Desert Prince's Stolen Bride

by Kate Hewitt

  ‘Good.’ It was done. Nothing could break the bond they’d created; she was his wife both in name and physical fact. Zayed rose from the mattress in one fluid movement and shrugged on his clothes.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Halina asked. She suddenly sounded very young, and Zayed was reminded that she was only twenty-two—ten years younger than him.

  ‘I have things to do.’ His voice came out brusque so he tried to moderate it. ‘I will see you later.’

  ‘You will?’

  ‘Of course.’ He suppressed a flash of annoyance. Already she sounded needy, clinging, and that was the last thing he wanted. ‘If you need anything, you can ask Suma.’

  ‘Suma? But I can’t understand her.’

  The flash of annoyance came again, and with it an odd sense of unease. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She speaks a dialect I can’t understand.’ She was clutching a sheet to her breasts, her hair tumbled around her face. Zayed fought the urge to climb back into the bed and take her in his arms all over again.

  ‘I did not realise she was so difficult to understand,’ he said stiffly. ‘You will have to get used to it. She is the only woman here to serve your needs.’

  ‘But...what...what are you going to do with me?’ Her voice was both tremulous and brave.

  Zayed’s gaze narrowed. ‘What am I going to do with you? I have already done it, hayete. It is finished.’

  She bit her lip. ‘I know that. I mean, I wasn’t expecting more than...than this. But now what are you going to...? Why did you kidnap me?’ She lifted her chin, holding her gaze steady as if steeling herself for a blow.

  Zayed stared at her, completely nonplussed. ‘Why did I kidnap you?’ he repeated. ‘Surely that is obvious? I told you I could not wait any longer.’ He blew out a breath. ‘Your father will not be pleased, I grant you, but he will not be able to affect the outcome. Of that I am certain.’

  Now she looked genuinely confused, her brow creased, her lips parting. ‘My father...’ She shook her head slowly. ‘But my father is dead.’

  ‘What?’ Zayed stared at her in complete shock. Sultan Hassan dead? When? How? But no; surely he would have heard of it? He would have known. His informants in the palace would have said something. Still, a cold fist clutched his heart. If Sultan Hassan was dead, all his plans fell apart, crumbled to dust. To nothing. The man had no sons, and his heir was a distant cousin, someone Zayed could not rely on to help him. ‘When did this happen?’ he bit out.

  His bride stared at him in wary confusion. ‘Years ago. Five years now.’ She frowned. ‘I don’t understand. What could my father possibly have to do with any of this?’

  ‘Wait.’ Zayed felt as if he’d entered some weird, alternative reality. How could Halina be saying this? Sultan Hassan had most certainly not died five years ago. What the hell was going on?

  ‘Why do you care about my father?’ she asked, her voice trembling. ‘Who are you?’

  For a moment he could only stare. She knew who he was. She had to know. ‘I am Prince Zayed al bin Nur,’ he said, biting off each word. She’d wed him, she’d slept with him! Of course she’d known he was her fiancé, her intended husband. Because, if she hadn’t known, why the hell had she slept with him? Agreed to marry him?

  ‘Zayed...’ Her face had gone pale, her lips bloodless, dawning horror in her eyes. Something was very, very wrong, and the cold fist that was clutching Zayed’s heart squeezed painfully.

  ‘And you,’ he said forcefully, each word a throb of insistent intensity, ‘are Princess Halina Amari.’ She had to be. He’d seen photographs—blurry, yes, but he’d watched her in the palace. She’d played with her sisters; she’d gone into her bedroom. She had to be his intended bride. His wife.

  But already she was shaking her head.

  ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘No, I’m not Halina.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  REALISATION UPON REALISATION was crashing through Olivia, filling her with more and more horror. This was Prince Zayed, her friend’s fiancé, and she’d slept with him. And he’d thought she was Halina! He’d taken her from the palace believing her to be his bride-to-be. Had this been some sort of romantic seduction, and she’d botched it completely?

  ‘If you’re not Princess Halina,’ Zayed asked through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowed to silvery slits, every muscle tensing as if for a fight, ‘then who the hell are you?’

