  Fatima’s cackle surprised Olivia. “An excellent answer.” She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. “I will not pry, daughter. But let me warn you. My son is a good man. An excellent man. Very like his father was. But he was born with the certainty that he would steer his kingdom. He has one great love in life, and it is for this land, and this palace, and the history that it is built upon. Do not expect more of him than he gives – he might care for you, but he will never love anyone as he does his duty.”

  Olivia ignored the frisson of tension that sledged down her spine. She had no expectations of love from Tamir. And no desire for his love, she reminded herself fiercely. That was absolutely not what this union was about.<
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  So what was it? She kept her expression neutral, but her mind was a swirling torrent of frustration. Tamir had claimed that he’d been protecting her by marrying her. That he’d saved her and Jack from prosecution in a country that would not give them an ounce of kindness. But how could that be the real reason? Surely, as Sultan, he would have had other ways to make Jack’s stupid attempted theft go away. What else did he gain from this marriage?

  “I have upset you.” The older woman asked quietly, leaning forward. “You love him?”

  Olivia shook her head, and forced a bright smile to her face. “You haven’t upset me, ma’am.”

  She steered the conversation to safer ground, but nonetheless, she felt like she’d been through the ringer when she emerged from the salon less than an hour later. She hadn’t seen Tamir all day, and it occurred to her that she needed to see him.

  But she couldn’t need to see him. She couldn’t start to think like that! To let herself believe any part of this was real or good. It was all a terrible mess.

  Two of her assistants, who had waited while she met with Fatima, followed in her wake, but their constant presence was enervating. She stopped walking abruptly and turned to face them. “I would like to walk on my own, please.”

  They looked from one to the other, uncertainly. “I apologise, your majesty. We have been told to remain with you.”

  Olivia narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

  Neither spoke, but she could see by the way her primary aide, Yasmin, lowered her eyes, that they were embarrassed to announce their reasons.

  “Why?” She pushed, more forcefully.

  And then, she realised. She was a security risk!

  Though she was technically a princess, she was still a prisoner. The possibility that she might steal, or do something equally nefarious, was a cloud of accusation that was following her everywhere. “Where is my husband?”

  Yasmin looked to the other assistant, her expression concerned. “His highness is still in meetings, ma’am.”

  “Where?” She hissed between two teeth.

  “We will lead you to him,” Yasmin finally conceded quietly.

  Olivia gritted her teeth. “Fine.”

  His meetings were taking place in the other wing of the palace, and it took them almost ten minutes to walk there, even at a good pace. Yasmin cast Olivia one last look. “Are you certain you would like to interrupt?”

  “Yes,” she muttered darkly.

  Yasmin nodded and raised her fist to the door. She knocked on it three times, then stepped back guiltily. If Olivia had been less incensed, she might have stopped to realise that she was putting the poor woman in a position that was untenable. As her assistant, Yasmin was obliged to follow Olivia’s orders, but more than that, she served the Sultan and the palace.

  The door opened inwards, to a large, elegant office. Tamir stood there, on his own, but for the servant who’d opened the door.

  Olivia looked around to be absolutely certain, and then expelled an angry breath when she saw that he was indeed alone. “Wait here,” she said to Yasmin. Her temper only flared hotter when she saw her assistant look past her, to Tamir, for approval.

  “Oh, for goodness sake,” Olivia said wearily, stalking into the room and planting her hands on her hips.

  Tamir dragged his eyes over her slowly, and felt an answering anger bite into his already dark mood. “Go now,” he encompassed his own servant in the command. Instantly, they were alone.

  Olivia stared across at him, and her breath caught in her throat. A whole day apart, and her body instantly jolted to a state of awareness. He was handsome and he was sexy, but he was a ruthless bastard. She needed to remember that.

  “My assistants won’t leave me alone. Apparently, they suspect I’m going to stuff royal treasures into my robes and make for the border.”

  He forced himself not to show his amusement. “Their job is to protect you. Even from yourself.”

  “I don’t need protecting from myself,” she snapped, lifting her fingers to her temples and rubbing her tired head. “I am not a thief, and I’m not a princess. I don’t want to be with people all day.”

  “They’re not people, they’re assistants.”

  Olivia glared at him. “That’s ridiculous.”

  He nodded. “I don’t mean that they’re of less value,” he added quickly. “Only that their job is to be invisible. They are there in case they are needed. Until you require them, you ignore their presence.”

  “I can’t do that. And I don’t like feeling like I’m being watched all the time! Do you really think I’d be stupid enough to steal from you, Tamir?”

  He sighed. “It is a concern, yes.”

  “Your concern?” She pushed.

