Billie kept carefully out of reach, as elusive as a beam of light. She disappeared on the pretext of looking for a certain dress, or getting another size for Tahira, or finding her dog. As Muffin had curled up on a cushion on the floor and gone to sleep, the latter excuse was the most feeble, but a part of him understood why she felt the need to pretend.
Tahira appeared in a light green dress that skimmed her knees. The silky fabric clung to her body. In her own youthful way, she was attractive, he thought, as disconnected from her as if he viewed a sculpture. She was reasonably intelligent and gentle of spirit. Her only sin was to not be the woman who haunted his dreams.
“What do you think?” he asked before she could request his opinion.
Tahira blinked at him. “But you are the prince.”
“So I have been told. You have not answered my question.”
She looked confused, as if her opinion had never been requested. Carefully, she faced the mirror and studied herself.
“The color is good,” she said slowly. “The length does not suit me. The hem should be an inch or two shorter or longer. Some fullness here,” she touched her hips “would soften the silhouette.”
“As you wish,” he said.
She met his gaze in the mirror. “What do you mean?”
“Have the dress altered or find another that suits you better.”
Her eyes widened. “But you did not say what you thought.”
“I know.”
Tahira looked as out of place and frightened as a wild rabbit. She darted back to the dressing room.
“You need to pace yourself,” Billie said as she appeared from around a rack of dresses. “Too much freedom all at once will only terrify her.”
“So I see.”
She fingered an evening gown without looking at it. “I’m glad you’re going to be kind to her.”
“Is there another choice?”
“Of course, but I like that you don’t think so.”
“You have yet to try on clothing.”
She shrugged. “This place isn’t exactly my kind of store.”
“Why do I know that is not true?” She walked around the rack of dresses and he followed. “There must be something that tempts you.”
When she didn’t answer, he began to study the evening gowns. They were all elegant and formal, but nothing about them caught his eye until he saw a beaded dress. The various shades of blue were as beautiful as the Arabian Sea. They swirled across the fabric in a glittering pattern that dazzled the eye.
“This one,” he said, pulling it out and handing it to her.
“No, I couldn’t,” she said automatically, even as her fingers rubbed the delicate fabric.
He took the dress off the rack and handed it her. “Of course you could.”
She took it and held it up against her. Her blue eyes darkened to the color of sapphires. “It’s more of a princess dress, which isn’t exactly me.”
He stared at her, wanting what he could not have and unable to want what he could.
“Try it on,” he insisted.
She gave in with a little nod and disappeared into the dressing area.
Jefri sank down in one of the chairs provided. He studied the way Muffin curled up on her cushion and the fabric of the carpet. In desperation, he reached for the newspaper lying on a small table. Anything to keep from imagining what Billie was doing right that moment—how she would have to undress down to just her panties before pulling on the dress and how she would look as she stood there nearly naked.
Wanting poured through him. Need grew until it overwhelmed him. Desperation propelled him to his feet. He had the thought that he would follow her into the small dressing area and claim her as his own.
Would she resist his touch? Would she yield? He knew how she would look, the texture of her skin and the scent of her body. He knew how he could carry her away on a wave of pleasure that left her boneless with contentment. He knew his own reaction to claiming her as his own.
“Prince Jefri?”
Tahira’s small voice drew him back to reality. He opened his eyes and looked at the young woman in the simple black gown. The heavy fabric overwhelmed her small frame and made her seem like a girl playing dress-up.
Before he could speak, Billie appeared next to her. The shimmering fabric hugged every curve, as if the gown had been made for her. The light reflecting on the beads made her skin glow. She was a goddess next to a mortal.
Tahira stared at her reflection in the mirror and knew the dress was all wrong. It didn’t hang right and there was something about the fabric itself. But what, exactly, eluded her.
She held in a sigh of frustration. If only the sisters had spent a little bit of time helping her learn how to dress instead of insisting she learn so much about geology or physics, she would be better able to handle her new position as Jefri’s fiancée. So far the prince hadn’t asked her a single question about rock formations.
Billie said something to the prince and he laughed. Tahira liked the sound of his laughter, even if she couldn’t think of anything funny to say. But Billie always knew exactly what to say and how to act. She was perfect.
Tahira eyed her friend and the blue dress she wore. It was stunning. Jefri moved behind them both and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. While Billie smiled, Tahira stood there, frozen, the hand a lead weight on her skin.
She told herself to relax—that this was the man she would marry. But somehow she couldn’t ever picture herself and the prince being together as a couple. When he talked to her, she didn’t know how to answer. When they were alone, she felt only awkward and afraid. None of that seemed like love to her.
But he had honored her with his desire to claim her as his wife and she knew she had no choice but to go through with the union.
Chapter Twelve
“Everything is so beautiful,” Tahira said enthusiastically as she opened box after box of clothing. “You have been more than generous.” She turned around. “I am not worthy.”
Jefri stood in the center of the suite and watched concern tighten the girl’s expression. He forced himself to smile.