  Olivia swallowed hard, her heart beating like a wild bird inside her chest. She clutched the blanket to her, more than ever conscious of her nakedness. ‘My name is Olivia Taylor. I’m governess to the Amari Princesses.’

  He stared at her for a single second and then he swore, viciously and fluently. Olivia flinched, and wondered if his solemn vow not to hurt her still stood. She had a feeling it didn’t, although Zayed kept himself restrained, that pulsing fury leashed, if barely.

  ‘Why, then,’ he asked, his voice one of tightly controlled and yet clearly explosive anger, ‘did you sleep with me?’

  ‘I...’ There was no excuse, no explanation. She’d lost her head, her virginity to a stranger. And he’d thought he was bedding his future bride! Olivia closed her eyes, wanting to blot out her shame, erase everything that had happened in the last few hours.

  And yet, with the flickers of pleasure still pulsing through her body, she couldn’t quite make herself regret it. In Zayed’s arms she’d felt so cherished; what a joke. He hadn’t even realised who she was. The knowledge of how she’d been duped, how she’d let herself be duped and talked herself into bed with a stranger, was utterly shaming.

  ‘I...’ she tried again, and then shrugged helplessly. She had no answer, except that she’d been completely swept away by the force of him, of her attraction to him, and she wasn’t courageous or stupid enough to admit that. Surely it had been obvious, anyway?

  Zayed whirled away from her in one abrupt movement, raking a hand through his hair. ‘Didn’t you know who I was?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And yet you slept with me.’

  ‘You slept with me,’ Olivia fired back, finding her courage. She wasn’t going to take all the blame. ‘And obviously you didn’t know who I was.’

  ‘Obviously.’ The single word was scathing. ‘But I would have expected you to correct my mistake, preferably before we’d said our vows.’

  ‘Vows?’ Olivia stared at him, dread seeping into her stomach like acid. ‘What do you mean—’

  ‘Unless,’ Zayed cut across her, ruthless now, any gentleness well and truly gone as his face, his body, his voice all hardened. ‘You meant this to happen?’

  ‘Meant it to happen?’ Olivia stared at him in outrage. ‘I meant for you to kidnap me? I planned it? Are you insane?’ She could hardly believe she was talking to a prince this way—she, meek Olivia Taylor—but the situation was so surreal, his suggestion so ludicrous and insulting, that for a moment she forgot who she was. Where she was. And even what had happened.

  Zayed had the grace to look slightly abashed for a millisecond, and then he simply looked impatient. ‘No, not then, of course. But after. Perhaps you saw an opportunity and took it. You wanted to better your situation. You said you were a governess?’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ She felt furious and humiliated, and she really wished she were wearing some clothes. ‘And I certainly don’t see how I’ve bettered my situation.’

  Zayed’s mouth twisted in something like a sneer. ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘No, I really don’t. But since I’m not Halina, and you’re not kidnapping me for ransom or something like that, perhaps you could see fit to return me to the palace.’ She spoke with as much as dignity as she could muster, considering she was naked. And near tears, which thankfully she blinked back. She would not cry in front of this man, even if she’d already wept in his arms. Even if she’d already experienced more vulnerability and pleasure, more heights and depths, than she had with any other person, ever. Just the memory of
how he’d felt inside her, how she’d felt in his arms, the completeness of it, made heat scorch through her, along with something more powerful and dangerous, a longing she could not bear to name. ‘I would like to go back home,’ she added stiffly.

  Zayed stared at her unblinkingly for several long, taut moments. ‘Clearly,’ he said finally, his voice clipped, ‘that is impossible at this juncture.’

  ‘Clearly?’ Olivia tried for a look of disdain. ‘I don’t see how that is at all clear.’ Holding the blanket to her, she scooted out of bed and grabbed the diaphanous robe she’d refused to wear earlier in the evening. Her more modest robe was on the other side of the bed, where Zayed had tossed it after undressing her only a short while ago—it felt like a lifetime. A terrible lifetime. She shrugged into the robe, tying the sash as tightly as she could. It wasn’t much coverage, but at least it was something. She folded her arms over her breasts and lifted her chin, giving Zayed as challenging a stare as she could. ‘So why exactly can’t you return me to Abkar?’