  He was silent, and Olivia’s anger trebled. She stalked towards the door, shaking her head with a fulminating rage. “Damn it, I thought you believed me. I thought I’d got through to you. I will not be treated like a criminal. If those women have to go everywhere with me then I simply won’t leave my room.”

  Tamir followed her, catching her easily. He put his hand on hers, gently pulling her to a stop. He was surprised to see tears shimmering in her eyes. “Why are you crying?” He demanded, dropping her hand but remaining right before her.

  She dashed her hands over her eyes and glared up at him. “I’m not.”

  He shook his head, and pressed a finger to her cheek. He traced a tear then lifted his finger to his mouth and kissed it. “Salt for sadness.”

  She was mesmerised by the gesture. By his lips, and his finger, and his darkly watchful eyes. “I’m not sad. I’m… I’m angry.”

  He nodded. “I understand.”

  “God, Tamir, if things had been different,” she said with a slow shake of her head. The unfinished sentence hung between them. Tamir lifted his hand to her cheek, touching her skin, seeking answers.

  “If things had been different?” He finally prompted.

  Olivia sucked in a deep breath. This could have been real. She bit down on her lower lip. But things weren’t different. And this wasn’t real. “I don’t want to be followed.” She lifted her chin. “You have me here. I am a prisoner in this beautiful palace of yours. Without the constant presence of my attendants, I will still be your prisoner. Bound by marriage and by the fact that I don’t doubt you wouldn’t hesitate to have Jack sent to prison if I were to attempt to escape.”

  Tamir’s gut clenched so hard he was almost crippled. He felt like he’d been sucker punched. “I gave you my word that your friend would be safe.”

  She shrugged. “You also told me I was to come to Talidar with you. You implied I would be here as your lover.” She closed her eyes. “Not your wife.”

  Tamir turned away from her. His whole life, he had known black and white, good and bad, and he’d never doubted his motives nor his actions. The mirror she held up to him showed something he didn’t like. It was grey. Murky. Muddied.

  “I have explained…”

  “And so have I,” she interjected forcefully. “When it comes down to it, you don’t believe me. And I don’t believe you. So we’re stuck.”

  He nodded. She was right. He would never be certain that she hadn’t been complicit in Jack’s would-be theft. Particularly not when she’d admitted she knew of his proclivities. Even if she hadn’t been consciously planning the heist, her role was the same as a friend who took an alcoholic to a bar. As for their marriage, even he didn’t completely buy his cover story. Yes, he’d wanted to keep her away from Kalil’s prosecution, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think that was his only reason.

  He dragged a hand through his hair and stared out at the dusky orange sky. If she was a prisoner, then he was also. Trapped by a force that neither of them comprehended.

  “I will ask your attendants to wait upon you only when you request it.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, turning from him and leaving before anything else was said. The words were building up inside of her like a strange bank
of water being dammed in. She could not let the dam wall fall.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A week after arriving in Liya, and the heatwave was still unrelenting. Olivia had not experienced the warmth of the desert city on her last visit. It had been Autumn, and the worst of the summer had passed by then.

  Now, every day was like a scorching torture to be endured, particularly in the jewelled robes she was required to wear. Of course, the nights made up for it. Beautiful, cool breezes bounced off the desert, cooling the palace and the city below.

  Olivia’s nights were filled with a different kind of heat.

  She and Tamir barely spoke. In fact, they hardly saw one another in the days.

  It was only at night, with the day behind them, that they fell into bed and used their bodies to release the tension that seemed to pulse between them. In his arms, she felt at peace. With his body, he made her feel happy and good, like she could do anything. For the nights, while the sky was inky and the stars were shining, were perfect. So perfect, that the breaking of the dawn over the hills in the distance brought a fresh heartbreak every day.

  As golden light bathed their room, they were strangers once more. Made permanently alienated by the fact that they had formed their relationship on a bed of misunderstanding and distrust.

  Olivia slipped out of her beautiful, custom-made shoes and lifted the gown to her knees. She’d discovered the fountain on her third day of married life. A crystal oasis in a small courtyard of the palace, she’d stumbled upon it quite by chance. It was a perfect, private pool of water, with an ancient goddess in the centre. Water spurted majestically from a bird upon her shoulder. She had been meaning to research the statue, for it obviously had some significance, but it was not something Olivia was familiar with.

  She loved to stare at the woman though, with her striking features and perfectly carved robes, draped around her curvaceous body.

  The water was always so cold, despite the heat of the day. Olivia slipped her feet in gratefully, making a sound of delight as the temperature soothed her fraught skin. For the first time since arriving in Liya, Olivia felt at ease.