“You are more than worthy. These clothes are necessary. The sisters have many wonderful qualities, but they did not provide you an excessive wardrobe.”
Tahira flashed a smile. “I was thinking the same thing at the store. How helpful is it that I can discuss quantum mechanics when I don’t know what shoes to wear with what dress?”
She raced to the rack containing her formal gowns and reached for the first garment bag.
“What shall I wear Friday, Prince Jefri?” she asked as she pulled down the zipper. “It will be my first state dinner. I want to dress correctly.”
He appreciated her enthusiasm, even as it made him feel old and out of place.
“The black one?” she asked. “Not the red. That is too sophisticated, I think. There is that lovely green one…”
She continued to chatter, but he didn’t listen. Instead he prowled the confines of the living room and wished he could be somewhere else.
He crossed to the French doors and stared out at the gardens below. A woman walked along a path and for a moment, he thought it was Billie. His heart jumped until he recognized his sister-in-law. No. Not Billie.
“I’ve never had my nails done before,” Tahira was saying. “Billie mentioned my hair. That I need to get it cut. What do you think?”
He looked at the young woman standing by the pile of white and gold boxes. “Would you prefer it shorter?”
“I don’t know.” She fingered her long braid. “Shouldn’t you decide?”
She asked the question like a child and he did not want to be her father.
“No, Tahira,” he said gently. “The choice is yours.”
“But…”
She looked confused, as if such freedom had not occurred to her.
“You are no longer at the school,” he told her. “You are free to do as you wish with your life. Yo
u may be as you choose.”
Free to walk away from him, he thought, knowing she would not.
“You mean like a career?” she asked. “But we are to be married.”
“The wedding could wait a while.” Forever?
“Oh.” She sat down on the sofa as if the thought was too much for her. “I have no idea what I would want to do. Not flying, like Billie. The thought terrifies me.” She smiled. “I have trouble imagining her in a jet. She’s so feminine and pretty all the time. I love her hair. The curls are perfect and I like the way she does her makeup. I wonder why she never married.”
“Perhaps she never met the right man.”
“I suppose. Or maybe she doesn’t need to be taken care of all the time. She’s independent. I wish I could be like that.”
As soon as Tahira spoke the words, she covered her mouth with her hand and stared at him. Panic made her tremble.
“Prince Jefri,” she began in a hushed tone.
He stopped her with a shake of his head. “You do not need to apologize, child. There is nothing wrong in wanting to be independent.”
She swallowed and dropped her hand back to her lap. “But you have honored me by wanting to marry me. I can’t forget that. Not ever. I swear, I will do my best to be a good and dutiful wife. You have my word.”
Not exactly what he wanted to hear.
He crossed to the sofa and pushed aside several boxes so he could sit next to her. For the first time since meeting her, he took her hands in his.
“Tahira, you must listen to me. You have been raised believing you have only one destiny and that is to marry me. But the choice is completely yours. You are free to choose another life. Should you decide you do not want to marry me, I will understand and support your decision in any way I can. You are young and it is a difficult and permanent choice.”
Her fingers moved against him. Her skin was warm and she smelled of flowers. Yet he felt nothing. Her youthful beauty left him unmoved.
Her dark gaze settled on his face. “You are kindness itself,” she said fiercely. “Your goodness only convinces me that marriage is the right choice.”
He held in a groan. “As you wish,” he said, releasing her and rising to his feet.
She stood as well and clasped her hands together in front of her chest. “Prince Jefri, I will do all I can to make you happy. I will be the most dutiful wife ever. I swear.”
“Of course you will, child. I have no doubt.”
He nodded, then walked to the door. With Tahira, he would get exactly what he had asked for. That was the hell of it.
Billie figured it was a good news, bad news situation. On the plus side, she was attending her first ever formal state dinner as a special invited guest of the king. She had on a killer dress and looked fabulous. Her date looked nearly as good in a carefully tailored tuxedo. The downside was that her date was her brother Doyle and that she would have to spend the evening watching Jefri pay attention to Tahira.
She reminded herself that the option was staying in her room with Muffin and watching movies. As she figured she could deal with the emotional angst of her situation on her own time and that this evening was a once-in-a-lifetime event, she’d put on her brand-new fancy dress and prepared to dance the night away.
She and Doyle followed the sound of conversation down the long corridor on the first floor and entered the massive ballroom. Dozens of chandeliers hung from a thirty-foot ceiling and illuminated the vast space and chatting guests. An orchestra sat at one end of the room. There were small tables and chairs, several strategically placed bars and waiters circulating with food and champagne.
Doyle gave a low whistle. “This is just the meet and greet, right? There’s a dinner that follows, then dancing?”
“That’s what the invitation said.”
“All right.” He scanned the room. “Lots of beautiful women. I think I’d like to be the king.”
Billie gave his arm a warning squeeze. “Do your best not to embarrass me.”