  Zayed’s gaze was penetrating, relentless. His mouth had thinned into a hard, unforgiving line, his eyes blazing steel. Anger and animosity rolled off him in thick, choking waves. How on earth had she ever thought he was gentle? ‘I don’t know what game you are playing,’ he said, each precise word feeling like a threat, ‘but I advise that you cease immediately. This is no laughing matter, Miss Taylor. Millions of lives are at stake.’

  Millions of lives? Surely that was an exaggeration, yet Olivia wasn’t about to debate the point. She could see well enough how grim Zayed looked.

  ‘I’m hardly laughing,’ she answered levelly. ‘You’re the one who took me from the palace, Prince Zayed. You’re the one who—’ Her breath rushed out. Seduced me. She couldn’t say the words. She’d been so stupidly willing, so eager, to be seduced. It beggared belief now, but only moments ago she’d been putty in his arms, wanting only to be moulded to whatever shape he chose. Still she met his gaze. ‘I didn’t ask for any of this.’

  ‘Not at first, perhaps.’ He took a step towards her, a different kind of fire in his eyes, one Olivia recognised, and it made her catch her breath. Even now, he could feel it. She could. The banked heat in his eyes flared to life and she felt its answer scorch through her. ‘But later, Olivia,’ he said, his voice low and menacing. ‘Later you weren’t asking. You were begging.’

  She hated him. Officially, she hated him. Even as she felt the pulse of desire go through her, an insistent throb, she hated him. Damn her treacherous body. She knew Zayed saw it too, from the way his lip curled and his eyes travelled down her body, raking her in one scathing glance. A short while ago he’d made her feel cherished and important, and now he was making her feel tawdry and cheap, more than she ever had before. Everything about this was awful.

  ‘I regret everything that happened between us this evening,’ she said stiffly. ‘More than you can possibly imagine.’

  ‘You cannot regret it more than I do,’ Zayed snapped. He swore again, turning away from her. ‘Dear heaven, do you know what this is going to cost? Everything.’ His voice choked and for a second he covered his face with his hands. ‘Everything.’

  Watching him, Olivia saw a man in torment and she didn’t fully understand it. She had a bizarre yet deep-seated urge to comfort him, to make it better. ‘Is it because you—you have been unfaithful to Halina? I don’t think she expects such fidelity until you’re wed. You haven’t even met. She’ll understand.’ She probably wouldn’t care. She hadn’t wanted to marry Zayed in the first place.

  ‘Unfaithful?’ He dropped his hands and let out a bark of humourless laughter. ‘I have not merely been unfaithful.’

  ‘You mean because you kidnapped me,’ she said slowly, as reality caught up with her. ‘And Sultan Hassan will know you meant to kidnap his daughter. He might call the engagement off.’ He would be angry, she supposed, but that angry? She liked her employer, found him to be generous and carelessly affectionate, but she knew he had a strong and unwavering core of honour and dignity. She had no idea how he’d react to what Zayed had done.

  ‘Might?’ Zayed turned around to face her, his expression one of weary scorn. ‘There is no might. He most certainly will. He will be furious that I dared to try to take his precious daughter. That I slipped through his defences.’

  ‘How did you? Why were the gates open when we left?’

  Zayed shrugged. ‘A cousin of a cousin is one of the guards. He has been my spy for years. He made sure the gates were open to me.’

  No, Sultan Hassan would not like that. He would be furious that someone had breached his security, and also threatened and maybe even a little scared by how seemingly easily it had been done. Unless...

  ‘They might not even know I’m gone,’ Olivia said slowly. She could hardly believe she was trying to help him, this man whom had taken so much from her, whom she had told herself she hated. Perhaps it was simply that ever-present urge she had to be helpful. Needed. Or perhaps it was the connection they shared, whether they wanted to or not. They’d been lovers. It was not something she would forget easily, or ever. ‘If no one saw your men come or go...’

  ‘How would they not know you’re gone?’ Zayed demanded. ‘You were in the next room from the Princess. Someone would come looking for you.’

  ‘Not necessarily.’ It hurt a little to admit it, but Olivia ploughed on. ‘I’m the governess, Prince Zayed, not one of the Princesses, and it was late. Princess Halina might be annoyed that I didn’t say goodnight to her, but she would have assumed I’d gone to bed. No one will miss me till morning.’

  Outside the tent silvery-pink light streaked the sky. It was just coming on to dawn and they were several hours’ ride from the palace. ‘You could return me,’ she pressed, surprised and a little alarmed by the weird shaft of disappointment that went through her at that prospect. Surely this was the best solution, what she wanted? What she had to want? No other option made sense. ‘And no one would be the wiser,’ she added.

  ‘And you wouldn’t say anything?’ He looked disbelieving. ‘You wouldn’t tell your employer of your kidnapping?’

  ‘I do not wish people to know what has happened as much as you,’ Olivia returned. The thought of Halina learning what she’d done with her fiancé... Olivia’s stomach swooped. How could she have been so stupid? So utterly reckless? She’d never acted like that before in her life. ‘Surely you can understand that?’ she challenged Zayed, her voice rising a little.

  ‘Yes, of course, but...’

  For a second Zayed looked tempted. Torn. To make this all go away...they both wanted that. Of course they did. But yet again she felt that inexplicable disappointment flickering through her. Zayed shook his head. ‘No, it is impossible.’

  ‘Why?’ The word burst out of Olivia and that flicker of disappointment faded away. She couldn’t turn back the clock, but returning to Abkar was the next best thing, especially if her abduction hadn’t yet been remarked upon. In a few hours she could be in her own bed and she could put the memory of this night completely behind her as if it had never happened...even if she knew she would never, ever forget it, or the feel of being in Zayed’s arms.

  ‘For many reasons,’ Zayed said shortly. ‘None of which you seem to have taken into consideration.’

  ‘Then perhaps you could enlighten me,’ Olivia snapped as her patience started to fray. She never spoke out like this, but some strange courage seemed to have taken hold of her. ‘Instead of treating me like some sort of imbecile.’

  * * *

  Zayed stared at the woman he’d wed—his bride—with a mixture of frustration and despair. This was a complete disaster, one he was still reeling from. And yet, reeling as he was, a leaden weight had settled in his stomach, making him realise this could not be undone as easily as Olivia seemed to think. Of course it couldn’t.

  ‘Because too many people know. The Sultan’s soldiers, my own people, the imam.’ Who, at his instruction, would have shared the news throughout Kal
idar that he had wedded and bedded Princess Halina. He had wanted the news to spread to strengthen his claim. He had never envisioned something like this happening.

  ‘The imam?’ She stared at him, stormy eyes narrowing. ‘What imam?’

  Impatience bit at him, chasing the fury and fear. ‘The man who married us, of course.’

  Olivia’s mouth dropped open in wordless shock. ‘Married? But...’

  Zayed stared at her, yet another unwelcome realisation flashing through him. ‘You didn’t know.’ It was a statement, and one that was confirmed by the emphatic shake of her head. ‘You don’t speak Arabic,’ he stated flatly. No wonder she had seemed so confused during their rushed wedding. He’d assumed she’d just been overwhelmed by events, but she hadn’t actually known what was going on. Known that he’d been hurrying her into a binding, lifelong commitment.

  For the first time he felt a flash of true shame for the way he’d treated her. His instinct was to blame her for not having revealed her true identity, and it was one he couldn’t let go of easily. He still suspected her motives, her ambition. Why hadn’t she said anything all evening long? That part still didn’t make sense.

  But he’d never actually said who he was. He’d simply assumed she knew. Just as he’d assumed she’d realised they were marrying. ‘Say yes,’ he’d told her, impatient to have the thing done. And so she had. An uncomfortable and unwelcome sensation of guilt trumped his suspicions for the moment.

  Olivia dropped onto the bed, her robe flying out, revealing tempting glimpses of golden skin. Zayed looked away. Now was not the time for desire. ‘How?’ she whispered. ‘How can we be married?’

  ‘Easily. You said the vows, as did I.’

  ‘I said yes...’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘But if I didn’t know what I was doing, if I didn’t realise, surely it can be annulled?’

  Zayed gestured to the rumpled bed. ‘Considering what we have just done? The entire camp knows what has transpired here tonight. Our marriage has been consummated. Most thoroughly.’