“Cross my heart.” He kissed her cheek. “Stay away from royalty.”
“You got that right.”
He grinned and sauntered off, only to be immediately claimed by a dark-haired woman in a very low-cut dress.
“The boy always seems to fall on his feet,” Billie murmured as she turned in a slow circle.
She spotted a waiter with a tray of what looked like champagne glasses, but before she could flag him down, she sensed something hot and tempting trickle down her spine. She clenched her muscles in anticipation. Seconds later, she heard Jefri’s voice.
“Good evening,” he said, coming up behind her and offering her a full glass of bubbling champagne. “You look exceptionally beautiful.”
“Thank you.” She clutched the glass with both hands because the alternative was reaching for him and that wasn’t allowed. Instead, she let her gaze roam over him, taking in the tuxedo, the dark and smoldering gaze.
“Where’s Tahira?” she asked.
“Speaking with a friend. Someone she knew from school is here and they are catching up. And Doyle?”
Billie motioned to the crowd. “I’m sure he’s either being seduced or is seducing someone even as we speak. He looks good in a tux and women always appreciate that.”
Jefri took her arm and led her to the side of the room. She told herself not to go, to plant herself in one very public place and refuse to have anything to do with him, but she couldn’t seem to resist. Not when he looked at her as if she were the answer to all his prayers.
“What are you thinking?” he asked when they stopped in a shallow alcove.
“That we have to stop running into each other.”
He left his hand on her arm and began to rub his thumb against her bare skin. “That is not what I was thinking. I want to thank you for helping Tahira with the shopping.”
“She’s very nice.”
“Yes. She is all that I asked for. I could not be more miserable.”
She flinched. “Jefri, don’t. She’s—”
“A child and no more interested in me than I am in her. This is a matter of circumstances. A twist of fate that must be untwisted.”
“Are you going to break off the engagement? Let her go?”
Instead of answering her, he moved close. So close that she could feel the heat of him. His body brushed against hers in a gesture that claimed as well as enticed.
“I want you,” he breathed into her ear. “Every moment, with every heartbeat. I think of you in my bed. Naked. I want to touch you and hold you. I want to taste you and excite you. I want you wet, aroused, screaming.”
His hand moved from her arm to her stomach where he pressed his palm against her. “Do you remember what it was like?” he asked softly.
She couldn’t speak or move. It was all she could do to keep standing. “Of course,” she whispered. “I can’t forget, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means the world.”
She met his gaze and allowed herself to get lost there. For a moment or two, she imagined the possibilities, what could have been if things were different.
“I can’t,” she said and stepped away from him. “You can’t either.”
His gaze sharpened. “I am Prince Jefri of Bahania.”
“Exactly. If you were someone else, this never would have happened. Tahira would be engaged to someone else and we…” She wasn’t sure what they would be, but it wouldn’t be this.
“Billie, I want you.”
And she wanted him. She supposed that’s what it came down to. A problem with no resolution.
“I should go,” she said.
“No. Do not leave the party.”
She stared at her glass. “I meant the country. This would be easier if I weren’t here.”
“You would quit?”
“It would make our lives go more smoothly.”
“Is that what you want?”
Five simple words, she thought sadly. A question she couldn’t a
nswer. Not if she told the truth. Because she didn’t want to go.
She pushed past him and entered the crowd in the ballroom. Maybe if she just kept moving, she could leave all this behind and simply have a good time.
She walked around a large woman in black satin and nearly ran into a well-dressed older man.
“I’m sorry,” she began before she recognized the king.
He took her hand and patted it. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“Nowhere. Just walking.”
“I see. Then if I’m not taking you away from anything too important, there are some people I would like you to meet.”
Billie nearly stumbled in surprise. “Me? Who?”
“The French ambassador is here. A very impressive woman. And the British prime minister. You haven’t met him, have you?”
Billie laughed. “Gee, I haven’t. Shocking but true.”
The king drew her close. “He will be charmed, my dear. Perfectly charmed.”
Tahira hovered behind a large column and watched the dancing. She had survived her first formal dinner, which was more than she’d hoped for. For the past three nights she’d had nightmares about spilling, dropping or saying the wrong thing. She’d awakened sweaty and trembling, unable to get back to sleep for hours.
Now the dinner was behind her and the worst that had happened was she had bored the people sitting around her.
“Perhaps not too great a sin,” she murmured to herself as she swayed in time with the music.
The king of El Bahar had been seated on her left and while he had been most kind, he had been far more interested in his lovely wife who had been seated across from him. The Spanish ambassador had been on her right. She spoke enough of the language to get by but when he’d started talking about the wines his country exported, all she’d been able to do was nod as if she knew what he was saying. She tried not to imagine the look on his face if she’d admitted she’d never had Spanish wine, or any wine until that very night.
Several different ones had been served at dinner. She’d tried them all and had been careful to only take a sip or two. She hadn’t wanted to get tipsy. Not that she would know what tipsy felt like.
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